Three Blind-Date Brides. Fiona Harper

Rick’s words followed her, as did that faxed image with the wounded eyes.

      ‘You’re as beautiful as ever, Kirri. You have lovely blue eyes and a killer smile and you’re sweet on the inside where it counts most of all. And so is your mother. You know that, Kirrilea.’ His tone was both gentle and fierce. Not exactly emotionally blockaded right now!

      He drew a breath and Marissa glanced out of the file room at him—just a really brief glimpse—but that one moment showed he was holding back some kind of deep inner anger, wanting to comfort his niece and not let her hear that anger in him, all at the same time. ‘Next time don’t ask Grandad something like that, okay? Ask me, instead.’

      Another pause while Marissa started to push folders away and tried hard not to listen, not to wonder about this grandfather who wouldn’t tell a teenager she looked lovely, about her boss’s family altogether. Rick had said, ‘Ask me.’

      She bit her lip. He must have plenty of commitment capability, because he seemed to have it for his nieces, his sisters …

      There were other things that week. A call from his mother. Final swimming lessons with his niece and the tinge of colour on the tips of his ears as he’d asked if Marissa might manage to make a certificate, perhaps with an image of a fish on it. Something to state that Julia had passed her first unofficial swimming class.

      Marissa navigated each glimpse into his layers with the promise to herself that she wouldn’t let them intrigue her. That she didn’t want to help him unlock his inner ability to commit—she didn’t even know if he truly possessed such a thing. He clearly believed he didn’t. That she didn’t think of his kiss constantly and wake in the middle of the night wondering what it would be like if they did live at the dawn of time, if she had chosen him.

      Tick, tock, tick, tock.

      No. No tick-tocking. No Big 3-0 depressive, subconscious birthday countdown, no biological rumblings at all, and no remembering kisses. No, no, no!

      On Thursday, while Rick dictated straight over Marissa’s shoulder to finalise a memo he didn’t have time to even place first on a tape, a woman rushed through the door and zeroed her gaze onto him.

      ‘I’m sorry. I’m probably interrupting, but something’s happened and I don’t have to take the chance because I know I committed to hostess duties for you tonight, Rick, and I’d never let you down, but I just wondered …’

      The woman was thin, with a determined air about her, and she sported a feminine version of Rick’s nose and jaw. She flipped straight brown hair over her shoulder and for a moment Marissa saw eyes very like the ones in that faxed photograph.

      Marissa’s interest—curiosity—spiked.

      Anyone would be curious, she justified, and hated her weakness where her boss was concerned.

      ‘What’s happened, Darla?’ Rick strode around the desk, clasped the woman’s elbows. ‘Is Kirrilea all right? Did our fath—’

      ‘Kirri’s fine, and Dad is his typical self. There’s no point wishing he’ll change because he’s made it clear he won’t, but I won’t have him upsetting my daughter—’ She broke off. ‘I told Kirri to send you the fax. I hope you didn’t mind.’

      ‘I didn’t.’ He chopped a hand through the air as though to dismiss the very idea. ‘Tell me what’s brought you here.’

      Marissa printed the memo Rick had dictated. ‘If Rick can sign this I’ll put the phone on answering service and hand-deliver the memo. That way you won’t be disturbed while I’m gone.’ She would get out of their way and try not to think about his complexities. Or her ever-growing conviction that he had emotional commitment aplenty for his sisters and nieces and therefore why wouldn’t he have the capacity for that in any other relationship?

      ‘I’m so sorry. I’m Darla.’ The woman stuck out her hand, shook Marissa’s firmly. ‘Forgive my rudeness. I was a little excited.’

      Marissa liked Darla’s honesty and her determined smile, the strength she sensed in her and, most of all, her clear affection for her brother.

      ‘I’m Marissa. The borrowed secretary. Very transitory. And it’s no problem.’ Nor were the callisthenics of her brainwaves. Marissa would get those under control as of now. ‘Please, excuse me.’

      She took the signed memo, dealt with the phone, left them and delivered the memo.

      Should she dawdle back to give them more time? It probably wasn’t necessary. Rick would have taken his sister into his office.

      He hadn’t. They stood exactly where Marissa had left them. Darla was talking fast while Rick nodded.

      Marissa’s steps slowed as both heads turned her way. ‘Um …’

      Darla spoke first. ‘Would you truly not mind the overtime, Marissa? Rick says you might be prepared to help him out, but I don’t want to ask if it will cause any problems.’

      Rick leaned a hand against the edge of Marissa’s desk. Tension showed in the line of his shoulders and yet, when he looked at his sister, all Marissa could see was affection and … pride?

      ‘My sister has the chance to meet with the central management team in charge of her real estate brokerage.’ Rick’s gaze met Marissa’s and held. ‘There may be a promotion in the offing … if you’d be prepared to hostess a business dinner at my home tonight.’

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      ‘OF COURSE. I’ll be happy to hostess the event.’ Marissa spoke the words while panic did its best to get a grip on her.

      The business dinner at Rick’s home had been noted in the BlackBerry. Everything went in there and, indeed, Marissa had prepared Rick some information so he could be fully informed before the evening. She’d thought that would be the extent of her involvement. The idea of spending a night working at Rick’s side, in his home, in a whole other setting to the office, where she would see even more parts of him … well, it unnerved her even while her hormones set up a cheering section about it.

      Marissa spoke to the other woman. ‘If Rick feels I could be of assistance, I … I’m sure I can cope with hostessing the event.’

      Somehow. Maybe. If she managed to get a grip on herself and her thoughts about her boss between now and then. Marissa tried to keep the hope out of her tone as she added, ‘That is, if there’s no one else more suitable, maybe someone else in the family who could take your place?’

      ‘There isn’t,’ Rick said, squashing that hope quite flat.

      A smile broke over Darla’s face. ‘Oh, thank you!’

      The woman impulsively threw her arms around Marissa and then turned to her brother and hugged him. He cupped her head so tenderly in his hand as he hugged her back. A fierce well of protectiveness crossed his face before they separated.

      Layers. How many more could he possibly have? Now Marissa’s hormones had given up the cheer squad routine and brought out the tissues, going all emotional on her right when she didn’t need that to happen.

      ‘It’s settled then.’ Rick drew his wallet from his pocket and pulled out some notes, frowned when his sister opened her mouth. ‘I know you like good luck charms. Buy one to wear tonight.’ He gestured to the silver bracelet on her wrist. ‘You’ll find room for it on there somewhere. And get something for Kirrilea—a trinket. And tell her my secretary very kindly laminated that faxed page and I have it on my desk where I can enjoy it.’

      Darla’s fingers closed over the money and his hand, and a sheen of moisture came to her eyes before she blinked and turned away. ‘God, I wish our father had half … Well …’ She smiled with a fierce determination that quickly became the real thing as she turned once again to Marissa. ‘Thank you. I hope I’ll have good news after tonight but, even if not, I appreciate the chance to attend the meeting.’

      She