Nine-to-Five Bride. Jennie Adams

had puzzled the younger of her Blinddatebrides friends Dani, and made Grace laugh, albeit rather wryly.

      When Rick wound up his dictation, she gestured at the steno pad now crammed with instructions. ‘Someone’s going to be busy. There’s also a BlackBerry in the pack Tom gave me. Do you want me to read you the day’s list?’

      In case he’d missed something in the estimated ten hours of straight work he’d just hammered out for whoever got the job of replacing Tom in his absence? She pitied those girls in the general pool on the first floor. Maybe he’d take two of them. Not her problem, in any case.

      After this trip, Marissa would take her fine line wrinkles and go back to Gordon’s office.

      Rick probably wouldn’t be in a good mood about the first floor help, though, given his last temp from there had booked an appointment for him to go out on a matter someone else should have handled.

      ‘Yes, check through and see what I’ve missed, would you?’ He signalled, slowed and turned and she realised with a start that they were back at their North Sydney office building. The city pulsed with busyness around them before he took the car underground, but she could only focus on his busyness.

      Note to self about go-getter busyness, Marissa: it is not an endearing or invigorating trait.

      She quickly pulled the electronic organiser from Tom’s travel pack in her tote. Scanned. Read. Tried not to acknowledge the burst of irrational disappointment that swept through her.

      ‘There’s a notation of “Julia” for twelve-thirty.’ He wouldn’t hear the slight uneven edge in her tone, would he? How silly to care that he was seeing someone. She should have realised that would be the case. It shouldn’t matter to her that he was! ‘That’s the only thing listed that you haven’t brought up.’

      Of course the listing could be for any reason. Hairdresser appointment. An hour with his gym trainer. Or a pet schnauzer he walked faithfully once a day.

      Dream on, Marissa.

      ‘Ah, yes.’ His face softened for a moment before he turned into his parking space and opened his door.

      A go-getting corporate shark who had no business noticing the help if he was already involved. Probably with some sophisticated woman, maybe the daughter of a fellow businessman, or a corporate high-flyer herself. She’d be stunningly beautiful and her face cream would work like a charm, if she needed it at all.

      You’re being ridiculous. He barely noticed you in passing and he certainly didn’t seem thrilled once he realised he had. Nor do you want to be thrilled or notice him.

      Marissa released her seat belt, shoved the PDA back into her tote bag and drew out her work shoes.

      With her head bent removing the joggers, she said in what she felt was a perfectly neutral tone, ‘Feel free to go on ahead. I can either stop by the first floor general pool for you and ask them to send someone up, or bring the PDA and my notes to whoever you’ve chosen to replace Tom. You can pre-lock this monster so I just have to shut the door, I assume?’

      ‘Thanks for the kind offer.’ Rick watched as Marissa Warren pushed a second trim foot into a shapely shoe. She had beautiful ankles. And legs. And a sweetness in her face that had tugged unexpectedly at something deep inside him from the moment he’d seen her up close for the first time this morning.

      He’d noticed her in the office, of course. He noticed all the staff. As owner and manager, it was part of his job to remain aware about who worked for him, though the company was so big nowadays and employed so many people that he didn’t always have anything specific to do with some of the workers.

      In any case Marissa was completely unsuitable as a woman he should notice, legs or not. He wasn’t prepared to risk commitment and the failure that could go with it, and he didn’t tangle with the kind of women who might want it. Marissa struck him as a woman who would want all sorts of pieces of a man that Rick might not have the ability to give. Not that he’d ever wanted to.

      ‘I’ll wait for you.’

      She didn’t realise yet there would be no parting. But this didn’t have to be about anything beyond work requirements. And, ultimately, he didn’t have a whole lot of better options.

      ‘If you insist,’ she muttered, and pushed her joggers into her tote bag.

      Why he couldn’t seem to take his gaze from her, he simply couldn’t explain. Yet she’d drawn his attention from the moment she’d arrived at the bridge, that hard hat rammed down on her head like armour plating.

      Most of the women in the office were either in their forties or fifties, married and/or otherwise committed, or giggling twenty-year-olds. Marissa didn’t fit either of those groups. She didn’t seem the type to giggle.

      Maybe that explained this odd attraction to Gordon Slaymore’s secretary.

      Rick got out, closed his door, moved to her side and pulled hers open. ‘Ready?’

      ‘Yes. It was kind of you to wait, though unnecessary.’ She stood at about five foot five inches in height with a compact body that curved in all the right places. Brown eyes sparkled one moment and seemed to guard secrets the next and that wealth of hair caressed her face and nape in all its curly wildness. Her nose was strong and straight, her mouth soft and inviting in a girl-next-door kind of way.

      He shouldn’t want to know about the guardedness or cheerfulness. Definitely needed to steer clear of the girl-next-door part. ‘Let’s go, then.’

      ‘Right.’ She would have got down without touching him. The intention to do so flared in her eyes.

      Given the way he reacted the few times they’d touched, he should have allowed exactly that but some bizarre sense of perversity made him clasp her hand and help her. Then, because he didn’t want to release his hold on her, wanted to stroke that hand with his fingertips, he dropped it altogether, closed the door and locked the vehicle.

      He wanted to kiss her until they were both breathless from it, and when she joined him in the lift the urge to do that came very close to overwhelming him.

      While he fought urges he usually had no difficulty controlling, Marissa reached out a small, capable-looking hand towards the panel. No doubt to press for the first floor and the help she thought he wanted.

      Instead, he pushed the button that would take them directly to his floor, and thought how he would like to taste those softly pouting lips.

      This wasn’t happening. It didn’t happen to him. He was no green youngster who reacted this way to a woman. He’d found her easy enough not to notice until now and he planned to go on not noticing her.

      ‘Gordon’s on holiday.’ The abrupt announcement wasn’t exactly his usual smooth delivery, but at least it got them back onto a business footing. ‘You probably only had maintenance and catch-up work planned, you have some experience behind you and can keep up with my pace of dictation. I’ve decided it will be best if you assist me during Tom’s sick leave.’

      ‘You want me?’ An expression rather close to horror flashed across her face before she quickly concealed it.

      ‘I don’t imagine I’ll find anyone any better qualified and as easily available as you are.’ He’d meant to state the words in a calm, if decided way. Instead they almost sounded bewildered. And perhaps a little insulted. He had to admit that her reaction had been refreshingly honest and appeared to come straight from her heart. Emotional honesty hadn’t exactly been abundant from some of the people in his life.

      And just where had that unhelpful thought come from? A very old place!

      After a moment she murmured, ‘Well, I’m sure it won’t be for long.’

      The grudging acceptance wasn’t exactly effusive and it left him wanting to…impress her with how amenable he could be as a boss.

      ‘Gordon