Master Of Maramba

Debra smiled touching a hand to her soft bubbly curls. “Nice to see you, Mr. McQuillan. I won’t be here when you get back. I’ll be going off for lunch.”

“Joining the madding crowd?” He gave her a little salute.

“What part do you play in the scheme of things?” he asked Carrie as they moved off. “I recognise you from somewhere and I don’t mean our previous encounter.”

“I’m not famous,” she said. It came off her tongue rather acidly.

“Is that what’s tearing you apart?” He glanced down at her from his arrogant height.

“You’re wrong. Believe me.” Carrie kept on walking, slightly intimidated by his long stride.

“I don’t think so.”

Little flames glowed in the pupils of her eyes and she tilted her head. “You must spend your time trying to psychoanalyse people?”

“I haven’t actually met anyone who acted quite like you,” he returned blandly.

“I’m sure—absolutely sure—I don’t understand you.” She raised her delicate arched brows.

“Then I’ll explain. In simple terms, you’re hostile.”

“You could very easily arouse those feelings in anybody.” It slipped off her tongue before she could consider.

“For all I know you could be frightened of me?”

“Nonsense.”

“Street terrorism?” the dark voice mocked.

“Have your bit of fun.”

“Are you a lady lawyer?” He gave her his all-encompassing sidelong glance. “You don’t look old enough, yet I’d say you’re a match for most people.”

“I’m not a lawyer.” She turned to him sweetly. “I don’t work for this firm.”

“But you’re somehow connected to James? I’ve finally figured it out.” He paused so she was forced to pause, too. “I know he doesn’t have a daughter. Come to think if it,” he laughed suddenly as full comprehension set in. “There’s quite a resemblance. You must be the niece. The brilliant young pianist?”

Except now I’ve been whittled down to size. “You are a detective,” she said lightly. “Poirot on his best day.”

“Why so snappy?” The striking face tautened as he stared down at her. “You have a wonderful future ahead of you, I understand?”

“An unfortunate part of my nature.” They had turned into the top hallway, and now James Halliday himself emerged from his suite, anxious to greet such a valuable client personally.

“Royce,” he cried with genuine pleasure, moving forward, hand outstretched. “Good to see you.”

The two men shook hands.

“I see you’ve already met my niece?” James’ smile widened to include the two of them.

“We haven’t gotten around to formal introductions yet,” Royce McQuillan drawled.

“Please allow me.” Suddenly conscious of a certain tingle in the air, James performed the introductions, while Carrie, ashamed of the way she’d been acting and doing her utmost to avoid being overwhelmed, gave him her hand.

“Catrina, may I?” he asked.

“Everyone calls her Carrie.” James smiled, extending an arm to usher them through the door.

She didn’t have a clue what she was doing. She had never felt remotely like this around anyone else. The shooting sparks of electricity didn’t stop even after he’d released her hand. She couldn’t look at him. It was the dynamic aura, she consoled herself. Even James felt it and James was the complete man of the world.

A little later by the time they were inside James’ office, she found her voice. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. McQuillan, but I should be on my way.”

James’ eyes found hers in perplexity. Something drastic must have happened to alter Carrie’s plan. “But I thought, kitten…”

Carrie felt McQuillan’s amusement. Kitten? How long since Jamie had called her kitten? Now twice in the one day. She turned to face Royce McQuillan square-on. “Goodbye.”

She didn’t offer the hand again but lifted a thick silky section of her hair from her collar as she spoke, tossing her head slightly to redistribute the mass.

An extraordinary alluring gesture, he thought. Kitten? She certainly had the colouring of a beautiful marmalade but this young woman had sharp claws. He noticed, too, the knuckles of her right hand were clenched white. They were beautiful hands. Long-fingered, strong-looking. A pianist’s hands.

“I was rather hoping you’d stay and have lunch with us,” he found himself saying. “My business with James won’t take long.”

“We’re going to Oskars, sweetheart. You like it there.” James weighed in, trying to encourage her. “They won’t have any difficulty changing two places to three.”

She wanted to go, unwillingly in thrall of him. “That’s very nice of you, but…”

“Please, sit down both of you.” James indicated the comfortable seating arrangement. “I was telling Carrie about your need of a governess for Regina,” he said, turning his eyes in Carrie’s direction.

“Were you? You can’t have thought she’d be interested?” McQuillan returned suavely, waiting for Carrie to take a seat in the armchair opposite him, before sitting down.

It was time for Carrie to speak, James considered, or let the whole thing slide. Knowing her so well, he could see her moods, however, were fluctuating wildly.

“Actually I’ve been working so hard on my career I’m in need of a complete change.”

Royce McQuillan stayed quiet for a moment wondering if she’d suffered some kind of nervous collapse. A burnout.

“I hardly see you as a governess,” he said. “What do you know about the job?”

“Nothing!” Her amber eyes sparkled. “But I like children.”

“Being able to handle them might matter more,” he observed, his eyes touching on her slender body in a summery two-piece outfit of blouse and skirt, white with dark blue polka dots, the short skirt showing off her beautiful legs, the V-neck of the top revealing the slight cleft between her milk-white breasts. She had the flawless skin of certain redheads. Not a mark on it for all she lived in a subtropical climate.

Carrie bore his scrutiny by sitting very quietly. A kind of balancing act. “Who said I couldn’t?” she retorted. “I’ve had quite a bit to do with talented children, coaching, giving lessons, master classes for the little ones.”

“Regina is a child who likes getting her own way,” he said matter-of-factly as though it needed to be said. “I don’t know what James told you,” McQuillan glanced in her uncle’s direction, “but her mother left her in my sole custody. Regina isn’t desolated but understandably she’s found that difficult to handle.”

As well she might, Carrie thought. Abandoned so early in life. This dizzyingly dynamic man for a father. “I had to live without my mother,” she said quietly. “I’ve had a stepmother for most of my life.”

“You don’t like her?” he asked bluntly.