At the time he’d been proud of himself for giving her the space and time she needed to work through her feelings in what must be a frightening situation. He couldn’t imagine the horror of missing such a large chunk of memory.
Yet the ruthless part of him wished he’d closed the distance between them and hauled her to him. His voice wasn’t as light as he intended when he said, ‘I’ve got all afternoon free. Let’s make the most of it, shall we? It’s perfect weather for sailing.’
And for wearing down that unseen barrier she’d erected. He wouldn’t rest until it was obliterated. He planned to monopolise her, staying close enough to convince her she had no desire to look at any other man.
As if to confirm his intentions, she slanted him a smile that made his toes curl and his abdominal muscles tighten. Warmth stroked through him.
‘Yes, let’s. I’d enjoy that, thank you.’
He felt like punching the air in triumph. Until he remembered how much ground he had to make up. That her handsome neighbour—the bodyguard had sent him a photo last night—was still around, and a day sailing wasn’t all Conall needed from Greer.
But it was a start. He’d work with that.
It was evening when she got home, tired but exhilarated. The sailing lesson had been fascinating and fun but had taken concentration. Now she felt weary, as if she’d used both her mind and her muscles and would sleep well.
After they’d moored the yacht, Conall suggested they stop by a place that did terrific takeaway. She could get something for dinner before he dropped her home. Or, he’d paused, if she felt like company they could have an early meal together.
The sensible thing would have been to say she wanted to go home straightaway.
Because the day had been marvellous in so many ways and she didn’t wanted it to end.Thatwas dangerous.
Because it wasn’t just the sailing she’d enjoyed. It was being with Conall. Not as his PA, nor an acquaintance who needed looking after, which she knew was part of how he viewed her. But as his chosen companion.
There’d been an illicit intimacy about the day. As if they were simply Greer and Conall. Two people comfortable with each other, working together to control the beautiful yacht as it sped across the glittering dark water, occasionally laughing in exhilaration. They’d shared an afternoon that seemed brighter and more wonderful than usual.
But Greer had left sensible behind that morning. So she’d agreed to share dinner, wanting to extend the day.
That she’d enjoyed the meal hadn’t surprised her. But Conall’s choice of venue had. He’d mentioned the place did takeaway, yet she’d thought he’d take her somewhere upmarket.
Instead they’d gone to a little hole-in-the-wall Thai place off a narrow lane. Even at that early hour there’d been a buzz of activity. They’d eaten heavenly food, listening to the clatter of pans in the kitchen and the rhythm of unfamiliar music.
Conversation had been desultory as they concentrated on wonderful flavours with occasional comments about the day. But there’d been no need for chatter. The silences were companionable.
After weeks feeling the unnerving buzz of awareness that something was wrong in her world, Greer finally found herself totally relaxed. Content. Delighted.
Maybe it was the evening shadows, but she’d been almost sure she saw the same contentment in Conall’s eyes.
Unfortunately, contentment wasn’t all she felt around Conall. Now, leaning her back against her closed front door as he walked back to his car, her heart did a stupid little jig of pleasure that he’d insisted on seeing her safe home.
As if he cared.
Of course he cares. You’re his right-hand woman. He relies on you to run his office and his schedule. He has a vested interest in you recuperating and being fit for work.
But that imp of hope danced between the prosaic words, daring to paint another possibility.
Once or twice today there’d been something in his expression, a hooded look, a burning stare, that fed her improbable fantasy. A fantasy in which they were more than CEO and PA. More than friends. Her breath hitched as familiar heat sizzled through her body and—
Her phone rang.
She grabbed it, accepting the call without looking. Maybe Conall…
‘Hello?’
‘Greer, is that you?’
Something inside deflated. ‘Matt?’
‘Hi. I hope it’s not a bad time to call?’
