Make Love Not War (3 page)

“If they were open on your desk, she might have. Perhaps she accidentally let something slip. She spent about fifteen minutes in here on Wednesday. Remember?  You got called away and told her to wait.”

“She could have seen them, granted.” He stroked his chin with one long, slender finger. “She did spend time here on her own. But why would she steal them?  She doesn’t need the money.”

“Meaning I do? If you don’t feel I’m trustworthy, I’ll tender my resignation right now.” Caroline made the offer recklessly. “I don’t dabble in industrial espionage or whatever it’s called.” 

“You’re a bloody fool accusing Caroline,” Mr. Davies said, as she stormed off.

“Why would Marilyn do it?”

“You dumped her, Bryce. Ever heard of a woman scorned?” Those were the last words Caroline heard as she fled the office.

By the time she reached her desk, her anger fueled bravado had evaporated leaving her trembling with the fear of what her future held if she left the Harrington company.

***

Once he calmed down, Bryce realized Davies could be right. A woman scorned. An old-fashioned way of putting it, perhaps, but Marilyn Francis could be a bitch. The more he thought about the idea, the more convinced he became that she had disclosed the information to their competitors out of sheer spite.

What a hell of a day. He massaged the tense muscles in the back of his neck and decided to go home early. He pressed the buzzer, but Caroline didn’t answer, so he put his finger back on it and let it rest there. Where was the girl?  Cursing, he strode into her office. Empty.

She had threatened to resign. Surely she wouldn’t walk out and leave him in the lurch. His heart dropped to his boots. When he noticed her bag on the floor beside the desk, he heaved a sigh of relief. If he had to break in another new secretary, it would be the absolute end. Didn’t he have enough on his mind?

He sat in the typist’s swivel chair. Damn it, she had proved to be an excellent secretary. Pleasant, attractive, with the most amazing blue eyes, and her soft flyaway blonde hair made him want to run his fingers through it. How she put up with his foul moods, he didn’t know.

Even as a child he had been hot tempered, but of late he exploded with little provocation. Wincing, he recalled some of the things he’d said to her. He shouldn’t have accused her of industrial espionage without a shred of evidence. He obviously needed a holiday.

His usual activities left him bored senseless. He even dreaded going to his parents’ home tonight for his mother’s birthday. A quiet family dinner with just the three of them, as if he didn’t know what would follow the meal. It happened every time he visited them of late, his mother harping about getting married and producing an heir.

Stalking back into his office, he realized he would have to apologize to Caroline. Hell, he didn’t like saying sorry to anyone. If it came to losing Caroline or apologizing, well, he knew which was the lesser of the two evils.

Purposely he left the connecting door open, so the moment she returned he heard her.

“Caroline.” He leaned into her office from the doorway. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”

She glanced up and he was shocked to see tear marks on her cheek.

“I owe you an apology.” It came out stiffly, but he couldn’t help it.

When he saw how pale she looked, he felt like an utter heel, and as he stared into her shattered blue eyes his heart gave a strange, painful lurch.

“I’m sorry about losing my temper. I hope you’ll reconsider your resignation offer. I need you here.”

Her tremulous lips parted. “I would like to continue working for you, but not if you don’t trust me.”

“I’m really sorry, and apologizing doesn’t come easily to me. I do trust you to maintain the confidentiality of our work here. You’re a good secretary, one of the best, and I don’t want to lose you.”

She nodded. “All right, I’ll stay.”

He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.  “Good. I’m off now, I have a dinner engagement.” He started towards the door. “You might as well leave too, it’s after five.”

“Thanks, but it doesn’t matter.”

“There isn’t much for you to do here, so you might as well go. Where do you live?” he asked.

“Prahran.”

“I’ll give you a lift. I’m driving to South Yarra, so it’s not far out of my way.”

“Thank you, but I can catch the bus.”

“I said I’d give you a lift.” 

He drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited for her to switch the typewriter off and put everything away in the drawer. As she bent to pick up her handbag, he stared at her slim legs. They seemed to go on forever. She wore a mini skirt, but it was only a couple of inches above her knee. Not like some women, who wore skirts so short that when they bent over a man felt compelled to turn his head away as a matter of decency.

For the first time, he studied her. Her face, although not classically beautiful, was fine-boned, with milky white, flawless skin. Her eyes were her best feature, a real forget-me-not blue and round as saucers. A man could drown in them. She walked with the grace of a ballerina, her voice sounded
well-modulated
, and she was articulate. Caroline Dennison was one classy lady. Clearly she wasn’t aware of this, which added to her attraction.

If she hadn’t been his secretary, he would have been tempted to ask her out on a date. She intrigued him, stirred his senses more than any other woman he could remember, but he never mixed business with pleasure. That could prove a potentially explosive combination. He didn’t want to run the risk of having it blow up in his face. Caroline would be high maintenance, too. She would expect not only physical but emotional commitment from a man, and he wasn’t capable of giving that much of himself to anyone.

“Whereabouts in Prahran do you live?” he asked, as he opened the office door and she ducked under his arm.

“Off
Commercial Road
. I share an apartment with my girlfriend.” She gave him the address.

They walked to the elevator without speaking. Midway between the second and third floors, the elevator gave a shudder and stopped. It threw her against him. Bryce caught the faint, elusive perfume of her skin and hair, roses, perhaps?  It smelled sweet, just like her. Her body felt soft, pliant against his. He tightened his arms around her and held her until the elevator
re-
star
t
ed.

He put her away and stepped back a couple of paces. Taking out his cigarettes he offered her one.

“No thanks. I don’t smoke.”

He flicked a gold oblong lighter, put it to the tip of his cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Filthy habit, but I enjoy it.” He grinned. “I don’t have many vices.”  

In the executive car park Bryce guided her towards a burgundy Jaguar. He opened the passenger side door for her, waited silently while she got in, then closed the door and strode around to the driver’s side and climbed in.

Caroline snuggled into the soft leather seats, forcing herself not to ooh and ah at this unaccustomed luxury. From the corner of her eye she watched his tanned, well-kept hands on the steering wheel. His obstinate jaw denoted a determination he never bothered to hide.

What bliss, being so close to him in the intimate confines of his luxury car. She felt like royalty. A pity she didn’t live a hundred miles away.

“Turn here.” She directed him from Commercial Road into her street, pointing out the red brick double-storied house that had been divided into four separate apartments. The lawns were well tended, but the building itself needed updating. She lived in the shadow of a multi-storied government housing estate, and she noticed him giving it a cursory glance. A man like Bryce Harrington would deem this a slum.

“Thanks for the lift.”

“My pleasure.” He leaned across and opened the car door for her. “Have a nice evening, and thanks for all the hard work you’ve done for me.”  His devastating heart-stopper of a smile nearly caused her to tumble rather than step out of the car.

Caroline entered the small ground-floor apartment she shared with her friend, Kerry Robinson. It wasn’t much, a bedroom, kitchenette, lounge room and bathroom. Kicking off her shoes she dropped her bag on the dressing table in her bedroom, but didn’t bother changing out of her work clothes. With the ink smear on her sleeve from the new typewriter ribbon, her outfit was due for the laundry anyway.

Padding out to the kitchenette in her stocking feet, she peeled vegetables for their dinner, to go with the two steaks thawing on the draining board.

Kerry breezed in at six o’clock. She dropped her bag on the floor and raked her fingers through her short black hair. “Hi! How did your day go with Mr. High-and-Mighty?”

“All right.”  Caroline put the steaks in the pan. “He drove me home in his Jaguar.”

“Drove you home?  Yeah? How come?” 

She filled Kerry in on what happened.

Kerry picked up a saucepan and banged it on the sink. “I might have guessed it would be something like that. He’s never offered to drive you home before. He’s smart enough to realize no other secretary would put up with the crap he dishes out to you. I still say you should leave and get a job somewhere else.”

“I can’t.” 

“You’re breaking your heart over him for nothing. There’s no way he’s going to notice you, even if you are his secretary.” Kerry stabbed the air with her forefinger. “You, of all people, know the type of women he associates with and his reputation. Not a week goes by without him adorning the social pages with some model or actress fawning all over him.”

“I know. It’s hopeless.”  Caroline closed her eyes to block out the searing pain of unrequited love. Today in the elevator she had been so close to him, her cheek resting on his chest, her nostrils infused with his scent. “I can’t help it. I love him. Just seeing him is better than nothing.”  Not seeing him would be purgatory.

“Rubbish. If you left and got another job, in time you’d forget all about him. You should be going out with other guys, not wasting your time mooning over someone as unobtainable as he is.”

Caroline
needed to divert her friend from
Bryce Harrington
, one of the two topics on which they would never agree. The other was the war in Vietnam. “Everything is cooked. Will I dish up now?”

“I’m going to a meeting with Trevor tonight,” Kerry said, getting out the knives and forks. “It’s organized by mothers from the ‘Save our Sons’ movement. Why don’t you come with us?”

“No thanks. I’ll have an early night.”

Caroline liked Trevor. He and Kerry were soul mates, but he was a passionate anti-conscription advocate. With Andy being in the army, she would feel like a traitor if she attended these anti-war rallies.

***

Bryce drove home and parked his car in the underground car park of his apartment building. The elevator whizzed him up to the top floor. From the elevator he strode along the thickly carpeted corridor to his apartment and, once inside, glanced around. In one of his weaker moments he had let his girlfriend at the time, an interior designer, decorate for him. It had cost him a small fortune, not that money mattered. The problem was, he wasn’t impressed with the décor but couldn’t be bothered with the hassles of changing it.

Loosening his tie and shrugging off his jacket, he stepped into his bedroom with its white shag pile carpet. The deep blue velvet drapes at the floor-to-ceiling windows and the matching quilt on his king-sized bed did nothing for him. Women would like it, he supposed. Not that any female had ever stayed here. Dinner was the most he ever offered them, and that was only rarely. He was a selfish bastard but he valued his privacy.

He slid back the curtains and stared out past the Juliet-type balcony. This was his favorite place, and he guarded this treasure like a miser with a pile of coins—an almost uninterrupted view of the Melbourne skyline. Would he be able to see Prahran from here? Damn it, he wasn’t interested in Prahran, and he sure as hell wasn’t interested in Caroline Dennison.

He ran a hand across his jaw and his bristles rasped. Not only did he need a shower but also a shave. The bathroom was immaculate, as usual, like the rest of his apartment. He couldn’t bear to live with untidiness and clutter. He was extremely satisfied with the housekeeper who came in daily. She lived in one of the ground floor apartments and would come up at short notice and prepare his evening meal if he required it. Of course, he paid top dollar for her services, but it was worth it.

Strange how he still missed his little stray mutt. No dogs were allowed in the apartment block, but he had built a kennel in the back garden and fed the puppy morning and night. On several occasions he had seen the woman from apartment four sneaking food to it, as well, so he wasn’t the only sucker.

He changed into a dark navy suit and a pale blue open-necked shirt. His parents always liked him to dress formally for dinner, but to be perverse he decided to take a more casual approach. What the hell was wrong with him?  He felt irritable and jittery for some strange reason.

Right on six o’clock, he left for his parents’ home. Shoppers crowded the streets. The stores stayed open late on Thursdays and Fridays in the lead-up to the Christmas shopping frenzy. What a farce. He slammed on the brakes to avoid a couple of hippies who shot out onto the road waving a placard with ‘
Aussie soldiers are murderers
’ scrawled across it in red paint. He couldn’t even tell whether they were male or female. Didn’t those feral peaceniks ever give up?