The man assured Conall she’d be seen safely home. No one would take advantage of her tonight. Including her friendly neighbour.
Conall had to be satisfied with that, but he didn’tfeelsatisfied. He wanted to see for himself. Greer might think of herself as capable, and in the usual run of things she was. But not now. He knew that even if she didn’t.
There was so much she didn’t yet know.
She was vulnerable and he needed to protect her.
The recent discovery of just how alone she was had shocked him. Even he, with his dysfunctional family, had people he could technically call on in need, though he’d face almost anything rather than do so since his family was poison. But she had no one, except him.
The doctors had decreed it better not to prompt her memory, that it was best to let things take their natural course without interference.
He shook his head as he crossed to the never-used bar concealed in the credenza. After a moment’s consideration he uncapped a bottle of Scotland’s finest eighteen-year-old whisky and poured a measure. It was a spirit to be venerated and enjoyed slowly.
Conall knocked it back in one gulp and slammed down the empty glass. That drink was long overdue, but he’d promised himself on the darkest night of his life that he wouldn’t use alcohol as a crutch.
Until now he’d held good to that, but the last weeks had taken their toll.
He felt the blast of fire sear his oesophagus. Yet he didn’t feel warm, he was cold to the bone. So much had gone wrong, unbelievably wrong. He’d never felt at such a loss.
He planted a palm on the reinforced glass window, peering between the buildings of the business district to the lights fringing the harbour. He refused to go on like this. What he needed was a plan.
His eyes narrowed in thought then he straightened away from the window. He’d promised to let her memory return naturally and he’d do that, but he chafed at the softly, softly approach. It was time for more direct action.
Chapter Two
GREER STARED BLEARILYat the summer sunlight edging her bedroom curtains and cursed her inability to sleep late.
She’d been awake most of the night, only falling asleep as dawn approached. She wanted to roll over, close her eyes and shut out the world, but there was no hope of that. Fully awake, her brain was busily replaying last night’s events, as if she hadn’t been over and over them for hours.
She tried to convince herself the disturbed night was because her mind was active after socialising with strangers for the first time in… How long? Months? It felt like years.
Despite her reservations, she’d met some interesting people last night and Matt was a nice guy, not pushy, not assuming too much.
One of the women had mentioned a lunchtime Pilates class mere blocks from where Greer worked, inviting her to attend. It had been worth going last night just for that, an opportunity to pursue the acquaintance, perhaps form a friendship.
In other circumstances she’d have enjoyed the lively group more, especially as she’d felt so cut off lately.
But it had been impossible to relax completely. Because all the time she’d smiled and chatted, a great part of her mind had been replaying that scene in the office. When she’d burst out of the bathroom straight into Conall’s arms and proceeded to make a fool of herself.
Greer grimaced and hugged a spare pillow to her chest. Her face burned as she replayed each embarrassing moment in excruciating detail.
The worst of it was that she couldn’t, quite, regret her actions. Conall’s touch, the strong, steady rhythm of his heart beneath her hand, even the tickle of his intriguing, masculine scent in her nostrils, had feltaffirmingin ways she couldn’t explain.
Affirming and reassuring. As if he could conquer the nebulous fear that these days prevented any sense of true well-being. She rolled onto her back with a huff of self-disgust and stared up at the ceiling.
It wasn’t the white-painted surface she saw. It was his eyes, a gleaming brown so dark it was like looking at the night sky. Eyes that surveyed her without giving anything away.
Did he despise her? Or was he embarrassed by her actions?
He probably felt sorry for her. He had his pick of clever, gorgeous women. Women probably threw themselves at him all the time. He’d been forgiving last night but in the harsh light of day, how would he feel?
Unlikely to want to be assaulted by his assistant. Would he send her back to Perth, perhaps to her old job in accounts? Or would he, come Monday, ask for her resignation?
Conall wasn’t like his father, who had a seriously roving eye and a reputation for bending the rules. He wasn’t the sort to use his position to importune a woman or indulge in an office affair. Greer had never once taken a call from one of the women he dated. He kept business and his private life strictly separate.
Which meant, despite the good work they’d done together, her time as his personal assistant could be over. The office was for work, nothing else, and she’d crossed that line.
He couldn’t really have mistaken her physical response to him for surprise making her unsteady on her feet.
