Three Blind-Date Brides: Nine-to-Five Bride. Melissa McClone
‘Right, then I guess that will be fine.’ She would simply maintain her professionalism and make it fine. She could do that. All it would require was a little concentration, a lot of focus and maybe some tranquilliser for the hormone squad!
A phone call came in then. Marissa thought she recognised the voice, but couldn’t place it. When she asked for a name, the caller paused for a heartbeat before saying, ‘Just put me through. I’m returning his call.’
Marissa connected the call.
Rick rose from his desk and closed his door after he answered the call. Super-secret business, apparently.
Marissa got on with her work.
Whatever, anyway. She had more important things to think about. Like tonight!
‘I think Carl Fritzer is deliberately goading you on the topic of environmental issues.’ Marissa directed the comment to Rick and then nodded her thanks to the catering guru as she accepted a platter of artfully arranged biscotti and small handmade chocolates.
The evening was more over than started now, and the three of them stood in the kitchen of Rick’s penthouse apartment. It was a large and lush place—four bedrooms at least and functional in all the nicest ways but, for tonight, Rick had taken everyone outside to the rooftop terrace.
Marissa had fought with herself every step since she’d arrived. She didn’t want to be delighted by his home, nor constantly and utterly aware of him in it. Didn’t want to note that his midnight-blue shirt and black trousers made him look even more Tall, Mysterious and Compelling. She still wanted Ordinary, darn it. She did!
‘I truly don’t understand why Mr Fritzer would do that.’ Focus on work, Marissa. ‘What difference does it make to any possible business dealings between our company and his?’ The stamp of ownership she put on her statement was a whole new problem. Since when had it been the ‘Marissa and Rick team’?
Remember what happened to the ‘Michael and Marissa’ so-called ‘team’? Well, you should!
Marissa forced herself to go on. ‘Morgan’s follows all the codes to the letter and, in a lot of cases, goes a lot further than most companies in its efforts towards environmental friendliness.’
‘The man seems to consider a bit of goading as good entertainment value, but I noticed his colleagues don’t seem to share his enthusiasm for the topic.’ When Rick shrugged, his shirt clung to his broad shoulders, outlined the strength of the muscles beneath the cloth.
There was something different in him tonight when he looked at her, too. She couldn’t pin it down, but he seemed to be weighing her up, or searching for something. He was perhaps softer towards her? More attentive? Interested in a different way?
Some of his examination seemed—she didn’t know—almost empathetic or something? But that made no sense.
What if he was beginning to think of her in a deeper way? Given her determination to steer utterly clear of even noticing him, the thought shouldn’t please her, yet she felt a reciprocal softening towards him.
‘There may be something Fritzer is hiding about his own dealings or standards.’ Rick’s gaze caressed her face and neck as he went on. Did he realise he was doing that? ‘I’ll have a team investigate that possibility before I commit us to any work with the company. I can find out anything I need to know before they get to the stage of an acceptance of our offer of services.’
He hesitated and a combination of unease and knowledge, awareness and that same empathy flared in his eyes again. For a moment Marissa thought he would reach for her, right there in front of the caterer …
‘Is that coffee? Just what’s needed.’ One of the female business delegates strolled inside. ‘Can I help with anything?’
‘I think we have it under control.’ A frown crossed Rick’s face before he lifted the tray of coffees.
Disappointment surged through Marissa and she told herself not to be foolish, forced her attention to the drinks Rick held on the tray.
The lattes bore everything from starfish shapes to mini Harbour Bridges in the foam tops. He thanked the caterer. ‘The rest we can manage for ourselves, if you’re happy to let yourself out?’
The young man scooped up a backpack from the corner of the kitchen. ‘Cheers. It was a pleasure to help you, as always.’ He strode to the apartment’s front door and left.
They returned to the West Australian business delegation of men and women where they sat in big squashy outdoor chairs grouped around low tables.
Rick’s apartment and exclusive terrace took up the entire top level of the building. The formal outdoor dining area seated up to twenty people. They’d eaten there with city views all around them and the lush foliage of the rooftop garden behind them. The sight and scent of flowers and plants and shrubs filled the area. Roses and mint, hardy native shrubs mixed with hydrangeas and mat-rush and Easter cactus.
His home was truly gorgeous and Marissa couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty. He wore his wealth very comfortably here. He’d seemed pleased when she’d first arrived and admired his apartment and surroundings.
It was also a large enough home, and secure enough, that a small family could thrive quite nicely here if necessary. A house with a full garden would be better, of course, but children could enjoy the terrace garden, or be taken to play in the large park right across the road from the building …
Oh, what was she thinking? She had to focus on the business of the evening, not fantasies that were becoming more and more difficult to quash.
‘Well, it’s a lovely evening for a business function and this is the perfect setting for it.’ She caught Rick’s eye and gestured with her hand, but all that did was draw their attention to the fact that darkness had now fallen and, beyond the well-lit terrace, the city lights, Lavender Bay, the Harbour Bridge, and buildings of all shapes and sizes glittered before them.
The setting was romantic. Her hormones had recognised this immediately, even if Marissa had been busy trying not to notice the fact.
Why couldn’t she stop viewing her employer in this way? Stop herself from developing a deeper and deeper interest in him when she knew that doing so was utterly futile? Was it because she felt she knew Rick better now? Somehow, she’d started to trust him as she’d watched him care for his sisters and nieces and saw his business dealings, which were far more frank than Michael Unsworth’s behaviour had been in the workplace, or out of it.
‘Well, here’s the coffee, everyone,’ she called. ‘Actually, it’s coffee art, with thanks to our now departed caterer.’ She pushed the memories of Michael away and tried not to think about her shifting feelings towards her boss. Rick was much more difficult to dismiss than thoughts of Michael, and that knowledge was not comforting.
Rick didn’t want any kind of emotional commitment. He hadn’t said why, but he’d made that fact clear. She suspected it had to do with his father, or his family life generally, but what did it matter in the end? Her boss didn’t want her. Maybe she should simply be grateful he was being honest about that. She started to hand out the drinks.
Rick watched Marissa hostess the small group, chatting as she went, and he thought about her use of the term ‘we,’ as though she felt as invested in the company as he did. He couldn’t forget kissing her, nor reconcile himself to the shift inside him that had somehow been different from anything he had experienced before.
She looked beautiful tonight, all soft curves beneath the golden dress, her hair up and her nape tantalisingly bare. He wanted to press his lips to that soft skin, to somehow pay homage to her.
Thoughts battered at him. She looked right here—in his home. He wanted to keep her here. And other thoughts—of taking her to his bedroom, closing the door on the world and staying there with her until he knew all of her, understood all of her and she’d given all of herself to him. How could