dependable Jane who had brought Steve and Lauri up single-handed since the double tragedy of first her own parents’ death and then the death of her brother and his wife. ‘But I’ll call Robin and explain,’ she added.
‘And you aren’t going to work tomorrow if you aren’t feeling any better,’ Lauri told her sternly. ‘You can let that bully—you can let Mr Blair find someone else to use as a punch-bag.’ She cursed herself for once again letting her feelings towards that man run away with her.
Jane gave a wan smile. ‘I wouldn’t exactly sayhe went that far.’
‘He must have been pretty nasty to have reduced you to this state. Now come on—bed!’
Steve had already left when Lauri came back from settling Jane down, so she set about wiping the crockery he had thoughtfully washed before going out. She was worried about Jane, it wasn’t like her to feel ill, and the fact that Alexander Blair had been indirectly responsible only made Lauri dislike him all the more. Bad-tempered, arrogant swine! Jane must be mad to work for him.
Lauri hadn’t known he was dating Connie Mears, that little bit of gossip hadn’t reached the lower ranks yet. Connie Mears and Alexander Blair—however did the poor girl put up with his arrogance? If he kissed the other woman as he had her today then she knew the answer to that. Even while the kiss had not been given to evoke pleasure she had been aware of the mastery and experience behind the caress, so much experience that she had responded in spite of herself.
She blushed in shame at the memory of her reaction. And what made it worse was the fact that Alexander Blair had known of her response, had even taunted her about it. He had made her shiver with pleasure when he had lingered over the use of her full name, almost making a caress of it.
God, she wouldn’t think about him any more! Daryl was more in her league, and he would be arriving in a minute.
* * *
It didn’t seem to be Lauri’s week. Yesterday had been disastrous, not least being her argument with Daryl in the evening. He had gone on and on about her going to Ireland with him until in the end she had lost her temper with him and demanded to be taken home.
And now she had stupidly left her purse in Jane’shandbag. She never carried a handbag herself, and her tight denims didn’t allow for the bulge of a purse. She usually pushed some money loosely into one of her pockets. But she had been late this morning, accepting Jane’s offer of a lift at the last minute, a Jane who seemed to have recovered from her tiredness completely, and had just grabbed her purse and run. And now she had left it, and consequently her money, in Jane’s bag.
Thank goodness she had realised more or less straight away; it was still only a quarter to nine, she had plenty of time to get to the top floor, collect her purse, and get back down again before nine o’clock.
It seemed unusually quiet up here, not at all like the rush and bustle that preceded the start of the day on the lower floors. Her moccasin-clad feet sank into the luxurious green carpet; the whole decor up here was complete luxury.
She had no idea which door led to Jane’s office, so she had to walk along inspecting all the nameplates. She had just about given up hope of finding the right one when a door opened just up the corridor from her and she could hear the murmur of male voices. Maybe she could ask the way to Jane’s office—after all, she wasn’t doing anything wrong, and the minutes to nine o’clock were fast ticking away.
A man came out of the office and shut the door after him, bending over the papers he held in his hand. His head might be bent and his face partly hidden, but Lauri would recognise that thick dark hair, wide expanse of shoulders in the tailored cream suit and contrasting brown shirt anywhere. Alexander Blair!
As if becoming aware of someone watching him he slowly raised his head, deep blue eyes widening with recognition. ‘You!’