‘I don’t think dinner’s a good idea.’

‘Why ever not?’

Sally looked up then, and her blue eyes shone with an unnatural intensity. ‘It would be too much like a date.’

‘And that’s a crime?’

‘You’re my boss, remember?’

‘Well, yes. That’s…true.’ Logan scratched his jaw. Somehow, his original plan to keep business and pleasure apart no longer made any sense. He was quite sure that he and Sally should have dinner together. The sooner the better. ‘Let’s keep work out of this. You’ll be sacrificing your evenings to help me. Surely I owe you one dinner?’

Barbara Hannay was born in Sydney, educated in Brisbane, and has spent most of her adult life living in tropical North Queensland, where she and her husband have raised four children. While she has enjoyed many happy times camping and canoeing in the bush, she also delights in an urban lifestyle—chamber music, contemporary dance, movies and dining out. An English teacher, she has always loved writing, and now, by having her stories published, she is living her most cherished fantasy.

Visit www.barbarahannay.com

BLIND DATE WITH THE BOSS

BY

BARBARA HANNAY

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With special thanks to Victoria, my daughter, who knows how to dance.

CHAPTER ONE

SALLY FINCH stood before the mirror in the pretty terrace house she had recently inherited and knew she’d made a huge mistake.

So much depended on today’s job interview. If she didn’t start earning soon, she wouldn’t be able to stay in this gorgeous old house that she’d loved since she was six years old. She couldn’t start her new life as an independent woman in the city. Bottom line, she couldn’t eat!

But as Sally studied the results of this morning’s careful grooming, she was swamped by doubts—niggling at first, but growing stronger with every twist and turn in front of the mirror.

Until this moment, she’d been confident that she knew exactly how to dress for a big city interview, but the mirror posed an uncomfortable question. Shouldn’t she, at the very least, be able to recognise her own reflection?

What had gone wrong?

She’d woken early in a fever of confident excitement, had sung in the shower, eaten a super-healthy breakfast of fresh fruit and yoghurt in Chloe’s cheerful, sun-filled kitchen—she still thought of this house as her godmother’s—and then she’d raced upstairs to her bedroom.

The new and too expensive navy-blue dress fitted like a dream. Made from fine merino wool, with a high neckline and a neat white collar, it fell in straight, slim lines to a softly flared hemline. Its simplicity and neatness, Sally fervently hoped, signalled the very essence of efficiency.

Intent on completing her efficient image, she’d carefully brushed and crammed every wayward wisp of her blonde curling hair under hairpins and into a tight knot at the back of her head.

And then she’d stepped back to appraise the results and saw, with a chilling certainty, that she looked as grim and forbidding as her unforgettable third grade teacher.

How had this happened? The neck to knee navy had looked flattering in the shop. ‘Fabulous’ was the word the shop assistant had used.

Now the dress made Sally look too thin.

Admittedly, she had always been on the light side. Her older brothers had teased her about it when she was a skinny kid and she hadn’t given two hoots. Dressed in their hand-me-down jeans, sensible cotton shirts and sturdy riding boots, she’d simply been one of the gang, riding horses or quad bikes all over her family’s Outback property at Tarra-Binya.

Today, however, at the age of twenty-three and on the brink of life as a city woman, Sally would have loved to show more of her womanly curves.

She wondered what Chloe would have thought of this outfit. Her godmother had had a brilliant sense of style, and an even greater capacity for living life to the full. She’d been sensitive and warm-hearted too and had always said exactly the right thing to make Sally feel good about herself.

That she wasn’t here to help Sally phase into city life was almost too much to bear.

Blinking back tears she couldn’t afford on such an important morning, Sally tipped her head from side to side and swiftly switched her attention to her hair. Perhaps that was an even bigger problem than the dress. She’d overdone the efficient image.

After all, her interview at Blackcorp Mining Consultancies was for a front desk job and, if she got it, she would be meeting people all day long. And, although the Human Resources manager at Blackcorp would require efficiency in a receptionist, she would be expecting friendliness too.

Friendliness was Sally’s forte. She loved people and loved to chat, had always hoped for a job that involved plenty of talking. But now, as she practised smiling into the mirror, forced a sparkle into her eyes and gave a cheerful flash of her white teeth, she still looked like the Wicked Witch of the West.

That hair knot has to go.

Frantically, she began to rip out hairpins. She didn’t really have time to start rearranging her appearance, but she couldn’t face her appointment looking like this.

Pins scattered left and right, hitting the glass tray, the polished timber dressing table, the carpeted floor. Sally paid little heed to them as blonde curls bobbed up, like coiled springs, happy to be free again.

The front doorbell rang.

No.

Not now! Who on earth would be calling at eight o’clock on a Monday morning? She was only halfway through the rescue attempt on her hair.

Unwilling to waste precious time by going all the way downstairs to the door, Sally dashed to the bedroom window, conveniently poised above the front steps. With a flick of the curtain, she could identify her caller.

‘Anna!’

Her sister-in-law was almost jogging on the top step, balancing her young daughter, Rose, on her hip while she pressed the doorbell again.

‘I’m up here,’ Sally called.

Anna Finch looked up, her face chalk-white and terrified. Sally’s first thought was that something had happened to Steve, her brother, who worked on an oil rig off the Western Australian coast.

Without another word, she left the window and flew down the stairs, her hair problems instantly dismissed.

‘Anna,’ she cried as she flung the front door open and encountered a heart-stopping close up view of her sister-in-law’s pale cheeks and fearful, worried eyes. ‘What is it? What’s the matter? Is it Steve?’

‘No, Steve’s fine. It’s Oliver. He’s having a terrible asthma attack.’

It was only then that Sally saw Anna’s blue car parked at the gate and her three-year-old nephew’s sad face peering anxiously out at them. Poor little Oliver looked pale and sunken and, even from this distance, Sally could sense that he was struggling to breathe.

‘I rang the doctor’s surgery and they told me to take him straight to the hospital,’ Anna said.

‘The poor darling. How can I help?’

‘I was hoping you could mind Rose.’ As she said this, Anna thrust her chubby young daughter into Sally’s arms. ‘Oliver’s so frightened and I’m almost as terrified as he is.’

Sally could believe that. Anna was often in a state of high anxiety, one of those mothers who were perpetually worried. And this time she had a real emergency on her hands.

‘I don’t think I could manage at the hospital if I had Rose with me as well,’ she said.

Sally nearly said, I have my interview this morning, but she bit it back. Anna had enough on her plate.

‘I knew you wouldn’t mind.’ Without checking Sally’s response, Anna slipped the strap of a large crimson vinyl bag from her shoulder and set it on the doorstep. ‘Everything Rose needs should be in here.’

‘Right.’ Sally looked at the fifteen-month-old toddler in her arms—all golden hair and sunshiny smiles—and her heart sank. What on earth could she do with Rose while she went to the interview? She was already in danger of running late. And her hopes were pinned on scoring this job. Already, an alarming number of bills had landed in her letter box.

‘You’re wonderful, Sal,’ Anna said. ‘It’s so great having you close by now.’ At the bottom of the steps, she seemed to remember something. ‘What on earth have you done to your hair?’

‘Oh.’ Sally knew she must look a fright with one half of her hair still in pins. She shrugged and a hysterical little laugh escaped her. ‘It’s—it’s an experiment. I was trying a new look.’

With an unflattering roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, Anna raced back to her car.

Logan Black sat in his office, which was perched like an eagle’s eyrie high above Sydney’s glittering blue harbour, and spoke smoothly into the phone. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Charles, but I couldn’t consider that proposal without—’

Logan stopped in mid-sentence. He wasn’t easily distracted from a business conversation, but he could have sworn he’d heard a giggle coming from beneath his desk.

But that was impossible.

Ridiculous.

‘As I was saying, I—’ He paused again. This time he’d felt a distinct tug on the lace of his right shoe.

What the devil?

Swivelling in his leather executive chair, he peered into the shadowy depths beneath his enormous cherry wood desk and almost dropped the phone.

A very small child grinned cheekily up at him—a little girl, if Logan guessed correctly—not much more than a baby really. Her face was distinctly impish and she was clutching Logan’s shoelace in her tiny pink fist.

Logan cursed and then blustered, ‘How did you get in here?’

‘What’s that? What are you talking about?’ The CEO of Australia’s biggest mining company was suddenly confused and impatient on the other end of the line.

‘Ah—one moment, Charles.’ Logan stared down at the tiny intruder. How had a baby materialised in his office? In his office—the inner sanctum of the Managing Director of Blackcorp Mining Consultancies? It didn’t make sense. The occasional attractive woman might have found her way in here unannounced, but that was another matter entirely.

Surely it was impossible for any trespasser to enter here without being seen. Had the child crawled? Or was she simply so small she’d been out of eye range? Below the radar, so to speak.

With his hand over the receiver, Logan pressed the button connecting him to his PA’s desk and, at the same time, he barked, ‘Maria!’

To his dismay, there was no reply from outside and no reassuring female figure appeared at the doorway. To make matters worse, the little trespasser had abandoned Logan’s shoelaces and seemed intent on climbing his leg, clasping at the fine wool of his expensive trousers with distinctly sticky paws.

‘Down!’ Logan ordered in much the same voice he might have used to scold a wilful puppy.

‘Logan, what the hell’s going on?’ Charles Holmes’s voice thundered into the phone.

‘I’m sorry, Charles.’ Eyeing the toddler with an emotion approaching horror, Logan cleared his throat. Where was Maria? ‘Something’s—er—come up. An emergency. I’ll have to call you back. I’ll email through my suggestions for the changes and then we’ll take another look at your proposal.’

As he hung up, Logan scowled at the small person now trying to straddle his knee. Her eyes were dark brown and enormous, like a puppy’s, her hair super-fine and shiny gold, her skin soft and pink.

She looked deceptively angelic, smelled of shampoo and was dressed neatly in a pink dress embroidered with ducks. Her shoes were soft leather, her socks clean and white. She had, Logan admitted silently, the noticeable attributes of a child whose mother cared for her. This morning, however, her mother had been noticeably careless.

‘Where are your parents?’ Logan demanded aloud.

‘Jig-jig!’ the baby girl replied, bouncing vigorously on his Italian-shod foot.

‘No, I will not jig-jig.’ Gingerly fitting his hands beneath her tiny armpits, Logan lifted her before she could scramble any higher and set her back on the floor. ‘I don’t have time to jig-jig. I have a company to run. We need to find your parents.’

Again he pressed the buzzer on his desk and, when there was no answer, he marched to his office doorway and glared at the abandoned PA’s desk. If Maria was engaged elsewhere, he would have to call the front desk. Surely someone knew where this child belonged.

Behind him, Logan heard another disturbing giggle.

The little girl was under the desk again, peeking out at him and grinning mischievously, as if they’d begun a new game of hide and seek.

For a moment Logan felt an unexpected warm sensation in his chest. The baby was undeniably cute and he thought of his nephews, his sister’s boys. He really should visit Carissa more often.

But he was snapped right out of this uncharacteristic moment of sentiment when a chubby pink hand reached for the dangling cord attached to his computer.

‘No, kid. No!’

Five years ago Logan had been proud of his rugby tackles, but today, as he hurled himself into a low dive across the office carpet, he knew he was already too slow and too late.

CHAPTER TWO

THE interview was going rather well, Sally thought. She’d made it in the nick of time, her curls restored to their usual disorganized bounciness, and Janet Keaton, Blackcorp’s HR manager, had been incredibly understanding when she’d telephoned to explain about her last-minute babysitting emergency.

‘I really need to complete the interviews today,’ Janet had said. ‘Perhaps you’d better bring your niece with you. Do you think she would sit in the corner of my office while we talk?’

‘I can’t promise she’ll be quiet,’ Sally had warned. ‘But I’ll bring a bag of her toys and her favourite picture books.’

Janet’s voice had been reassuringly warm. ‘Let’s give it a try. I might not be able to reschedule your time slot.’

Fortunately, a rescheduling hadn’t been necessary. Rose, bless her, had become completely absorbed in pushing brightly coloured shapes through holes in a plastic box and then opening the box to take the shapes out, before starting the process all over again. And Sally had become equally absorbed in Janet Keaton’s interesting questions.

She was quizzed about her childhood at Tarra-Binya, about her boarding school days in a big country town and the computer course she’d completed on leaving school. She’d told Janet about her summer holiday jobs on the front desk of Chloe’s art gallery here in Sydney at Potts Point. And that led to Sally explaining about her godmother, Chloe Porter, a well-known figure in Sydney’s art circles, and about her legacy of the terrace house.

‘And you didn’t mind leaving the country to live in Sydney?’ Janet asked.

Sally almost blurted the truth that she’d had to leave, that she’d had to escape her family’s stifling concern, had to prove that she could manage on her own. But she doubted that would impress her interviewer.

‘I’ve always wanted to live here,’ she said emphatically, and this was also very true. ‘It’s been my dream. I spent nearly every summer holiday with Chloe and it was always so much fun. I love Sydney. It’s so cosmopolitan and exciting. I’m really looking forward to making my home here.’

‘A mining consultancy is very different from an art gallery,’ Janet said carefully. ‘What do you know about Blackcorp and the Australian mining industry?’

‘Well…’ Sally took a deep breath and thanked heavens that she’d looked at Blackcorp’s website on the Internet. ‘I know that Blackcorp’s a big operation right across Australia. Mining’s a huge industry and it’s bigger than ever right now. Actually, two of my brothers work in mines. One in Queensland and another in Western Australia.’

Janet nodded and waited for Sally to continue.

‘China’s Australia’s major market,’ she said. ‘And I guess a consultancy like this would be offering support services—accommodation on the mine sites, catering. And there are all kinds of environmental issues to be worked around.’

By then Sally had exhausted her knowledge and she thought she might have flunked, but Janet smiled encouragingly and gave her a questionnaire to answer.

‘This simply provides a profile of your personality type. There are no right or wrong answers. It will be useful if you join our staff and become involved in the team-building exercises I like to run.’

Team-building exercises definitely sounded like Sally’s cup of tea. She had loved that sort of thing at school.

‘Just choose the response that feels natural to you,’ Janet said.

Already smiling, Sally glanced at the first few questions on the quiz sheet.

You find it difficult to be the centre of attention. Yes? No?

You trust reason rather than emotions. Yes?

No?

You rarely get excited. Yes? No?

‘Oh, goodness!’ Janet’s sharp cry interrupted Sally’s concentration. ‘Where’s the little girl?’

One hasty glance at the abandoned toys in the corner and Sally’s stomach plummeted. The office door was ominously ajar and a quick look around the room revealed that Rose had disappeared.

Launched to her feet, she hurried outside with Janet close behind. The carpeted corridor was empty.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Sally said, feeling sick. ‘Rose has been so good. I forgot to keep my eye on her.’

Janet shook her head. ‘She can’t be far away. She couldn’t have got into the lift by herself, so she must still be somewhere on this floor. You try the offices on the right-hand side and I’ll take the left.’

‘Thank you.’ Sally realised she was shaking. How could she have forgotten about Rose? Poor Anna had trusted her. She shouldn’t have been so caught up with wanting this job. What kind of aunt lost her niece on the twenty-seventh floor of a skyscraper?

The first door on her right bore the brass-lettered sign: Accounts. Sally swallowed a knot of fear and stepped forward but, as she lifted her hand to knock, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a tall dark shape at the end of the corridor.

She caught a flash of golden hair and she whirled about. Rose. In the arms of a man.

Oh, gosh. Not just any man.

This one looked formidable. One glance and Sally’s impulse to run forward, arms outstretched, a grateful smile on her lips, was stifled. Big-shouldered, long-legged, dark and frowning, he came towards her, striding down the corridor with Rose at arm’s length in front of him, as if the poor darling were a bag of extremely unpleasant garbage.

Janet, who had seen him too, let out a groan and Sally received the distinct impression that Rose couldn’t have chosen a more unsuitable saviour.

As the frowning man approached, Sally noticed details beyond his scowl and his athletic physique. He was undeniably handsome, but there was a steely edge to his looks that sent unwelcome shivers scampering through her. His hair was thick and dark and already, before noon, there were signs of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. His eyes were dark too, and penetrating, even at twenty paces.

Memories threatened, but Sally forced them back. She was no longer afraid of every new man she met. Those days were behind her.

She smiled at this man in his expensively cut dark suit, crisp white business shirt and smart navy and silver striped tie. He had the air of a commander. Executive material, Sally supposed.

By comparison, Rose looked tiny and fragile. But so-o cute. And, thank heavens, completely unharmed.

The darling. Sally held out her arms and Rose was thrust immediately into her embrace. If she hadn’t had so much experience in receiving her brothers’ football passes, she might have dropped the poor child.

‘Thank you.’ She offered the frowning figure her warmest smile. ‘Thank you so much. I’m so grateful you found her. We were just about to start a search party.’

‘Was Rose in your office, Logan?’ Janet asked. ‘I can’t believe she got so far.’

‘I found her under my desk.’ He spoke without the faintest glimmer of warmth. ‘What on earth’s going on, Janet? You haven’t started a crèche here, have you?’

‘Oh, that’s my fault,’ Sally butted in quickly, anxious that Janet Keaton shouldn’t take any blame. ‘There was a family emergency at the last minute and I had to bring Rose with me,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry if she interrupted you.’

Janet added diplomatically, ‘At least Rose is too little to have done any harm.’

‘She disconnected my computer.’

‘Oh, Rose,’ Sally scolded softly.

To Janet he said, ‘I’ll need someone from IT up here straight away. I’ve lost an entire morning’s work.’

Now it was Sally’s turn to frown. ‘Surely you’d already saved most of it?’

‘Sally,’ Janet intervened in a strange little voice, ‘let me introduce Blackcorp’s Managing Director, Mr Logan Black.’

‘Oh.’

Managing Director. I’ve been acting the smart mouth with the head honcho. Good one, Sally.

Her confident smile slipped as she held out her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Black.’

‘This is Sally Finch, Logan. She’s one of our applicants for the front desk position.’

At least Logan Black was polite enough to shake Sally’s proffered hand firmly, but his right eyebrow lifted and he eyed her with faint contempt.

She might have told Mr Black how very keen she was to work for his company, but her recent gaffe and the curl of his lip, plus Janet Keaton’s warning frown, ensured that she remained prudently quiet.

Rose chose that moment to grumble and rub at her eyes. It was getting close to her nap time. Sally rocked her gently and kissed the top of her head and Rose pressed her sleepy head against Sally’s breast.

Logan Black stared at them and his stern frown faded. Sally saw a softening in his expression, a fleeting hint of a different emotion that made her wonder if he was as tough as he made out.

But the moment was over quickly and, almost immediately, he gave a curt nod, turned abruptly and marched back down the corridor.

‘Well…’ Janet Keaton glanced at her wristwatch. ‘I’m afraid we’ve run out of time, Sally.’

‘But I didn’t finish your personality test.’

‘Don’t worry. You can always fill that in later. If you get the job.’

* * *

If you get the job…

Sally felt flat as she collected Rose’s things and bade Janet farewell.

‘We should make our decision within the next few days,’ Janet said and she smiled, but Sally didn’t find this very reassuring.

She’d always had good antennae, could pick up vibes very quickly, and she’d been sure that everything about the interview had been going swimmingly until Logan Black had arrived with Rose. Then, between them, the man and the baby had destroyed every ion of positive atmosphere.

Late in the afternoon, Logan Black ducked his head around Janet Keaton’s office doorway. She was working at her desk when she heard his knock, but she looked up and smiled.

He frowned at her. ‘Have you finished your interviews for that front desk position?’

‘All done.’

‘I assume the other applicants were less encumbered than the cheeky single mother I met this morning.’

Janet narrowed her eyes at Logan. ‘There were no cheeky single mothers among the people I interviewed.’

‘You know who I mean. The blonde with the runaway daughter.’

‘Sally Finch?’

Logan nodded. He was terrible with names, but yes, hers had been something to do with a bird.

‘I think Sally’s confident rather than cheeky. Anyway, she isn’t the little girl’s mother.’

‘She isn’t?’

‘No.’ Janet looked as if she was about to expand on this, but suddenly she folded her arms and leaned forward with her elbows resting on her desk. A thoughtful frown creased her brow. ‘Why the sudden interrogation, Logan? This isn’t like you.’

‘What do you mean? It’s in my interests to vet my company’s employees.’ His hand strayed to scratch the back of his neck.

‘But I’ve been your HR manager for almost four years and you’ve never interfered. You’ve always trusted my judgement.’

This, Logan knew, was very true. Janet had always consulted him about positions in management, but he’d let her have free rein with the recruitment of lower echelon staff and he’d always been happy with her choices.

‘I don’t think we should be too hard on Sally,’ Janet went on. ‘There was a medical emergency and she was doing someone in her family a good turn.’

Logan’s jaw set stubbornly. He wished he’d never started this silly conversation.

It was bad enough that all day he’d kept remembering the girl with her mass of blonde curls. Despite the unflattering fluorescent office lighting, her hair had shone like spun gold and he’d found himself thinking, ridiculously, that it must look incredibly pretty in sunlight. Worse, he kept seeing her with the child in her arms, couldn’t forget the sight of her dipping her head to comfort the little girl with a soft kiss.

What was the matter with him? She wasn’t his type at all, and he truly didn’t give two hoots if she got the job or not.

‘You’re quite right,’ he told Janet. ‘I’ll leave the selection of a receptionist in your capable hands.’

‘Thank you, Logan,’ Janet said dryly. As he turned to leave, she added, ‘But, while you’re here, can you take one of these personality tests to fill in? It’s part of my preparation for the next team-building workshop.’

‘Team-building? But that won’t involve me. I don’t have the time right now.’

Janet rose majestically and shook the stapled sheets of paper at him. ‘You promised your full support.’

‘But I didn’t… That doesn’t mean…’

‘It means you’ve signed up for the Blackcorp team-building workshop, Logan. You promised top down involvement in this one.’

Next morning the phone never seemed to stop ringing. Each time Sally heard its shrill summons, she thought it might be a call from Blackcorp and her stomach tied itself in anxious knots.

She tried to distract herself by entertaining Rose, who had stayed with her overnight while Anna slept on a folding bed at the hospital.

Warm sunlight filled the little paved courtyard that opened off the kitchen, so she took Rose out there and gave her a large cardboard carton to play with. Growing up in the Outback had taught her that the simplest playthings were often the best.

The baby had a delightful time crawling into the cardboard box and out again, then piling her teddy bear and stuffed rabbit into it and, of course, hauling them out once more.

Watching her, Sally gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘Why are you being so well behaved today, after what you did to me yesterday?’

Rose simply grinned and gurgled.

While the baby played, Sally went through the newspapers from the weekend, circling more jobs that she could apply for. Then she attacked the little garden that bordered the courtyard, pulling weeds and trimming overgrown shrubs, tying trailing vines of white star jasmine to a timber lattice.

Every time the phone rang, she had to dash, heart thumping, in through the open French windows to the kitchen, peeling off gardening gloves as she ran.

The first call was from Anna with an overnight report on Oliver, who was much better. Sally reassured her sister-in-law that Rose was fine and invited her to lunch, suggesting that she needed a break from the hospital and Anna accepted readily.

Two people phoned asking to speak to Chloe and Sally had to pass on the sad news of Chloe’s heart attack. Then there was a call from Sally’s mother, ringing long distance from Tarra-Binya to check that Sally was eating properly and not just buying those terrible take-aways that were on every street corner in the city.

Sally, who by this time had made a lovely Salade Niçoise for Anna’s lunch, assured her mother that she was not in danger of malnutrition just yet. But, as she replaced the receiver, she thought that she might be starving soon if she didn’t land a job.

Whenever she thought about yesterday’s interview, she cringed. In the cold light of another day, it was patently clear that she’d been too smart-mouthed. She’d been so determined that Logan Black mustn’t intimidate her, had needed to prove to herself that she was no longer afraid of hot-looking guys who were way too sexy for their T-shirts.

But she’d gone too far and she’d annoyed her potential boss and she’d shocked Janet Keaton. She should have remembered how vitally important it was to make a good first impression.

The problem was, she really wanted that job. She wanted, more than anything, to prove to her family that she was fine now, that she could stand on her own two feet and, in order to do that, she needed money. But her reasons for wanting the job went deeper than that, and they had nothing to do with a certain tall, dark and sternly handsome boss.

She’d seen Blackcorp’s sleek, modern front desk standing just inside the big glass sliding front doors and she’d visualised herself there, accepting important packages from the delivery man, relaying mail or visitors to various departments, getting to know all the employees and greeting them as they arrived at work each day.

She wanted that position so badly she couldn’t bring herself to follow up on any of the other advertisements she’d found. And that was silly. This afternoon, just as soon as she handed Rose back to Anna, she would have to resume her job-hunting in earnest.

Sally was enjoying lunch out in the courtyard with Anna and Rose when the phone rang again.

Her stomach tied itself into yet another knot as she darted inside and she was a little puffed when she picked up the phone. ‘Hello? Sally speaking.’

‘Hi, Sally. It’s Janet Keaton from Blackcorp.’

A blast of heat exploded in Sally’s chest, like a small bomb, sending flashes over her arms and up her neck.

‘Janet,’ she squeaked. Good grief, what was the matter with her? She’d never felt this nervous about anything. ‘How—how are you?’

‘Very well, thank you, Sally. And I have some good news.’

‘Y-you do?’

‘I’d like to offer you our front desk position.’

Normally quite good at filling awkward silences, Sally was suddenly too shaken and surprised to utter a single syllable.

‘I assume you’re still interested?’ Janet eventually enquired.

‘Oh, yes,’ Sally managed at last. ‘I’m very interested. It’s fantastic news. I’m thrilled.’

Stunned would be a better word, but somehow she was able to listen carefully while Janet explained about her starting salary and details like superannuation and staff induction. She returned to the lunch table in a daze.

‘Have you had bad news?’ Anna asked.

‘No, on the contrary.’ Sally gave a shaky laugh. ‘I’ve got a job.’

‘Really? That’s wonderful. I hadn’t even realised you’d applied for one.’

Sally grinned. ‘It’s with Blackcorp.’

‘Blackcorp? Wow! They’re from the big end of town. When did all this happen?’

‘I had the interview yesterday.’

Anna’s eyes widened. ‘But you were minding Rose yesterday.’

‘I know.’ Sally suppressed a strange urge to giggle. ‘Amazing, isn’t it? They couldn’t change my appointment, so they let me take Rose with me. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Of course I don’t mind. I trust you to look after my little sweetheart.’ Anna gave her daughter a proud motherly pat. ‘She must have been very well behaved.’

‘She was…quiet as a mouse,’ Sally assured her truthfully.

CHAPTER THREE

SALLY started work at Blackcorp on the following Monday morning and by lunch time she knew she was going to love it. Most of the employees were very friendly and many of them stopped at her desk to say hello and to introduce themselves before continuing on through the security doors.

The switchboard was modern, simple and efficient to operate, with a computer list of staff that was easy to access and connect. After the first few calls, Sally began to feel some of the initial stress leave her.

Logan Black strode in, briefcase in one hand, mobile phone in the other, all clean-cut and drop-dead handsome. He almost ignored her, but then he turned abruptly and stared at her with a puzzled frown. Sally wished her throat didn’t feel so dry.

For rather longer than was necessary, her boss’s gaze settled on her. To Sally’s surprise, his frown melted and an unguarded light flared in his eyes, the beginnings of warmth and the promise of a smile—an exceptionally gorgeous smile, she suspected. She feared her legs might give way.

But the reckless moment was over in a flash and Logan Black quickly recovered. His frown returned, he gave her a curt nod and said, ‘Morning, Miss Sparrow.’ And he kept walking.

Miss Sparrow?

Sally opened her mouth to remind her employer, ever so politely, that her name was Finch. But she remembered her new resolution to be more circumspect, so she swallowed her pride, lifted her chin and smiled warmly as she offered a cheery, ‘Good morning, Mr Black.’

He’d already passed her and she was speaking to his back.

How annoying to feel so flustered by the brief encounter. Get control, girl. You’ll be seeing him every day.

Her work kept her busy and there was no chance to be bored. There seemed to be an endless stream of deliveries. All shapes and sizes of boxes were wheeled in on trolleys and important-looking express courier packets arrived, as well as bags of mail. When Sally wasn’t relaying these to various departments, she was answering phone calls, fielding general enquiries and connecting callers to the correct extensions.

By the middle of her first week she’d made firm friends with Kim, a young Chinese-Australian girl who worked in the accounting department, and Maeve, a bubbly redheaded environmental field officer, who’d once worked out west and knew the country around Tarra-Binya.

There were moments when Sally missed home, when she felt nostalgic for the smell of gum trees…the chorus of early morning bird calls…the low throaty growl of her dad’s tractor starting up…

But the homesickness didn’t last long, especially as there was a park close to the office. She soon made a habit of walking through the park every morning and afternoon en route between the train station and the Blackcorp offices. In the middle of the park, the rumble of the traffic became muted and she could enjoy the gentle splashing of the fountain in the pond, the cooing of a hundred pigeons.

There were no Keep off the grass signs, thank heavens, and by the third afternoon she felt confident enough to take off her shoes so she could feel the soft, velvety lawn beneath her bare feet.

There were other people enjoying this green haven in the heart of the city too. Lovers, lost in each other’s eyes. A hunched old man feeding crusts to the pigeons. Two fresh-faced schoolboys kicking a football.

The boys were playing with a man, their father perhaps, or an uncle. His clothes suggested that he worked in the city. He’d removed his jacket and tie, however, as well as his socks and shoes, and he’d rolled up the bottom of his trousers. Sally could see his discarded clothing, left rather nonchalantly on the ground beneath a shady tree, next to the boys’ school bags.

The three males were having such fun, lunging spectacularly to take difficult catches, laughing and yelling instructions and showing off madly. They reminded Sally of her brothers playing in the garden with her dad, except…

Except…

Oh, good grief. The man was Logan Black.

She hadn’t recognised him immediately because he looked so different without his jacket and tie and with that deliriously carefree grin on his face. He looked wonderful now, moving swiftly across the grass with the same spare, easy athleticism of an Outback horseman.

And then Logan Black saw Sally.

One of the boys had just sent him a high arching kick and he was running backwards, eyes up, on the ball, when his gaze flashed towards her.

He seemed to freeze as his gaze met hers. His eyes widened as he recognised her. But then his attention quickly snapped back to the ball.

The small distraction, however, had cost him precious seconds and now he had to tear backwards, arms stretched back behind his head, to catch the football.

Reaching back…reaching…

Sally recognised the danger at the same moment as the boys cried, ‘Uncle! Look out!’

‘Watch the water!’

Their warnings were too late.

Just as Logan’s fingers gripped the ball, he overbalanced, toppling backwards into the pond.

Sally didn’t hesitate. She raced forward, her mind throwing up scary memories of her brothers’ close calls in the creek at Tarra-Binya. Logan Black could hit his head on a submerged rock. He might become entangled in weed. Worst of all, he might not be able to swim.

By the time she reached the edge of the pond, however, Logan was already struggling to his feet. The water was only knee-deep and he hadn’t dropped the football. Despite his dripping state, he held it triumphantly aloft, as if catching it were the most important thing in the world and ruining expensive Italian trousers counted for nothing.

Men!

Sally wanted to feel anger, was dismayed by the mad thumping of her heart, so different from the reaction of the boys, who rushed up beside her and immediately doubled over with helpless laughter. She had to admit it was an amazing sight—her boss standing knee-deep in water and drenched from head to toe.

But soon she was painfully aware of Logan’s wet business shirt, rendered transparent by the water and now plastered against his skin. He might have been naked! She could see every detail of his tanned chest and the impressive bulk of his shoulders. She couldn’t drag her eyes from the sight of his deeply sculpted muscles, the pleasing taper to his narrow hips.

Embarrassing heat flooded her.

‘Hey, Uncle Logan, great save,’ called one of the giggling boys.

Logan grinned back at them good-naturedly, threw the ball to the taller boy, then switched his gaze swiftly to Sally. He didn’t speak as he stepped out of the pond, water streaming from his clothing.

Sally felt compelled to say something. ‘I’m so glad you’re all right, Mr Black. For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to dive in and rescue you.’

He grunted something incomprehensible and then his gaze travelled very deliberately downwards from Sally’s hair to her shoes, which were dangling from her hand, and then to her bare feet. A corner of his mouth tilted, just a little, and his eyes seemed to blaze with black flames. Sally felt dizzy, as if she’d done too many cartwheels.

But then the unsettling light in his eyes suddenly died and his mouth flattened. Clearly he was extremely embarrassed to be caught dripping-wet and as good as naked in a public place. And in front of an employee.

Sally, equally embarrassed, dropped her gaze to her feet, which seemed to have become the focus of his attention. Thank heavens she’d given herself a pedicure at the weekend and painted her toenails a frosted berry colour.

He looked displeased, however, and she nervously fumbled with her shoes and struggled to slip them on. It was silly to be so self-conscious. Her bare feet weren’t nearly as revealing as Logan’s transparent shirt. Then again, she was still recovering from a nightmare incident, was still edgy with men.

To make matters worse, the schoolboys were watching her with marked curiosity.

‘These are my nephews,’ Logan explained, speaking with cold dignity befitting The Boss inAn Awkward Situation. He didn’t offer the boys’ names.

Sally tried to sound cool. ‘Hi guys.’ To her dismay she sounded far too breathless.

‘This is Miss…Miss…’ Logan Black frowned and a muscle in his jaw twitched, but he covered his ignorance quickly. ‘This young lady works at Blackcorp.’

Not for much longer, Sally thought miserably. She seemed to be doomed where this boss was concerned. First, her carelessness had preempted Rose’s invasion of his office and now her appearance in the park had distracted him and caused this accident.

‘Shall I pop back to the office and hunt down a towel, Mr Black?’

His frown deepened and he shook his head. ‘No, no. That’s kind of you, but there’s no need.’

It was patently clear that he wanted her to disappear.

Sally took the cue. ‘Well…I must get going or I’ll miss my train.’

With a deliberately cheery wave for the boys, she hurried off, chin high and without a single glance back.

Logan watched her moving swiftly away from him, watched the bounce of her curls lit to a high sheen by the afternoon sun. Just as he’d anticipated, her hair was exceptionally pretty in the sunlight. Her feet were pretty too, so neatly shaped and smooth-skinned. As for the sway of her hips and the sexy curve of her—

‘Do we have to go home already?’

His nephew’s question pulled Logan back from the brink of an untimely fantasy. He glanced at his watch again, became acutely aware of his dripping clothes. A brisk breeze swept across the park and he felt suddenly cold. Time to snap to his senses.

He wondered suddenly what had come over him. How on earth had he allowed himself to be so distracted by his newest employee that he’d fallen in the pond? To make matters worse, he realised with some alarm that his decision to bring his sister’s boys to the park had been inspired by the same girl.

When he’d seen her last week, on the day she’d applied for the front desk job, he’d sensed a special warmth and closeness between the young woman and the tiny girl and he’d been hit by a strangely inexplicable sense of loneliness—the loneliness of self-imposed isolation. Very soon after that he’d rung his sister, Carissa, knowing that it had been far too long since he’d seen her.

Now, as he drove the boys to their home, he tried to forget about the front desk girl. He suffered his sister’s chuckling bewilderment when she saw his drenched clothes, but she was kind enough to offer him a hot shower and a pair of her husband Geoff’s jeans and a T-shirt.

She offered him dinner too. Geoff had been delayed at work, so it was a noisy meal of chicken and pasta in Carissa’s bright kitchen. Logan usually ate alone, defrosting his housekeeper’s frozen meals in the microwave, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a relaxed, laughter-filled meal like this.

Several times, a picture of the girl in the park flashed into his thoughts. He wondered where she was dining tonight, then quickly scotched that thought. When Logan wanted a woman, he chose wisely from the ambitious and sophisticated businesswomen who were as keen to avoid emotional entanglements as he was.

He couldn’t afford to be sidetracked. He had a five-year business plan which didn’t allow for a dangerous flirtation with a girl fresh from the country with stars in her eyes.

Sally told herself that there was no sense in letting her mind go over and over this afternoon’s encounter. But all evening her mind kept tossing up memories of her boss in the park. She kept seeing the look of unguarded happiness on Logan Black’s face as he’d played with his nephews. She kept remembering the raw masculine appeal of his body beneath the wet shirt and the shocking heat of her response.

She shouldn’t be feeling that way about her boss, didn’t want to feel that way about any man. She was still getting over the painful lesson she’d learned on a summer’s night at a ball in the Tarra-Binya Country Club’s hall.

Her mistake, on that night, had been that she was too trusting, too friendly. Perhaps she’d also been a little too complacent.

She’d been to so many country dances that she’d felt completely at ease and in her element and, of course, she’d welcomed the added excitement of the newcomer, Kyle Francis.

Kyle was handsome, suntanned and tall, with a very trendy hairstyle that screamed City Man. He also had dreamy blue eyes, a very sexy smile and a glamorous movie star aura and he’d sent all the girls at the dance atwitter. But, almost as soon as he’d arrived, he’d made a beeline for Sally and she’d found it enormously flattering that he was only interested in her.

The dance music that evening had been fabulous—supplied by a band that had come all the way from Tamworth. Kyle had danced superbly and Sally had floated on happiness.

She’d wondered later if his expensive aftershave had cast some kind of spell over her, because she’d been totally ensnared by his magnetic allure.

The evening had been so hot that all the doors and windows in the hall had been flung wide open to catch the slightest breeze, so it was incredibly easy to slip outside. Sally had been more than happy to let Kyle kiss her, and when he’d suggested that they take a stroll along the shadowy creek bank where she-oaks shielded them from view, she’d been too excited to pay attention to the niggling warnings of her common sense.

She’d never once encountered a problem with any of the local fellows. One or two had tried moves on her, of course, but things had never gone any further than she’d wanted them to. Besides, the local guys knew the Finch brothers would come down like a ton of bricks if anyone ever upset their baby sister.

Sally hadn’t dreamed that Kyle planned to seduce her right then and there in the pine needle strewn earth of the river bank. She hadn’t guessed that his charm would switch in a flash if he didn’t get what he wanted.

But that had happened.

So quickly, the night had changed from a carefree evening of fun to one of stark terror and violence. Sally shuddered and cringed as the gruesome memories assaulted her now like physical blows.

She had to take deep steadying breaths as she pushed the nightmare images aside and told herself that all that was in the past. She was fine now. Steve had rescued her before any real harm was done and he’d sent Kyle Francis fleeing, never to return.

The family had closed ranks around Sally to protect her, of course, but finally she’d felt compelled to break free from her parents’ and brothers’ smothering concern. She’d come to Sydney to claim her independence, but she would achieve this much more readily if she remembered that Logan Black was her boss. No more, no less.

At work the next morning, one of the special couriers was leaning casually against Sally’s desk, one elbow on the counter top while he quizzed her about her plans for the coming weekend, when clipped footsteps marched across the marble foyer, then stopped.

She looked up to find Logan Black standing stock still. To her dismay, she felt her cheeks grow hot.

‘M-Mr Black.’ She managed to smile. ‘Good morning.’

He didn’t respond, just stood there, looking grim.

‘Was there something you wanted?’ she asked. ‘Can I help?’

Again, he didn’t answer, simply let his relentless gaze sweep over Brett, the courier, before shooting a pointed glance at the clock on the wall.

Brett got the message and beat a hasty retreat. Finally, the boss spoke. ‘I have an important visitor arriving at ten o’clock. Charles Holmes, the CEO of Minmount Mining.’

Everything about his manner was aloof and businesslike as if the football game and the tumble into the pond had never happened.

Sally lifted her chin. This was good. Much better to have a proud and distant boss than one who flirted. ‘I’ll look out for Mr Holmes,’ she assured him.

Logan nodded. ‘Charles knows his way about this place and he certainly doesn’t need an identity tag but, as a courtesy, I’d like you to escort him to my office. Maria Paige, my PA, will take over from there.’

‘Of course, Mr Black. I’ll see to that. No problem.’

He nodded coolly, then turned to swipe his electronic card before proceeding through the security doors.

Shortly before ten o’clock, an absolutely gorgeous bouquet of snowy-white roses arrived and Sally’s imagination kicked in straight away. It was someone’s birthday. The flowers were for one of the female employees from an admirer. Already, she was anticipating the enjoyment of taking the flowers through to the person’s office, watching the surprised pleasure on her face.

Oh, she loved this job.

But when she looked for the usual small white envelope, she couldn’t find one. She frowned at the delivery boy. ‘There’s no card here. Nothing to say who the flowers are for.’

He shrugged. ‘No need. They’re for Mr Black.’

‘Mr Black?’

The delivery boy nodded, his expression blank, as if there was nothing unusual about a man receiving flowers.

‘Oh. I—I see.’ Straightening her shoulders, Sally secured a pleasant smile. ‘Lovely. I’ll take them up to him.’

The lift was filled with the delicate scent of roses as she ascended to the next floor. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath of sweetly perfumed air and gave herself yet another stern lecture. Here, in her arms, was the indisputable evidence that her boss had a private life that included a woman. At last, she had a very, very good reason to put him right out of her head.

Maria Paige, the boss’s PA, looked up without smiling as Sally approached her desk just outside Logan’s office. She was one of the few employees at Blackcorp who’d hadn’t bothered to be friendly.

‘Oh, the roses,’ she said. ‘Good. Pop them in the vase there.’

A large vase already filled with water was ready and waiting at one end of Maria’s desk.

‘You must have been expecting these,’ Sally said as she lowered the roses carefully into the vase.

Maria shot a sharp glance over the top of her glasses. ‘Yes, of course. They come every Friday.’

‘Really? Someone sends the boss flowers every week?’ Sally, super-aware of the open doorway to Logan’s office, spoke in a stage whisper.

‘Mr Black has a standing order with the florist,’ Maria said impatiently. ‘He takes them with him every Friday evening.’

So the boss was the admirer, not the admiree.

Sally knew this was none of her business. Logan Black had every right to buy flowers each week for the woman he loved. In actual fact, she was very pleased by the news that he was ‘taken’ because it meant she had absolutely nothing to fear from him.

She might have asked the reluctant Maria more questions, but the PA’s attention was distracted by the arrival of a tall, imposing, silver-haired man in a dark business suit.

‘Mr Holmes,’ Maria said with a suddenly animated smile, ‘I’ll tell Mr Black that you’re here.’

As Maria lifted a phone and murmured into it, Sally’s stomach became a lead weight crashing to the floor. This was Charles Holmes, the important businessman she was supposed to escort up here. Someone else must have let him in and he’d found his own way.

She thought about trying to escape before her slackness was discovered but, from behind her, she heard the boss’s voice.

‘Charles, good to see you.’ Logan Black came out of his office, his hand extended to welcome his guest. Sally was riveted to the spot.

As soon as the two men had greeted each other, the boss half-turned and gave her a brief nod.

‘Thanks, Miss Sparrow.’

The fact that he’d got her name wrong, yet again, didn’t bother her nearly so much as the knowledge that she hadn’t carried out his request.

This was the first tiny task Logan had assigned her and she’d failed. If she hadn’t been so distracted by the arrival of his roses, she would have remembered that Charles Holmes was coming at ten. If she hadn’t been so busy quizzing Maria about the bouquet, she might have been back at her desk when Mr Holmes had arrived.

‘You got away with that,’ Maria said snakily as the men disappeared into Logan’s office. ‘But you’d better make sure it never happens again.’

Grateful that Maria hadn’t revealed her failure and feeling several versions of guilty, Sally hurried away. This mistake was yet another very clear sign that she had to focus one hundred per cent on her job. Not her boss.

Midafternoon Janet Keaton provided a welcome distraction when she called at Sally’s desk with the personality questionnaire.

‘Drop it back on my desk when you’re done,’ she told Sally. ‘It will be helpful for next week’s team-building workshop.’

‘Will I be involved?’

‘Yes.’ Janet smiled at her. ‘New employees can be very helpful in these situations. You haven’t been indoctrinated yet by the office culture. Lucy from my office will look after your desk for the day. Everyone is to meet in the conference room at nine o’clock on Tuesday morning.’

CHAPTER FOUR

SALLY was relieved to see Maeve’s friendly face as soon as she walked into the conference room on Tuesday morning. Her new friend waved to catch her attention and patted a spare chair beside her.

A cross section of employees was there—everyone from department heads to Sally, the lowly newcomer—and, to her pleased surprise, she was able to recognise nearly everybody by sight, if not by name. More than one person sent her a friendly smile or wave.

Janet Keaton called them to order. ‘I’d like to break the ice by giving you a chance to get to know each other better. You’ll find marker pens and a blank name-plate in front of you and I want you to fill in your names.’

A small babble of good-natured chatter rippled around the room as people picked up pens, but the noise died and heads turned as a tall, commanding figure strode into the room.

‘Ah, Mr Black.’ Janet met her boss’s stern frown with a warm smile. ‘I’m so glad you could join us.’

Join us? Sally’s jaw fell so hard she was surprised it didn’t hit the desk.

‘There’s a spare seat here, Logan,’ Janet said. ‘I saved it especially for you.’

The boss took the seat Janet indicated next to Hank James, the company’s Information Technology guru. He thumbed a button to open his jacket, crossed one long black-trousered leg over the other and scanned the room with a haughty, narrow-eyed gaze.

Annoying lightning flashes strafed through Sally and she wondered miserably how she was going to throw off these ridiculous reactions to her employer.

‘What a pity,’ Maeve muttered out of the side of her mouth. ‘Just when we were ready to have fun.’

‘The boss won’t spoil the fun, will he?’ Sally hissed back.

‘He’s pretty cool, actually,’ Maeve admitted. ‘In a remote and godlike kind of way. A bit out of our league.’

‘Fill in your name-plate, please,’ Janet told Logan. ‘In case anyone here doesn’t know you.’ She chuckled as she made this small joke, and there was a smattering of polite laughter.

Janet beamed at everyone. ‘Now, if you turn the name-plates over, you’ll find a word written under it.’

‘Here we go,’ muttered Maeve. ‘Party time.’ She grinned as she turned over her name-plate. ‘Oh, sweet. I’m Cinderella.’

Sally laughed. ‘I’m Butter.’

‘OK,’ said Janet. ‘I want you to mingle and chat until you find a partner whose name links with yours. For example, if you were given the name Salt, you’ll need to find Pepper.’

Maeve chuckled. ‘Ripper. I’m off to find Prince Charming.’

Laughter and chatter filled the room as everyone wandered about, greeting people and trying to find their match.

‘I suppose I’m looking for Butterfly,’ Josie, the company’s solicitor, told Sally. ‘I’m Caterpillar.’

‘Maybe you should be looking for Leaf?’ Sally suggested.

Hank, the gentle, bespectacled IT guy, was Wolf. ‘You wouldn’t be Red Riding Hood, would you, Sally?’

‘Sorry.’

She studiously avoided Logan Black, but she was constantly aware of his tall, dark-suited presence in her peripheral vision. He seemed to mix quite easily with his staff, which made her wonder about his customary indifference to her.

Before very long, couples found each other—Apple and Orange, Merry and Christmas, Romeo and Juliet. There was no obvious pairing of males with females, but Prince Charming turned out to be a rather hunky suntanned young geologist. Maeve sent Sally a wink and looked as pleased as a cat with more than her share of the cream.

Eventually everyone had paired up except Sally, and she found herself left in the middle of the room, feeling just a little foolish and self-conscious.

‘Haven’t you found a partner?’ Janet asked her.

She shrugged and shook her head. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone here who matches with Butter.’

A strangely tense silence fell over the group and Sally wondered if everyone else in the room knew something she didn’t.

‘That would be me,’ said a deep male voice from behind her.

She spun around and pins and needles danced over her skin as she met the cool, dark eyes of Logan Black. He smiled ever so faintly as he held up his name-plate and revealed one word: Bread.

‘Well, there you go!’ Janet looked delighted and actually clapped her hands.

Sally forced her face muscles to form a smile.

‘I want you to go off in your pairs. Move the chairs if you like. Or go next door to the canteen.

Find somewhere private to sit where you can talk. In HR circles, we call this activity Blind Date. You have twenty minutes to get to know as much as you can about each other.’

It was a simple request and everyone else looked happy to pair up and find a place to sit. Maeve and her young geologist were already in a far corner, grinning stupidly at each other and clearly getting on like a bushfire.

Logan Black, however, made no attempt to approach Sally and she remained marooned in the middle of the room.

She’d never been a wallflower at a dance, but now she knew exactly how those poor girls had felt. If the boss was going to be stuffy about this, she might hold her head high and sweep out of the room.

‘Come on, you two.’ Janet was like a mother hen shooing her chicks. ‘Off you go. Get cracking with the questions.’

To Sally’s dismay, Logan Black stuck his jaw at a belligerent angle and approached Janet, dipped his head and muttered something in her ear.

Sally could guess what the boss was saying: he didn’t want to be teamed with the newest, lowliest employee.

But Janet dismissed him with a wave of her hand. ‘These sorts of exercises are never a waste of time. This will be good for you, Logan. You’re an introverted thinking type and Sally’s an extroverted feeling type. It’s a perfect match. Now off you go. Think of it as a blind date and be a good sport.’

Sally knew her cheeks were bright pink, but she was not going to let the boss upset her. Lifting her chin, she smiled at him bravely. ‘I’m ready when you are, Mr Black.’

‘Very well,’ he said grimly and his frown deepened as he nodded to a vacant table with two chairs. ‘Over here will do, Miss—’

With a shrewd smile, Sally turned her nameplate over.

‘Ah, yes. Miss Finch. Not Sparrow.’

It was a small victory and she wished she felt more relaxed as she sat, hoping her heart and lungs would behave normally as Logan Black lowered his long frame into a chair on the other side of the small desk that separated them.

She drew some comfort from Janet’s suggestion that the boss was an introverted thinking type. It made sense. She’d met men like him before, in the Outback. Quiet, almost reclusive men, driven by inner goals.

Now he said, with an affectation of boredom, ‘Ladies first. Apparently, you have to tell me all about yourself.’

‘What would you like to know?’

His eyebrows were black and perfectly arched and, in response to her question, the right one lifted. ‘How are you settling in to your work here?’

‘I think I’ve settled in rather quickly. I love working here.’

‘That’s good to hear.’

To cover the awkward silence that followed, Sally said, ‘I guess it’s my turn to ask you a question.’

‘Fire away.’

‘What did you have for breakfast?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

Logan couldn’t have looked more stunned if Sally had asked for his home telephone number.

‘I—I asked what you had for breakfast.’

‘What kind of a question is that?’

‘A safe one, I hope.’

He smiled.

Oh, my gosh. When he smiled the skin around his eyes crinkled and his face was transformed. He looked just as he had playing football with his nephews—delightfully carefree and young.

‘I had a cup of coffee for breakfast,’ he said.

‘Is that all?’

‘Yes. It’s all I ever have.’

Sally was sure she shouldn’t correct her boss, but she couldn’t help herself. ‘But breakfast is terribly important. My father and brothers couldn’t face a day’s work without a mountain of toast and a full cooked breakfast.’

‘What kinds of work do your father and brothers do?’

‘Is that your next question?’

Another gorgeous smile. ‘I guess it is.’

Emboldened by this warmth, Sally told him, ‘My father and my eldest brother, Matt, run our family’s sheep and wheat property at Tarra-Binya. Steve’s on an oil rig off Western Australia. Josh operates a big drag line in the Central Queensland coalfields and Damon’s a mustering contractor, when he’s not on the rodeo circuit.’

The dark eyebrows rose higher while she told him this. ‘That’s quite a family. I can see why they need their big breakfasts.’

Sally smiled. ‘And now it’s my turn to ask another question.’

Logan Black actually chuckled. ‘I’m nervous.’

‘Don’t be.’ She stifled a terrible urge to ask him about the white roses. I can’t ask that. I mustn’t. Instead, she blurted, ‘What’s the most important thing I should know about you?’

‘I’m your boss.’

‘Come on, that’s cheating. It has to be something I don’t already know.’

‘Who said there were rules?’

‘We’re supposed to be getting to know each other.’ The sudden tightness in Logan’s face warned Sally that she might be overstepping the mark. ‘Of course, you’re right. You’re the boss and you should set the rules.’

He accepted this as his due. ‘I’m sure we’re not supposed to get deep and meaningful. Stick to everyday, non-invasive questions. Ask me whether I’ve lived in Sydney all my life, or where I went to school. Favourite subjects at school. That sort of thing.’

‘Let me guess. Your favourite subject at school was mathematics.’

A surprised little laugh escaped him. ‘Absolutely.’

‘And you went to a private boys’ school like Sydney Grammar or King’s.’

Again, he looked amused. ‘Almost right. I started at Sydney Grammar, but—’ he dropped his gaze and released a rough sigh ‘my family fell on hard times and I couldn’t stay there.’

‘That’s rotten luck.’ The grim set of his mouth told Sally that this had been a huge disappointment. ‘You’ve obviously done very well in spite of the setback,’ she suggested gently.

Shrugging her sympathy aside, as if he wanted to get away from the subject of his family’s misfortune, he said, ‘But I have lived in Sydney all my life.’ He looked up again. ‘I guess you must have spent most of your life out west.’

She told him briefly about Tarra-Binya and even more briefly about Chloe. She said, ‘I know you like football. What’s your favourite?’

At first he looked upset and Sally wondered if she’d broken an unspoken rule. Were they really supposed to pretend that the interlude in the park had never happened?

After a bit, he said simply, ‘I really like Rugby League.’ And then, ‘What about you? What sports do you play?’

‘I’ve given most of them a go,’ she told him. ‘But I guess I was best at tennis and horse riding.’ She watched him thoughtfully. ‘So you were good at school, good at sport and you’re successful in your career. Is there anything you’re not good at?’

He laughed and had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Oh, yes. I’m absolutely hopeless at dancing.’

‘Really?’ Sally gasped—not because Logan’s answer was so surprising, but because her heart began to race and a wave of fear rose through her as she remembered that horrifying night at the country dance. She saw again Kyle Francis’s handsome face, his beguiling smile as he’d coaxed her outside.

It’s OK. I can do this. She was not going to panic simply because a man mentioned the word dancing.

Logan was looking puzzled and he sounded defensive. ‘Most guys are hopeless at dancing, aren’t they?’

OK…she could either dissolve into a nervous heap or she could rise above this moment. Knowing she’d rather not dissolve, Sally held her head high. ‘Where I come from, everyone goes to bush dances and Outback balls. My big brothers taught me how to dance. The waltz, the samba, the foxtrot. I love to dance!’

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