Secretary by Day, Mistress by Night. Maggie Cox

Why don’t we just check with her to verify the matter?’

      Maya found herself in the worst dilemma. If she made Jonathan look like a would-be rapist then what would that do for his client relationship with Blaise Walker? On the other hand, she had her own reputation to consider, and she was damned if she was going to trash it all in the name of public relations…She’d more or less just kissed goodbye to her job anyway.

      ‘As I told you before, I work for Mr Faraday,’ she said evenly. ‘If he mistakenly got the impression I was considering anything else by agreeing to come here this weekend then I’m sorry—but he’s most definitely wrong.’

      Colouring in spite of her determination to stay strong, Maya flicked a glance at the handsome playwright, then tore it away again before his darkly brooding stare could make her reveal even more than she’d intended. Like the fact that she’d been genuinely frightened by Jonathan’s unwanted attentions. Blaise was a tall man, whose breadth of shoulder alone seemed to dominate the long, high-ceilinged corridor, and in his black tuxedo and crisp white shirt his impressive physique and confident stance instantly commanded the kind of jaw-dropping attention that was hardly commonplace in her day-to-day reality. No wonder he’d been such a successful screen actor. It wasn’t just his looks that would hook the audience in either. The man had genuine presence.

      ‘Well. You have your answer, my friend.’

      At Blaise’s mocking stare, Jonathan had the grace to look momentarily repentant. Maya saw the sudden flush of colour beneath his artificial tan.

      ‘Too much to drink, I expect,’ he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. Then, recovering quickly, he issued Maya with a belligerent glance that spoke volumes. ‘You know what it’s like—women are notorious for saying one thing when they mean another. I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could join us at dinner, Blaise, but perhaps we can talk about the campaign in the morning?’

      ‘I’m an early riser,’ the other man responded coolly, ‘and I like to go for a run before breakfast. Seven-thirty okay with you?’

      Jonathan swayed a little, as if the mere thought of getting up so early on a Sunday morning after wining and dining the night away was like asking him to swim the English Channel when he could barely swim a stroke. He touched a slightly unsteady hand to his immaculate silver hair.

      ‘Seven-thirty’s fine. I’ll see you then.’ Without so much as a backward glance at Maya, he made his way carefully along to the opposite end of the corridor, pushed open a door right at the end and slammed it shut behind him, the sound resonating off the walls with the same jolting impact as cannon-fire…

      Allowing herself the momentary luxury of leaning against the wall in support of her quaking limbs, Maya knew her sigh was hugely relieved. She’d had a lucky escape for sure. There was only one flaw. She was dependent on Jonathan for giving her a lift home tomorrow, because he’d insisted she travel with him. She couldn’t leave now even if she wanted to. Unless, of course, she was willing to blow the last of her precious month’s salary on an expensive cab ride to the nearest train station—and it was so late that she doubted any trains would still be running.

      ‘Are you all right?’

      Her eyes widened a little at the unexpected concern in Blaise Walker’s voice, and the warm, gravelly resonance caused an involuntarily tingle in her body that reached all the way down to her toes.

      ‘I’m fine…thanks.’

      ‘Tell me straight—did he completely misread the situation?’

      ‘There wasn’t a situation to begin with! Except in his own twisted little mind, that is…It certainly wasn’t in mine’

      Maya could have died, knowing Blaise Walker’s disturbing concentrated gaze was noting everything from the plunging cleavage of her tight-fitting velvet dress to the giveaway quiver of her fulsome lower lip. Flushing angrily, she tucked a glossy strand of black hair behind her ear and jutted her chin, green eyes flashing indignant emerald fire.

      ‘He admitted to me that he got me here under false pretences. Is it likely, under the circumstances, that I would encourage him? Look, Mr Walker…I’m just a temp who was hired to work for his PR company. I work hard to earn my pay, and at the end of the day I go home. I shouldn’t have to submit to the unwanted attentions of my boss for the privilege, should I?’

      Considering the question, Blaise let his avid gaze fall on the agitated rise and fall of her chest. Her lush creamy breasts looked fit to burst from her gown at any moment, and God help him but all the blood in his body marched unerringly south.

      ‘Clearly you shouldn’t have to submit to anything of the kind, Miss Hayward. By the way—you do have a first name, I presume?’

      ‘Maya.’

      She hesitated at the door of her bedroom, exhaling a long, resigned breath as she twisted the brass doorknob and pushed it open.

      ‘I’m sorry you had to witness that distasteful little scene. I really hope you won’t let it prejudice you against using Mr Faraday’s company to promote you. He has some good people working for him—I shouldn’t like what happened to backfire negatively on them.’

      ‘Your concern is admirable in the light of his quite appalling behaviour. But I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what the outcome will be, won’t we?’

      After assessing her with a maddeningly enigmatic glance, Blaise turned and started to walk back down the corridor. When he’d travelled just a couple of feet away he looked back, and with a confident little smile said, ‘I don’t think you’ll have anything more to fear from your troublesome boss tonight. With the amount of alcohol he’s consumed no doubt he’ll enjoy the sleep of the dead. One word of caution, though—I’d really advise against wearing that dress at any future function, unless you’re prepared to handle the very particular kind of attention it generates…’ Lacking the courage just then to even meet his eyes, Maya mumbled a barely audible goodnight, hurried inside her room and bolted the door firmly behind her—as hurriedly as if she’d just been chased up the corridor by a herd of wild buffalo…

      CHAPTER TWO

      AWAKE since dawn, Maya chose not to linger in bed. Instead she got up, took a brief hot shower, then quickly dressed. Leaving her bags momentarily in the silent corridor, where behind closed doors Jonathan and his guests were still sleeping off the excesses of the night before, she took the risk of slipping a note under her boss’s door. A note that clearly outlined the reasons why she couldn’t stay and act as his assistant for the rest of the weekend and concluded with telling him that as soon as they returned to the office he could expect her resignation. Then, with her heart nervously tripping, Maya carried her bags downstairs.

      If truth be known she couldn’t wait to get away from this house—away from her licentious boss and the cloud of deceit that had brought her there—away from his shallow moneyed friends who, when she’d been trying to make conversation, had looked right through her but had not really ‘seen’ her at all. It gave her an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu, being around people like that. It was too reminiscent of her childhood and those interminable painful gatherings of her father’s, with his so-called ‘friends’—acquaintances who had petted Maya like a puppy when it suited them and told her to get lost when it hadn’t, because she was cramping their style when they were drinking, drug-taking or trying to seduce someone.

      Right now all she wanted was to return to her own little place, to what was comforting and familiar. She would have said to what was safe too, but since Maya had almost never experienced such a condition she bit her lip on the thought and shelved it away in some clandestine corner of her mind, where she would endeavour to forget about it for a while.

      ‘So…I’m not the only early riser around here, I see.’

      Intent on leafing through the Yellow Pages she’d found in the hallway for a cab number, Maya glanced round, startled at the appearance of the owner of that low, provocative male voice. Lord, have mercy!