Chapter One #2
Maybe being reminded of how alone she was had affected her more than she realised.
Child of a single mother, who was in turn an only child, meant no relatives now her mother was dead.
Greer knew nothing about her father except that the thought of him had scared her mother.
They’d moved often and Greer had got into the habit of self-sufficiency, reliant only on herself and her mum.
Greer had friends but they weren’t so close now. They were back in West Australia and her job left little free time for socialising. As for men, there’d been no one special, given her career focus and innate caution.
Greer surveyed the open document, but her thoughts were elsewhere. No matter what she’d told Conall, she didn’t feel in charge of her life. How could she when she had no recollection of what she’d done over five whole months?
She was doing everything she could to look after herself and get better. Yoga stretches and a brisk walk each morning. Time out for lunch, forcing herself from the office and down into the botanic gardens for fresh air every day, whereas in Perth she’d often eaten at her desk.
It’s time for you to get out and meet people. Build a network of friends in this new city.
In the weeks since the accident no one had texted or called, wondering where she was, which made her think she’d devoted all her time in the city to business.
That stopped tonight. Drinks at Circular Quay with Matt and his friends was just what she needed.
She sat straighter and reached for the keypad, determined to take a leaf from Conall’s book. She intended to get on with her life, building it the way she wanted it to be, rather than worrying about a past she couldn’t recall.
Greer ended up working later than intended.
Though she and Conall had worked together for almost two years, since returning to work she’d found it difficult to corral her thoughts when he was in the office. Even on the rare occasions that he shut the connecting door, she was aware of his presence, an ever-present distraction.
She hadn’t discussed it with the doctors but maybe the brain injury meant she required more solitude to concentrate.
With Conall elsewhere, not expected to return that day, she’d had the executive suite to herself, a rare luxury. Now she was pleased with the progress she’d made. Which tempted her to work on. Conall had been insisting she leave by five and it felt good to catch up with some of the backlog.
Matt had said to turn up any time. He and his colleagues would be at the outdoor bar for hours.
Refreshing her lipstick in the executive suite’s private bathroom, she met her eyes, seeing the truth there. Okay, so she was a little reluctant about joining a group of strangers for a drink, even though Matt’s cheery enthusiasm was probably the antidote she needed to pull her out of this trough.
Still, the idea of a boisterous group didn’t appeal.
What does appeal, Greer? You don’t know what you want, that’s the problem.
But she needed something. Each day she grew more restless.
Eyeing herself in the mirror, she frowned.
Had she overdone it? They were gathering to celebrate Matt’s promotion so she’d thought in terms of a party but really, it was casual drinks and maybe bar snacks.
Greer had looked in her wardrobe, finding tailored business suits in sombre tones and a selection of exercise wear and comfortable jeans, wishing that for once she had something bright and cheerful.
Then she caught a glimmer of colour at the back of the cupboard.
As soon as she saw the midnight-blue dress she wanted to wear it. It had a scooped neckline, narrow shoulder straps and ended high above her knees. She had no recollection of buying it and it was vastly different to anything she could remember buying, but just looking at it lifted her spirits.
Now she smoothed her hands down the stretchy fabric that shaped to her contours. She looked carefree and sexy, something she hadn’t felt in a while.
Greer tilted her head. Did the sparkles in the fabric make it too over the top for casual drinks by the harbour?
She didn’t care. It was this or the grey jacket and straight skirt she’d worn to work.
She grinned at her reflection. Sparkles it was. But first… She unpinned her long, straight hair and combed it out. Really, she should get it cut. It was overdue. But for tonight she’d enjoy it loose around her shoulders.
Slipping her feet into comfortable slingbacks, she stuffed the comb into her bag, picked up her discarded clothes and walked out.
Straight into a tall body.
She froze, thoughts scrabbling at the feel of a hard, hot male body against her torso. Strong hands closed around her elbows, anchoring her, and she realised belatedly that she wobbled on her heels.
Greer gasped as, in slow motion, her clothes spilled from her grip. That gasp brought a familiar scent. A warm male scent, woody with an undertone of leather. Her pulse skyrocketed, making her heart thud against her rib cage.
Because she knew instantly who this was.
Something intense and shocking shivered through her insides.
Slowly, reluctantly, she lifted her chin, taking in the crisp shirt beneath the beautifully tailored jacket. Up past his open collar that revealed a V of golden flesh and the dark bronze silk of his loosened tie.
He always mangled his ties.
Greer swallowed, searching for something to say. Something light and offhand about being clumsy or him surprising her.
Nothing came. She felt his chest rise on a breath, pushing against her breasts, but he didn’t speak. The friction made her breasts tighten and a hollow feeling open up low in her body.
She needed to move back, break the contact. And again her willpower failed her.
Because this felt so good. Too good.
Despite the heat flaring between them, cold fingers danced up her spine, lifting the hairs at her nape in warning.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Of course it was wrong to stand here, soaking up the sensation of Conall’s hard frame against hers.
But maybe the knock to her head had damaged her willpower too.
Since the moment they’d met she’d been supremely aware of this fruitless attraction and done everything to resist it, or at least hide it.
Yet no matter how she told her legs to move, nothing happened.
Carefully she lifted her head, seeing the clean, enticing line of his jaw and then that sculpted mouth.
‘Are you okay, Greer?’ His voice sounded husky, probably distorted by the throb of her racing pulse. ‘You seem unsteady.’
Moistening her lips, searching for a semblance of normality, she looked up into concerned dark eyes. Was that concern, or something like the exhilaration she felt?
Conall’s gaze dipped to her mouth, lingering in a way that sent heat hurtling through her bloodstream. It spread over her breasts and throat, at the same time pooling low in her pelvis.
There was a new sensation too, fine fabric against her palms and beneath the fabric, the solid wall of his chest. She hadn’t known she’d lifted her hands until she felt her fingers moulding possessively over tensed muscles and realised she’d nudged his jacket open.
She wanted… How she wanted…
As if in answer to the longing she’d so ruthlessly suppressed, his head lowered to hers. So slowly she didn’t actually see the movement, just registered his features getting closer.
Excitement spiked. With it came elation and a hunger so profound it should have scared her.
Yet it felt perfectly, absolutely right. As if the answer to her earlier question about what she needed was simply Conall.
Conall holding her close, his body a bulwark against the world, his touch the route to all she craved.
Everything slowed, as it did during life-and-death events. Seconds felt like minutes or hours, while she registered details so thoroughly they stayed imprinted permanently on the memory.
The spiky fringe of his black lashes. The tiny furrow of concentration at the centre of his forehead. The arc of that tiny new scar on his jawline.
She wanted to trace his features. To know intimacies he didn’t share with anyone else. Even, foolishly, how he’d got that scar. But most of all she wanted, needed his kiss. She’d never needed anything so much.
‘Greer?’
His voice was sharper, his fingers tightening on her arms and abruptly she realised she was the one moving closer to him.
She was on tiptoe, leaning up to reach him, her body pushing against his.
One of her hands had crept to his shoulder, a moment away from grasping the back of his head and pulling it down to hers.
Shock blasted her, breath hissing in as reality pierced the haze of desire.
She stumbled back, embarrassment surging as she realised Conall’s dark eyes held only concern and a wariness that made her stomach curdle.
Almost as bad was the fact he felt the need to keep hold of her lest she fall.
Wrenching her arms free, she retreated further, coming up against a wall. Her chest rose and fell with each quick, agonising breath and she wrapped her bare arms around her middle, trying to hold in the toxic mix of shock, disappointment and embarrassment.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…’
She had meant it. That was the problem. For twenty months she’d kept her attraction to Conall under lock and key, never giving in to it. Never even allowing her gaze to linger.
‘There’s nothing to apologise for. It’s okay.’
She stifled a bitter laugh. It was anything but okay. She’d just come on to her boss. Her face, even her ears burned with embarrassment. In the pit of her stomach fear escalated. Had she just thrown away everything she’d worked so hard for?
‘Greer, did you hear me? It’s all right. It’s not your fault you were unsteady on your feet when I surprised you. I probably scared you, appearing suddenly when you thought the office empty.’
Her brows twitched. What about her grabbing him, leaning on him as she tried to get close enough for a kiss?
But she could read nothing in his expression apart from that tiny twist of concern.
He’s being kind. He’s giving you a free pass. Maybe he feels sorry for you. Believes you’re not yourself since the knock to the head.
He was right there. Never in her wildest dreams would she have believed she’d do anything as self-destructive as trying to kiss her boss.
Yet everything she’d felt was real. Those moments in his arms she’d felt more herself, more potently alive than at any time she could remember.
‘Now, can I give you a lift home? It’s been a long week and you’re probably tired.’
She’d rather walk on hot coals than be cooped up in a car with him while he pretended she hadn’t just made a complete fool of herself.
‘Thanks, but no.’ She bent and scooped up her work clothes, holding them against her chest like a protective barrier. ‘I’m meeting someone. See you on Monday.’
Conall watched the lift doors close behind Greer. She hadn’t looked at him again, just shoved her work clothes away and strode for the exit.
His gaze had tracked every step of those bare legs. Followed the way the light shimmered on that figure-hugging dress and her dark hair that swayed halfway to her waist with each step. Straight silky hair that mesmerised and made his fingers twitch.
Seeing Greer in that dress… His breath died as a fist slammed into his chest. Or was it a blade? He swore he felt it rip through him, slicing past skin and bone to something raw and savage.
Had he really thought the offer of a lift home would weigh against the lure of her assignation tonight?
He jammed his fists tight into his trouser pockets. She’d felt that spark of attraction, he knew it. Standing there, watching her walk away had been tough. As tough as watching her confusion and not intervening when she’d pulled away.
His gut churned at the uncertainty he’d seen in her indigo eyes. No matter what Greer claimed, her memory loss haunted her.
The lift began its descent and he spun away, chest tight as he strode into his office to his vantage point at the corner window. He’d already pulled his phone out, speed dialling his head of security.
As they spoke he thought he caught a glimpse of her on the street, behind a group heading down towards Circular Quay. He couldn’t follow her. She’d demanded distance. If she saw him among the end of week revellers by the harbour she’d know it was no coincidence.
She’d even disposed of the note she’d scribbled while on the phone, with the name of a popular bar there. He told himself it was her habit to leave her desk tidy. Not because she didn’t want him to know about her date.
His chest tightened and he yanked his attention back to the phone.
A few minutes later it was sorted. He rarely needed bodyguards while in Australia, despite his wealth and well-known family name. But his security adviser assured him there’d be someone at the Quay straightaway. That was one of the advantages of being wealthy—nothing was too much trouble.
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’t feel satisfied. 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.