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Authors: Cathy Williams
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on to the smile with difficulty, but loath to let go of it because she had no idea what it would be replaced by. âSo next week I shall take up permanent residence once again at my own office.â She walked him to the door, arms folded.
âAnd take over where Robert left off.â He turned to her with a smile. âWhatever the outcome, you appear to have done a thorough job on this damned lawsuit.â
âAs thorough as any man?â
He raised one eyebrow expressively. âIs that a hint that you want an apology from me?â
âI wouldnât be so mad,â she said wryly, and in the awkward intervening few seconds, as she wondered what next to say, he solved the dilemma by holding out his hand.
âGood work, Miss Steam. You have the job.â He grinned as he shook her hand, then- he was gone. Out of the door. into his car and away into the night.
On a handshake.
She shut the door reflectively behind her and the last thing to go through her head that night was the foggy image of his mouth on hers, his hands exploring her body, his body against her. No handshake. Just something else.
CHAPTER FOUR
I T was in the newspapers. Bruno Carr, after all, was news. He might not be a movie star, Jessica reflected, or a TV personality, but he had the looks, the money and the charisma to grab headlines. The newspapers carried the same imageâBruno emerging from court with his name fully cleared.
Red-nosed, dosed up with paracetamol, and in bed, Jessica read the full commentary in the business section of the newspaper and then re-read it four times.
We did it! she thought. She might have been an important part in piecing together all the evidence, but it had taken a great deal of persistent hard slog, and she had no doubt that her four staff who had worked overtime and weekends to make sure that the case was wrapped up in the minimum amount of time were feeling as euphoric as she was. If a little less under the weather.
It was just a shame that she couldnât have been at the court to witness the victory herself.
She blew her nose into some tissues and flung them into the waste-paper basket which she had strategically placed next to the bed, and which was becoming progressively fuller.
Brano Carr had swept into her life like a tornado, and now that her part had been played he would vanish without leaving a trace. She lay back on the pillows, closed her eyes and succumbed to feelings of maudlin self-pity.
It was this wretched bug, of course. That was why she felt so low. She had spent the weekend feeling vaguely washed out, and that had progressed onto the familiar aching bones, fever, runny nose and desire to keep the curtains tightly drawn. She hadnât had flu in years. Normally, she was as healthy as a horse.
âYour immune systemâs up the spout,â her friend Amy had informed her, when she had telephoned earlier in the week to cancel their dinner arrangement. âYou need to take a break.â
So here I am now, she thought glumly, taking a much-deserved break. Who in their right mind would choose to go for a weekâs vacation to somewhere hot, exotic and sunny when they could lie in bed, sneezing and running a fever instead? That was what standing in the driving, cold rain waiting for a non-existent taxi did for a girl.
She punched the pillows, buried her head in them with a stifled groan, and was debating whether she should bother to leave the bed at all for the rest of the day when the doorbell went.
Through the pillows, it was a muffled noise, and Jessica muttered a venomous, âGo awayâ to whoever had the nerve to call when she was indisposed.
The rings became less polite and more insistent, and she eventually dragged herself out of bed, slung on her dressing gown and padded across to the front door.
When she yanked it open and saw Bruno standing outside, his hand poised to press the bell again, she scowled ferociously, aware of the
âAnd take over where Robert left off.â He turned to her with a smile. âWhatever the outcome, you appear to have done a thorough job on this damned lawsuit.â
âAs thorough as any man?â
He raised one eyebrow expressively. âIs that a hint that you want an apology from me?â
âI wouldnât be so mad,â she said wryly, and in the awkward intervening few seconds, as she wondered what next to say, he solved the dilemma by holding out his hand.
âGood work, Miss Steam. You have the job.â He grinned as he shook her hand, then- he was gone. Out of the door. into his car and away into the night.
On a handshake.
She shut the door reflectively behind her and the last thing to go through her head that night was the foggy image of his mouth on hers, his hands exploring her body, his body against her. No handshake. Just something else.
CHAPTER FOUR
I T was in the newspapers. Bruno Carr, after all, was news. He might not be a movie star, Jessica reflected, or a TV personality, but he had the looks, the money and the charisma to grab headlines. The newspapers carried the same imageâBruno emerging from court with his name fully cleared.
Red-nosed, dosed up with paracetamol, and in bed, Jessica read the full commentary in the business section of the newspaper and then re-read it four times.
We did it! she thought. She might have been an important part in piecing together all the evidence, but it had taken a great deal of persistent hard slog, and she had no doubt that her four staff who had worked overtime and weekends to make sure that the case was wrapped up in the minimum amount of time were feeling as euphoric as she was. If a little less under the weather.
It was just a shame that she couldnât have been at the court to witness the victory herself.
She blew her nose into some tissues and flung them into the waste-paper basket which she had strategically placed next to the bed, and which was becoming progressively fuller.
Brano Carr had swept into her life like a tornado, and now that her part had been played he would vanish without leaving a trace. She lay back on the pillows, closed her eyes and succumbed to feelings of maudlin self-pity.
It was this wretched bug, of course. That was why she felt so low. She had spent the weekend feeling vaguely washed out, and that had progressed onto the familiar aching bones, fever, runny nose and desire to keep the curtains tightly drawn. She hadnât had flu in years. Normally, she was as healthy as a horse.
âYour immune systemâs up the spout,â her friend Amy had informed her, when she had telephoned earlier in the week to cancel their dinner arrangement. âYou need to take a break.â
So here I am now, she thought glumly, taking a much-deserved break. Who in their right mind would choose to go for a weekâs vacation to somewhere hot, exotic and sunny when they could lie in bed, sneezing and running a fever instead? That was what standing in the driving, cold rain waiting for a non-existent taxi did for a girl.
She punched the pillows, buried her head in them with a stifled groan, and was debating whether she should bother to leave the bed at all for the rest of the day when the doorbell went.
Through the pillows, it was a muffled noise, and Jessica muttered a venomous, âGo awayâ to whoever had the nerve to call when she was indisposed.
The rings became less polite and more insistent, and she eventually dragged herself out of bed, slung on her dressing gown and padded across to the front door.
When she yanked it open and saw Bruno standing outside, his hand poised to press the bell again, she scowled ferociously, aware of the
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