A Bride For The Brooding Boss. Bella Bucannon
and stopped. By craning her neck, she could see him clasping a greying man to his chest.
‘You came alone?’ There was genuine concern in his tone.
‘Haven’t been in for weeks so I thought I’d come and find out what’s happening.’ Apart from the slower pace of the words, the voice’s similarity to Matt’s was defining.
‘Everything’s going smoothly. Come and sit down. We’ll talk over coffee.’
Blocking his father’s view of her, he guided him towards the seating, then continued talking as he passed her door on the way to make the drinks. Without breaking step he made a quick gesture across his throat when their eyes met.
‘There’s a new espresso flavour you’ve never tried, rich and aromatic.’
He wanted her to shut down and not let his father know what she was doing. What if Marcus came in here? Asked who she was? As far as she knew, it was still his company. And it was his son’s fault she couldn’t escape through the locked door.
The papers and folder were slipped into the drawer, a fresh page on the pad partially covered by random notes for show. Acutely conscious of the mingled sounds of the coffee machine and Matt’s muted voice making a call, she reached for the mouse.
Matt slid his mobile into his pocket, and picked up the two small cups. What the hell had prompted his father’s arrival? If his mother was aware he’d come into the city, she’d be worried sick. Had Ms Taylor understood his silent message? Could things get any worse?
‘Here, Dad, try this. Tell me if you like it.’ He sank into the other armchair, torn between the desire to hug his ailing father, and the recurring craving to demand why he’d cheated on his wife. So many times.
He’d never understood why so many people he knew treated cheating casually, as part of modern life. To him it was abhorrent. Why claim to love someone and then seek another partner? Why stay with someone who had no respect for your affection?
He had never declared the emotion, deeming that would be hypocritical, but had always insisted on fidelity. He’d found out the hard way that for some people promises meant nothing.
It churned Matt’s stomach that his father considered affairs a normal part of life, his due entitlement as a charismatic male. The man he’d revered in his youth and aspired to become had seen no reason why they should affect his marriage.
He was torn between the deep love of a son for his father and distaste for his casual attitude to being faithful. And behind him, hidden by the wall in Matt’s eye line, was the room where he brought the women. His coffee turned sour in his mouth.
Marcus sipped his drink cautiously, savouring the taste.
‘Mmm...good, real coffee. I’ll take a pod home and ask Rosalind to buy some.’
‘Take a box.’ Matt cleared his throat, hesitant to ask the vital question. Please don’t let the answer be he drove. ‘How did you get here, Dad?’
‘Caught a cab at the shopping centre near home.’ He glared at the desk, set not too far away. ‘You’ve twisted my desk.’ It was an accusation.
‘Don’t worry, it suits me that way. We can always put it back.’ He’d never place it in the former position that had given the user a direct eye line to the person working at the desk next door.
‘Hmph. Now I need the bathroom.’
Marcus put his cup on the table, and went to the ensuite. Matt let out a long huff of breath, and took another drink of the hot, stimulating liquid. A glance at his watch told him his cousin should be here in a few minutes.
Swearing softly when his desk phone rang, he strode over to answer. He missed his father’s return as he searched his in-tray for the letter the caller had sent.
Lauren stopped typing as Marcus came into her office. The eyes were a similar colour, the facial features bore a strong resemblance, but he lacked the firm line of his son’s jaw, his innate sense of character.
‘You’re new. What happened to Miss...?’ He tapped his palm on his forehead. ‘Um, long dark hair, big blue eyes.’
‘I believe she left. Can I help you?’
His gaze intensified, then he came round to stand beside her, and stared at the screen.
‘She was a good typist. Fast and accurate.’
‘Dad.’
Matt stood in the doorway, the same forbidding expression he’d worn at her interview directed at her. She lifted her chin, determined not to be part of whatever games this family was playing.
The older man spoke first. ‘There’s too many changes, Matthew. My girl was good. She left. People kept leaving.’ Slow with pauses at inappropriate times. ‘Who hired this one?’
He tapped her on the shoulder as he spoke, and she involuntarily flinched, knew from the frown on Matt’s face he’d seen. He came over, and wrapped his arm across his father’s shoulders.
‘Let’s leave Ms Taylor to her work, Dad. Come and finish your coffee?’
Although Matt barely glanced at her screen, he gave her a reassuring nod as he led his father out. He’d seen the bogus letter she’d started typing up.
‘It’ll be cold.’
She heard the outer door open, and saw Matt’s body sag in relief.
‘Here’s Alan, Dad. He and I will drive you home and Mum will brew you another when we arrive.’
They moved out of her sight and she heard muffled exchanges then Matt’s clearer words.
‘Give me a minute. Grab that box of pods from the bench.’
He came into her room, his grateful expression telling her she’d pleased him, creating fissions of pleasure skittling from cell to cell.
‘Quick thinking, Ms Taylor, thank you. I’ll be gone for an hour or so. Joanne has a key to lock my office if you go out.’
He paused, swallowed as if there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words, then disappeared leaving her with a bundle of questions she’d never be game to ask.
The man she’d just met hadn’t looked all that old but his behaviour and actions were certainly not those of a fast-thinking entrepreneur who’d built a thriving business.
She deleted the text as soon as she heard the door close, and brought up the files she’d been scanning. The events replayed in her mind as she sat, hands lightly resting on the keyboard.
Matt had been protective yet somehow detached from his father, desperate to get him out of here. He’d called this Alan to come and help, not wanting to escort him alone.
From Marcus’ remark she deduced Matt had taken over his office. A woman had worked in here so he’d been elsewhere, probably the empty room by reception. Had Marcus kept such tight control Matt had no idea what was happening in the accounts and records?
That would explain his underlying antipathy and hostile manner but why towards her? She was his solution, his last resort. She was used to being warmly welcomed and treated with respect.
Matt was an enigma, his words and tone not always matching his body language and often conflicting with the message in those stunning blue eyes. He resented whatever it was that sparked between them, and must have a reason she couldn’t fathom.
At all costs she had to find and fix his problems and get away without him finding out they had a past.
* * *
Matt quietly placed his keys into his desk drawer, wondering what he was going to say to Lauren.
My father has Alzheimer’s. He’s losing his memory. He’s lost most of his good staff in the last year, and he’s possibly screwed up the company.
His