Appointment at the Altar

‘Morning, Imogen!’ he called as he walked past.

‘Morning!’ Imogen simpered.

Evidently registering that there was someone else sitting beside her, Guy’s smile swept on, only to freeze as he did a satisfactory double take at the sight of Lucy, demure in the little checked suit that she had borrowed from Meg.

‘Lucy?’ he said, stopping dead, and Lucy felt Imogen turn to stare at her.

Savouring the astonishment in his expression, Lucy smiled graciously. ‘Good morning, Mr Dangerfield,’ she said sweetly.

Recovering swiftly, he came over to the desk. ‘It’s Guy,’ he corrected her. ‘We’re all on first-name terms here, aren’t we, Imogen?’

Imogen nodded eagerly.

‘Well, well, well, as the three oilmen said.’ Guy’s smile broadened as he turned to study Lucy, who was rolling her eyes at Imogen’s worshipful expression.

Meg’s suit didn’t sit entirely easily on her, but she had obviously made a great effort to conform. The beautiful hair that was usually carelessly gathered up into a clip and allowed to fall any old how had been neatly braided into a French plait, and she was discreetly made-up, her blue eyes emphasised with mascara-also borrowed from Meg, had he but known it-and lipstick on the generous curving mouth. She looked older and more sophisticated, but her expression was as bright as ever.

‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘You’ve surprised me, Cinders. I have to admit that I didn’t expect you to have a job by this morning, let alone here. Why did no one tell me that you’d be working here?’

‘I’m sure you’re much too busy to be bothered with trivial details like the temporary receptionist,’ said Lucy, studiedly cool, which was hard when his eyes were on her face and the glinting smile in the blue depths was as unsettling as ever.

‘I’m never too busy to be interested in my staff, Lucy.’

‘That’s just what I’ve been telling her,’ Imogen put in loyally, and Guy smiled at her.

‘As you’ve obviously gathered, Lucy and I have met before,’ he said.

‘In Australia,’ Lucy put in quickly before he could say any more. ‘But we don’t really know each other well, do we, Guy? Things are different now that we’re back in London.’

‘They are, indeed,’ said Guy, and somehow she knew that he was thinking about how they had kissed on the quayside. ‘Very different.’

CHAPTER FIVE

GUY was on his way out to a meeting, he said, so couldn’t stay. ‘But I’ll look forward to catching up with you later, Lucy. It’s going to be interesting having you here!’

Waving a farewell, he headed out through the doors, while Lucy was careful not to look at Imogen.

‘Is there anything I should know?’ asked Imogen pointedly when the waiting limousine had pulled away.

‘No. Honestly,’ she insisted when Imogen looked sceptical. ‘He was a guest at the cattle station where I was working and we happened to come back to London on the same flight. That’s all. We barely know each other.’

Which in one sense was quite true. She didn’t know Guy. She didn’t know what went on behind that facade of lazy good humour. She didn’t know what made him tick, what he thought and hoped and dreamed. All she knew about him was the smile in his eyes, the sureness of his throw, the easy way he could swing into the saddle.

And the way he kissed. She knew the taste of his lips and the touch of his hands, the dizzy delight of pressing in to him and kissing him back.

‘We’re acquaintances, at the most.’

Guy came back about three-obviously a long lunch, Lucy sniffed to herself-but although he lifted a hand in greeting as he made his way to the lifts, he didn’t come over to speak to them. Why should he, after all? She was just a receptionist in a borrowed suit. Lucy told herself that she didn’t care, and that she hoped he would stay up in his penthouse office from now on. She had met his challenge, and now it would be much easier if she had nothing more to do with him.

If Guy wanted her, he knew where to find her. She wasn’t going to start looking for him.

But it was hard not to look up every time the lift doors slid open, hard to stop the tiny treacherous dip of her heart every time it wasn’t him.

By the end of the day, Lucy was exhausted with the effort of concentrating on all the new information, and she was glad when Imogen announced that they could both go home. She wasn’t looking forward to the journey back to Meg’s, though. The unfamiliar shoes had been pinching all day and it was a long walk back from the tube.

Imogen had buttoned herself into her coat and was hurrying off to meet her husband. Lucy waved goodbye and collected her things, moving very gingerly on her sore feet, and joined the exodus. People were spilling out of the lifts and streaming towards the exit, all as anxious to get home as she was, but moving rather more swiftly. Lucy had just reached the doors when a familiar voice spoke in her ear.

‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your legs before,’ said Guy, as if it were perfectly normal to start in mid-conversation. ‘It’s a shame to keep them hidden behind that reception desk, especially when you’re wearing such spectacular shoes.’

Lucy followed his gaze down to Meg’s shoes which were, indeed, spectacular. They were made of turquoise suede, with cutaway sides and vertiginous heels. Lucy had loved the look of them, and Meg was right, they did go brilliantly with the suit, but she was feeling a lot less enamoured after wearing them all day.

‘I borrowed them from the friend I’m staying with,’ she told Guy, rather pleased at how normal she sounded given that her heart was performing an elaborate tap dance routine against her ribs. ‘Fortunately, we’re the same size. Meg loves high heels, but I’m not used to walking in them yet.’

‘I can see that you’d need a good sense of balance,’ commented Guy. ‘I hope you haven’t got far to walk.’

‘Miles.’ Lucy sighed without thinking.

‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift,’ he said, taking her by the arm. ‘The car’s just outside.’

‘Oh, really, it’s not-’

Ignoring her feeble attempts at protest, and the curious looks of those who were clearly wondering what the Chief Executive was doing with the new receptionist, Guy propelled her out of the door.

‘You don’t really want to wait ages for a bus or to battle with the tube on those shoes, do you?’

No, she really didn’t, Lucy had to admit. It seemed easier just to give in and climb into the back of the limousine. She couldn’t help a sigh of relief as she sank back into the luxurious leather and eased off the shoes. She wasn’t sure that she would ever be able to get them on again, but, right then, Lucy didn’t care.

‘Where are you staying?’ Guy asked as he climbed in beside her and the car pulled away from the kerb.

‘Bethnal Green,’ Lucy told him, ‘but actually I’m on my way to see Richard now,’ she added quickly, seeing him lean forward to talk to the chauffeur. ‘If you could drop me near the hospital, that would be great.’

Guy murmured the change of instruction to the driver and then sat back beside her. Immediately it felt as if the space inside the car had shrunk. Lucy could feel a fluttering deep inside her and she made herself take a steadying breath. She had sat beside him all the way back from Australia, and on the long drive back to Wirrindago after the rodeo. It was stupid to be so aware of him now, on a ten-minute trip across London.

Still, she found herself wishing that she was wearing jeans after all. Meg had a penchant for short skirts and, even though Guy was politely not staring at them, Lucy was very conscious of her exposed legs. Surreptitiously, she tried to tug the skirt down a bit further towards her knees.

‘I heard how you got the job,’ said Guy. ‘I’m impressed.’

‘I told you I could get a job by Monday.’ Lucy put up her chin. ‘I hope you think Dangerfield & Dunn count as a “reputable organisation”?’

‘Oh, yes, I’m quite prepared to admit that you met the first part of the challenge.’

‘The first part?’

‘You’ve got to push yourself, Cinders. You’ve done well to get the job, but now I want to see if you can make