The Irresistible Tycoon by Helen Brooks Page B

down infront of her word processor and the hand that raised her coffee to her lips was shaking slightly.
    She was glad they had reverted to the businesslike working relationship of the previous weeks, of course she was, she told herself silently. So why did she feel his cool remoteness was almost like a slap across the face? Ridiculous. She nodded irritably to the thought. She was being absolutely ridiculous—it must be the time of the month or something.
    She grimaced to herself, drank the coffee in several burningly hot gulps and got down to work.
    At five past ten Kim put through a call from the managing director of Clarkson International, and at ten past Lucas put his head round the door. ‘One of those tapes on your desk is a breakdown of the Clarkson contract so far. Concentrate on that first, would you, Kim? I need it for twelve. And we’re lunching with them today at one, by the way, so book a table for four at Fontella’s.’
    Kim stared at him, her mind racing. ‘Do you mean you want me to accompany you?’ she asked politely, her face and voice hiding all signs of agitation.
    â€˜Yes, and you’ll need to bring your notebook and pencil, and get a financial report from Accounts. We might need that.’ He was totally in work mode, his distant voice indicating he was thinking about several things at once. She had noticed that about him before; it was one of the many accomplishments he had that added to the notion he wasn’t quite human.
    â€˜Right.’ She nodded efficiently and then, once the door had closed again, sat staring vacantly across the room. A business lunch with clients, that was all it was. She could handle this. This sort of thing was going to happen time and time again so she might as well get used to it.
    The breakdown was on Lucas’s desk at half-past eleven and Kim was waiting—outwardly serene and inwardly disturbed and uptight—at twelve-thirty when he buzzed her to say they were leaving. Her stomach muscles had tightened as the deep dark voice came over the intercom, but when he emerged from his office a few moments later she was all cucumber-cool efficiency.
    â€˜We’re meeting them at Fontella’s so I’d like to get there a few minutes early.’ He took her arm as he spoke, ushering her out of the door with his usual fast, capable way of doing things. She caught a whiff of the expensive aftershave he wore, the feel of his height and breadth all around her as they entered the lift at the end of the corridor, and it was then she carefully moved away and put a little space between them.
    â€˜What’s the matter?’
    â€˜I’m sorry?’ She stared at him as he leant against the carpeted panelling and looked at her quizzically, but she couldn’t stop her cheeks flushing with colour. She had thought her cautious withdrawal had been sufficiently diplomatic and discreet to be unnoticed, but she might have know that razor-sharp brain would have detected it.
    â€˜You didn’t like me touching you,’ he stated evenly, his narrowed eyes like twin points of silver light. ‘Why? Is it me or are you the same with all men?’
    Any other man, any other man , might have registered her unease but wouldn’t have confronted her on it. The thought hit Kim at the same time as the hostility at his astute assessment of her, and her voice was icy when she said, in direct answer to the challenge, ‘I don’t like physical contact, as it happens.’
    â€˜I’ll forgo the joke about your daughter being born through immaculate conception,’ he drawled drily, ‘and repeat my question. Do you have a problem with me, Kim? If so, it needs to be brought out into the open and dealt with. I’m not in the habit of jumping on unsuspecting females; neither do I believe in mixing work and pleasure. Is that plain enough for you?’
    This was awful, horrific. Kim had never felt so embarrassed in her