Tears welled again.
She stared at the soggy mess of herself in the mirror, battling the sense of defeat that was swamping her. Maybe she should dye her hair blonde. The ridiculous thought almost made her laugh. Her emphatically arched eyebrows and the double rows of lashes were uncompromisingly black, her eyes such a dark blue they were almost violet. She’d look stupid as anything other than a brunette.
Besides, she liked her hair. It was thick and glossy and the feathery razor cut around her face gave the shoulder-length bob a soft frame for her rather angular features. She didn’t mind them, either. The high slant of her cheekbones balanced her squarish jawline and although her mouth was on the wide side, it did not look disproportionate. It more or less complemented the slight flare of her nostrils and the full curve of her lips was decidedly feminine. Her nose was straight, her neck was long enough to wear any jewellery well and her figure was fine, curvy enough in the right places and slim enough to carry off the clothes she liked.
There was nothing wrong with her looks, Amy fiercely asserted to herself. Jake Carter wouldn’t have hired her if he’d found her wanting in that department. His clients expected glamour. After all, they bought or chartered luxury yachts and jet planes. Wide Blue Yonder catered to their every whim, and charged them the earth for it. Jake insisted that his staff be as pleasing to the eye as everything else connected to his business. Image, he preached, was every bit as important as supplying what was demanded.
Though Amy had little doubt he was pleasing himself as much as anyone else. He made no secret of enjoying the visual pleasure of his female work force. He might call it class, but he was such a sexy beast, Amy was certain he revelled in exercising his right to choose a stimulating environment for himself.
She took several deep, calming breaths, opened her handbag, fished out her emergency make-up kit, and set to work, creating an unblemished facade to present to her boss. His lateness this morning was a stroke of luck. She couldn’t bank on any more luck running her way. Somehow she had to shut Steve and his pregnant wife-to-be out of her mind and concentrate on performing every task Jake handed her with her usual efficiency. It was the only way to avoid drawing unwelcome attention.
Satisfied she looked as good as she could in the circumstances, Amy returned her make-up kit to her handbag. Having washed and dried her hands, she smoothed the skirt of her scarlet linen shift over her hips, wishing linen didn’t crease quite so much. But it was in this season, despite its crushability, and the bright colour was a much-needed spirit-booster. At least, that was what she’d argued as she’d donned it this morning.
Pride had insisted the expensive dress should not be wasted. She’d bought it last week, planning to wear it to Steve’s office Christmas party. Now she saw it as a too belligerent statement that she would not mourn for him, a pathetic statement, given the heartsickness she was trying to hide. Still, it was too late to change her mind about it now and it might distract Jake Carter from picking up on her inner distress.
The tension of having to face him eased when she discovered his office empty and there was no sign of his having arrived for work. Puzzled as she was by his uncharacteristic lateness, Amy was nevertheless relieved to have the extra time to establish an air of busy occupation.
She settled at her desk and slipped the magazine she’d bought into the bottom drawer, out of sight and hopefully out of mind until she could read it in private. Concentration on her job was top priority now. She turned on her computer, connected to the Internet and brought up the E-mail that had come in over the weekend.
She was printing it out for Jake’s perusal when she heard the telltale whoosh of the elevator doors opening to the corridor which ran adjacent to their offices. Her nerves tightened. Her mind raced through defensive tactics.
Jake would probably drop into her office to explain his lateness, then use the connecting door to enter his own. After a perfunctory greeting she could plunge straight into discussing the mail with him. It contained a number of queries to be answered. The sooner they got down to business, the better.
Jake had a habit of throwing personal inquiries at her on Monday mornings and she desperately wanted to avoid them today. This past weekend didn’t bear thinking about let alone commenting upon. Not to Jake Carter.
If there was one thing more difficult to deflect than his sizzling sex appeal, it was his curiosity. Give him even a hint of an opening and he’d capitilise on it, probing for more information every which way. The man had a mind as sharp as a razor.
The door to her office rattled as it was thrust open. Amy’s heart kicked in trepidation. She kept her gaze fastened on the printer as she steeled herself not to reveal even the tiniest crack of vulnerability to the dangerous impact of her boss’s strong charisma.
In her mind’s eye she ticked off what she had to meet with perfect equanimity; the tall, muscle-packed physique exuding male power, skin so uniformly tanned it seemed to gleam with the warm kiss of sunshine, a face full of charm, a slight smile accentuating the sensuality of a mouth that somehow combined strength and teasing whimsy, an inviting twinkle in eyes all the more fascinating for their drooping lids, causing them to look triangular in shape, accentuating the intensity of the intelligence burning through the intriguing amber irises. Last, but not least, was an enticing wealth of dark, wavy hair, threaded with silver, giving him an air of maturity that encouraged trust in his judgement, though Amy knew him to be only thirty-four.
She suspected he’d look no different in ten or even twenty years’ time. He’d still be making every woman’s heart flutter. It was a power she resented, given his fickleness, and she clung to that resentment as she looked up from the print-out to give the necessary acknowledgement of his presence.
Her gaze caught on the capsule he was carrying.
Shock wiped out her own concerns.
Jake the rake with a baby?
A baby?
Steve’s pleas for understanding pounded through her mind...responsibility, commitment, the rights of the child, being a full-time father...
Jake the rake in that role?
Amy lost all her moorings. She was hopelessly adrift.
“You don’t think fatherhood becomes me?”
The amused lilt of his sexy, purring voice jerked her gaze up. He chuckled at her confounded expression as he strolled forward and plonked the capsule on her desk.
“Cute little tyke, isn’t he?”
Amy rolled back her chair and stood up, staring down at what looked like a very small baby who was blessedly fast asleep. Only its head and a tiny clenched hand were visible above the bunny rug tucked snugly around the mound of its body. How old it was Amy couldn’t guess, but she didn’t think it was newborn.