Wedding-Night Baby by Kim Lawrence Page A

effect on men and are not averse to using it to your own advantage. Was Simon a stepping-stone to your real objective? If so, I can understand his bitterness. As for it being my business, anything that interferes with the smooth running of this agency is exactly that.’
    â€˜Has it never occurred to you I might be just plain good at what I do?’ Arms akimbo, she flung the words at him. ‘The men around here just feel threatened at having their male territory invaded. If I’d been a man who’d leapfrogged a few steps up the ladder I’d be a real go-getter, a whizkid, but because I’m a woman I’m trading on my
sexuality. You didn’t know your uncle very well if you think he’d tolerate fools, no matter how good their legs were.’
    Throat suddenly dry, she paused for breath. ‘Not that mine are, but...’ The afterthought came as she saw the direction his gaze had taken. Taking into account the fact that she had few secrets—at least physically—left from him, her acute embarrassment was absurd, she knew.
    â€˜I find it strange that you’re prepared to sell your abilities so aggressively and yet appear modest about your physical attributes,’ he said, openly sceptical. The husky, uneven quality to his voice made her quiver. This reluctant fascination with every minor detail about him made every second in his company a balancing act of maintaining her dignity. ‘I think under the circumstances you can drop the ingénue acts in front of me. I know you’re a sensual woman with very grown-up appetites.’
    â€˜How did you manage to persuade Peter Llewellyn to come here at such short notice?’ she asked, rubbing her clammy hands against the dark fabric of her skirt. The less she thought about her appetites the better!
    Callum’s wry expression acknowledged her unsubtle change of subject. ‘We’ve been friends since we were at Harvard Business School together. I know I’m meant to be wet behind the ears so don’t spread the news I’m not straight from the bush; it’s useful to be underestimated occasionally.’ There was a glimmer of humour in his blue eyes. ‘Peter’s tired of being a big cog in someone else’s machine. He’s been on the lookout for a fresh challenge for some time. I’ve given him the option to buy out my share in three years’ time if things work out.’
    â€˜Why are you telling me this?’ she asked frankly.
    â€˜I thought your discretion was legendary?’ he said mockingly.

    She looked at him in open confusion. ‘You don’t trust me,’ she protested.
    â€˜On a personal level, never,’ he agreed. Why she should feel so devastated by this piece of blunt honesty was mystifying. ‘Professionally I might have to consider,’ he conceded. ‘So long as I keep in mind you’re a hungry lady, and I use the term loosely, striving hard to get to the top.’
    â€˜Big of you,’ she observed, her voice tinged with anger.
    â€˜I think so,’ he agreed benignly. ‘I don’t like ambitious women, but I can appreciate talent. Did Oliver use you to deliberately needle the designer suits out there?’ he asked, settling into the big chair and committing the sacrilege of putting his feet up onto the gleaming mahogany of the vast desk. He loosened his tie as he turned the full glare of his scrutiny onto her.
    The swift shift from formality to this relaxed style had her brain working overtime to see what hidden agenda was behind the false sense of security his attitude was creating. Also, his propensity for seeing the hidden motive was uncanny; anyone would think the devil could read minds!
    â€˜He liked to keep them on their toes,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘Also, he could be genuinely paranoid about confidentiality, as you must have guessed. He didn’t want anyone else muscling in on his clients; he liked to