The Billionaire Boss's Innocent Bride(20)

Alex heaved a sigh of relief and she stood up to allow him to pass, only   to find she simply couldn't help herself as he drew abreast of her.

'What made you think I might have coached him? I would have thought I'd made it perfectly clear these things can't be rushed.'

He stopped one step below her so their eyes were almost level. And she   saw something else she'd missed in her earlier summation of him-he might   be hiding it well, but he was tired.

A smile flickered in his eyes as he said, 'Yes, ma'am, you did impart   that pearl of wisdom to me, amongst a few others. Uh-why? I'm not in a   good mood, to put it mildly. I haven't been for days and when I get like   this I tend to be-cynical, suspicious, even downright bloody-minded.'

'So they told me-' She broke off and bit her lip.

'Told you that, did they? My staff?' he drawled. 'They're right.'

'But have things fallen through?' She looked concerned. 'Has it all collapsed, the negotiations?'

'No, it's all signed and sealed.'

'Then why do you feel like this?' Her eyes, without her glasses, were wide and bemused.

Max Goodwin studied her from head to toe. The gardenia in her hair, the   absence of any jewellery but her almost jewel-bright hazel eyes, the   points of her stand-up collar against her slender, creamy neck. Then   that dense blue gaze swept down her décolletage, her tiny waist, the   fall of her skirt and the slit in it.

'Oh, no!' she said, with deep foreboding. 'Don't tell me I'm not dressed   right again. But this is what I would have worn if I was working and I   didn't know-I didn't know in what capacity I was coming to this party,   anyway! I wasn't expecting to come, you see.'

'Miss Hill,' he said formally, 'you're dressed fine.' He said it with   patent irony, however, because, in fact, the way she was dressed had   induced a sudden desire in him to undress her, item by item in some   quiet place, to release that lovely body from her clothes purely for his   pleasure but in a way that brought her the same pleasure …

'Uh … ' he forced his mind to the present ' … and please do come to the   party as a guest, although I did think an extra Mandarin speaker   wouldn't go amiss so if you see the need for any interpreting I'd be   grateful if you could help out.'

'Of course.'

'As for the rest of it-' he looked into her eyes '-to be perfectly   honest I'm not a hundred per cent sure why I am the way I am, but even   if I were you'd be the last person I'd tell.'

He continued up the stairs leaving Alex feeling dumbfounded, smarting and wounded.

She was not to know that Max Goodwin hesitated for a few moments before   he went in to say goodnight to his son; nor was she to know that he'd   travelled down from Brisbane with his intern and cousin, Paul O'Hara.   And she had no idea that this had reminded him that Paul had given every   impression of being smitten by Alex Hill when he'd come to call a few   nights ago-even much earlier than that, of course-

but he, Max, had had too much on his mind to digest it at the time. But   Paul's patent disappointment a few nights ago when Alex had left them,   the way his gaze had lingered on her back as she'd walked away, the way   he'd been distracted from then on had all told their own tale.

Paul was thoroughly nice, though, and probably highly suitable for a   girl who'd led a sheltered life; they were closer in age, they had no   dark backdrops to their love lives as he had …

So, why, Max Goodwin wondered, with his hand poised to open Nicky's   door, was it a bit like the proverbial thorn in the flesh to think of   Alex with Paul?

It was a long night.

Margaret Winston had also come down and she greeted Alex warmly, then faded into the background.

Alex discovered herself seated next to Sir Michael McPherson and   opposite his wife, Lady Olivia. Those introductions would have appealed   to her sense of humour, had she been feeling at all humorous.                       
       
           



       

Olivia Goodwin, now Lady McPherson, was, as Mrs Mills had described,   attractive and vibrant. She was slender with her brother's blue eyes but   coppery hair and a light dusting of freckles. She was forthright.

She said, as she unfolded her napkin and took up her champagne glass in a   hand upon which a fabulous sapphire ring surrounded by diamonds   resided, 'I don't believe we've met. Are you a friend of Max's?'

'No. I work for him.'

Well-bred surprise beamed her way. 'In what capacity?'

'I'm Nicky's nanny and, because I speak Mandarin, Max's personal interpreter and PA.'

'Heaven's above!' Sir Michael intoned. 'That's a mouthful.'

'It can certainly be a handful,' Alex replied austerely, and sipped her   champagne. Lady Olivia leant forward. 'Is this some kind of joke?'

'Oh, it's no joking matter.' Alex put her glass down as her first course was served: oysters Kilpatrick.

'But he hasn't said anything to me about it!'

'Come off it, Livvy,' her husband entreated. 'When does Max ever   consult, well-' he obviously changed tack a little as his wife looked   daggers at him '-anyone? He's always been a law unto himself, you know   that!'

Olivia subsided a bit and glanced around at the other guests sharing   their table, but they were all Chinese, a man and two couples. 'Still,'   she said, 'you'd have thought he would have at least asked for my  advice  over Nicky, but I haven't even been allowed to meet him yet.'

'He's only just met him himself,' Sir Michael pointed out.

'Well, if you ask me, the obvious thing to do in the circumstances is to   marry Cathy. You have to admit they were extremely close and-'

'Olivia,' Sir Michael warned.

Yes, Olivia, Alex echoed in her mind, surely this is very private stuff even if they can't speak a word of English?

But as she watched Max's sister she saw that she was in the grip of   genuine emotion, as if she was deeply concerned about her brother and   his new-found son. All the same it was not a dinner-dance conversation   and Alex turned to her neighbour, bowed, and with quite some skill   managed to get the whole table conversing.

And during the course of it, she learnt that the McPhersons had two   children and divided their time between Australia and England. They'd   also been to China, and through Alex were able to exchange some warm   reminiscences of their visit as the quartet played Mozart, Strauss and   other light classics in the background. And it was soon obvious that,   unlike their host, who'd claimed to be feeling bloodyminded-not that he   was showing it now-the guests were in a relaxed, even   lettingtheir-hair-down mode now the negotiations had been successfully   concluded. So it was a light-hearted, happy throng that dined on oysters   and champagne followed by the finest Australian beef washed down with   superb Hunter Valley red wines. Crème brulée was served for dessert,  its  custard satiny and chilled under a caramelized sugar top.

And there were gifts for each guest. Australian opal pendants on fine   gold chains for the ladies and gold and opal cufflinks for the men. Even   the individual gift boxes they came in were works of art: tooled   leather embossed with tiny kangaroos, kookaburras, koalas, emus and   frilled-neck lizards. Alex left hers unopened once she realized what it   was all about. The meal was cleared and more champagne poured-it was   time for the speeches and toasts.

If you didn't know him, Alex thought as she watched Max Goodwin perform   his part, you would think there was nothing wrong with him. But she   noticed that his sister was watching him intently with a frown in her   eyes.

Then all the formalities were over and the string quartet demonstrated   their versatility, and couples took to the dance floor to a lively beat.   Alex decided to slip away. She had the beginnings of a headache and a   few minutes alone in a nice quiet spot seemed like a good idea.

She had no idea that two men saw her go: Max-and his cousin, Paul   O'Hara. She went out onto the lawn and took the path that led to the   swimming-pool garden but stopped at a sound behind her, a footstep. She   took a deep breath and turned-

it was Paul O'Hara.

He too wore his dinner suit well, his fair hair was smooth and his nice   grey eyes were serious and concerned again. 'Please don't run away,   Alex-may I call you that?'

he requested.

'Well, yes, but-' She stopped awkwardly.

'I apologize if I've embarrassed you, but it was a bit like being hit in   the solar plexus when I first met you. I didn't believe in love at   first sight but-' He gestured and looked younger-younger and confused   but very genuine.