The next morning Tessa packed her bag for the weekend. She would catch the commuter train to Gos-ford after work. Her parents were expecting her because it had been arranged that the invitations to the wedding were to be written out. They were expecting Grant to come with her, as well, and in that respect, they were in for a major surprise. They certainly wouldn’t be expecting the announcement she had to make, but she resolved to be very patient with her mother and try to reach a better understanding.
The day passed quite pleasantly at the office. Tessa liked being busy and Jerry had a lot of work for her to do. She was with him in his office, taking notes for a memo, when a call came through from Blaize Callagan’s office, demanding Tessa’s presence forthwith. It was four o’clock, only one hour left in the working week.
Jerry looked at her speculatively.
“They must want me to translate some of my shorthand notes,” she said, doing her best to ignore the ebb and flow of colour in her cheeks.
It couldn’t possibly mean anything else, she argued fiercely to herself. It was utterly absurd for her heart to be pounding like a jackhammer. She would only be seeing his secretary, not him. Even if she did see him, he would only treat her in the same offhand manner as he had before. Their intimate interlude would not be referred to in any way, shape or form.
Jerry gave her a dry little smile. “Got your glasses, Tessa?”
She groaned as she realised her present appearance fell far short of the professional image she had created for Blaize Callagan. “I left them at home, Jerry.”
Not only that, she was wearing a black miniskirt and a red T-shirt, which was bunched around her waist, pulled in by a dark burgundy leather belt. Having been in a hurry because of having to pack a bag this morning, she had simply slid side combs into her hair above her ears, and her only makeup was a dash of lipstick, which was probably eaten off by now.
“What am I going to do?” she cried in dismay.
Jerry chuckled. “Oh, I daresay you can carry it off, Tessa. No doubt you’ve already given Blaize Callagan a surprise or two. He’s got a strong heart. He’ll survive one more.’’
“You don’t mind him seeing me like this?”
“Why should I?”
“Because I’m your secretary. I thought you didn’t want me to let you down.”
He laughed outright. “Not over how you look, Tessa. No man in his right mind could possibly object to how you look. Don’t worry about it. Just go. Blaize Callagan doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
She went.
Anyone who worked for CMA did not say no to a summons from Blaize Callagan. Tessa had no choice but to go. But there were some things that she could say no to. And she would. If she had to.
Not that it could be about that, Tessa told herself. It was silly to even think about it. In fact, she mustn’t think about it. Not if she was to carry off this unexpected meeting with any style.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On the way up in the elevator she rearranged her T-shirt around her belt, making sure it was at least evenly pouched. It wasn’t a raggy T-shirt, she consoled herself. It was top quality. She wished her skirt wasn’t quite so short, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. Besides, she did have good legs. Which was why she favoured miniskirts. Although this one wasn’t as short as some. Only a few inches above the knee. It wasn’t as if it was indecent.
She licked her lips, hoping that if there was any lipstick left, a bit of moisture might help heighten the colour. She didn’t think Blaize had been fooled about the glasses, anyway. Besides which, Jerry didn’t mind about her appearance, and she had told Blaize she was going back to her real life. This was her real-life image. He could take it or leave it.
Undoubtedly he would leave it.
She was crazy even to be thinking like this. Blaize Callagan had already put aside his interest in her. She didn’t want what he had offered her anyway.
She wished her heart would stop beating so fast. Her skin was beginning to feel clammy. She wiped her hands on her skirt as the elevator doors opened onto his floor. Cool, calm and collected, she told herself, then tilted her head high, squared her shoulders and stepped out.
Two women were in the outer reception area, obviously packed up and ready to go home, their handbags slung over their shoulders. One was the receptionist Tessa had met briefly on Monday morning. The other was probably the temporary secretary replacing Rosemary Davies. They both looked at Tessa with sharp curiosity.
“I’m Tessa Stockton,” she forced out. “Mr. Callagan...”
“Go straight in,” the receptionist invited. “Mr. Callagan is waiting for you, Miss Stockton.”
Tessa was well aware of their eyes boring after her as she went in to the managing director’s office. It was clear now that she hadn’t been asked up here to transcribe her notes. Which meant... what?
Blaize Callagan was standing at the picture window, which gave him a view over Sydney Harbour. The afternoon sunshine struck his face in a way that highlighted the spare purity of his bone structure, like a perfect Greek sculpture. His eyes, however, were not the lifeless eyes of marble or wood or stone. The moment Tessa shut the door behind her they were burning over her, devouring her with such vibrant intensity that her insides turned instantly to jelly.
Her clothes were totally irrelevant. She knew he wasn’t seeing her clothes. He was stripping her naked. Remembering. Heat scorched over her skin in prickling waves. Pride insisted that she stop him from reducing her to a body like this. She swallowed hard then forced her tongue to work.
“You wanted me, sir?”
It was a most unfortunate choice of words. As soon as they were out Tessa would have given anything to retract them. They hung in the air between them, gathering sizzling overtones and undertones while Tessa squirmed in agonised mortification. To give him such a lead-in was tantamount to an invitation, and that wasn’t what she had meant at all.
“Yes,” he said, his lips moving into that sensual quirk that knew too much. “Yes, I do want you,” he added slowly.
He would have her here, right here in this office, if she let him. His suit coat was off. His tie was loosened. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone. His stance was all aggressive male, confident of his power to attract her, to stir the same desire he felt, to command her response.
His strong sexuality was reaching her in waves, determined on drawing her to him. That was why he had dismissed his closest ancillary staff. He wanted to be alone with her, without fear of interruption. Any second now he would say he needed her. Needed her very much.