Undying Love. Carole Mortimer
Three months of working for him; it could be the longest three months of her life!
He was frowning when she went back into her office several minutes later, standing up ready to leave. ‘Do you actually like the décor in this room?’ he grimaced.
‘It’s very—effective.’ She shrugged into her jacket with a little help from him, moving away as she realised how close he had suddenly become.
‘It’s disgusting,’ he said bluntly, opening the door for her. ‘Your predecessor had abominable taste.’
Her eyes widened as she looked at him. ‘How do you know I didn’t choose it?’
‘You have too much style.’ He smiled at her gasp. ‘You’re a classy lady, Shanna Logan. That’s part of your attraction for me. You have style from the tip of your head to your toes.’ He handed her into the black London taxi he had miraculously managed to flag down in the busy lunch-hour traffic. ‘The Savoy,’ he instructed the driver, getting in beside her.
She sat back, very conscious of the length of his thigh pressed against hers as he deliberately sat as close to her as he could, although there was plenty of room on the seat the other side of him. ‘You’ll have to change your eating habits if you’re going to claim this lunch on Fashion Lady’s expenses,’ she taunted.
His mouth twisted. ‘Dalmont Enterprises can pick up the tab for this one,’ he smiled. ‘And get the decorators into your office first thing tomorrow, will you? It must give you nightmares!’
‘Yes,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘But Henry always thought it was——’
‘Effective,’ he echoed her description of earlier mockingly.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed defensively.
Rick Dalmont was obviously known at the Savoy, from the doorman to the maître d’, and one of the best tables in the restaurant was made available to them. It obviously paid to have influence and notoriety; the only time she had brought one of the so-called stars here after an interview for the magazine she had had trouble getting a table at all.
‘Tell me, Mr Dalmont,’ she said once they had ordered their meal. ‘If you knew—expected me to hand in my notice, why did you make my being editor part of the deal?’ She looked at him with cool green eyes.
He sat back, satisfaction and triumph in every line of his body. ‘It gives me three months with you I wouldn’t otherwise have had.’ He smiled at her puzzled frown. ‘Making you—as editor,’ he taunted. ‘Part of the deal, makes you feel obliged to at least work your notice. I’m sure Henry has explained to you the pitfalls of leaving a job without references. Also it could affect the rest of the deal I have with him if you leave now. But I’m sure you know all this, otherwise you would already be walking. Wouldn’t you?’ he prompted confidently.
‘Very clever, Mr Dalmont,’ she said tautly.
His mouth quirked. ‘Why do I get the impression that was an insult?’
Green eyes clashed with black. ‘Because you’re a very astute man, Mr Dalmont!’
He laughed softly. ‘And you’re a fascinating woman, Shanna,’ he said without rancour. ‘And the name is Rick. I told you, I like all senior members of staff to use it.’
She eyed him sceptically. ‘Those poor people you assured you would make no changes to Fashion Lady?’ she derided hardly.
His mouth tightened. ‘You doubt my word?’
Shanna gave him a considering look. ‘Not at all. I’m sure that “as little change in the format as you can” will mean exactly that, as little change as you can accept until you have the magazine exactly as you want it!’
His brows rose in silent appreciation of her deduction, as if he hadn’t expected her to be that intelligent.
She sighed. ‘I grew up in the world of business, Mr—Rick,’ she amended reluctantly. ‘My father built up his empire during my childhood, and because my mother died years ago he used to discuss his business with Henry and me.’
‘The Stock Exchange for breakfast, hmm?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded.
‘Sounds similar to my own childhood.’
She recoiled from any similarity between herself and this man, regretting telling him even the little she had. ‘I doubt it,’ she derided. ‘We were rich, but not that rich.’
His eyes darkened at the barb, although luckily the arrival of their lunch prevented the biting reply he had looked about to make. ‘Let’s just enjoy the meal,’ he suggested once their food had been served. ‘I don’t like to argue while I eat.’
‘I can’t argue with you, I work for you.’
His hand grasped hers as it lay on the table-top. ‘At least give me a chance to be pleasant to you. I can assure you I don’t usually get as ruthless with women as I have been with you.’
Shanna purposefully disengaged her hand from his. ‘As you said, let’s eat.’
He gave an impatient sigh, but as he picked up his cutlery she knew they were to at least eat in peace.
‘What do you think of Jane for my replacement?’ she asked as they drank their coffee, having decided it was time for the ‘business’ discussion he had asked for.
Rick frowned, giving the idea some thought. ‘No,’ finally came his blunt answer.
She held back her sharp retort with effort. When she had taken over Fashion Lady a year ago Henry had more or less given her complete control, to do what she felt best for the magazine, to make what decisions she felt were necessary, and without being conceited she knew that the majority of them had been the right decisions. For her to have consulted Rick Dalmont at all just now had been hard enough, to have him turn down her suggestion so emphatically was a damned insult.
‘Why not?’ she snapped in challenge.
He shrugged. ‘I want someone with a new approach, not a staff member who still has her loyalties to you and the new projects you started.’
‘Then you agree I’ve given Fashion Lady some input?’ Her sarcasm was barely contained.
Rick raised dark brows at her vehemence. ‘It’s good to see that something can fire your interest.’
‘Plenty of things do that, Mr Dalmont!’
‘But not me?’
‘No, not you! Now about Jane——’
‘I said no,’ he rasped.
‘And that’s the last that will be said on the subject?’ she scorned.
‘Yes!’
She drew in a deep controlling breath. ‘Very well,’ her tone was once again cold and remote, ‘I’ll see about advertising for a replacement.’
‘It was your decision to leave, Shanna,’ he reminded softly.
‘And I don’t regret it for a moment!’ She stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me, my lunch-hour was over long ago.’
Rick stood up too, putting some money down on the table to cover the bill. ‘I didn’t think you had noticed,’ he taunted, his hand firm on her elbow as they left the restaurant together.
‘I noticed,’ she derided. ‘But it’s your time…’
‘In that case,’ his mouth tightened, ‘I’d like you to spend the afternoon with me at my hotel, discussing business, of course.’
‘Of course,’ she said dryly. ‘I have too much to do at the office, Mr Dalmont,’ she refused.
‘Some other time, eh?’ he mocked.
‘I