A Boss In A Million. HELEN BROOKS

as Cory sat rooted in her seat. ‘I would never have taken you on as my secretary if I didn’t think you were up to the job. You may not have noticed but I’m not a natural philanthropist.’ And then, when she just stared at him, ‘That was meant to be amusing but don’t feel obliged to smile just because I pay your salary,’ he added with dry self-mockery.

      ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ It had been his nearness that had frozen her reaction—he had been so close she could see the little black regrowth of his beard beginning to show through the tanned smoothness of his chin and smell his aftershave, which was a subtle blend of something wicked, but now she forced a grin as she spoke and was rewarded by an answering quirk of his mouth.

      ‘No, I didn’t think you would.’ He’d settled back in his seat and now the amber eyes narrowed, and he surveyed her for a good ten seconds before he added, ‘Whoever he is, he isn’t worth all the heartache, Cory. Take it from someone who knows.’

      ‘What?’ Her mouth straightened as her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Who on earth are you on about?’ she asked ungrammatically.

      ‘This bozo who’s been giving you the run-around.’ His voice was quite without expression. ‘Because he has, hasn’t he?’

      ‘I really don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking—’

      ‘What’s happened?’ he continued evenly, ignoring her interruption with his normal arrogance. ‘Has he suddenly realised his mistake since you’ve been down in London and talked you round?’

      ‘No one has talked me round,’ she said indignantly.

      ‘It doesn’t look like that to me.’

      What on earth was he talking about? she asked herself silently. He didn’t know anything about Vivian, did he? Not that there was anything to know, she added bitterly. There never had been, not really. It had been a one-sided love affair in every sense of the word. ‘Max, I’m telling you, no one has talked me round,’ she insisted jerkily. As far as Vivian was concerned there had never been anything to talk about; she was just good old Cory, friend, comforter, confidante, mug. Mug? Where had that come from?

      She didn’t have time to explore the shock declaration her mind had thrown up before Max said, his tone astringent, ‘Then why did you tell him not to worry about you and that you love him?’

      ‘I told Vivian I love him?’ The words were out before she had got her brain engaged, but he seized on them like a dog with a bone, his eyes glittering and his mouth tight.

      ‘Vivian? Is that his name?’ It was magnificently scornful but he didn’t seem as pleased that he was right as normal. ‘I’ve always thought it far more appropriate for a woman than a man,’ he said scathingly, ‘but then I suppose it depends on the type of man.’

      This was getting out of hand. Cory took a deep breath and prayed for composure. ‘Max,’ she managed to say quite calmly, ‘I think we’re getting our wires crossed here.’ The phone call. The flipping phone call! ‘I haven’t talked to Vivian since the weekend and I certainly haven’t told him I love him. If you’re referring to earlier in the office I was talking to my mother.’

      ‘Your mother?’ He blinked once and she had the rare—the extremely rare—opportunity of seeing Max Hunter lost for words.

      ‘Yes, my mother,’ she answered, her tone tart, but inwardly the sight of her esteemed and authoritative boss literally gaping was really rather satisfying. ‘You didn’t give me much notice about this trip if you remember,’ she continued coolly, ‘and surprisingly I do have a life outside Hunter Operations, and there are people who might worry about me if I don’t answer my phone for a week.’

      He recovered almost immediately. ‘Like the aforementioned Vivian?’ he asked pointedly. ‘The name did slip off your tongue.’

      Why, oh, why had she been so foolish? She stared at him in exasperation as she wondered how much to tell him. He was watching her closely, observing her reaction in that big-cat, unnerving way of his, the pale amber shirt he was wearing accentuating the vivid gold of his eyes and increasing the impression of an animal about to spring. Oh, get a hold of yourself, woman! She forced herself to lean back easily in her seat as the thought hit. Max Hunter was a man who liked to hold all the cards—she had seen enough of the way he operated over the last six weeks to know that—and as far as he was concerned his secretary was an appendage of himself and therefore as much under his control as his own right arm.

      Gillian’s life had been an open book—marriage at twenty-five to her childhood sweetheart, and a mutual decision, on finding out that they couldn’t have children, to put all their energies into their careers—and that was fine…for Gillian. But she didn’t see that a baring of her soul had any relevance to the way she conducted herself as Max Hunter’s secretary.

      ‘Vivian is a friend,’ she said at last, her voice flat. ‘A dear and old friend and I have known him for years. Okay?’

      ‘No, it isn’t.’ And then, as her eyes turned a dark jade and the violet tint was eclipsed by stormy grey, he added, ‘I need to know you’re with me, one hundred per cent with me, Cory, and that’s the bottom line. I don’t need a secretary who’s pining from unrequited love or anything of that nature; it just won’t do. It would affect your work and you know it.’

      ‘How dare you?’ She glared at him angrily. This was too much.

      ‘I dare because it is necessary,’ he said grimly, and never had the dark, brooding quality to his powerful charisma been more evident. ‘I rely on my secretary too much to be mealy-mouthed.’

      ‘Look, Max…’ She paused, biting back the hot retort she had been about to make as several thoughts flashed through her mind. He was paying her a very good salary—an excellent salary—and the experience and credibility she would gain as his secretary and personal assistant would be enormous. There were hundreds of girls out there—probably just as well qualified as her—who would bite Max’s hand off if he offered them the chance of working with him. All in all he probably had every right to demand that one hundred per cent commitment, and it wasn’t a problem anyway. It really wasn’t a problem! So why hadn’t she bitten the bullet and told him so?

      ‘Vivian is a childhood sweetheart who is marrying someone else,’ she said flatly, ‘and I am not—I am not—pining for him.’ And she wasn’t. The knowledge hit her like a ton of bricks and made her voice shaky as she continued, ‘I want to make a success of this job, I really do, and you are going to have to take that as read because I am not going to beg and plead to try and make you believe me.’ She looked at him straight in the eyes as she spoke.

      ‘You don’t have to.’ Suddenly his voice was amazingly soft. ‘Can I ask you one more thing?’

      She nodded. She would have liked to have said no but her courage wasn’t endless and the sooner this was finished the better.

      ‘If he asked you for another chance tomorrow and meant it, what would you say?’ he asked gently. ‘And the truth, now.’

      ‘I don’t know.’ His face was intensely sexy. It wasn’t the moment to have such a thought but it was there and Cory just went with the flow. It was so strong, hard-boned, and the dusting of silver in his jet-black hair brought an experience to the magnetism that was lethal. How many lovers had he had in his time?

      ‘You don’t know?’ He shook his head slowly, his mouth quirking. ‘How long do you think you have loved this guy, Cory?’ he asked quietly. ‘This soon-to-be-wed childhood sweetheart?’

      ‘Forever.’ It probably wasn’t tactful but it was the truth.

      ‘Forever?’ He echoed her words with another shake of his head. ‘And yet if he came grovelling tomorrow, declaring undying love, you’d have to pause before you knew whether you would be prepared to take him on or not?’ he asked pointedly. ‘Is that right?’

      Put like that it sounded awful. Cory stared at him, her green eyes mirroring