Taken by the Boss: His Very Personal Assistant / In the Banker's Bed / The Takeover Bid

She had tried so hard to appear normal this morning, to come to work as normal, to sit at her desk as normal, even to carry out this ridiculous conversation with Marcus as normal—when in reality her whole world felt as if it were falling apart. Every certainty, every stability in her life, suddenly no longer seemed that way…

* * *

She had travelled down to Cornwall on Saturday, totally ignorant of the bombshell that was about to be dropped on her.

‘Kit!’ her mother cried out excitedly, absolutely thrilled to see her getting out of the taxi, running over to hug her, and then promptly bursting into tears.

‘Hey…’ Kit said gently once she had paid off the taxi, looking affectionately at her tall, slender, still-beautiful mother.

Heather McGuire had been a noted beauty in her youth, with her long auburn hair and classical features. She was still a very striking woman.

She linked her arm with Kit’s as the two of them strolled over to the cottage. ‘I’m just so pleased to see you.’ She beamed. ‘Your father will be too,’ she added with certainty.

And he was, taking Kit up in his arms and hugging her.

He was tall and handsome, his hair and beard snowy white now; his blue eyes twinkled at her merrily as he said, ‘You’re looking lovelier than ever, Kit; new boyfriend?’

‘No,’ she laughingly denied.

He arched white brows. ‘Still hankering after that handsome boss of yours?’

‘For all the good it’s doing me,’ she confessed, knowing she never had been able to keep secrets from her father.

‘Come along in and let’s all have a glass of wine before dinner,’ her mother suggested happily, her tears dried now.

Kit hung back as her mother went off to get the glasses for their wine, looking concernedly at her father. ‘What’s wrong with Mummy?’

‘Wrong?’

‘Wrong,’ Kit insisted, very aware of the fact that her father’s voice sounded forced, that his eyes weren’t quite meeting hers, or in fact twinkling any more.

‘Why, nothing, darling—’

‘Daddy,’ she rebuked gently. ‘I’m not a child any more, you know.’

‘I do know.’ He sighed wistfully. ‘Long gone are the days when I could—’

‘Daddy, please,’ she encouraged, definitely knowing there was something wrong now from the way he was prevaricating.

Not that her mother wasn’t always overjoyed to see her; she just didn’t usually cry over it, had accepted long ago that Kit worked and lived in London, that she would come down every four to six weeks to see them. It had, in fact, only been three weeks since she’d last visited, so her mother’s emotional outburst just now seemed totally out of character.

Her father hugged her to his side. ‘We’ll discuss it over dinner, all right, Pumpkin?’ he told her gruffly.

No, it wasn’t all right, but she knew her father too well to try and push him; he would explain when he was ready and not before.

And he had explained, both he and her mother…

But it wasn’t an explanation she intended sharing with Marcus now, here in his office.

His anger this morning was one thing, something, she could deal with; his sympathy would be something else entirely!

‘Which painting is it?’ she asked, recovering her composure.

‘“Tempest”,’ Marcus revealed. ‘The young girl on the rocks? It’s you, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ she confirmed, knowing exactly which painting he was referring to, of a young girl, red hair swirling behind her, as she sat on the rocks looking out at a storm-tossed sea.

Kit had been thirteen when her father had painted her, no longer a child, but not quite a woman yet, either. That winter, some days she had been so angry with herself, the world, everything, that her only escape had been to go to the beach near their cottage, sit on the rocks, uncaring of how wet she became, and just allow herself to become a part of the stormy sea.

Her father had seen her there one day and captured her on canvas.

And it was incredible to think that Marcus had owned that particular painting for all this time…!

She gave a warm smile. ‘It’s probably now worth a hundred times what you paid for it.’

Intensity flared in the dark depths of Marcus’s eyes. ‘I have no intention of selling it.’

‘It’s a very sound investment.’

‘I told you, I didn’t buy it as an investment!’ he came back impatiently.

‘I was only—’

‘Kit, I know what you were “only”,’ he cut in forcefully. ‘And I don’t appreciate it!’

Kit could see that he didn’t. But if she were to have any pride left at all she had to try and keep up the barriers between them. And if that meant alienating Marcus, then that was what she would have to do.

Besides, she had other, much more pressing things to think about at the moment…

She met his gaze unblinkingly. ‘I’m not sure this is the right moment to ask this—but do you think I could have a little longer for lunch today?’

‘A little longer—!’ Marcus looked momentarily nonplussed by this sudden change of subject, and then his gaze narrowed speculatively. ‘Why?’

Her eyes widened. ‘I don’t think that is any of your business,’ she told him stiffly. ‘Of course, if it’s going to interfere with anything here, then I—’

‘It isn’t,’ he responded flatly. ‘As it happens Lewis and I have to go to a meeting early this afternoon. I merely wondered if you were seeing someone for lunch.’

Kit felt perplexed now. This was the first she’d heard of any meeting arranged for this afternoon. ‘Again, I don’t really think that is any of your business…’

‘You’re asking me for extra time off—’

‘I’ll work later this evening to make up for it!’ she came back heatedly, hands clenched at her sides. The extended lunch break she was requesting really wasn’t up for negotiation—it was too important for that!

Besides, in the last six months she hadn’t been off sick once, had never asked for any time off other than her allowed holiday. As far as she was concerned Marcus was being totally unreasonable.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ he told her icily.

It might not be necessary, but she was going to do it anyway. No matter what the outcome of her lunchtime appointment…

It wasn’t a meeting she was looking forward to, and that was without Marcus being so difficult about it.

‘Kit?’ Marcus’s voice softened slightly, his gaze searching now on the paleness of her face.

She swallowed hard, straightening defensively. ‘Will that be all, Mr Maitland?’

‘No, it will not be all, damn it!’ he barked once more, taking a determined step towards her to grasp her by her upper arms, once again taking in her businesslike appearance with obvious displeasure. ‘You look totally ridiculous in that get-up.’

Her mouth tightened at his deliberately insulting tone. ‘Thank you!’

‘You know very well what I mean!’

‘Do I?’ Kit eyed him challengingly, very aware that she was playing with fire, but unable, at that moment—later might be a different matter!—to resist.

Besides, the mere touch of his hands, even when he was bad-tempered like this, had rekindled her yearning to be in his arms, to know the thrill of his lips on hers, to lose herself in the passion the two of them seemed to ignite in each other.

Some of that yearning must have shown in her eyes, because Marcus, giving a groan low in this throat, bent his head and his lips moved to possess hers.

Kit returned the kiss as all of the emotions of the last few days washed over her, losing herself in the fierceness of the desire that flared so intensely between them. Marcus’s arms were about her now as he moulded the length of her body against his, making her fully aware of his arousal.

He felt so good to touch, his back hard and muscled against her restlessly caressing hands beneath his suit jacket, his warmth heating her body, her breasts aching heavily, her nipples hard and ultra-sensitive against his chest.

She had been waiting for this man all her life, it seemed; that young girl on the rocks in her father’s painting, who’d dreamed of the man she might one day fall in love with, who during the years since had waited for that man to appear—only to have him do so now, in the guise of Marcus Maitland.

How she loved this man! How she longed to just lie down beside him and make love with him, to become lost in the—

Kit looked up at Marcus unseeing as she suddenly found herself thrust away from him. ‘What—?’

‘Come in!’ Marcus called out, his gaze not leaving hers.

Someone—Lewis, it seemed as the other man opened the door and entered the office—had knocked on the door, a knock Kit hadn’t heard in her total awareness of Marcus. Her cheeks blushed scarlet as she saw the knowing look harden Marcus’s eyes.

‘I have the papers here I thought you should look at,’ Lewis told Marcus slowly, obviously sensing the tension in the room as he looked at the two of them questioningly. ‘But if you’re busy, I can always come back later…?’ He seemed aware that he had interrupted something—although, hopefully, not actually what that was!

‘I was just leaving, anyway,’ Kit assured him, deliberately avoiding meeting Marcus’s eyes as she turned away.

‘Kit…?’ he called out as she reached the open door.

She stiffened, turning slowly back to look at him, wishing he would just let her escape.

‘That extended lunch break you requested…’

‘Yes?’ she replied warily, very aware of Lewis as he studied the papers in his hand in an effort to try looking as if he weren’t listening to their conversation.

‘It’s fine with me,’ Marcus told her.

She drew in a sharp breath, wanting to make a cutting reply back, but unwilling to add to Lewis’s curiosity by doing so. ‘Thank you,’ she accepted tersely, at last able to escape to the relative sanctuary of her own office.

She had known it was going to be difficult to come in today and just continue working with Marcus, as if nothing had changed between them over the weekend. That was one of the reasons—despite what Marcus might have thought!—she had returned to her guise as efficient, prim Miss McGuire. But the fact that Marcus had kissed her in the way that he had showed he had no intention of forgetting the intimacy they had shared over the weekend. How much longer, Kit wondered miserably, would she be able to continue working for him…?

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘KIT… isn’t it?’

Kit stared at the woman sitting behind the wide oak desk, hoping the trembling of her legs wasn’t visible as she stood on the thickly carpeted floor in front of that desk. The last thing she wanted was to appear in the least lacking in self-confidence.

‘You asked to see me,’ Catherine Grainger reminded at Kit’s continued silence.

Yes, she had. She had telephoned Catherine Grainger’s office first thing this morning; lunchtime was the only time the other woman was available to see her. But now that Kit was here she had no idea what she was going to say to her!

Her hands were clammy, she felt alternately hot and then cold—and she seemed to have forgotten how to talk!

The older woman gave an impatient sigh. ‘I’m sure my secretary has already explained to you that I’m very busy today, so if you have something to say then I really wish you would get on with it—’

‘My name is Catherine McGuire!’ The words burst out starkly before Kit even had time to formulate them in her mind.

Catherine Grainger remained unmoved, her face hard and unyielding. ‘I believe my secretary did mention that was the name of my one o’clock appointment, yes.’

‘Doesn’t that name mean anything to you?’

Catherine Grainger lifted elegant shoulders in dismissal. ‘Should it?’ she returned coolly.

Kit drew in a sharp breath, her face deathly pale now, her hands clenched tightly into fists at her sides. ‘I’m your granddaughter!’

Catherine Grainger continued to look at her, her expression impassive, not showing so much as a flicker of her eyelids to demonstrate that what Kit had said meant anything to her.

Kit stared back, still amazed that this woman, so cold, so hard, could possibly be her mother’s mother!

She had always known who her grandmother was, of course, had been told the truth by her parents at a very young age, after she had asked them why she didn’t have grandparents like the other children at school. But actually coming face to face with her the previous weekend, knowing exactly who and what she was, had been something of a shock.

A shock, now she had been told the truth, Catherine Grainger didn’t seem to share…

Catherine gave a gesture of acknowledgement. ‘Yes,’ she agreed.

It wasn’t a question, or an exclamation, just a simple statement of fact!

Kit was startled. ‘You already knew…?’

‘I guessed. You look remarkably like your mother did at this age,’ she explained unemotionally.

‘You haven’t even seen my mother since she was nineteen!’ Kit exclaimed, stunned beyond measure that this woman had known all the time exactly who she was. And had said nothing…

‘True,’ Catherine Granger confirmed. ‘But you’re still very like her to look at. The likeness was enough for me to—ask certain questions, in order to find out exactly who you were.’

Kit’s eyes widened. ‘Of whom?’

‘Does that really matter?’

‘What questions did you ask?’ Kit persisted.

‘Your surname was enough to tell me all that I needed to know.’ Her grandmother’s top lip turned back scornfully.

‘And yet you said nothing?’ Kit said incredulously.

Catherine Grainger’s eyes narrowed icily. ‘What was there for me to say? So you’re the daughter of Heather and that man—’

‘That man is my father!’ Kit interjected. ‘And he has a name. Tom McGuire,’ she announced proudly.

Her grandmother’s mouth thinned. ‘He’s old enough to be Heather’s father, and your grandfather!’

Kit stared at her disbelievingly. ‘And is that the only reason you objected to their relationship all those years ago? The reason you made my mother choose between the two of you?’

Heather had explained to her daughter that her own mother didn’t approve of her choice of husband, that it had come to a choice between the two, and that Tom had easily won.

Having met Catherine Grainger at the weekend, and looking at her now, Kit could easily understand why Heather had chosen to be with the man she loved, and who loved her, rather than this cold, unemotional woman. What Kit couldn’t understand was why Catherine had forced Heather to make that choice in the first place…

‘Isn’t that reason enough?’ Catherine came back derisively.

‘Not to me, no!’ Kit denied.

Catherine gave a humourless laugh. ‘I don’t really think this is any of your business, do you?’

‘None of my—!’ Kit gasped disbelievingly. ‘What sort of woman are you?’

Those grey eyes—like Kit’s own, only hers were warm as velvet rather than cold as ice!—hardened glacially. ‘Heather was nineteen years old, hardly more than a child herself—what did she know about love?’

‘Enough for that love to have lasted twenty-eight years!’ Kit told her grandmother triumphantly.

Catherine looked unimpressed. ‘They’re still together, then?’

‘Of course they’re still together!’ Kit had wondered how she was going to feel when she confronted this woman today, but now she knew exactly how she felt—furiously angry! This was Catherine’s own daughter they were talking about, a child this woman had presumably nurtured until she was nineteen years old. And yet, Catherine could have been talking about a stranger.

Catherine grimaced. ‘More from luck than judgement, I’m sure.’

Kit could feel her emotions building. ‘What absolute rubbish! If anything my parents love each other more now than they did twenty-eight years ago.’

‘Love!’ the other woman scorned.

Kit had once asked Heather why she hadn’t tried to see her mother over the years, to try and make up the quarrel between them, to show Catherine that years later she was still happy with the man of her choice. Her mother had looked bleakly unhappy as she had assured Kit that would never be possible.

Looking at Catherine’s expression of contempt just at the mention of the word love, Kit could now understand her mother’s reticence. Heather had already been hurt once; why put herself through the risk of a second rejection…?

‘Yes—love,’ Kit told her grandmother heavily. ‘Something you obviously know nothing about!’

Kit had come here today because she had felt compelled to do so, because after talking with her parents at the weekend, and knowing who this woman was, she felt she owed it to Catherine.

‘And you know absolutely nothing about me, Kit McGuire!’ her grandmother spat the words.

‘Then tell me! Explain to me why it is a mother disowns her own daughter, doesn’t even see her for the next twenty-eight years, just because she dared to fall in love with a man her mother doesn’t approve of! Because I certainly don’t understand it. My mother would never do that to me,’ Kit added with absolute certainty.

She didn’t care about this for herself, had lived without a grandmother for the last twenty-six years, was sure she could live without one for the rest of her life. But she cared for her mother’s sake…

Catherine gave a cynical laugh. ‘No, I don’t suppose innocently trusting Heather ever would.’

The heat flooded Kit’s cheeks as she heard the contempt in Catherine’s voice. ‘My mother is seriously ill! She could die,’ she explained in a pained voice, still too shocked by that knowledge herself to be able to soften or lessen the terrible enormity of what her parents had told her over the weekend.

Her mother had begun to have headaches a few months ago, which had become worse as time went on. A visit to a doctor was followed by one to a specialist, who diagnosed that those headaches were being caused by a brain tumour. A tumour that needed to be operated on straight away in order for Heather to stand any chance of living out the year.

Kit had cried brokenly when told the news, absolutely devastated at the seriousness of her mother’s illness. But as far as she could see, that same news had elicited very little reaction from Catherine Grainger.

A nerve pulsed briefly in her grandmother’s creamy cheek, there was a flicker of something in her eyes, though it was too brief for Kit to be able to tell what it was. But other than that, Catherine gave no outward response to the announcement.

‘Did you hear me?’ Kit snapped angrily. ‘I said—’

‘I heard you,’ the older woman cut in softly.

‘And?’

Catherine’s chin lifted slightly. ‘Exactly what is the nature of Heather’s illness?’

‘She has a brain tumour,’ Kit told her frankly. ‘They’re going to operate on Thursday, but—’ She broke off as her voice trembled emotionally. ‘They’re operating on Thursday,’ she repeated flatly once she had herself back under control.

‘Who is?’ Catherine demanded.

‘Does that really matter?’ Kit sighed heavily. ‘Don’t worry, my father now has enough money to pay for the best, and that’s what my mother has.’

Catherine stood up, looking haughtily down her nose at Kit. ‘Does Heather know you’ve come to see me?’

‘No,’ Kit confirmed. ‘In fact, my mother has no idea I’ve even met you.’

‘I see.’ Her grandmother breathed out slowly. ‘Well, now that you’ve told me, what do you want me to do about it?’

Kit stared at her incredulously. ‘Isn’t it obvious? I thought you would want to know. Thought I owed it to you to tell you. So that—so that—’

‘So that Heather and I can have some grand emotional reconciliation before her operation?’ Catherine Grainger guessed. ‘I hardly think so, Kit.’

Kit didn’t understand her grandmother, couldn’t relate to her at all. ‘Why not?’ she asked hesitantly.

Catherine stood ramrod straight before her, tall, elegant and imposing in a navy blue business suit and white silk blouse. ‘Heather made her choice twenty-eight years ago. I no longer have a daughter.’ Her expression hardened as she looked at Kit. ‘Or a granddaughter. Even one apparently named after me.’

Kit was shocked into retaliation. ‘Don’t worry, I have absolutely no wish to be your granddaughter, either! In fact, I’ve done what I came here to do. Said what I came here to say. So now I can leave. Except…’ She paused before turning to walk to the door.

‘Yes?’ Catherine replied stiffly.

Kit gave her a pitying glance. ‘I would hate to be you, with no love in my life, no one who cares for me, or for me to care for. Oh, you’re obviously very wealthy.’ She looked around at the expensive furnishings of Catherine’s office, evidence of her success in her business life. At the sacrifice of all else… ‘But by being the way that you are, so hard and unforgiving, you’ve missed out on so much.’

‘Having you as my granddaughter being one of them, I suppose?’ Catherine shot back.

‘Not at all,’ Kit answered levelly. ‘My mother is such a lovely woman, so undeserving of—of you, or her illness!’

Silver brows rose over cold grey eyes. ‘Have you quite finished?’

Kit took a steadying breath. ‘Yes, I’ve finished.’

‘In that case—’ Catherine looked quite deliberately in the appointment book on her desk top ‘—I have another meeting in two minutes.’ She dismissed Kit with a wave of her hand.

‘You really are very sad,’ Kit finished.

‘And you have taken up enough of my time for one day!’ Catherine slammed back.

‘So I have,’ Kit accepted, adding nothing more, but turning on her heel and walking out of the office, closing the door carefully behind her.

She managed to stay calm as she walked down the corridor and into the lift, determined to hold onto her emotions until she was well away from here.

Away from Catherine Grainger. Her grandmother…

She didn’t care for herself, had lived all these years without a grandmother, could live the rest of her life without one.

But what she didn’t understand was how a mother could behave in that way.

Even knowing of Heather’s illness, of the operation she would go through on Thursday, Catherine seemingly had no forgiveness in her, no softening of the resolve that had made her a stranger to her own daughter for the last twenty-eight years.

The only positive thing about this morning, as far as Kit could see, was that Heather knew nothing about her visit to Catherine, or of her mother’s lack of compassion—

Kit came to a sudden halt as she stepped out of the lift and found herself face to face with both Marcus and Lewis.

A stunned Lewis.

And a furious Marcus!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘I HAVE another meeting in two minutes,’ Catherine Grainger had told her so dismissively a few minutes earlier.

Obviously, that appointment was with Marcus and Lewis!

It had to be. It was just too much of a coincidence for it not to be.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Marcus exploded, apparently no more pleased to see Kit than she was to see him.

Kit moistened dry lips, but as quickly stopped the instinctive movement as she saw Marcus’s eyes narrow ominously. ‘I—I—’ What could she say in answer to that question? How could she explain what had just taken place in Catherine Grainger’s office?

‘Would you leave us for a few minutes, Lewis?’ Marcus instructed.

This was awful. Kit’s worst nightmare. But how could she have known—how could she have guessed? Catherine Grainger hadn’t said anything about Marcus being her next appointment, and Kit hadn’t had any idea about whom he was going to meet today.

Which was curious in itself…

Of course, as Marcus’s PA normally she dealt with all his appointments, had never known him to make his own arrangements like this before—with Catherine Grainger, of all people.

‘Of course,’ Lewis agreed, a little flustered, shooting Kit a questioning glance before moving away to stand over by the glass front doors of the building.