Brides, Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters
When she went to write the date on her notepad, she’d left her pen in the drawer. Unless she pulled herself together, today would be a shambles.
Get it together, Lauren.
A fingertip tap on each of her work tools, a muscle-loosening back-stretch, followed by her slow-count-to-fifteen habit, and she moved the cursor.
Engaged in more simplistic tasks, she found her mind had a tendency to wander, always to Matt and his effect on her. After an hour, she took a break, ran up and down eight flights of stairs and refocused. Apart from taking messages from occasional phone calls, she was undisturbed.
At midday she joined Joanne and three of the male staff for lunch for the first time, making an effort to contribute to the weekend football match discussion. She didn’t comment when one of the men raved about her youngest brother, who’d kicked four goals including one as the siren sounded.
‘Mr Dalton seems happy with the progress we’ve made on this new venture, Joanne. It’s completely different from anything we did for his father, quite stimulating. Do you think the changes will be permanent?’
Lauren lowered the mug she’d been raising to her lips. She noticed Joanne’s hesitation at the man’s question. How much did she know of the true situation?
‘I know he’s doing all he can to sort everything out and he’ll be tied up with meetings most of the week, nothing else.’ She rose and went to stack her utensils into the dishwasher. ‘Break’s over. Do you have enough to do, Lauren?’
‘Yes, I’ll find you if I need more.’
Every employee she’d met addressed him as Mr Dalton. Although he used their first names, he kept distance between himself and his staff except for her. Because he intended to return to London?
Was there someone special there? Someone prepared to wait for him? Someone he’d taken to Paris?
A no-strings arrangement by two mature people. How did they do that? She couldn’t imagine becoming involved with anyone who also dated other women.
Reinforcing that in her head didn’t stop her stomach from fluttering at his call sign on her mobile.
‘How’s it going, Lauren?’
‘Fine. Joanne says she can keep me occupied today and part tomorrow, after that I may be on cleaning duty.’
He laughed as she’d hoped he would, deep and raspy, making her ear tingle.
‘Anything to keep you here. I won’t get to the office until late today, or tomorrow morning. I’ll call you when I can.’
‘Is it bad?’
‘I’m dealing with reticent legal and financial professionals. They hardly commit to black or white coffee but at least it’s not all doom and gloom. Hang on.’
She heard his name and him replying, ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m being summoned back to the world of ifs, maybes, and it all depends. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lauren.’
‘Tomorrow.’
She sat as still as stone, staring at her mobile. He’d called her Lauren twice; she hadn’t said his name at all. He used hers every time he spoke to her. At the function she’d made a deliberate attempt to say ‘Matt’ in the presence of others. In front of work colleagues it was ‘Mr Dalton’, to conform with them. Alone with him she omitted to call him anything.
He was smart, quick to notice nuances and actions. He’d have to know she deliberately avoided the intimacy of first names.
MATT DIDN’T WANT to be sitting in his parents’ dining room that night pretending nothing had changed. His head ached from all the legal jargon, the implications of what might or might not happen, and from reading some of the complex forms and documents he’d been given. And the processes had only just started.
It had taken supreme effort to keep focused and not picture Lauren alone in her office or Joanne’s. Or ponder on dinner tomorrow. No disruptions, no phone calls with both mobiles on silent. Quiet time for conversation.
It’s more than talk you want.
‘Matthew?’
‘Sorry, Mum. Miles away. It’s been a long day.’
‘This is all taking a toll on you. I wish I’d acted sooner, but Marcus kept assuring me he was just tired and overworking.’
‘It’s okay, Mum. I’ve got good help and everything’s coming together.’
Though there’s a fair chance it might implode in my face.
‘His mood swings are more frequent, and persuasion doesn’t work as well as it did. Today he became angry when I suggested he shouldn’t go for a walk alone.’
His jaw tightened, and he glared at his father, nonchalantly eating his meal. He softened his features as he asked, ‘When’s his next appointment with the doctor? I’ll make sure I’m available and then we’ll have a family meeting.’
‘I want to keep him at home as long as possible. Please, Matthew.’
He reached across to cover her hand with his.
‘For as long as possible, Mum. We can arrange for day help and, if necessary, I’ll move in.’
His gut churned at the thought of living here again, in the house where his naive adulation of his father had been shattered, and his admiration for his mother diminished in a single stroke. Where he’d discovered human weakness could overrule honour, and betrayal could be overlooked if it meant the continuation of a preferred lifestyle.
His honour dictated he had no choice. His heart demanded he call into his sister’s on the way home to spend time with a truly happy couple. And to kiss his nephews as they slept.
* * *
Crouched behind the desk in Reception, Lauren almost missed Matt’s arrival at five past two the following day. Checking the stationery, she sprang upright at the faint hint of sea-spray aroma.
‘Matt.’ Instinctive. Spontaneous.
As natural as the smile he gave her. He looked frazzled and energised at the same time, jacket slung over his shoulder and sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular arms covered with fine dark hair. One glance at finger-ruffled hair and blue crinkled eyes, and her senses sprang to attention.
‘Hi, how’s it going? Come and tell me over coffee. With normal everyday words.’
‘Joanne’s run out of work to give me.’ She straightened the desk phone as she glanced up, and met narrowed eyes and a scowl.
By the time she come round to his side, they’d gone. He patted his satchel as they walked to his office. ‘And I’ll be occupied for days. How’s your legalese?’
‘My what?’
‘Legal mumbo jumbo. Guaranteed to cause headaches or a craving for alcohol.’
She laughed. ‘Sorry, all I know is the few foreign phrases I learnt from friends at uni. Unless it’s cyber-speak.’
‘Might just as well be for me. So what time are you finishing?’
‘Ten minutes and I’m all done.’ She swallowed, glad he wasn’t looking at her. Thankful he couldn’t see her disappointment.
His brow creased again as he held the door open for her, not moving aside, ensuring she brushed against him as she passed. He dumped his satchel on his chair, draped his coat over the back, and scraped his fingers into his hair. When he spoke she swore there was a catch in his voice, growing more pronounced towards the end.
‘You’re not going home?’
She