.

turn of events.

      She pushed open the coffee shop door, glancing at her watch. She was late. Maybe late enough for the girls to be totally focused on the wedding or the baby shower and to have forgotten entirely about her lack of promotion.

      She didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to forget it had happened, try to recapture that naïve innocence and faith she’d had this morning that it was imminent, not an ‘if’ but a ‘when’ and she was the success she wanted to be.

      Tahlia weaved through the tables. She definitely didn’t want to talk about it until she knew what in heavens she was going to do about it.

      Keely and Emma were leaning over their usual table, looking up at the same time, as though they’d picked her up on some radar.

      ‘I’m so sorry, honey,’ Emma said, gathering up the photos of wedding cakes and a couple of dozen letters that were probably more of the RSVPs she’d been checking off her guest list for the last week. ‘About the promotion.’

      Tahlia slid into the seat at the booth, gesturing for Andy, their usual waiter. ‘It’s nothing. A slight hiccup. I’ll be fine.’ She wished she could feel as fine as she hoped she sounded.

      ‘Darrington is one hell of a hiccup.’

      Tahlia shook her head, swallowing hard. ‘So your baby shower is next week—’ And then she’d be abandoning work for putting her feet up and focusing on her future, her baby, her husband and her new house.

      ‘And you’re avoiding the subject. What are you going to do about the new suit in the office?’ Keely asked, tipping her head.

      ‘Nothing,’ Tahlia said as casually as she could, shrugging. ‘I’m going to ignore him.’

      Emma tapped her pile of stuff into symmetry. ‘That may be a bit difficult seeing as he’s your boss.’

      ‘And he’s cute as,’ Keely added.

      ‘I’m a professional.’ And there was no way she wanted to see the guy again after their mortifying first meeting, let alone the fact he’d destroyed her dream.

      Keely leant forward in her seat, her hand resting on her bulge. ‘So you’re telling us that you haven’t noticed how nice-looking he is?’

      She shook her head vigorously. ‘No.’ She wished she’d known who the guy was from the start so she hadn’t allowed her body to buzz around in flights of fancy. ‘I don’t find that sort of clean-cut chiselled features, tailored-suit sort of guy attractive at all.’ Now.

      Today was just another good reason to avoid men altogether—they were trouble. They took what you wanted and ruined your life.

      Emma drained her cup. ‘So what now?’

      ‘I get on with my job,’ Tahlia said coolly, raising her eyebrows and giving a soft shrug. What else could she do?

      ‘If we still have one,’ Keely offered, flicking cookie crumbs from the table in front of her. ‘Rumour has it that the owners are selling up WWW.’

      ‘That one has been going around for ages,’ Tahlia retorted, fighting the ache in her belly. It couldn’t happen, not to her workplace, her future…

      Keely got up, picking up her coat. ‘I’ve got to go…home to Lachlan—gosh, I still can’t believe my luck.’

      ‘You deserve it,’ Tahlia offered, grabbing her friend’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze. ‘And more.’

      Emma shoved her wedding stuff into her large bag. ‘You know you could start looking around for another job?’

      Tahlia shook her head. ‘I’ve got too much invested here.’ And she’d rather walk on hot coals than admit failure, especially to her mum. She was going to get that promotion even if she had to wait another year for it.

      ‘But don’t feel bad that you’re running off to the Big Apple.’ Tahlia slapped the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically. ‘Leaving me all on my own to battle the Darrington disaster.’

      Emma laughed. ‘You’ll do just fine.’

      Tahlia nodded, forcing a smile to her face. ‘Of course. Always.’ She was always fine. She had been fine when her father had died, fine when her mother had gone to work, fine when she’d come home to an empty house, fine when her mother hadn’t made it to her graduation, her birthdays or their lunch-dates, and she was fine now.

      She could handle Darrington all on her own. She’d find out who the man was and what he’d done so that she could explain how he could get her job promotion—to herself and to her mother.

      Maybe he just had better luck than her. She bit her bottom lip. Maybe she should get a few charms to be on the safe side, to cover all bases, to ensure her success.

      She’d do anything to get where she wanted to go. She was a professional.

      Chapter Four

       Everything in life has a price.

       And I never know what it is until it’s too late.

      CASE sat in the large leather chair and surveyed his new office again. He couldn’t quite believe he was here.

      He’d spent all yesterday calling in employees, talking to them, encouraging them to tell him just how much they did in the company and how much more they could do, given the right incentives.

      Work was going well.

      This was going to be good for him. It reminded him of where he’d been six years ago, took him back to simpler times, when he still believed in so many things, including love and marriage.

      Framed prints hung on the walls, large ferns sat in the corners looking as if they were in need of a water or a wax—he never could tell if indoor plants were fake or not—the sofa in the corner was cream with tan cushions that matched the rug under the glass and chrome coffee table.

      The place could do with a makeover, as one of the employees had suggested, to improve morale. He’d have to look into it. And Miss Tahlia Moran.

      Case snatched a pen from the desk, slapping it into his palm. No. There was no mystery to unravel. Nothing to explore except how to get this office dynamic working to its highest potential.

      The only responsibility he had was to the company. So what if she’d vanished during the meeting yesterday, somewhere after her report and the general housekeeping.

      He stabbed the pen into the file on his desk. He wished she’d left his thoughts as easily. He couldn’t stop wondering about her and that lack of light in her eyes.

      He’d half thought of calling her into his office yesterday but had caught himself. There was no rush here—he could take his time to investigate the office politics, the hierarchies and issues at WWW. Besides, he would run into her eventually. They were on the same floor.

       But he hadn’t yesterday.

      Was she avoiding him? He rubbed his jaw. She could easily be. Women were strange creatures. She could be put out that he hadn’t mentioned his position to her when he’d bumped into her. But dammit, he hadn’t wanted anything to interfere with her first impressions of him. It was so rare for him to have people see him as himself.

      For once in his life he just wanted to be Joe Anybody.

      Much good it had done him. He was her boss now, and the cool professional look she had cast him across the boardroom yesterday had said it all.

      ‘Mr Darrington,’ Miss Moran offered, tapping on his door. ‘You wanted to see me?’

      She stood tall with high black heels, black trousers that held her curves and a white shirt with the top buttons undone, giving the hint of a lace undershirt.

      His blood heated.

      Her