Chapter Three #2
Like an assignation with her too-friendly neighbour. Conall worked to conceal stirring outrage at the thought.
‘Nothing that won’t keep.’
Satisfaction warmed him. ‘So you’d like another sailing lesson?’
‘Only if you have time.’ Her expression was diffident. She wasn’t to know he’d cleared the whole day for this.
‘I’ve got time.’
His security adviser had reported last night that she’d got home safely. Alone. Conall had told himself then that he could relax. Yet there’d been no let up from the fierce emotions buffeting him.
The news that Greer had accepted a date had floored him. A date! Greer! How could she…?
Easily, goaded that inner voice. He might have told himself to go slowly and not press her. The doctors had made it clear she was still recuperating. But she seemed not to have got the memo. She was getting on with her life while he was hamstrung by the need to let her heal in her own time.
Conall was never hamstrung. He strategised and acted, as he’d done today. He couldn’t interfere but he could be with her more, much more.
He’d spent last night imagining her dating other men. Doing more than dating. That, he refused to accept.
His jaw had still been tender from grinding his molars when he’d breezed into her apartment, carrying breakfast.
Even then, when she’d gradually relaxed with him like she used to, he hadn’t been able to do the same. Not until he’d checked the other rooms to be sure there was no one discreetly keeping out of sight.
He’d felt like a character in a French farce, sneaking behind her back, making a fool of himself. Yet he hadn’t been able to stop himself.
That had been bad enough. But then had come the moment when he’d stood in her bedroom doorway and their eyes had locked across the unmade bed.
Greer’s eyes had rounded, her lips parting, and he’d felt the quickened thud of her heartbeat pulse between them, a perfect match for his own.
He’d carried the memory of that moment like a talisman all day.
Surely she’d recognised his need—a need he was doing his utmost to suppress until she was better.
Recognised it and responded with an answering hunger, for him.
It had taken everything he had not to stride across the room and pull her into his arms.
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. That was 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?’
Greer had straightened at the prospect of talking with Conall but now leaned back against the door, disappointment a solid weight in her chest. ‘No, it’s fine. What can I do for you?’
‘I wondered if you wanted to go to the movies tomorrow.’
‘I’m sorry, Matt. I need to catch up on some things tomorrow. Monday’s going to be a busy day.’
‘Maybe later in the week?’
She opened her mouth then closed it. She liked Matt, but if he wanted more than friendship he was looking in the wrong place.
Despite almost two years of trying, she hadn’t been able to get Conall out of her mind. She hadn’t been out on a date since she’d begun working for him. Not merely because her job kept her extremely busy, but because his presence cast other men into the shade.
Look at how she’d reacted just now, heart thumping in anticipation, believing he’d called her. That was why she’d accepted Matt’s first invitation, because it was time to get over her crush and move on.
But while she liked Matt there was no spark there, nothing to hint they might one day mean more to each other. She didn’t want to lead her neighbour on.
Greer bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, Matt. I enjoyed being with you and your friends last night. But I’m not looking for…’
‘A relationship?’
She heard his disappointment but couldn’t admit she did want a romantic relationship, just not with him.
Maybe it was time to try a dating app. She needed to free herself of her feelings for Conall once and for all.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone out with you and your friends last night.’
But he’d made it sound like a casual catch-up rather than a romantic assignation. And she’d spent the weeks since hospital hemmed in by a vague sense of unease. She’d decided she needed to get out among people instead of staying in her head, worrying about her faulty memory.
‘Don’t say that. We were glad to have you there.’ He paused. ‘If you’re not after romance, I’d still like to be your friend. Our paths will cross in the building and if ever you change your mind, you know where to find me.’
Her lips curved in a wry smile. Why couldn’t she fall for a man like Matt?
She and Conall were from different worlds that only intersected in the office.
He came from a phenomenally wealthy background, had a high-flying business, powerful friends and attended high-profile events with glamorous, beautiful women.
Conall valued her work and was concerned for her well-being after her accident. But that was all.
‘You’re a nice man, Matt. I’m sorry I—’
‘Ah, the death knell of all my romantic hopes. Nice!’ Then he chuckled. ‘Don’t fret, Greer. It was worth asking. Have a good night.’
Half an hour later the phone rang again. This time she checked the caller, her pulse tripping. ‘Conall.’
‘Greer.’ He paused as if debating how to proceed. Or perhaps she imagined it. Conall was confident. She’d never known him to hesitate when he’d decided to do something. ‘Would you like to go out tomorrow?’
Greer sank onto a chair, her knees suddenly turning to water.
Was he asking her out? Excitement danced across her skin.
Today had been special. She’d convinced herself Conall had enjoyed himself just as much as she had.
The idea he might now simply want to be with her was wonderful and disturbing.
‘Is this you being concerned about my recovery, Conall? Making sure I don’t have time to worry about my amnesia?’
‘Would it be so bad if I want to…support you?’
Greer exhaled, that jittery thrill dissolving. Protectiveness then. Nothing else.
‘I’m fine, Conall.’ Despite her best efforts her voice was flat and she looked down to see she was rubbing her finger in that nervous habit she’d acquired. ‘You don’t have to worry.’
A pause. ‘I enjoyed today, very much.’ His voice slowed and deepened so she felt his words like a warm eddying pool, low in her body. ‘I want to spend more time with you, Greer, and I don’t mean working.’
Did he hear her swift, indrawn breath?
Carefully she parsed his words, and still they sounded personal.
She’d dreamt of personal since the day she’d met him in the busy Perth office.
His PA had left for family reasons and, Greer found out later, the temp filling in until the position was filled had struggled.
Her manager had suggested Greer as a replacement, despite the fact her qualifications were in accounting.
She’d knocked on Conall’s door and he’d looked up from his desk, smiling. It had felt like a lightning bolt blasting through her body and soldering her feet to the polished floor.
Working together had turned that initial blast of attraction into something deeper. Conall might be a workaholic, but he was considerate, fair, appreciated her efforts and had a lurking sense of humour she found irresistible.
Greer drew a slow breath and found her voice. ‘I’d like that too. But I can’t tomorrow.’
The words shocked her. She wanted to snatch them back. Yet she knew they were right.
It would be nice to think she’d refused out of innate decency after rejecting Matt’s invitation. Or because she’d decided to look for a partner elsewhere.
Instead, she wondered if she were making some obscure point.
She’d always been available to work whatever hours Conall needed.
When he’d called early today, on her day off, she hadn’t hesitated to see him.
Her working life revolved around his needs.
She needed to make a demarcation from work.
Make it clear he couldn’t take her for granted.
That didn’t stop an inner voice howling that she was an idiot for saying no.
‘You have something on? Another commitment?’
She heard tension in those four words but realised that was imagination, a reflection of her own stress. She yearned to say yes, so badly she tasted the salt tang of blood and discovered she’d bitten her lip.
You don’t have to explain anything.
Yet she heard herself saying, ‘Flats don’t clean themselves and I have errands to run.’
‘Fair enough.’ Did she hear relief in his voice? Now she really was imagining things. ‘How about later in the week? I can get tickets to the opera.’
‘The opera?’ She frowned. She knew little about opera, wasn’t even sure if she’d like it.
‘Yes. You mentioned wanting to attend months ago. You said someone had recommended attending a performance as a chance to see inside the Opera House.’
Greer frowned as something fluttered at the back of her mind. Something tantalising that she couldn’t quite grasp. A jovial, deep voice. Something about Mozart and staging and…views from the bar? She could almost hear herself saying she’d never seen an opera and a voice responding—
‘Greer, are you still there?’
She rubbed her forehead. As if that would stimulate her damaged brain into remembering! But it was gone, that half memory. Or maybe it wasn’t memory at all, just a wish that she did remember, conjured by Conall’s words.
‘I’m here.’
She drew a deep breath then let it out. Hadn’t she told herself she had to get on with life? Even though she felt weirdly as if she were in limbo with those months missing from her memory.
Spending more time with Conall could be a disastrous mistake. But everything she’d done to conquer her crush on the man had failed.
Maybe it was time to be brave.
Pressing her palm against her thundering heart, she said for the second time today, ‘Thanks, Conall. I’d love to.’ It felt like taking a step into a thrilling unknown.