A Bride for the Brooding Boss Page 2

  Her eyes widened in surprise. For a second there was a faint elusive niggling deep in the recesses of his mind. As her lips parted he forestalled her words.

  ‘I’d like you to analyse from July 2014 up to the present date. Everything your employer requested is in the adjacent office. How soon can you start?’

  Too abrupt again but it was imperative he find out what had been going on. The sooner the better. Four weeks ago, at his original inspection of his father’s company accounts, would have been best.

  ‘If I can see the set-up now then I can begin early tomorrow morning. Being a short week because of Easter doesn’t allow much time.

  ‘Are two days enough?’

  ‘Doubtful if I’m a last resort. I have a family commitment in Melbourne for the weekend then I’ll come back.’ She made it sound like an obligation rather than a pleasant reunion.

  ‘That’s acceptable.’ He flicked his hands then put them on the edge of the desk to push to his feet.

  ‘Human error and deliberate action are different. Is it the latter I’m searching for?’

  He sank back into his chair. She was too smart.

  Lauren had been in critical corporate situations before and recognised desperation, even when well hidden. This man was heading for breakdown. His taut muscles, firm set lips and weary dark eyes all pointed to extreme stress.

  And her question had irritated him so he definitely suspected fraud, probably by someone he’d trusted. She certainly wasn’t going to push it now. Not when she’d behaved like the skittish child she’d thought she’d conquered years ago.

  ‘I won’t make guarantees I might not be able to keep. I can only promise to do my best. Having the straightforward errors already adjusted helps.’

  He relaxed a little, and his lips curved at the corners, almost but not quite forming a smile.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He rose to an impressive height, letting his chair roll away, indicating a door to her left.

  ‘Through here.’

  Lauren picked up her shoulder bag and followed, wishing she were one of those women who were comfortable in killer heels all day. And an inch or two taller. Having to tilt her head gave him the advantage. When he suddenly stopped and turned, her throat tightened at the vague familiarity of his cologne. Not the same one, surely? Yet she recognised it, had never forgotten it. And this close, the lines around his mouth and eyes were much more discernible.

  ‘I apologise. I should have offered you a coffee. Do you—?’

  ‘No. No, thank you.’ The sooner she was out of his presence, the better. Then she could breathe and regroup. ‘You’re obviously busy.’

  His relief at such a minor point enforced her opinion of the strain he was under.

  ‘Like you wouldn’t believe. Any answers you find will be extremely welcome.’

  He opened the door and ushered her in, the light touch of his fingers on her back shooting tingles up and down her spine, spreading heat as they went. Unwarranted yet strangely exciting.

  The décor in the much smaller room matched his office, and included two identical armchairs by the window. But the position of the desk was wrong, standing out from the wall facing the door they’d entered. She walked round to check the two desktops and a keyboard, all wired up ready to go. He followed, stopping within touching distance.

  ‘Your employer asked for the duplication. Easier for comparisons, huh?’

  ‘Much. What’s the password?’

  He told her. While she activated the computer, he removed a blue folder from the drawer, and placed it on the desk.

  ‘Anything else you require?’

  ‘I’ll need a copy of the report for highlighting and a writing pad for notes.’

  ‘Help yourself to anything in the cupboard. The copier is in Joanne’s office off reception.’

  ‘The blonde lady?’

  ‘Yes, currently we don’t have a receptionist. If you have any questions regarding your task ask me. If it’s office related Joanne or any one of the other five employees can help.’

  He walked out, not giving her a chance to say thank you, leaving his heady sea-spray aroma behind. Did he treat everyone in the same offhand manner?

  Lauren felt like pounding the desk. She’d handled ruder employers who’d been under less pressure with poise and conviction. I’m-the-boss males with autocratic, archaic, even on occasion sexist, views were certainly not an endangered species. It didn’t wash with her. They were in a predicament and she was the solution so she made it clear: no respect and she walked.

  The personal aspect here had shaken her composure, giving the impression she doubted her abilities. She’d show him. Tomorrow she’d be the perfect detached computer specialist.

  She selected stationery from the cupboard, skim-read the printed files, then spent ten minutes perusing the computer data prior to closing down. The few pertinent notes she’d written would save time in the morning.

  Carrying the audit reports, she tried the door leading to the corridor. Finding it locked, she went into Matt Dalton’s office. He was standing, sorting papers on his desk. His gaze was less than friendly to someone he’d hired to solve his problems.

  ‘I’ll copy these then I’ll be leaving. What time is the office open in the morning?’ Polite and stilted, following his lead. The fizz in her stomach could and would be controlled.

  ‘I’m here from seven. Do you need transport?’

  ‘I’ll sort that out.’

  ‘Good.’ He returned to his papers.

  She swung away, heat flooding her from head to feet at his dismissive action. All her fantasies came crashing down. Spoilt, rich, I-can-take-what-I-want teenager had become arrogant, treat-hired-staff-with-disdain boss. Was that why people had left without notice? She’d never wished bad karma on anyone, but she was coming close today!

  Long deep breaths as she went out helped to settle her stomach and stop the trembling of her hands.

  Before re-entering Mr Dalton’s office, printouts in hand, she reinforced her prime rule of contract work. Never, never, ever get involved. Someone always ended up heartbroken.

  Swearing the oath was easy. Sticking to it when confronted with those hypnotic blue eyes that invited her to confess her innermost secrets was tougher than she’d expected. Especially when his lips curled into a half-smile as he said goodbye.

  She stabbed at the ground-floor button, angry that she’d smiled back, dismayed that even his small polite gesture had weakened her resolve. The thrill of the chase ought to be in his computer files, not in dreaming of—She wouldn’t dream of anything. Especially not midnight-blue eyes, firm jaws or light touches that sent emotions into a frenzy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MATT STARED AT the open doorway, perplexed by his reactions to a woman so unlike the outgoing, assured females he usually favoured. He raked his fingers through his hair. They were strangers, so why the censure in her alluring eyes when they’d met? It irked. It shouldn’t have affected his attitude but he knew he’d been less than welcoming.

  His finding her delicate perfume enchanting was also disconcerting. And she’d stiffened when he’d touched her. Had she felt the zing too? Please not. He had enough complications to deal with already.

  Would it make her job easier if she knew the whole story? Loath to reveal family secrets to outsiders, he’d tell her only if it became relevant to her succeeding. Despite his friend’s glowing report, he’d been less than impressed.

  Dalton Corporation was in trouble. His only choice was to trust her on the corporate level. He had little reason to trust her, or any other woman, personally. Especially as her manner said she’d judged him for some transgression made by someone else.

  Had she suffered the same indignity as he had? The soul-crushing realisation that you’d been
used and played for a fool. The embarrassment of how close you’d come to committing to someone unworthy, incapable of fidelity or honesty.

  The dark-haired image that flared took him by surprise. Any affection he’d felt for Christine had died when she’d proved faithless. He hadn’t seen her since he’d walked out of her apartment for the last time after telling her the relationship was over, and why. He’d rarely thought of her either.

  They’d both spent nights in each other’s homes but he’d held back from inviting her to live with him. Looking back that should have been a red flag that he had misgivings. Thankfully he’d told no one of his plans to propose to her.

  Admitting he’d been stupid for assuming mutual friends and lifestyle expectations would be a good basis for a modern marriage hadn’t been easy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever consider that life-changing step again.

  God, he hated being here handling this mess. He’d hated even more being in London where people gave him sympathetic looks and wondered what had happened.

  Letting out a heartfelt oath, he banished both women from his mind. There were emails to read and respond to, and he’d promised his mother he’d be there for dinner. He grabbed his coffee mug, feeling the urgent necessity for another caffeine boost.

  * * *

  Nearly two hours later he pulled into the kerb outside his parents’ house, switching off the engine to give himself time to prepare for the evening ahead. He regretted the loss of unwavering respect for his parents, wished he’d never found out his father had been having affairs. He’d lost a small part of himself when he’d come home that evening nine years ago, and had never been able to obliterate what he overheard from his mind.

  ‘I suppose this one’s as gullible as the rest and believes she has a future with you. How many more, Marcus?’

  ‘Man wasn’t meant to be monogamous. If you want a divorce, be prepared to lower your standard of living.’

  ‘Why should I suffer for your indiscretions? I’m giving up nothing.’

  Somehow his mother’s acceptance of his father’s infidelities made her complicit. In disbelief he’d fled to his room, changed into a tracksuit and taken off, pounding the footpath trying to drive what he’d heard from his mind. His hero had fallen. He’d returned to a silent, dark house where, for him, nothing would ever be the same.

  He scowled, thumping the wheel with an open hand. He’d always been confident, sure of himself and his judgement of cheating and affairs. Now he felt remorse as his father had turned into a stranger who’d made drastic mistakes in the last eighteen months, sending Dalton Corporation on a downhill path.

  Pride dictated he fix those glitches and return the company to profit status, along with preserving its good name. Only then could he consider his own future, and for that he’d need a clear head. The only people he’d give consideration to would be family and his partners in London.

  He started the engine, and drove through the elaborate gates, grimacing as he entered the luxurious house. This was his father’s dream, a symbol of wealth and prestige, bought during Matt’s absence abroad. He hadn’t told his mother their financial status was in jeopardy. If Lauren Taylor was as good as her reputation, and he’d inherited any of his father’s entrepreneurial skills, he might never have to.

  * * *

  Adelaide had a different vibe from the city Lauren remembered. Not that she’d seen much of the metropolitan area when she’d lived here, or much of anywhere besides ovals and training grounds. Beaches in summer, of course—swimming and running on the sand were part of the family’s fitness regimen.

  As she’d strolled past modern or renovated buildings a window display advertising Barossa Valley wine triggered a light-bulb moment. The Valley, the Fleurieu Peninsula and the Adelaide Hills, plus many other tourist areas, were all within easy driving distance, and she’d been promised a two-week vacation as soon as the assignment ended. All she’d need were a map, a plan and a hire car.

  She picked up Chinese takeaway, and spent the evening poring over brochures and making notes. In full view from her window a group of young athletes were training in the parklands over the road. On the side-lines some adults watched and encouraged. Others sat on the grass with younger children, playing games or reading with them.

  Her eyes were drawn to a man sitting with a boy on his lap, their heads bent as small fingers traced words or pictures in a book. Her chest tightened and she crossed her arms in a self-hug. Why didn’t she have any memories of those occasions? Why had she never asked either parent to read to her or share a favourite television show with her? She’d always been too afraid of rejection.

  Why had they never noticed her quietly waiting for some of the attention claimed by her boisterous brothers? If it had been intentional maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. Being overlooked cut deeper than deliberately being ignored. And she’d never been able to summon up the courage to intentionally draw attention to herself.

  The boy looked up, talking with animation to his father. Eyes locked, they were in a world of their own.

  It conjured up the image of Matt Dalton holding her gaze captive as they’d talked. Even thinking of those weary blue eyes spiked her pulse, and memories of that long-ago kiss resurfaced. Her balcony secret she’d never revealed to anyone. Never intended to.

  * * *

  Lauren chose a different route to work in the morning. She felt more herself, determined to show her new boss she was the professional his friend had recommended.

  Last night no matter how many positions she’d tried or how often she’d thumped the pillows, sleep had eluded her. Reruns of her two encounters with Matt Dalton had kept her awake until she’d given in, got up, and researched the company. Something she normally avoided to keep distance and objectivity.

  There’d been no reference to him, only a Marcus Dalton who’d become successful by investing in small businesses, and persuading others to participate too. The website hadn’t been updated since November last year, indicating there’d been difficulties around that time.

  No, wait. She’d been asked to assess twenty-one months. So the anomalies had been discovered only recently but long-term deception was suspected.

  The sleep she’d eventually managed had been deep and dreamless, surprising since her last thoughts and first on awakening had been of full grim lips and jaded midnight-blue eyes.

  * * *

  The door adjacent to Mr Dalton’s was still locked. From the piles of folders on his desk and extension, he’d arrived very early. He appeared even wearier, the shadows under his eyes even darker.

  Lauren tried to ignore the quick tug low in her abdomen, and the quickening of her pulse.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Dalton. Would it be possible to have the outer door unlocked so I won’t disturb you going in and out?’

  Or be disturbed by my immature reaction to you.

  Intense blue eyes scanned her face, reigniting the warm glow from yesterday.

  ‘Good morning, Ms Taylor. I’m not easily disturbed.’

  Of course you’re not. You’re a cause not a recipient. Ignite a girl’s senses with a soul-shattering kiss then forget her. Though to be fair she’d been the one to run.

  ‘My watch alarm is set for an hourly reminder to relieve my eyes, stretch and drink water. To ease my back, I sometimes walk around or up and down a few flights of stairs.’

  ‘Not a problem.’ He glanced at the bottle in her hand. ‘Keep anything you like in the fridge under the coffee machine or there’s a larger one in the staffroom.’

  Without looking, he flicked a hand towards a door in the wall behind him. ‘There’s an ensuite bathroom here or, if you prefer, washrooms on the far side of Reception.’

  Why the flash of anguish in his eyes? Why was she super alert, her skin tingling during this mundane conversation?

  ‘Thank you.’
She turned towards the bench, away from his probing gaze, popped her drink bottle and morning snack into the fridge, then went to her desk. Keeping her eyes averted didn’t prevent his masculine aroma teasing her nostrils as she passed him.

  She settled at her new station and, while the system booted up, filled in the personnel document he’d left for her. Once everything was laid in her preferred setting, she stood by the window to stare at the distant hills for a slow count of fifteen.

  Now she was ready to start.

  For two hours, apart from a short break for her eyes, she focused on the screens in front of her. But like a radio subliminally intruding into your dreams, some part of her was acutely aware of each time the man next door spoke on the phone or accessed the filing cabinets in this room.

  The feeling in the pit of her stomach now was different, familiar, one she found comfortable, the exhilaration of the chase. The minor errors matched those in the audits. The one anomaly she found was puzzling enough for her to recheck from the beginning, puzzling enough to tease her brain. A challenge worthy of the fee her boss charged Dalton Corporation.

  She headed for the ensuite to freshen up ready for coffee, cheese crackers and relief time. There was one door on her left, another along the corridor to her right.

  She regretted choosing the latter the moment she saw the iron-smooth black and silver patterned quilt covering a king-sized bed. For a nanosecond she pictured rumpled sheets half covering a bare-chested Matt, his features composed in tranquil sleep. She blinked and pivoted round. Not an image she wanted in her head when she locked eyes with this cheerless, work-driven man.

  On her return to the office, his posture enforced her last description. His chin rested on his hands, his elbows on the desk, his attention fully absorbed by the text on his screen.

  Stealing the opportunity to observe him unnoticed, she stopped. A perception of unleashed power bunched in his shoulders, a dogged single-mindedness showed in his concentration. The untrimmed ends of his thick hair brushed the collar of his shirt, out of character to her perception of a smart, city businessman.