The Italian Boss's Secret Child(11)

Who the hell was she anyway? Two days of scouring staff lists and making  discreet enquiries had got him absolutely nowhere. His mystery woman  remained that, a mystery. All he had was the memory of her, her fingers  clutched behind his head, her tight breasts spilling out and her body  open to him. His body responded to the images in his mind and he cursed  low and rough as he helped himself to a cup of espresso.

He hadn't had enough of her, not by a long shot, but thinking about her now wasn't going to help him.

He lifted his head, scouring the airline club lounge once more as he  emptied a stick of sugar into his cup but there was no sign of a  sandy-coloured ponytail, no thick tortoiseshell glasses in evidence  anywhere.

Damn, where the hell could she be?

A blonde in a pale green trouser suit approached the coffee station and he moved away to make room for her.

'I was wondering when you were going to get here.'

He swung back, coffee sloshing over the side of his cup. He steadied it  with his other hand. His brain wasn't so easy to get a handle on. Ms  Summers?

Sure enough it was her hazel eyes staring up at him, but they looked different. She looked different. He blinked.

'I booked one of the offices so we could go over the paperwork-just this way.'

He followed her into the small office, wondering just what had happened  to his little brown mouse. She still smelled the same, the now familiar  apricot scent wafting freshly in her wake. It was her looks that had  changed. The long-line jacket sat over a fitted white shell top and  seemingly floated behind her as she walked in matching trousers that  weren't tight yet still hinted at womanly curves below.

Her hair, uncharacteristically worn down, was shoulder-length and  feathered at the ends and it didn't look the colour of sand any more. It  looked more like honey, honey sprinkled with crystals of sugar, the  ends swishing and flicking with her motion. And what had she done with  her glasses?

He was seated at the desk before he could talk. 'You look-different,' he said at last.

She smiled, almost as if self-conscious, as her gaze flicked over the  outfit. 'I hope it's appropriate. I know business is a little more  relaxed up in Queensland.'

He nodded his approval as his eyes slowly moved up her body. She  fingered the ends of her hair and caught him looking. 'Oh, that. I was  due for a cut so I let them talk me into something extra this time. But I  didn't use your money. I paid for the hair myself.'

'What happened to your glasses?'

'Contact lenses. I lost one and had to get a new prescription made up.  Still, I don't wear them as much as I should … ' She hesitated. 'What's  wrong?'

He realised he was staring. He coughed as he pulled his eyes away,  lifting his laptop case to the table. 'Nothing,' he said with a shake of  his head. 'We'll be boarding soon. We'd better get on with it.'

It was time well spent on the ground and in the air. By the time they'd  arrived at Coolangatta Airport they'd thoroughly reviewed their  potential client's specifications and finessed their plan of attack.  Damien was feeling more and more confident even though he knew there was  still a mountain of work ahead and a myriad of meetings with Palmcorp,  their lawyers and financiers. But they could do it. He'd made the right  choice in bringing her. They made a good team.





This was Damien at his best. In the large meeting room at Palmcorp's  offices on the Gold Coast, Philly listened to his spiel, watched him  charm, tease and manoeuvre the two directors and get them thinking his  way. It was like watching a master at work.                       
       
           



       

No wonder he'd built his business to be the success it was. When he  spoke he made you believe, the passion for his work and his products  coming to the fore.

He held them in the palm of his hand.

It was a new side to Damien, one she hadn't witnessed before. Now his  obsession with perfection, with driving his staff hard, made some sort  of sense. He couldn't be that passionate about his business if the  people who worked for him gave him less than their best.

His strong, deep voice flowed over the assembled group, his expressive  hands adding gestures for emphasis where required, addressing them at  their level, not preaching, not patronising, but taking every one of  them with him. No one stopped him for questions or interrupted the flow.  He was in his element. He was supreme.

It was impossible not to be impressed. And it wasn't just the way he  spoke. The way he held himself and the way he looked had as much to do  with it. He'd discarded his jacket and the fine white shirt only  emphasised his olive skin and dark features.

He looked great in white. Even though his business shirt contrasted in a  major way with the Roman armour he'd worn to the ball, both styles  suited the man that he was.

She swallowed. He'd looked great in that outfit.

Then again, he'd looked great out of it. The way he'd discarded the  armour, then the tunic, pulling it over his head and flinging it on the  floor, the way his chest had expanded as her eyes had drunk him in, the  way he'd stood next to her, waiting, anticipating …

Oh Lord, was she never going to get those pictures out of her head?

'Ms Summers?'

She came back to the meeting with a jolt to meet Damien's quizzical gaze. 'Is everything all right?'

She looked around in panic but the others all seemed busy helping  themselves to the pots of filtered coffee and jugs of orange juice that  had suddenly materialised from nowhere.

'You would like to handle the marketing perspective next up, I take it?'

'Oh yes, of course,' she said, her cheeks scorched and with confidence  battling for dominance over visions of one gloriously near naked man. 'I  was simply mentally preparing myself for the task. Excuse me, I think  I'll get myself a juice.'

Her presentation sailed along, her earlier embarrassment soon forgotten  as she got underway. She used the same basic format that she'd shown  Damien at their meeting just a few weeks ago, expanding it to include  additional detail for people less familiar with the company and the  product. It seemed to go well and afterwards she fielded questions from  the group before they all broke for a late lunch.

Damien sidled up alongside her as they were heading for the cars that would take them to the restaurant.

'Well done,' he said, bending down to whisper softly into her ear, his  hand at her back. 'Excellent job.' He moved on, the curl of his breath  against her skin rippling through her and tripping her heart-rate.

It took a deep breath to know how to respond as she battled to sort out  the emotions vying for supremacy inside her. The employee side of her  ego couldn't help but swell with pride that he considered she'd done her  job well and his faith in her had been vindicated.

Yet another side of her that was already battered felt as if he had  pressed hard on her most sensitive bruises. If only he had as much faith  in her as a woman-if only he hadn't been so quick to write her off.  Maybe there could have been a chance for something more to develop.

But what chance was there of that? They hadn't even shared a one-night stand. It had been more of a one shot wonder.

But by the time she'd realised that she should just smile and thank him  he'd already turned away, thoroughly absorbed in a discussion of the  finer points of European motor vehicle engineering.

She sighed. She'd missed her chance. Or she'd read much too much into  his comments in the first place. Whatever, she really needed to relax  more.

The afternoon didn't afford that. It was spent in more discussions and a  tour of Palmcorp's offices before meetings with the finance and legal  specialists that ran late. Again Damien steered the proceedings with  skill and startling business acumen but did it in such a way that she  could see the Palmcorp directors actually believing they were driving  the process.

Businesswise, it was all proceeding very well. But with their early  start it was a full-on day and all Philly wanted to do by the end was to  go to her hotel room and enjoy a long hot soak. There was no time for  that though, with a business dinner already arranged. At a pinch there'd  be just enough time to shower and change.

Her room back at the hotel was spacious and elegant, luxury all the way,  decorated in cool pastels with a wall of windows leading to a balcony,  showcasing the brilliant blue of the ocean and the white sandy beach  that stretched for miles to the north and south. A pity there was no  time to enjoy it.                       
       
           



       

She had half an hour before she was to meet Damien in the lobby but she  rang home before anything else. The nurse answered on the second ring,  passing the phone over without hesitation. Her mother came on, her voice  weak but with a bright note she hadn't heard for some time.

'How's it all going?' Philly asked her mother.