Carole Mortimer Romance Collection. Carole Mortimer

      Unless she decided to scream. Her mother had assured her that she had a singing voice that would stop traffic in its tracks, so a scream should surely achieve a similar effect. Not that she had ever put the singing to the test before either, but—

      ‘The top, Charlie,’ the man at her side tersely instructed the lift attendant.

      That stopped Silke in her tracks. The top floor...? That was where all the executive offices of this store were housed, where all the executives of the exclusive Buchanan stores had their offices...

      Silke slowly turned to look at the man who stood so rigidly disapproving at her side, the scream in her throat dying to a strangled whimper. What could she have done wrong during her brief time on duty to have aroused the attention of one of the higher echelons of Buchanan’s? She didn’t think she had done—

      Oh, God—the elderly man, the one she had given a verbal dressing-down a short time ago—he couldn’t have complained about her behaviour, could he? His eyes had twinkled admiringly even after her verbal rebuke, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought better of the whole thing and complained to the management. Considering his behaviour, she should have been the one complaining! But that probably wasn’t the way the management of Buchanan’s would see it; they claimed that their staff were always polite and helpful; that, above all, ‘the customer was always right’. In this case it probably wouldn’t help for her to point out that she wasn’t strictly one of their employees. In fact, in some ways, it was worse that she wasn’t; her mother had been thrilled to get the call from Buchanan’s personnel department, and would be mortified if Silke had blotted her agency’s copy-book during their first job for them!

      Silke looked up at the man she now knew to be one of Buchanan’s executives with beseeching green eyes. ‘If this has something to do with that elderly man earlier—’

      ‘Thanks, Charlie.’ As the lift doors opened he once again spoke to the lift attendant—once again ignoring Silke, except to pull her out of the lift this time, glancing down fiercely at her feet as she stumbled yet again in the high-heeled shoes. ‘If you can’t walk in the damned things, then for God’s sake take them off!’ he barked disgustedly.

      Deep colour heated her cheeks, her mouth opening with a sharp rejoinder for his arrogance—until she realised the lift doors were still open, and ‘Charlie’ was watching them with avid interest. And Silke wasn’t about to provide any more of a floor show for him or anyone else, so she reached down with as much dignity as she could muster, to remove the offending—painful!—shoes.

      The relief she felt at their removal was quickly forgotten as the man at her side gave a contemptuous snort. ‘Good God, girl, just how tall are you?’

      Except that he was obviously an executive of the Buchanan group of world-exclusive stores, Silke still didn’t know who this man was, but even the little she did know about him didn’t give him the right to be personally offensive about her lack of height. She knew she was short—it had been the bane of her youth to realise she had stopped growing at only five feet tall—and she had told her mother she was going to look ridiculous dressed up as a bunny girl; most of the ones she had seen or read about were about six feet tall! But her mother had insisted that her lack of height would just give her a cute and cuddly look. If this man’s reaction was anything to go by, it was the last thing she looked; he couldn’t have been this offensive to someone who looked ‘cute and cuddly’!

      Silke stuck her chin out defensively, instantly realising how futile the action was; this man couldn’t even see her chin behind the stupid rabbit mask, let alone that she was outraged.

      ‘Tall enough!’ she snapped, at once impatient with the stupidity of her words as much as with the ridiculous costume she was wearing. Tall enough for what? she thought self-disgustedly.

      The man she had addressed the remark to obviously thought her retort was ridiculous too as he looked scornfully down his haughty nose at her!

      Anything else she might have added in her defence was forgotten as she realised they were standing outside the personnel manager’s office. She had been sent up to Doug Moore’s office this morning when she had reported for work, and despite this arrogant man’s familiarity as he marched straight past the secretary in the outer office without so much as the politeness of acknowledging her existence, and into the personnel manager’s office itself, Silke knew that this man certainly wasn’t Doug Moore. Doug was a tall slender man, with slightly over-long blond hair, and a manner that was more than a little flirtatious.

      A man Silke had known without a doubt she could deal with. Which was more than could be said for this other man! Although that wasn’t to say she wasn’t going to try...

      But at the moment he was far from impressed by the fact that Doug Moore wasn’t in his office, turning abruptly on his well-shod heel to go back into the outer office, Silke still firmly clasped at his side, to speak to the now open-mouthed secretary.

      ‘Find Doug and send him to my office,’ he barked without preamble, not even pausing on his way out of the room to see if the poor woman had acknowledged his instruction.

      And no wonder; it had been in the form of a royal command, Silke thought disgustedly, not in the least surprised, when she chanced to glance back, to see that the secretary had already picked up the telephone, obviously calling round in search of her boss. As ordered.

      Really, this man, whoever he was, thought he was a one-man army, his orders to be obeyed without question. And, quite frankly, Silke had had enough.

      ‘Look, I don’t know who you are,’ she told him exasperatedly, attempting to pull out of his grasp, failing miserably, only succeeding in bruising her arm even further as his fingers merely tightened their vice-like grip. She was still being pulled unceremoniously down the luxuriously carpeted hallway towards what she supposed was this man’s own office. She took a deep, controlling breath, determined not to appear to be intimidated by this man. Even if she was! ‘But—’

      ‘No, you don’t, do you?’ the man bit out grimly, grey eyes narrowed ominously. ‘But I know who you are. Or at least what you’re supposed to be.’ He sounded angry again now. ‘You fall far short of requirements!’

      She had told her mother herself that she was far too short and slight to be a bunny girl, but there was no need for this man to be continually insulting about her lack of assets!

      ‘Now look,’ she spluttered again, intending to tell him exactly what she thought of his opinion. And what he could do with it!

      ‘I have.’ As if to prove his point, he gave another disparaging glance down the slender length of her body in the revealing outfit. ‘And so has every customer who entered the store this morning! Are you Doug’s latest girlfriend, is that it?’ he scorned, sculptured mouth twisted derisively. ‘It’s difficult to tell what you look like under that ridiculous rabbit head, but I suppose you could be pretty. And I know Doug’s tastes run to the youthfully nubile, so I suppose it’s possible that could be the explanation. It isn’t an acceptable one. To me,’ he added harshly. ‘But it’s the only one I can think of for the moment.’

      Silke was once again rendered speechless; the arrogance of the man! ‘Could be pretty’! ‘Youthfully nubile’! The chauvinistic— And then she remembered what she was—or rather, wasn’t!—wearing, and knew there was really no defence she could offer to this man’s scorn when she gave every appearance of being a half-dressed bunny girl!

      She barely had time to register the comfort of the next outer office he dragged her through, without stopping, before entering the even plusher office beyond—obviously his own—before she spotted the elderly man of earlier sitting in one of the leather armchairs that faced the imposing desk, the hazy smoke from the cigar he was puffing on with enjoyment filling the room. Silke’s nose—behind the rabbit mask—wrinkled with distaste at the foul-smelling weed.

      But at least she had her explanation now; this old man had complained about her verbal rebuke earlier. She couldn’t help wondering what explanation he had given for having earned such a rebuke;