A Boss In A Million. HELEN BROOKS

greying hair was expertly cut in the latest style, but not even her nearest and dearest could have called the homely-faced woman remotely beautiful.

      ‘So you’re the paragon Gillian was so delighted to unearth,’ he said thoughtfully. His voice had a smoky, husky tone and a faint accent she couldn’t quite place, and was utterly in keeping with the dynamic whole. It made her toes want to curl.

      ‘I’m Cory Masters, Mr Hunter.’ She had retrieved her hand as soon as possible; the feel of his hard, warm flesh was not improving the state of her nerves. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’

      ‘Likewise, and the name’s Max by the way,’ he returned easily.

      Max. How on earth was she going to be so familiar as to call him by his first name? Cory thought feverishly. The thought was daunting.

      ‘Short for Maximilian,’ he continued imperturbably, only a slight narrowing of the brilliant gaze suggesting he was aware of the hasty withdrawal. ‘My father liked to tell the tale that I was christened after one of his favourite film characters, Maximilian the robot, in the film The Black Hole?’ Cory had never heard of it but she nodded anyway. ‘But he admitted privately the name came from the Roman emperor Maximilian I, and that it is from the Latin maximum meaning greatest.’ He eyed her lazily, his mouth quirking.

      Robot or Roman emperor, the name fitted, Cory told herself with a faint touch of hysteria. He was easily the most overwhelming individual she had ever come across, and she had committed herself to work for this man as his secretary-cum-personal assistant. She must be mad! She was way, way out of her league here.

      ‘Now, I understand from Gillian that for the next couple of weeks you are mainly going to observe and digest,’ he said coolly. ‘The following month you will assist and hopefully by the last week will have become autonomous. Ask any questions you like, dig, delve, call Gillian in the middle of the night if you feel so inclined, but don’t bother me. I don’t know how the office out here works and I don’t want to; that’s what I pay a secretary for. I expect you to be able to put your finger on anything I want at a moment’s notice, and I never accept excuses. Is that clear?’ he added smoothly.

      ‘Perfectly.’ There was something in his tone that had put Cory’s back up although she couldn’t have explained what, and now she found herself saying, before she could stop herself, ‘I take it from this morning’s incident that you expect your secretary to be as fully conversant with every item on your desk as she is of her own?’ She had kept her tone pleasant, even conversational, and in the pause before he spoke again she could almost see the razor-sharp brain trying to assess exactly where she was coming from.

      ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed with apparent unconcern, but again the amber eyes had narrowed just the merest iota and Cory knew her little jibe about the buried fax had been received, analysed, and filed away under the correct heading of sarcasm.

      Which made her crazy, she told herself in the next instant, when after a curt nod of his head he turned and disappeared back through the interconnecting door, shutting it sharply behind him. Why start off on the wrong foot right from word go? Oh, she should have kept her mouth well and truly shut! She was her own worst enemy. Her father was always saying the same about her fiery, volatile mother, and somehow in Max Hunter’s authoritative presence all her father’s calm, placid genes had died and all her mother’s reckless ones had come rushing to the fore.

      ‘Right.’ Gillian’s voice was neutral. ‘Let’s get you acquainted with all the companies under the Hunter Operations umbrella first. There’s a breakdown on that desk over there with all relevant facts and figures. Most of it is confidential. I’ve also done a rough précis of the main people, both within Hunter Operations and without, whom you’re likely to deal with, and any background—hang-ups, problems, difficult to communicate with or easy, that sort of thing—to help you along a bit. Could you destroy those sheets in the shredder once they’re in your head because at least half of them would feel inclined to have me up for libel if they read them?’

      ‘Thank you.’ The other woman’s smile was infectious and it made Cory feel a little better, although she found her hands were trembling when she took the seat at the desk Gillian indicated. Max Hunter was probably congratulating himself right now for the trial period stipulated in the job offer, she thought grimly, smoothing back a shining strand of dark hair which had escaped the prim French pleat at the back of her head, and she couldn’t really blame him. But she intended to make sure that if, or perhaps she should say when, he decided not to make her a permanent offer he wouldn’t be able to use the quality of her work or her dedication as the excuse.

      Cory was deep in a very interesting and, she had to admit, somewhat aspersive review of Max Hunter’s current main competitor when she heard the buzzer on Gillian’s phone. ‘Yes, Max?’ There was a moment or two of silence and then, ‘Oh, yes, that’s fine with me. I’ll just check… Cory?’

      Cory lifted her head enquiringly to Gillian’s slightly bemused voice, and saw the older woman was staring at her with a studiously blank face which gave absolutely nothing away.

      ‘Max was wondering if you are doing anything for lunch? He suggests taking us to Montgomery’s as a little celebration of your first day at Hunter Operations. I’m free, are you?’

      ‘Montgomery’s?’ The name meant nothing to Cory—she had only been in London just over a week—but from the other woman’s tone it clearly wasn’t a fast-food restaurant. ‘Yes, that would be lovely,’ she managed faintly. And then, once Gillian had relayed their acceptance, she asked, ‘What exactly is Montgomery’s, Gillian?’

      ‘It’s a restaurant,’ Gillian said carefully. ‘A very…nice restaurant. I’ve been there once or twice before and the food is very good.’ She was trying to be offhand but the message was clear.

      ‘Right.’ Cory’s heart sank still further. No doubt men like Max Hunter took their secretarys to such places all the time, but she hadn’t had Gillian’s experience. She just hoped she didn’t let anyone down. This was probably some kind of a test?

      The remainder of the morning sped by as her brain tried to assimilate a hundred and one facts, and just before twelve, at Gillian’s urging, she made use of the little pink and white cloakroom attached to the secretary’s office to freshen up before lunch.

      ‘What are you doing here, Cory?’ She took a long breath as she stared at the wide-eyed girl in the mirror. The discreetly elegant hairdo, the circumspect make-up, the expensive suit and Italian leather shoes—this wasn’t her. Who was she trying to fool? She wasn’t going to carry this off, no way, no how. She should never have tried for this job—it was way, way out of her league. Huge, anxious, sea-washed green eyes looked back at her, and she gave a nervous swallow in the same moment she realised the palms of her hands were damp. Calm down, girl. Calm down.

      She had to carry this off. She continued to stare into the mirror as she gnawed at her bottom lip, and then hastily splashed cold water over her wrists before re-touching her make-up and spraying a few drops of perfume on to cool skin. She had her bedsit now, and in spite of the fact that it was only one large room tucked away in an old house in Chiswick it was costing a small fortune. She needed every penny of her six-week probationary salary, but Gillian had stipulated a hundred per cent increase once the position became permanent, and that would be good money—very good money. Of course she could get cheaper accommodation, but she had fallen in love with the lovingly restored Victorian house with its gracious sense of the past, and her bedsit—right at the top of the house and affording a panoramic view over roaming rooftops and a huge expanse of light-washed sky—was an oasis of peace amidst London’s bustle.

      ‘Cory?’ Gillian’s voice just outside told her it was time to go, and she took a hard, anxious pull of air, smoothing down the fitted jacket of the linen suit and tweaking the collar of her jade-green blouse into place before she left the small sanctuary.

      The two women had just slipped on their coats when the door to Max’s office opened. He moved lazily towards them, his powerful body possessed of an animal grace that was entirely natural and all the more formidable because of it.