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The Billionaire's Bride of Convenience(11)







What had taken her so long? he thought with a savage burst of irritation. Her hairstyle was slightly different, he supposed, though still scraped back severely from her face with not a single lock escaping its imposed prison. As he glared at her hair, he suddenly itched to run his fingers through it, to pull it down and spread it out over her shoulders. Her very naked shoulders, preferably.





Cool it, Hugh, came the sharp warning from that part of his brain which was not connected with his male hormones.





‘The caterers gone?’ she asked, glancing over his shoulder.





‘Yep. No one left here but us. Come on, let’s go.’





Hugh resisted the temptation to take her elbow on the way to the lift. He could already feel himself hardening. This could get mighty uncomfortable. On top of that, Kathryn would not appreciate any physical familiarity. He knew enough about her to know that. Some women were touchers but she very definitely wasn’t.





Again, perversely, he liked that about her. Liked the way she protected her personal space and her air of self-containment.





It was very sexy. She was very sexy. Hugh sometimes wondered if she was aware of her unusual brand of sex appeal, or if she’d ever exploited it.





Somehow he didn’t think so, which made her even sexier to him.





Wrong train of thought, Hugh. Damn, damn and triple damn!





Kathryn shot him one of her cool little smiles as they stepped into the lift.





‘The meeting went well, don’t you think?’ she said. ‘Everyone I spoke to seemed very pleased, both by the company’s progress and with you,’ she added.





Somewhat reluctantly, Hugh thought.





‘You’re very good with people, aren’t you?’





How she managed to make even a compliment sound like a criticism, he had no idea.





‘Must come from all the parties I’ve been to,’ he said offhandedly as he pressed the car-park button. ‘By the way, Max was extremely impressed with you. He thoroughly enjoyed your lecture on inflation.’





Her head whipped his way, her eyes showing concern.





‘I’m not teasing you,’ he said. ‘I’m being serious. He liked you. Said I was to do everything in my power to keep you. Which leads me to my next question,’ he added just as the lift doors opened at the basement level.





‘Oh? What’s that?’





‘Do you intend to stay on working for me after you’re married?’





She didn’t have to say a single word, he saw the truth in her eyes.





‘I see,’ he said, astounded at his reaction to this news. Where was the relief? All he felt was dismay. Yet that was ridiculous! If he couldn’t have her, then it was far better that she go. Out of sight would be out of mind. He’d be able to get back to normal. And next time, he’d be very careful over the kind of female he hired as his assistant. Maybe someone like his father’s PA. Elaine was in her early fifties, a career spinster who’d been with Parkinson Media for yonks.





Clearly, his father was no fool. Or perhaps it was a case of once bitten, twice shy? His father’s first wife, Hugh’s mother, had once been his personal secretary. Of course, she’d been very pretty.





Hugh stared at Kathryn, who could hardly be described as very pretty. Yet she had a face which he was finding increasingly attractive, with its fine eyes and wide, sensual mouth. And then there was her figure, that tantalising, hourglass figure which was his constant torment.





‘And when were you going to tell me?’ he ground out, as— against all common sense—he cupped her elbow and steered her forcibly from the lift.





Kathryn was taken aback by his obvious anger. It wasn’t like Hugh to be angry, about anything! As a boss went, he was extremely easy-going, too easy-going. Life was meant to be enjoyed, he’d once told her when she’d chided him over spending so much time out of the office.





His anger upset her. As did the way he was pushing her along. Heavens, but his grip was strong. It had to be down to all that golf!





‘I didn’t say I was definitely leaving,’ she said with a degree of indignation. ‘I haven’t made up my mind yet.’





‘That’s not like you. I got the impression you had your life all planned out down to the last minute.’





How boring he made her sound. Boring and predictable.





‘There’s nothing wrong with having plans and goals,’ she countered defensively. ‘Not everyone can afford to just swan along without thinking about tomorrow.’