No Mistaking Love Page 3

  Luke nodded, moving away from the window to pace about the room, hands thrust in his pockets, as if he had too much energy to sit still any longer.

  `We dress it up in nice language for the clients, but we're more or less Mr. Fixit on major building projects. There are an enormous number of interests involved in any one project- architects, consultants, contractors, subcontractors, suppliers, you name it-and we act as a liaison between them all, representing the client. That means we have to know exactly what's going on at any one point, sort out any problems, and make sure our client is getting what he's paid for.

  'I used to spend a lot of my time on site, but ,he firm has expanded in the past couple of years, and I delegate most of the technical work now. My main concern nowadays is getting new contracts, especially now we're extending into the international market. That's why I need a proper P.A. I've got to have someone capable of holding the fort while I'm away-although I might need you to come with me sometimes.' His pacing had brought him back to the desk. `Are you free to travel?'

  'Yes, except for when Solange comes to me for.he weekend.'

  `Nobody else likely to make a fuss if you're away a lot? No boyfriend lurking in the wings, ready to sulk if you don't leave work at five-thirty on the dot?'

  'No,' said Kate.

  It was strange, she thought, how he could be so familiar, and yet a stranger at the same time. The brusque, aggressive businessman was new to her, but the turn of his head or the set of his mouth would bring back vivid memories of the Luke she had known, a wilder, more reckless Luke. This man prowling around the room was harder and tougher, his rebelliousness channeled into impatient ambition and the old half suspected vulnerability firmly vanquished by an air of crisp efficiency and clear indifference to other people's opinions.

  Luke was standing by the window again, staring down at the street as he thought.

  `You seem sensible enough,' he admitted grudgingly. `And you're the first person I've seen who can speak French properly. We've done quite a bit of work in the States and Australia, but I want to move into Europe now. There are plenty of opportunities opening up, and I want to be the first in there. We're bidding for a big French project at the moment, but, although I can understand French, I can't speak it, so I badly need an assistant who can. I also need someone who's prepared to work as hard as I do without whining or crying or droning on about her rights. Is that clear?'

  'Perfectly,' Kate said, a dry edge to her voice.

  `I'm a difficult man to work for,' he warned.

  `I'd gathered that,' murmured Kate.

  `But in return,' Luke went on, ignoring her interruption, `you'll get a generous salary. I expect you to earn it. I don't want you bleating that you didn't know what I was going to be like or how much work you'd have to do!'

  `Are you offering me the job?' Kate sat up a little straighter and fought down a feeling of panic. What had she done?

  `On a month's trial,' he said quickly. `I want to see those famous skills of yours in action before I commit myself to paying you that kind of money every month.'

  'Very well.'

  Luke raised a sardonic eyebrow. `Is that all you've got to say? Very well? You might sound a little more enthusiastic about getting the job!'

  `You don't sound very enthusiastic about employing me,' Kate retorted, nettled by his grudging offer.

  Over the desk their eyes met and clashed. Kate's cheeks were pink, and her brown eyes bright with antagonism. Luke glared at her, clearly unused to being answered back, and then, quite suddenly, the wrathful expression disappeared.

  He walked back round his desk towards Kate, still sitting straight and prim in her upright chair. He had always moved like that, she thought irrelevantly, with that deliberate tread. It overwhelmed her with memories, like a series of flashcards flicking rapidly in front of her eyes: Luke walking down the quiet village street, Luke reaching up to pull Helen off her horse, Luke running his hand down Helen's bare arm in a gesture which had shaken Kate even then with a frisson of sexual awareness.

  He was standing in front of her, studying her face intently. Kate had no choice but to look back at him as coolly as she could. Close to, he seemed bigger than she remembered, as if his frame had thickened out to lean, muscled strength. Those lines around his eyes had not been there before and nor had the grooves in his cheeks. Luke might be successful now, but the last few years had not been easy ones.

  `Stand up,' he ordered abruptly.

  Kate raised her brows in unconscious hauteur, and he ground out, `Please!'

  She stood.

  Kicking the chair out of the way, Luke walk round her, studying her figure so impersonally that Kate felt herself quiver with anger.

  `You'll do,' he said at last. `You've got good legs and a neat figure, but you need to smart yourself up a bit.'

  `I wasn't aware that I was taking part in beauty contest!' Kate's eyes flashed dangerously again, and Luke stiffened.

  He turned her to face him properly and to her chin in one strong hand, forcing it up so that she had to look mutinously into penetrating slate eyes.

  `I thought I recognised you,' he said.

  CHAPTER THREE

  KATE couldn't move. She stared helplessly up at Luke, waiting for the jeering contempt she was sure he would feel at recognising her.

  Very carefully he undid the clip holding up her hair so that the thick brown tresses uncoiled and tumbled about her face. She could feel his fingers brush against her cheek and lift her hair, and was conscious suddenly of the lean, powerful body so close to hers.

  Her eyes dropped and she stared woodenly at his tie. It was dark blue silk with a discreet golden crest. Why didn't he say something? How much would he remember about the plain, awkward girl she had been? Would he remember kissing her? Would he remember the way she had responded so eagerly? It must have been so obvious that it was her first kiss.

  `You were at the theatre last night.'

  `At the theatre?' Kate repeated stupidly. She had been so busy thinking about the past that she had forgotten about the meeting that had triggered all the memories.

  `Don't pretend you don't remember! You were the girl who was looking daggers at me in the theatre bar. I thought you looked familiar when you came in, but it was only when you gave me that look that I remembered where I'd seen you. Tell me, what did I do to earn such disapproval?'

  Kate felt her breath leak out with relief. He hadn't remembered! Immediately the thought that he might have done seemed ridiculous. She stepped back to give herself time to gather her wits together, and felt the wooden desk against her thighs.

  The thick hair tumbling about her face left her feeling curiously vulnerable. She pushed it behind her ears.

  `I must have done something to offend you,' Luke persisted. `I couldn't mistake that fierce look. It's not at all like your usual demure expression, and you didn't look at anyone else like that. You kept that very nice smile for your friend.'

  There was a steely note to his voice, and Kate swallowed. `You didn't do anything to offend me.'

  `Then why the glare?'

  `I…' Kate searched her mind feverishly for some kind of reason that would satisfy him. `I thought you were someone I knew,' she said at last, keeping as close to the truth as she dared.

  `Is that why you were staring at me in the mirror?'

  Trust him to notice that! Faint colour tinged Kate's cheekbones. `I was trying to decide whether I knew you or not.'

  `And what did this unfortunate man who looks like me do to earn such a look?'

  `I really don't think that's any of your business,' Kate said quellingly.

  To her relief, and somewhat to her surprise, he let that go. `I suppose that's why you looked so surprised when you saw me today?'

  Didn't he miss anything? `It just seemed an extraordinary coincidence to see you again.'

  Luke's flat blue-grey stare held her immobile. `I'm not a great believer in coincidence,' he said.

  `You're working fo
r him?' Serena's voice rose to a shriek. `The same Luke Hardman you were telling me about last night? I thought you didn't like him?'

  `You don't have to like your boss, do you?'

  'It usually helps!'

  `Well, I think I'll get used to him.' Kate had rushed home to telephone Serena with the news of her job. `It's too good a job to turn down, Serena.'

  `Does he know who you are? Or, rather, does he know that you know who he is?'

  'No. He recognised me from last night, but not before.'

  `I'm surprised he didn't recognise your name,' Serena said.

  `It's not that surprising. If he remembers me at all it would be as Catherine Haddington-Finch, but I'm just plain Kate Finch on my CV. I dropped the Haddington when we went to France-it was too much for the French to cope with! And Finch isn't an unusual name. There's no reason why he should make any connection.'

  `You hope!'

  Kate made a face at the receiver. `I'm sure he won't. I thought you'd be pleased that I've got a job at last!'

  'I am, Kate. I just hope you don't regret tangling with this Luke Hardman again.'

  Serena's words echoed ominously the following Monday as Kate took the lift up to the fourth floor. She hoped fervently that she was doing the right thing. Lying alone in the dark at night, she would shift uneasily, unsettled by memories of Luke and a vague sense that getting involved with him again-even on a strictly business basis-was asking for trouble.

  But in the bright light of morning her reservations seemed ridiculous. Luke would never remember her; it was stupid to let one stupid incident in the past prevent her from taking on an interesting and well-paid job. Besides, Solange had come out of school for the weekend. She was still a little homesick, and missing her parents, and had been so delighted to have a familiar figure as a refuge from school that Kate's resolve to stay in England was strengthened.

  She dressed with care for her first morning at work in a severely cut suit in a Prince of Wales check. It made her look formidably efficient and bolstered her confidence. She had a feeling she was going to need it.

  Luke barely glanced at her as she went into the office and wished him good morning. His head vas bent over a report, and a pile of papers on his desk bore witness to the fact that he had been here for some time already. His jacket was slung over a chair and he had loosened his tie to work n shirt-sleeves, the white cotton rolled up to reveal the dark hairs on his powerful forearms.

  `Morning,' he said in a brusque voice. `Glad o see you're here on time. I've got a lot to get through this morning.' He turned a page of the report and picked up a pen to make a note. `Are you ready to start?'

  Kate had made a point of arriving half an hour earlier than necessary, but now she wished she hadn't. It was clear that she would have to take a stand right away if he was to avoid his taking her for granted!

  `I'd like a coffee first while I sort myself out,' he said firmly. `I haven't even had time to find myself a notebook yet!'

  'Oh, very well, but hurry up about it!'

  Kate suppressed a sigh. It was no use expecting charm from Luke and she couldn't say that he hadn't warned her. `Would you like a coffee, as I'm making one?' she asked.

  Luke grunted and Kate, after looking at his bent head for a moment, turned and quietly left the room.

  She returned a few minutes later, equipped with a shorthand notebook, a pen and a cup of coffee. She put this on her side of the desk, sat down, opened the notebook on her knee and calmly waited for Luke to notice her.

  He looked up at last. `Don't I get a coffee?' 'You didn't say you wanted one.' `Yes, I did!'

  'No,' she corrected him in patient tones. `You grunted. I'm afraid I don't respond to grunts.'

  Luke sighed irritably. `Don't say I have to go down on bended knee every time I want you to do something!'

  `A simple please would do.'

  His martyred air slightly spoiled by a glower, Luke pushed back his chair and strode over to the door. `I suppose I'll have to get my own coffee, then!' he said, evidently expecting Kate to jump to her feet, but she merely looked blandly back at him.

  His previous secretaries had clearly been letting him get away with playing the tyrant, and she had no intention of doing the same. It wouldn't do Luke Hardman any harm to come across a bit of opposition for a change!

  Reappearing with his own cup, he banged it down on his desk with bad grace. `Perhaps we could begin?' he said, adding sarcastically, `if that's not too much trouble, of course!'

  'I'm ready,' Kate said, annoyingly placid.

  Casting her a fulminating glance, Luke began to prowl about the room, hands jammed in his trouser pockets, while he dictated at high speed. His ideas were complex, but clear and obviously well thought out, and he paused only occasionally to take a sip of coffee.

  Kate's pen flew over her notebook as she tried grimly to keep up, but she seized the opportunity to interrupt him as he picked up his cup once more.

  `Do you think you could slow down a bit?'

  Luke frowned at losing his train of thought. ' I thought you said you could do shorthand?'

  'I can, but not at the speed of light!'

  With a sigh he resumed at a more normal speed.

  It was easier to keep up, but Kate found herself increasingly distracted by the way he flexed his shoulders, by the suggestion of strength beneath his cotton shirt or the coiled tension in the way he moved.

  He was standing over at the window, frowning down at the traffic as he dictated. Kate glanced up, the outlines emerging automatically from the pen, and let her eyes rest on the back of his dark head. There was a steely quality to Luke, evident in the very set of his head and the controlled line of his body. If he had a vulnerable side he would take care to keep it well hidden, she decided. Did the hard features ever relax, the cold eyes soften in a smile? How would he look at the woman h loved?

  `Read me back that last bit, will you?' Kate started. `What?'

  'Would it be too much trouble to ask you t, read back the last part of that sentence to me? Luke said sarcastically, misinterpreting he hesitation.

  She had been taking down his words so automatically that she had hardly taken in what h was saying. Now the shorthand squiggles dance in front of her eyes as she tried to make sense c what she had written.

  'Um… "The contractors are concerned that if the manufacturers loved-"' She broke off flustered. The outline was unmistakable. She must have written that `loved' without thinking

  Luke turned and stared at her. `If the manufacturers what? Can't you concentrate for more than five minutes at a time? If I go any slower I'll fall asleep!'

  `It's really not at all easy to follow you when you're prowling around or muttering at the window,' Kate said, disguising her guilt with an air of reproof. `It would help if you sat down and spoke clearly.'

  `Who's doing the dictation round here?' Luke demanded sourly, but he sat down again on the other side of the desk. `Is that better?'

  Kate ignored the irony in his voice. `Much, thank you,' she said, but it wasn't really. This way he was much closer, and his front view was even more distracting than the back. Kate concentrated fiercely on her notebook and tried not to notice the cool, inflexible line of his mouth or the fingers twirling a pen in his frustration at having to sit still.

  He let her go twenty minutes later, having dictated three more letters and several trenchant memos to his staff. There would be a few panic-stricken phone calls when they landed on their desks, Kate reflected, gathering up the papers from the desk and escaping gratefully to her own office.

  Naturally organised, Kate was unworried by the amount of work Luke seemed to expect her to get through that morning. She settled herself down with the minimum of fuss, familiarised herself with the word processor and began to work her way through the enormous pile of letters, breaking off frequently to deal with phone calls for Luke. He had shut himself in his office and informed her that he didn't want to be disturbed before midday.

  F
rowning over a particularly obscure outline, Kate didn't look up immediately as the door to the outer office opened. It was probably one of the junior secretaries with some more post, she thought, and was about to look up with a friendly smile when a waft of exotic perfume reached her. She lifted her head in puzzlement to see who was sauntering over towards Luke's door.

  It was Helen. With something of a shock Kate realised that she had been so taken up with seeing Luke again that she had forgotten about Helen.

  How could she have forgotten that eclipsing beauty? Helen wore the briefest of black leather skirts, and a leather blouson jacket, slipping at one shoulder over a wispy top. It was a carefully careless look, and the effect with the loose blonde hair was dramatic.

  The checked suit, which only that morning had seemed so smart and suitable, suddenly felt tight and dowdy. Kate looked at Helen and recognised with a twist of bitterness a vibrant sexiness that she would never, ever possess, no matter what she wore. She would look absurd dressed in such an outfit. Worse, she would be cold and uncomfortable.

  If she had given Helen any thought she might have realised that Helen would be bound to turn up at the office at some stage. It was stupid not to have considered it. She had seen more of Kate than Luke, and might possibly remember her sister's little friend. She could spoil everything if she recognised her.

  Kate cleared her throat. The last thing she wanted was to attract Helen's attention, but she could hardly let her barge in on Luke unannounced after all the fuss he had made about no interruptions.

  She needn't have worried about being recognised. Helen was not the kind of girl who wasted much time noticing other women, particularly not plain, boring ones who were patently no threat. She turned with insulting unconcern, and the green eyes flickered over Kate without interest.

  Kate could see herself just as Helen saw her: a boringly efficient-looking type in a prissy suit, with dull brown hair tied back and minimal make-up. There could hardly have been more of a contrast between them.

  `I'm afraid Mr. Hardman has asked not to be disturbed,' she said, for a moment almost resenting her role as cool, competent secretary.