The phone rang and she grimaced, but habit made her reach for it. Her eyes rounded when she saw it was Conall.
Her heart hammered and there was a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She pushed the hair out of her eyes and wriggled higher in the bed, shoving the extra pillow behind her.
‘Morning, Conall.’ Thankfully she sounded normal, only a slight huskiness betraying her sleepless night.
‘Greer. I’m sorry to ring you early on a Saturday, but I knew you’d be up, being an early riser.’
She cast a wry gaze over her rumpled bed. ‘How can I help?’
‘Something’s come up and I want your input. Do you mind?’
I do if you’re going to sack me.
She set her jaw. This was the man who, for the past couple of weeks, had scrupulouslynotallowed her to work beyond minimum hours. Who’d rung her at home, but only to make sure she was okay.
Besides, she had nothing planned for the weekend. Nothing at all, and she was used to being busy.
How had she filled her free time in Sydney before? She wished she remembered.
‘No, that’s okay. Where would you like to meet?’
‘Excellent. I’m almost there. I’ll see you soon.’
Almost here? Surely not. But the connection went dead in her hand. His penthouse was a ten minute drive but it sounded like he’d already left.
She glanced down at the brief cotton nightie she wore on hot nights. The material ended halfway down her thighs and was so fine as to be translucent.
Fifteen seconds later, clothes in hand, she leaned in and turned the shower on, pushing the bathroom door shut with her foot and tossing her clothes onto the vanity unit. Reefing off the nightie, she stepped into the cubicle, shoving her hair into a shower cap. The water was cold enough to make her gasp, but at least it cleared her head.
It was the shortest shower on record. Soon she was in her underwear, cleaning her teeth as she hung up her towel. She put on light, summer-weight trousers and a fitted T-shirt before trying to tidy her hair. She’d put it into a plait last night but had been so restless it had come loose and tangled.
The doorbell rang and her heart punched hard against her breastbone.
If he’d come to fire her, pride dictated she didn’t look like a rumpled mess. On the other hand, she didn’t want to keep him waiting, in case he was here for some other reason.
Another couple of quick strokes with the hairbrush and she turned, only to come up short as she viewed herself properly in the mirror, including the dark shadow of her lacy bra under her white T-shirt.
She couldn’t remember buying the pretty, frivolous item in midnight-blue but yesterday it had seemed perfect to wear with the blue dress and she’d quickly grabbed it this morning. How she wished she’d stuck to plain beige.
No time to change. Besides, what did that matter if she were about to lose her job?
‘Coming!’ Closing the bedroom door behind her, she walked to the entrance, slowing her breathing in an attempt to ease her nerves. A tall figure with broad shoulders was visible through the opaque glass at the top of the door.
Conall. Instead of easing, her tension rocketed but she could at least conceal it. Standing tall, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Her first thought was that this wasn’t Conall, her employer. She’d only seen him like this in the hospital and once, stretched out on the sofa in this very room, features softened by sleep, an undisciplined lock of dark hair tumbling across his brow, making him look…
‘Conall!’ Her voice was too high. ‘I didn’t expect you so soon.’
After that one sweeping look, she kept her gaze on his face. It was better not to notice how those faded jeans clung to his long, muscled thighs. Or how the black polo shirt complimented his dark golden skin and showed off his wide chest and flat stomach.
Enigmatic eyes held hers. She’d give a lot to know what he was thinking, but for once she couldn’t read his mood. Strange when at work she often sensed what he was thinking and anticipated his requirements.
That only heightened her nerves. As if he’d deliberately cut her off so she couldn’t interpret his thoughts.
Greer repressed a shiver, telling herself not to jump to conclusions. Hemightnot be here to complain about her unprofessional behaviour.
Fervently she hoped that was the case.
