The Baby Verdict (8 page)

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Authors: Cathy Williams

BOOK: The Baby Verdict
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She was nodding off when Bruno said from over her, ‘Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Feeding time.'
Jessica rubbed her eyes and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the sofa to accommodate the tray he was carrying.
‘Nothing very fancy, I'm afraid.'
He set the tray on her lap, and her mouth watered at the sight of two slices of toast smothered in creamy scrambled egg. Much better than anything she could have produced herself, but then scrambled eggs had always been a problem for her.
‘Thank you very much,' she said, tucking into the food, and only realising the depth of her hunger when she bit into the toast and egg. She had eaten nothing for the past day and a half. ‘Tastes delicious.'
‘Things have a tendency to, when someone else does the cooking.' He perched on the coffee-table and regarded her.
‘You do this often, do you?' she asked absent-mindedly, concentrating on feeding her hunger as rapidly as she could without appearing utterly inelegant in the process.
‘I think this is a first for me,' he told her dryly, and she shot him a quick, surprised look.
‘Clever of you to avoid going out with women who catch the occasional cold,' she said mildly. ‘Or do you just avoid them when they're careless enough to get ill?'
‘Care to fill me in on precisely what you're saying?'
‘I'm not saying anything.' She ducked her head and concentrated on eating.
‘Oh, yes, you are. I've noticed something about you. You're good at initiating criticism, in that cowardly, backhanded fashion of yours, but you don't like it if it's pursued, do you? You're not up to defending anything you say.'
‘It wasn't meant to be a criticism,' Jessica mumbled, mortified at what he had said, which was perfectly true. ‘It was just an observation.'
‘I don't make it a habit of cooking for women, any more than I make it a habit of having women cook for me.'
‘Should I consider myself flattered, in that case?' She asked the question without thinking about it, but when she looked at him his eyes were cool and speculative.
‘You can consider it anything you want to. As far as I'm concerned, it just means that you're not my woman.'
He let the words sink in, in all their brutal simplicity. She was his employee, and that was the full extent of it. Beyond that, she meant nothing at all to him, and so whether she made him a meal, or he cooked her some eggs, was irrelevant. Theirs was not a relationship and so was not threatening.
‘But that's not why I came here. I came here to congratulate you on the court case, and found you ill and clearly incapable of looking after yourself...'
‘I am perfectly capable of looking after myself!' Jessica retorted indignantly.
‘So you've told me. Is that why you looked as though you hadn't eaten for a week?'
‘I didn't get around to it...' she returned, feeling more and more like a charity case, and hating it.
‘So I made you something to eat.' He shrugged and stood up.
Does he think that I'm trying to attach significance to that? she wondered, with a growing sense of shame. Did he think that she was after him, looking for ways of misinterpreting simple actions into something meaningful?
Yes. Of course he thought that. She could feel herself getting hot and flustered and horribly embarrassed.
He was the archetypal eligible bachelor. She suspected that he would have spent his entire adult life being pursued by women. It would hardly surprise him if he thought that she had joined the queue. She cringed inwardly. Good Lord, he was warning her off him!
‘Yes, I know. I know, I know, I know. I'm being a bore. It's this inactivity. I hate it. I need to be
doing
.' She transferred tray from lap to table.
‘Makes you feel like a worthwhile member of society, does it?'
Jessica closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the sofa. ‘Something like that. Either that or I'm an undiagnosed hyperactive and in desperate need of medication.'
‘You should try slowing down now and again.'
She half opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘Do you?'
‘No, but I'm a man.' He waited for her expression to change and then burst out laughing. ‘Works a treat every time! Now you have a steaming cold to contend with and high blood pressure from trying to stifle your little flare of self-righteous anger at my remark, but at least the wallowing inclination's disappeared for the moment. Now, doctor's orders: I shouldn't bother coming into work for the rest of the week.' He eyed her up and down in the manner of a scientist sizing up a particularly stubborn strain of bacteria.
‘I'll see how it goes,' Jessica said vaguely, not caring for his jovial brand of high humour. Of all the things he made her feel, feminine was not in the list and she wondered whether it was his deliberate ploy to remind her that any concern for her was purely altruistic.
She remembered Rachel, with the flaxen hair and babydoll look; Rachel who had made the mistake of becoming a little too clingy and therefore had had to be dispensed with. Did he imagine that she might have seen his small act of kindness as encouragement?
She began standing up and he waved her down.
‘Actually, I haven't quite said what I came to say,' he informed her, slinging on his jacket.
‘Which is?'
‘You and your team have done a fine job, and I want to recognise that.'
‘I'm sure it's enough for you to tell them that personally,' Jessica said, omitting to mention that a bonus would probably do the trick even more.
‘Which is why,' he carried on, ignoring her input, ‘I wanted to ask your advice.'
‘
My
advice? Where's my diary? I should make a note of this red-letter day.'
‘I'll put that remark down to ill health.' He gave her another wolfish grin. ‘You know your team far better than I do.'
‘True.' She nodded sagely, then, unable to resist the temptation, added, ‘They really don't see much of you, considering you
are
their boss.'
He frowned, and she smiled placidly at him.
‘I thought a weekend away might be a nice idea...'
‘A weekend away? Where?' She hoped he wouldn't suggest a health farm. She couldn't think of a single member of her staff who would appreciate a weekend at a health farm. They were all far too young to see the advantages of a place that offered only nutritional food on their menu and a complete absence of alcohol.
‘Somewhere hot, I think, don't you?'
They both automatically looked in the direction of the bay window, through which leaden skies promised the worst of English weather.
‘I'm sure they would be thrilled,' Jessica said, with genuine sincerity. ‘This weather's awful, isn't it?'
‘Grim.'
‘When did you have in mind?'
‘This weekend, actually. If the office could do without manning for a couple of days.'
‘This weekend?'
The man obviously had no touch with reality if he thought that tickets to anywhere in the Med could be bought at such short notice. ‘And of course the office would be manned. Why shouldn't it be?'
‘By whom?'
‘Well, me for a start, and then there are the secretaries and all the other people who have had nothing to do with the lawsuit...'
‘Fourteen in all, including yourself.'
‘You want to take the entire office on a weekend to somewhere hot?' She gave an incredulous laugh.
‘What are your objections?'
‘Oh, none at all!' Jessica informed him airily. ‘Of course, the airlines might have a few. I doubt any of them could fly thirteen people over to sunny Spain at a moment's notice!'
‘Whoever mentioned sunny Spain? Which, incidentally, wouldn't be all that sunny at this time of the year. And what do airlines have to do with anything?'
‘Well, how else would you suggest they travel?' she asked, with a hint of saccharine sarcasm in her voice. ‘Swim?'
‘I own a small private jet'
‘You...own...a...private...jet... Of course, don't we all? What household is complete without one?'
‘I also own an island in the Caribbean,' he drawled.
‘You own an island in the Caribbean?
' She stared at him, open-mouthed.
‘Of course. Don't we all? What household is complete without one?'
Jessica went pink. Why was it that her mouth seemed to develop a will of its own the minute this man was around?
‘So you're planning on whisking my entire office off to your private island, in your private jet, for a long weekend.'
‘That's about the size of it. Do you think that they would appreciate the gesture?'
‘Appreciate might be understating their reaction.' She thought that they might just keel over from shock, and one or two of the older ones, Mary and Elizabeth, in their fifties, might well have to be resuscitated.
‘And what about you?'
‘What about me?'
‘You're included in the list of invitees. I take it you'll be over your cold by Friday?'
She didn't want to go. Private jets to private islands with Bruno Carr lurking in the background somewhere were not her idea of a relaxing time.
‘I'm not sure that it'll be possible for me to come as well.'
‘Why not?'
‘Because...I've already missed enough work, what with having to do so much on this court case. I need to get back to the office and catch up with what's been going on.'
‘It can wait a few more days.'
She fidgeted in silence for a while, unable to pinpoint why she felt so apprehensive at a free weekend break in the sun.
‘When was the last time you had a holiday?' he asked lazily, and she frowned and thought about the question.
‘Some time ago,' she finally admitted. ‘My lifestyle doesn't seem to accommodate holidays.'
‘Your lifestyle doesn't seem to accommodate holidays?' She heard the irony in his voice and flinched.
‘I'm a very busy woman,' she told him stiffly. ‘I haven't got the time to go gallivanting around the world at a moment's notice.' What she found she meant was that the years seemed to have rushed by. She had been so wrapped up in her exams, then in her jobs, proving her worth, working all out so that she could stake her claim for financial independence, that she had barely noticed the passing of time. It had been five years since she'd had anything resembling a real holiday. Yes, she had had the occasional long weekend, and a few days off around Christmas, but a fortnight relaxing somewhere, far away from the madding crowd, was a luxury she had almost forgotten existed.
‘Of course, it's a very generous offer...'
‘Isn't it?' he said coolly. ‘But not one you feel you can accept...'
‘If I hadn't had these past couple of days off work, ill...'
‘In that case, I'm sure you won't mind breaking the news to the rest of your staff that you rejected my offer on their behalf. I'm sure they'll understand.'
He turned around and was heading towards the door, and she scrambled after him.
‘What do you mean? Are you telling me that if I don't come, then the bonus break's off for everyone else?'
He stopped abruptly and swung round to face her, so that she very nearly catapulted into his chest.
‘Got it in one.'
‘That's not fair!'
‘Why not? I won't be there for the first day or so, if at all. I need the security of knowing that there'll be someone loosely in charge.'
‘They're all adults!'
‘Your choice.' He shrugged and looked at her, and eventually she sighed.
‘Okay. I'll go. I should be fine by then.' Besides, if Bruno Carr wasn't going to be there, then she would be able to relax, and she needed a rest. Her body was telling her so.
‘My secretary will contact you with all the details by Thursday afternoon.'
He rested his hand on the door handle, and then said, in passing, ‘It's gratifying to know that you
are
capable of thinking of someone other than yourself.'
‘And what is
that
supposed to mean?' she demanded as he opened the door and began heading towards his car.
He didn't bother to turn around. He just called out, in the voice of someone utterly indifferent to what she might or might not think of his remark, ‘Why don't you take to your bed and think about it?'

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