‘You’re a secretary. Not a mother substitute for my daughter.’
Tessa drew in a long, deep breath and sat up straighter. ‘I had no idea that part of my secretarial duties included babysitting the boss’s daughter,’ she said quietly, ‘but that’s fine. She’s hard-working and enjoyable to have around. But having strayed from my original job description, I think it’s a little unfair to start drawing boundaries. I don’t know why you’re so upset because Anna bought one or two things to wear. Teenagers like shopping, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘Of course I know that!’
‘Then what’s the problem? If it’s the amount of time I took off, then I’m more than happy to make up for it by working late tonight and tomorrow night.’
‘It’s nothing to do with the amount of time you had off,’ he said irritably, swinging himself up from the sofa and glowering at her on his way to his desk. He stood there, as if debating whether to sit down or not. ‘And you’re being deliberately obtuse. Since when have you ever seen me crack a whip because someone’s running a bit late? More work takes place in these offices than in any other place I know, and that’s without me having to pull the heavy-handed card.’
Tessa had now swung her chair around to face him. He still hadn’t sat down. Maybe, she thought, he felt that if he sat down at his desk he would be more inclined to get down to the business of work. He propped himself up on the desk, palms flat on the gleaming surface, and continued to frown darkly.
‘Then what is it?’
‘I don’t like the clothes you encouraged my daughter to buy.’
Tessa didn’t know whether to shout at him or burst out laughing. Where had this puritanical streak come from? Here was the man who had thrown away the book of rules, who encouraged every aspect of creativity in the people who worked for him, who had a sofa in his office, for goodness’ sake, just in case he wanted to sleep, just in case he decided to spend a night in the office. He must, she supposed, somewhere, keep a store of conventional suits, but she had yet to glimpse one.
Why on earth would he object to his daughter buying a few trendy clothes? There was nothing offensive in a single one of the outfits Anna had chosen. In fact, Tessa had dryly compared her choices to the ones Lucy had been making at the same age and marvelled at how she had managed to deal with her lovable headache of a sister all those years ago.
So where, she wondered, was the problem?
‘I would never have expected it of you,’ he said accusingly, and her head shot up at that.
‘Meaning…?’
‘Meaning that I thought I could trust you not to lead Anna astray!’ He pushed himself away from the desk and began prowling around the room while Tessa sat completely still in her chair, counting to ten and refusing to swivel her chair in every direction just to keep up with his restless progress.
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‘Aren’t you overreacting just a bit?’
The silence that greeted this was deafening. Tessa felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and she realised, too late, that not having him within her line of vision was a major disadvantage.
She was oblivious to his stealthy approach until she felt the chair swivel round and found herself facing him, inches away from him, in fact, as he leant over her, caging her into her chair, leaning into her. She pressed herself into the back of the chair but, with nowhere to go, he remained close enough for her to feel his breath fanning her face.
Cool-headed composure shot through the window at a rate of knots, and in its place came a surge of panicky agitation. She wanted to push him back, but just the thought of her hand making contact with his hard chest made her quail.
‘Maybe overreacting’s a bit strong…’ she retreated weakly. ‘You’re her father…’
‘Damn right I am!’ Curtis growled. ‘I’m her father and there’s no way I’m going to see my baby dressed like a tart!’
Tessa’s eyes opened wide at this blatant display of double standards.
‘A tart?’ she spluttered. ‘Did you actually look at the stuff Anna bought?’
‘Sure I looked at it!’
‘Those happened to be very expensive designer clothes!’ Which was hardly an overstatement. At the time, Tessa had baulked at the price tags merrily dangling from the clothes, but she had swallowed back the temptation to hurry her charge along in the direction of more affordable places. This was a world she had never seen before. A world in which a fourteen-year-old girl had all the money she wanted at her disposal and was innocently ignorant of any need to go cheaper.