Chapter Four
‘I HADN’T EXPECTED it to be funny. You didn’t mention that.’
Greer’s eyes glowed, bright as gemstones.
Her face, which in recent weeks had been worryingly wan, was flushed with pleasure.
Around them the intermission crowd buzzed and behind her was a spectacular view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the lights of the North Shore.
More lights crossed the dark water, marking the movement of ferries and other vessels.
But Conall only had eyes for her as she sipped her sparkling wine. She dazzled.
This was the woman he knew, back again, full of verve. Her energy was tangible. Her smile sent a sizzle of heat straight to his groin. He was torn between relief that she was getting better and a hunger that became almost impossible to rein in.
‘Don’t tell me, you expected them all to die in agony?’
She arched one eyebrow. ‘From what I hear, dying is a common theme in opera. But I did my research. I know no one dies in The Marriage of Figaro.’
Of course she’d researched. That was his Greer, thorough as always.
‘But I thought it would be more serious. After all, the count wants to betray his wife and force himself on her maid. Susanna and Figaro rely on him for their jobs and home. It’s about sexual predation. Coercion.’
Something grabbed hard at Conall’s gut as Greer’s gem-bright gaze turned away. Could that be how she viewed him? This evening out? As coercion by her boss?
The number of times he’d held himself back from her, creating barriers.
Dating women who should have fascinated him yet left him unmoved.
He’d spent such a long time keeping Greer at a distance, because seducing his PA went against every principle.
Especially given his father’s predilection for pursuing beautiful women, no matter what their circumstances.
‘Greer, I don’t want you to think—’
She turned back, smiling, then her eyes widened as someone bumped into Conall. There was a splash as his drink sloshed out onto his shirt, followed by a flurry of apologies.
He nodded absently, still focused on Greer. But she shoved her wine into his hand and opened her small evening purse.
‘There.’ She brandished a handful of tissues triumphantly and moved in, dabbing his lapel and wet shirt. Pushing his lapel aside, she pressed the tissues against him so the heat of her hand spread across his pectoral muscle like a soft brand.
His words died as the light scent of spring flowers filled his nostrils. Spring flowers and the subtle, intriguing scent of Greer. The combination hit so hard he rocked on his heels.
Conall looked down at her sleek, dark hair, falling like a curtain around her shoulders. At the tiny furrow of concentration on her brow that he found intriguing and bizarrely arousing.
He’d never found another woman’s frowning concentration alluring. A quick mind and an ability to solve problems should be admirable, not sexy.
He’d known she was trouble the day she’d walked into his office in her sombre trouser suit and pulled back hair, barely concealing her doubts about taking on the job. Greer Munro tempted him too much.
But he’d been greedy. He’d seen how good she was at the work and told himself he could handle a little temptation.
That was the last time he’d underestimated her impact.
Finally she must have noticed how rock still he stood. She lifted her head eyes locking on his, and he heard a wisp of sound as she sucked in air.
Was his hunger so visible?
Yet instead of stumbling away, she stayed right where she was, close enough for her breath to waft across his chin.
‘Conall?’
‘You know I’d never try to coerce—’
Her eyes turned huge. ‘Don’t! I’d never think that.’
She shook her head, more distressed than he’d ever seen her.
Even when she’d lain, bandaged and bruised in a hospital bed, wearing a faded hospital gown and all sorts of medical monitors, she hadn’t appeared so upset.
He’d been the one who felt undone. The shock of his raw emotions around Greer had been a revelation to a man versed in keeping an emotional distance from others.
As if belatedly realising that her palm was planted firmly on his chest, she jerked her hand free of his jacket, balling up the damp tissues.
Conall wanted to grab her wrist because he already missed her touch. But this wasn’t the place. Despite his determination to get close, they still had to go at her pace. Nothing else was acceptable.
She retrieved her glass from his hand, inadvertently brushing his fingers. He felt it like a desert plant, soaking up the first drops of a rare rainstorm. The muscles in his arms pulled tight with the effort of not reaching for her.
‘I’d never think you’d coerce a woman, Conall. I know you, remember?’ A slow smile curved her mouth, easing the tension around his lungs. ‘It’s one of the things I do know, thankfully.’
Yet he said nothing. For even as he returned her smile, an inner voice whispered, She thinks she knows you, but she’s wrong, isn’t she? She only knows what you let her see.
What will she think when her memory comes back?
A bell dinged, loud and continuous. The call to return to their seats.
‘Are you ready for the rest of it?’ His tone was light, testament to those years in his father’s house, learning to conceal thoughts and, above all, feelings.
And later, starting up his own enterprise, conscious that half the battle in business was appearing and sounding confident, no matter how he felt.
‘I wouldn’t miss it. Thank you for tonight. This is just…marvellous.’
He lifted his glass, clinking it against hers before taking a long swallow. ‘I can’t take all the credit. Mozart deserves some.’
She smiled then sipped her wine and he had to avert his gaze as she swallowed.
There shouldn’t be anything sexy about the movement but with Greer, none of the usual rules applied. Especially when she was wearing that dress. The short glittery blue one with the neckline scooped low to the shadowy cleft between her breasts. That left her arms and most her shoulders bare.
He could only be grateful she had no idea how the sight of her wearing it affected him.
‘That’s the other thing,’ she confided, her tone ebullient. ‘The tunes are glorious. I hadn’t expected that. I thought they’d all be serious, but I’ll be humming them tomorrow.’
Her frank approval pleased him. He’d lost count of the gala music events he’d attended and never had he encountered such honest enthusiasm.
From the time Conall’s father had brought him to live with him he, like his older half-siblings, had been given the best of everything.
The best schools, though he’d hated boarding school with a passion.
Access to the finest art, music and sporting events.
Even tutoring by professional sportsmen, paid a ridiculous amount to cultivate his skills in polo, tennis and yachting.
Had he become blasé? Of course. But never around Greer.
She grounded him. Yet something about her had always urged him to go that extra mile, imagining possibilities that once he’d never have considered.
But as far as she was concerned, he was simply her boss and he was wary of pushing hard for more. Her accident, her sudden vulnerability, haunted every interaction.
For so long he’d thought of her as indomitable.
Yet despite her protestations, she wasn’t fully recovered.
The doctors didn’t know if or when her memory would return.
At the same time other men were trying to win her interest!
Never had he walked such a fine line. He wanted to keep her close, surrounded by keep off signs.
But he couldn’t spook her by appearing too obviously possessive.
‘I’m sure Mozart would have approved.’ He put his glass down and resisted the temptation to hold his arm out for Greer to take. ‘Shall we go?’
Through the rest of the performance, Conall was only partly aware of what happened onstage. His attention was on the woman beside him. Her occasional sighs of appreciation. Her perfume, her warm, womanly beauty.
And, as ever, the imperative to hide his own response.
Conall had been quiet since leaving the Opera House. Distracted. Greer knew the signs. He had something on his mind. The Singapore deal? The delay in getting exactly the right people for the rest of the Sydney positions? Or something she didn’t know about?
Face it, despite the hours you spend with him, you know virtually nothing about his personal life. You don’t even know if he has a girlfriend at the moment.
A sudden, dragging sensation in the pit of her stomach made her gasp.
‘Sorry, Greer. Did you say something?’
She shook her head, turning away from the city lights visible through the car’s window to look at his profile.
Her gaze traced the strong angle of his jaw, the proud lines of his cheekbone and nose.
Even in the gloom she could pinpoint the precise place where a long dimple would carve his cheek if something amused him.
Greer shivered as an overwhelming sense of intimacy enveloped her. ‘No, nothing at all.’
She could get used to this, she realised with a throb of desperate understanding. Sharing his space in the darkness, away from work responsibilities. Here she could pretend they were simply a man and woman enjoying an evening together.
Not her boss taking her out because he was concerned for her mental well-being.
The people at work, the ones on the next floor whom she’d only got to know again in the past couple of weeks, had been shocked and curious to hear of her memory loss.
But they were either busy with their work or totally lacking in imagination.
None of them seemed to have guessed how unnerving it was, trying to pick up a life only partly remembered.
Only Conall realised, going out of his way to watch out for her.