“This baby...is your responsibility.”
Her voice shook, giving it a huskiness that robbed it of the authority needed. She hastily worked some moisture into her mouth and resumed speaking with more strength.
“Your sister elected you to be her son’s baby-sitter.”
She stretched her mouth into a smile designed to turn Medusa to stone. It must have worked because he still didn’t move. Or speak.
“She trusts you implicitly,” Amy said sweetly. “As she should since you’re his godfather. And a staunch family man.”
It gave her a fierce pleasure to throw that claim back in his face, an even fiercer pleasure to see him look so stunned and at a loss for a ready reply. Join the club, brother, she thought, and fired the last volley.
“Looking after your nephew is not my job. Hire someone who specialises in baby-sitting if you can’t do it yourself. In the meantime, he belongs with you.”
She swivelled on her heel and headed for the door, her spine stiff, her shoulders squared, her head tilted high. If Jake Carter so much as breathed at her she would wheel and attack him again.
There wasn’t a sound.
Silence followed her to the door.
She didn’t look back.
She made her exit on a wave of righteous fervour.
It wasn’t until the door was shut and she was alone in her own office, that the silence she’d left behind her took on an ominous quality in her mind.
Silence...
Like the silence after Steve had walked out.
She’d lost her man.
Amy closed her eyes as the realisation of what she’d done rushed in on her.
She was about to lose her job.
Lose everything.
This black day had just turned blacker.
CHAPTER THREE
AMY lost track of time. She found herself sitting at her desk and didn’t remember sinking into her chair. It was as though she’d pressed a self-destruct button and her whole world had slipped out of control, shattering around her.
Vengeance...that’s what she’d wreaked on Jake Carter...paying him out for what Steve had done to her. And she’d had no right to do it. No right at all.
A personal assistant was supposed to personally assist. That was what she was paid for. Any other day she wouldn’t have blinked an eyelid at being left with a baby to mind. She would have taken it in her stride without so much as a murmur of protest, cynically accepting that Jake, the rake, wouldn’t want to be bothered by a baby. Besides which, in business hours, his time was more important than hers. He was the one who pulled in the profits.
She slumped forward, propped her elbows on the desk and dropped her head into her hands. Dear merciful God! Was there some way out of the hole she’d dug for herself?
She couldn’t afford to walk away from this job, not now she was alone. Steve’s departure meant the rent on the apartment would double for her unless she got someone else in to share the cost. These few weeks before Christmas was not a good time for changes.
Besides, who would pay her as much as Jake did? Her salary was more than generous for her qualifications. And she would miss the perks that came with meeting and doing business for rich and famous people.
Her gaze lifted and ruefully skirted the photographs hanging on the walls; celebrities on their luxury yachts, on board their private jets, travelling in style to exciting places, wining and dining in classy surroundings, perfect service on tap.
Of course Jake was in all the photographs, showing off his clientele and what he had provided for them. The man was a brilliant salesman. The photographs were public proof that he was the one to deliver what was desired.
And the plain truth was, however much he provoked her with his teasing and wicked ways, Amy did, for the most part, enjoy the challenge of matching wits with him. He kept her on her toes, goaded her into performing at her best, and the work was never boring. Neither was he.
She’d miss him.
Badly.
Especially with Steve gone.
She’d miss this plush office, too.
Where else would she get a workplace that could even come near to matching what she had here at Wide Blue Yonder?
Her gaze drifted around, picking up on all she could be about to lose. The carpet was the jewel-like turquoise colour of coral reef lagoons, the paintwork the mellow yellow shade of sandy beaches, outlined in glossy white. Fresh arrangements of tropical flowers were brought in every week, exotic blooms in orange and scarlet mixed with glowing greenery. Every modern technological aid for business was at her fingertips—no expense spared in providing her with the best of everything.
Then there was the million dollar view—an extension of the vista that could be seen from Jake’s office—Darling Harbour and Balmain directly across the water, Goat Island, and stretching along this shoreline, Luna Park with its cluster of carnival rides and entertainment booths.
Mortified at her own lunacy for giving none of this a thought before barging in to confront Jake, Amy pushed out of her chair and moved over to the picture window overlooking the grinning clown face that marked the entrance to the old amusement park. Fun, it promised. Just like Jake. Except she’d hot-headedly wiped fun off today’s agenda.
She should go back into his office and apologise.
But how to explain her behaviour?
Never had she struck such a blistering attitude with him. He was probably sitting in there, mulling over what it meant, and he wouldn’t gloss over it. Not Jake Carter. No way would he leave it alone. If he wasn’t thinking of firing her for insubordination, he was plotting how to use her outburst to his advantage.
She shivered.
Give Jake even a molehill of an advantage and he could build it into a mountain that put him on top of any game he wanted to play. She’d seen him do it over and over again. If he let her stay on...
The sound of the door between their offices being opened froze her train of thought. It raised prickles around the nape of her neck. Panic screamed along her nerves and cramped her heart. She’d left it too late to take some saving initiative. In helpless anguish she turned to face the man who held her immediate future in his hands.
He stood in the doorway, commanding her attention by the sheer force of his presence. The absence of any hint of a smile was stomach-wrenching. He observed her in silence for several tension-riven seconds, his eyes focused intensely on hers. Amy’s mind screamed at her to say something, offer an olive branch, anything to smooth over what she’d done, but she couldn’t tear her tongue off the roof of her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
Soft words... words she should have said. She stared at his mouth. Had they really come from him or had she imagined it? Yet how could she imagine an apology when she hadn’t expected it?