This was the very first time Marcus had mentioned anything about this particular aspect of the weekend. Deliberately so? she wondered as she looked at him suspiciously.

His smile turned to a scowl. ‘As I told you yesterday, I’m not about to make indecent advances on your person!’ he told her disgustedly.

But Kit hadn’t needed him to repeat it, knew that he didn’t find her in the least attractive; she just couldn’t make too much sense of what he was saying. It appeared that Marcus had originally intended going with Andrea to Desmond Hayes’s for the weekend—the woman’s vehemence yesterday at being told she wasn’t going after all was proof of that!—so why was he now taking Kit, but still leaving his host with the impression it was his girlfriend who was accompanying him?

‘It’s simple enough, Miss McGuire—’

‘You keep saying that,’ she cut in tensely.

‘But you don’t find it so,’ Marcus replied through gritted teeth. ‘I swear, I want your experience as my PA this weekend, not as a woman.’

‘That part you’ve made abundantly clear!’ she snapped back, slightly disconcerted as Marcus gave her an assessing look for her vehemence. ‘And quite rightly so,’ she added hastily. ‘But what is it you want me—as your PA—to do?’ she persisted, desperately trying to claw back some of the credibility she was sure she had lost just now when she had sounded almost disappointed that Marcus wanted her services professionally but not personally.

Idiot, she chided herself. As if Marcus could ever have any personal interest in her.

‘Observe and listen, mainly,’ he answered in a casual voice. ‘There are rumours that Desmond Hayes is in trouble—financially, for a change, as opposed to the mess he’s made of his personal life. Three wives!’ he added with a disgusted shake of his head.

‘I suppose you think he shouldn’t have married those women at all but just—er—what I meant—’ Kit broke off abruptly, wincing awkwardly as she realised what she had been about to say, the colour once again hot in her cheeks.

‘But just bedded them—like me,’ Marcus finished for her. ‘Was that what you were about to say?’

It was. Though it had dawned on her just how unwise she was being before she had even finished saying it. Although that didn’t stop Marcus from being completely aware of what she had been about to say, anyway!

‘You know, Miss McGuire,’ he murmured, the humour once more lighting the deep blue of his eyes, ‘perhaps this weekend will serve another purpose, after all. You’ve been working for me for six months now, and it’s time I got to know you a little better,’ he enlightened her as she looked at him warily.

Having Marcus get to know her a little or, indeed, a lot better, was not something she particularly wanted!

She deliberately avoided his gaze now. ‘What do the rumours have to say about Desmond Hayes’s financial problems?’ she prompted, determined to take the conversation onto a more businesslike footing.

‘So far, only that he’s in trouble. I want to see if we can’t find out a little more about that over this weekend.’

‘And you don’t think Miss Revel would have been able to help you with that better than I?’ Kit replied, sure that the kittenish Andrea would be much more successful at persuading Desmond Hayes, a man with an obvious weakness for beautiful women, into talking about himself and his problems.

Poor Penny, too; she would be most disappointed to hear that Desmond Hayes might no longer be one of the richest men in England!

Marcus’s mouth thinned. ‘My relationship with Andrea is over,’ he bit out decisively. ‘Besides, I’ve always made it a rule to keep my personal and my private life completely separate.’

‘Strange, I’d heard differently—’ Kit gave an uncomfortable wince as she realised what she had just said.

‘From whom, may I ask?’ he demanded.

‘Someone mentioned it. I forget who,’ Kit said firmly as he gave her a disbelieving look.

His smile was humourless. ‘Angie always did have a big mouth,’ he ruminated. ‘It’s one of the reasons she didn’t work out too well as my previous PA. Whereas you…’

Kit arched dark brows. ‘Me?’

Marcus gave her an appreciative smile. ‘You’re so discreet that even your own personal life is a closed book! This is a nice apartment, by the way.’ He looked around them admiringly. ‘Very minimalistic,’ he approved. The bare wooden floors were adorned with brightly coloured scatter rugs rather than a carpet, and there was just a cream sofa, chair and bookcase in the sitting-room, which he could see from the hallway. ‘Very nice,’ he repeated slowly. ‘Perhaps I’m paying you too much.’ He eyed her with challenging amusement.

Kit had been reeling from his comment about her personal life being a closed book, but this comment about her apartment, coming so close on its heels, made her frown darkly. ‘I happen to share this apartment,’ she told him sharply. ‘And you certainly do not pay me too much!’

Marcus laughed, his teeth very white and even against his tanned skin, his eyes gleaming deeply blue. ‘I thought even you might have something to say about that,’ he responded.

‘Even me?’ she rejoined, wondering exactly what he had meant by that remark.

‘Well, as I’ve already said, you’ve worked for me for six months or so now, and I still know very little about you.’

And he wasn’t going to know anything about her either, if she had her way! Most of it was pretty boring, and what wasn’t boring was pretty damning—as far as Marcus was concerned, she intended her life should remain a closed book!

‘I see nothing wrong in that,’ she told him tartly. ‘The only things I know about your personal life would be better left unknown—’ She broke off abruptly, realising she had yet again overstepped the line she had drawn between them when she had first started working for him. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered, looking away.

Marcus eyed her assessingly. ‘No, you’re not,’ he said comfortably. ‘You said you share this apartment?’ he continued.

One of the things she most admired about this man was his intelligence—though she wasn’t quite so sure about that when it was directed towards her! She had thought he hadn’t paid any particular notice to her comment about sharing the apartment, but he had simply been saving his curiosity for the right moment. Like now.

‘Yes,’ she answered unhelpfully. ‘Now, what is it you want me to wear this weekend, if not my business clothes?’ She noted his own casual black denims and dark blue shirt open at the throat.

‘Anything but,’ he responded. ‘What you have on is okay—if you were going to pay a visit on an aged relative! And I’m sure those suits you wear to the office are very smart—’

‘But?’ Kit interjected guardedly, already stung by his comment about the cream linen suit she was wearing. Though the four dark suits that she usually wore to work were sensible, they were smart of their kind—and had been expensive too.

‘But they aren’t suitable for a summer weekend in the country,’ Marcus persisted unapologetically. ‘For instance, have you packed a bikini?’

‘Certainly not!’

‘Well, Desmond has a full-sized outdoor heated swimming pool. Plus a stable if you happen to ride—’

‘I don’t.’ Kit did her best to repress a shudder just at the thought of getting on a horse; they were truly magnificent creatures to look at—from a distance!—but too unpredictable for her taste. ‘I like to go for walks, though,’ she said lightly, starting to wonder if this weekend might not be fun, after all.

‘Then you’ll need a pair of walking boots, and so do I,’ Marcus informed her happily. ‘And a pair of jeans and some tops to relax in during the day, plus something a bit more glamorous for dinner in the evenings—’

‘Okay, okay.’ Kit held up her hands in self-defence. ‘I get the picture.’

‘Good.’ Marcus nodded his satisfaction. ‘Off you go and change, and repack your suitcase, then. I’ll just sit in here and look through your book collection while I’m waiting,’ he informed her arrogantly, before strolling into the sitting-room to do exactly that.

Kit stared after him frustratedly. She might, as she said, get the picture, but how on earth was she supposed to keep up the prim Miss McGuire role wearing denims—or worse!—a bikini?

CHAPTER THREE

‘THAT’S better!’ Marcus voiced his approval when Kit rejoined him in the sitting-room fifteen minutes later.

Fifteen agonizing minutes later. Kit simply hadn’t known what to do for the best once she was in her bedroom. If she did as Marcus asked, and dressed and behaved as casually as he was himself, wasn’t that going to make a nonsense of the working relationship she had gone to such lengths to establish the last six months? But on the other hand, if she didn’t fulfil her role as his PA, Marcus wasn’t going to think she was of much use to him, and maybe he’d decide, as he obviously had with Angie Dwyer, that she wasn’t working out too well.

Besides, as he had gone to great pains to point out, he had no designs upon her body!

Not sure whether she felt relieved, chagrined, or just plain disappointed about that, Kit had taken a quick inventory of her wardrobe and had picked out the clothing she thought might do for the occasion, without compromising herself too much. From the look on Marcus’s face as he looked at her now in a black tee shirt and fashionable fitted black trousers, he obviously approved of the transformation.

‘At least,’ he said as he slowly stood up, ‘the clothes are. Can’t you do something with your hair?’ He glowered at the severe style she still wore. ‘And the glasses?’ he added with exasperation. ‘Desmond is going to think my taste has turned to the studious!’

‘As opposed to dumb blondes!’ Kit was stung into retorting, the colour swiftly entering her cheeks as Marcus turned to look at her beneath lowered lids. ‘I’m so sorry!’ she gasped. ‘I really shouldn’t have said that. I just—You were being extremely personal about me, and so—’

‘You felt the freedom to be extremely personal about me, in return,’ Marcus drawled.

She grimaced. ‘Yes.’

‘Fair enough,’ he agreed.

Her eyes widened in surprise. She had expected a verbal setting-down, if nothing else. ‘It is?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Although I wouldn’t advise you to do it too often!’

Kit stared at him for several seconds, and then she gave a laugh as she saw the glint in his dark blue eyes.

Marcus tilted his head as he looked at her consideringly. ‘Is that really how you see the women I’ve been involved with?’ he asked quizzically.

In truth, yes. Oh, they were beautiful enough, but Kit very much doubted that their conversation had run to much more than fashion and social chit chat. Not exactly scintillating to a man of Marcus’s intelligence. Although she very much doubted it was intellect that had attracted him to them!

‘Perhaps,’ she answered noncommittally. ‘Although I really don’t know them well enough to comment, do I?’

‘That doesn’t seem to have stopped you doing exactly that, anyway,’ Marcus pointed out dryly.

No, it hadn’t, had it? Kit realised, the colour once more in her cheeks. And it really wasn’t any of her business, was it…?

She put up a self-conscious hand to her hair, aware that its vibrancy of colour was mostly muted by its severe style; that it glowed like flame when released, sometimes deeply red, sometimes that red hinting at gold, at other times just pure gold. As for discarding her glasses…!

‘Which brings us back to your hair,’ Marcus said firmly as he saw her nervous movement. ‘It looks like okay hair to me.’

‘It is,’ she confirmed awkwardly.

‘Then why not let it down for a change? Just your hair, Miss McGuire,’ he added as he recognized his choice of words could be misinterpreted. ‘And do you really need those glasses?’ He reached out as if to pluck them off her nose. ‘The lenses don’t look very strong to me—hey, I was only going to look at them!’ he protested as she swung away from his hand.

‘You might break them,’ she said stiltedly, reaching up herself to remove the glasses; she had her contacts with her, could put them in later. ‘I really only need them for reading,’ she excused, her face turned away as she put the glasses carefully into their case and into her handbag.

‘Miss McGuire…?’

‘Yes?’ she replied distractedly.

‘Would you mind looking at me when I talk to you?’

‘What—?’ She broke off as she turned and saw the look on Marcus’s face. He was staring at her, which sent the colour once more to flush her cheeks.

And she knew what he would see too; eyes of deep gun-metal grey, but with the softness of velvet, her lashes long and dark, those eyes emphasizing her high cheekbones, the perfect bow of her lips.

Marcus blinked. ‘Could you take down your hair, too?’ he pressed huskily.

She gave an irritated groan. ‘Look, I really don’t think this is at all necessary—’

‘Please,’ he pushed gently.

Kit shot him an uncertain glance before looking away again, reaching up to remove the pins from her hair, its straight, silky softness falling gently about her shoulders, the sunlight streaming in through the window giving it the texture of living flame.

‘There.’ She raised her chin as she looked at him, flicking her hair back over her shoulder as she did so. ‘Satisfied?’

Marcus put a hand up to absently stroke the roughness of his chin as he continued to look at her with enigmatic eyes. ‘As a matter of fact—no, I’m far from satisfied!’ he replied. ‘What I am, though, is curious as to why you’ve been walking around my office the last six months masquerading as someone’s maiden aunt, when, in actual fact, you really look like this!’

Kit continued to look at him with steady grey eyes. ‘Like what?’

He looked ready to explode. ‘Like—like—’

‘Yes?’ she prompted curiously.

‘You know exactly what you look like, Miss McGuire,’ he bit out coldly. ‘What I want to know is why?’

She avoided meeting his gaze. ‘If you really must know—’

‘Oh, I think I really must,’ he assured sarcastically.

Kit took a deep breath. ‘My previous boss thought it part of my job description to go to bed with him. And after Angie Dwyer’s comments about you, I—well, I thought it best not to draw attention to—to my femininity,’ she concluded awkwardly.

‘In other words, you didn’t draw my attention to it!’ Marcus rasped furiously. ‘Damn it, have I so much as looked at you in a way that could be called personal in the last six months?’

‘No,’ she acknowledged with a pained grimace, knowing his anger was justified.

‘You—I—oh, to hell with this,’ he suddenly said impatiently. ‘If you’re ready, let’s just go, shall we?’ He turned on his heel and walked out of her apartment.

Kit breathed a sigh of relief at being released from his domineering company for a couple of minutes at least, the tension relaxing from her shoulders. Marcus obviously wasn’t a happy man at what he saw to be her transition from moth into butterfly, or the reason for it. As she had known he wouldn’t be…

Oh, well. She gave a philosophical shrug of her shoulders as she picked up her bag and followed him out to his car; he had asked for it, hadn’t he? He could hardly sack her just because she had turned out to be more attractive without her hair confined and not wearing her glasses than he had actually bargained for!

‘Where, exactly, are we going?’ she asked after ten minutes of silent driving on Marcus’s part—and, she admitted, a certain amount of discomfort on hers!

‘Worcestershire,’ he supplied economically.

‘Really?’ She brightened. ‘I’ve never been there, but I believe it’s supposed to be a very pretty county—’

‘Would you mind not chattering?’ Marcus cut in hardly. ‘I need to concentrate while I’m driving.’

He needed to learn some manners too—but somehow Kit didn’t think he would appreciate having her point that out to him!

But if he didn’t want to talk, she was quite happy to look out the window at the countryside as they left London far behind them, the Jaguar sports car Marcus drove quickly eating up the miles.

She’d had all too few opportunities to get out of London since selling her car six months ago, driving and parking in the city simply weren’t worth the nightmare. Her parents lived in Cornwall, and it was easier to get on the train when she went to see them than it was to struggle through all the tourist traffic that constantly clogged the roads down there.

‘Okay, I apologize for my brusqueness,’ Marcus said suddenly beside her, startling her out of her reverie.

Kit tilted her chin up as she looked at him. ‘Which time?’

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he glanced back at her.

‘Both times,’ he acknowledged. ‘I admit, I was initially a little—startled, by the change in your appearance—even more so by the reason for the subterfuge in the first place.’ He looked darkly at the road ahead. ‘Talk if you want to,’ he commanded.

Kit continued to watch him for several long seconds, finding that, now he had invited her to talk, she actually had nothing to say!

‘Well?’ he persisted tersely at her continued silence.

She gave a rueful laugh. ‘Isn’t it strange, that when someone invites you to talk, there’s really nothing to talk about? But if I think of anything, I’ll certainly say it,’ she amended hastily at the frown line remaining between his eyes.

Marcus gave a small smile. ‘I’m gratified to hear it!’

‘No, you aren’t,’ she said with certainty. ‘And I’m really quite happy just looking out of the window,’ she assured him. ‘It’s easy to forget, living in London, just how beautiful England really is.’

‘Yes,’ he answered shortly. ‘Tell me a little about yourself, Miss McGuire,’ he invited. ‘I ought to know something about the woman I’m spending the weekend with, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose,’ she acknowledged reluctantly, not sure how much she wanted this man to know about her. Always a private person, she now found it more important than ever to keep personal information to a minimum—considering this man’s connections…

‘You suppose?’ he echoed slightly incredulously. ‘Miss McGuire, I’m not asking for intimate details; just a general outline will do! Things like parents and siblings; after all, your résumé has already told me about your previous employment, educational qualifications and marital status!’

‘Oh, good,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Well, I have two parents: a mother and a father—’

‘I’m glad to hear it!’ he drawled with derisive patience, ‘why is it I get the feeling you really don’t want to talk about your private life?’

‘Probably because I don’t,’ she answered candidly. ‘But I’m quite happy for you to tell me about yours, if you feel so inclined?’ She looked at him expectantly.

He flicked her another glance with those deep blue eyes. ‘You know, I think you might be a lot less trouble as the supremely efficient Miss McGuire; she tends not to answer back!’

Kit grinned self-consciously. ‘Sorry.’

‘No, you’re not. And, for the record, I have a mother and a father, too,’ he continued wryly.

‘Well, at least we have that much in common, Mr Maitland—’

‘Marcus,’ he insisted. ‘I think that might sound a little less—formal, for the benefit of this weekend, don’t you?’ He raised mocking brows.

She hesitated for a moment. ‘You know, I really don’t think you thought the consequences of this weekend through enough before deciding on your plan of action—’

‘You don’t?’ His brows rose higher.

‘No, I don’t.’ Kit turned fully in her seat to look at him. ‘For one thing,’ she continued determinedly as he would have interrupted, ‘how are we supposed to go back to being Mr Maitland and Miss McGuire when we return to the office on Monday morning? And for another—’

‘Tuesday morning,’ Marcus corrected. ‘We aren’t leaving until Monday afternoon,’ he explained as she looked at him enquiringly.

So now, attracted to him as she was, she had three torturous days in his company instead of two!

Great!

‘But you’re right about the Miss McGuire bit,’ Marcus continued thoughtfully. ‘Looking at you now, I’m not sure I will ever be able to think of you in that guise ever again!’

Hadn’t she tried to tell him that—?

‘Or for you to return to that coolly efficient role, either,’ he said pointedly.

Kit winced as she inwardly acknowledged that her change in appearance had also resulted in certain subtle—and some not so subtle!—differences in her personality. Dressed in her casual clothes, her hair loose, and no heavy-framed glasses, she certainly felt, and behaved, differently from the coolly capable Miss McGuire!

‘All in all—Kit,’ he paused briefly before deliberately using her first name, ‘I have a feeling that being away on business with you is going to be altogether a completely different experience to going away with Lewis!’

That was what she was afraid of!

Marcus glanced at her, chuckling huskily as he saw the woebegone expression on her face. ‘Cheer up, Kit,’ he encouraged. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

Attracted to him as she was, feeling about him the way that she did, she would rather not think about that, either!

‘After all,’ Marcus went on lightly, completely relaxed now as he drove effortlessly along the country roads, ‘you’re going to be chaperoned by several other guests. And don’t forget, my taste runs to dumb blondes.’

She gave a pained groan. ‘I wish that I had never made that remark!’

Marcus was grinning, obviously enjoying her discomfort now. ‘Well, it’s a sure fact you aren’t blonde.’ He gave her hair an admiring glance. ‘And I can personally vouch for the fact that you aren’t dumb, either!’

She gave a heavy sigh. ‘Mr Maitland—’

‘Marcus,’ he reminded her firmly. ‘Is Kit short for something else?’ he mused. ‘Kitty or Kathryn, something like that?’

‘It’s short for Kit,’ she told him woodenly. ‘Plain and simple Kit.’

‘Okay.’ He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘You were going to say something before we got into this discussion about names…?’

‘Before you got into the discussion about names,’ she corrected flatly. ‘And I was just going to apologize—’ once again! ‘—for my remarks about your personal life. They were rude, and intrusive, and altogether—’

‘True,’ he finished happily. ‘But I’m sure it isn’t too late for my tastes to change—to tall, outspoken redheads, for instance.’

Kit was almost afraid to look at him now, sure he was just teasing her to get his own back for her earlier remarks—but at the same time she wasn’t sure of any such thing!

It was difficult to tell what he was thinking from the blandness of his expression. Deliberately so? Probably, she acknowledged heavily. One thing she had learnt over the last couple of days: Marcus had a wicked sense of humour when he chose to exert it.

‘Very funny,’ she scorned, choosing to err on the side of caution. ‘Do you have any idea who any of the other guests will be this weekend?’ She deliberately changed the subject onto something less personal. And disturbing!

‘The usual hangers-on and social bores a man like Desmond Hayes attracts, I suppose. Never mind, Kit, we’ll have each other for company.’

Now she knew he was deliberately teasing her. Because he knew she found him attractive? Because he had guessed that, against all the warnings, she had fallen into the trap of being half in love with him? That would be just too awful! Well, in this case, lack of interest was the best form of defence…

‘How nice.’ She made her reply deliberately saccharine-sweet.

Marcus gave an appreciative laugh. ‘Well, I can assure you, Kit, I’m certainly not expecting to be bored!’

While he kept teasing her like this, no, she didn’t expect that he would be…

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