Hypnotized(17)

Enter Beryl the matchmaker.

I reached into the side-drawer of my desk and pulled out my make-up bag. Rummaging through the contents I removed my compact and opened it. I had not slept well last night and I looked pale, lackluster and in need of a dash of color. I dug around again in my bag, unscrewed a lipstick, and applied a fresh layer of Berry Kiss.

‘That’s better,’ I told myself and chucked everything back into the bag. I zipped it up, shoved it back into the drawer and closed it with a firm push. Then I clasped my hands on the surface of my desk and glanced again at the clock. The session should be over any time now.

I looked over to the tray already loaded with the tea service and a plate of prettily arranged slices of lemon cake. Dr. Kane, I knew was partial to cake. My eyes strayed to the red light on my console that indicated the soundproof room was in use. As I watched it went off. Lady O’s session was over and they were back in his office.

Right. No more dithering.

I pulled myself upright, squared my shoulders and walked over to Dr. Kane’s door. I knocked on it decisively and waited. When I heard his voice, I turned the door handle and breezed in with a wide smile. Both of them, but especially Dr. Kane, looked up at me questioningly.

‘My sister made a lemon cake yesterday. Would you like a slice with some tea?’ I offered brightly.

Dr. Kane stared at me with disbelief. He knew exactly what I was up to.

Unable to hold his direct gaze I swiveled around to Lady O. ‘You have to try a slice. I promise you, you’ll never taste anything more delicious,’ I babbled, the words tumbling over each other. To be honest I was unnerved by the look on my employer’s face. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Lady O smiled, genuinely pleased. ‘That would be lovely...if it’s no trouble,’ she paused and turned towards Dr. Kane, ‘and if it’s all right with Dr. Kane, of course.’

‘Oh, Dr. Kane loves cake,’ I said quickly. ‘And it’s no trouble. Everything’s ready. I’ll just go and get it.’ Avoiding his eyes I turned on my heel and exited the office.

I switched on the kettle, poured the boiling water into the teapot and placing it on the waiting tray, carried it into Dr. Kane’s office. Without asking them where they wanted the tray I laid it on the coffee table in front of the settee.

I turned around and addressed Lady O. ‘I’m a bit late for a hair appointment so you won’t mind pouring, will you Lady Olivia?’

‘Of course not. Thank you, Beryl,’ she replied in that polite, totally gorgeous accent of hers.

‘I’ll be off then,’ I called gaily to no one, and quickly made my escape.


Olivia


You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that Beryl left behind. For a few uncomfortable seconds neither of us moved. Then I stood. The suddenness of my action made his gaze skid involuntarily down my body and come to rest on the curve of my hips.

‘How nice of Beryl,’ I commented, and moved towards the couch.

‘Yes, very nice,’ he agreed, dryly. Poor Beryl. She was going to get an earful tomorrow.

I sat with my knees drawn close together in front of the tray and began to pour the tea. He did not immediately join me, but watched from behind his desk. My movements felt clumsy and jerky and I was very relieved when I did not spill anything. I placed the teapot back on the tray and looked up at him.

‘Milk?’

‘Yeah,’ he said and standing up, strolled over to the couch. He had a really sexy walk. More of a prowl than a walk. I dragged my eyes away from him and he lowered his hard male body next to me and leaned back with his legs spread wide. His trouser clad knee was inches away from my leg. Scent: warm man. How extraordinary, I wanted to curl into it. Every brain cell in my head lit up with the knowledge. His nearness in a social context made me feel jittery and out of sorts, like one of those cartoon animals that gets electrocuted and their eyes pop and all their fur stands on end.

‘Sugar?’ My voice was squeaky with nervousness.

‘Two. Thank you.’

I dropped the cubes into his cup and passed it to him. I was mortified to hear the cup rattling on the saucer. My gaze collided with his, and good gracious, up this close, his eyes were the stuff poets write about, molten gold and piercingly intense. He took the offered tea. My gaze dropped to the discreet watch peeking out of his shirt cuff, and his hand; big, the fingers elegant, and the nails cut square. Without taking a sip he put the cup and saucer back on the table.

From the corner of my eyes I could see him rubbing the side of his face reflectively. I leaned forward, my demeanor stiff and awkward, and picking up the plate of cake held it out to him.

He took a slice and bit into it.