The Last-Minute Marriage

‘You…’

Marcus was left in no doubt of what she thought of him. She was still seated, with Marcus and Ruby speaking over the top of her. She was still—waif-like? Her mop of chestnut curls was tousled and wild, her freckled nose was completely free of make-up and that dollop of jelly was still there. And so was her antagonism towards him. Peta stared up at him and he thought ruefully that he might as well be Charles Higgins himself. Was it the suit? he wondered. Or the presence of his assistant? Tokens of power… Whatever, there was no doubting that she was looking at him with contempt, as if such an action as he proposed was just a figment of his imagination.

‘Why not?’ he demanded. He looked from Peta to Ruby and found their expressions matched. Both women were looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.

‘The project is important,’ Ruby murmured, but he thought he detected a trace of a smile behind her normally expressionless eyes.

‘I know. I’m trusting you to keep things on ice until I can take over again.’

‘And when will that be?’

‘A couple of hours.’

‘Let’s keep you clear until tomorrow,’ Ruby suggested and there was no mistaking the laughter now. ‘You might find ankle-fixing and clothes-shopping and lawyer-facing takes a bit longer than you think.’

‘Um… Maybe you can do the ankle fixing and the shopping,’ he said, suddenly uneasy. ‘Then I can take her in to see Charles.’

‘No!’ Astonishingly, Ruby shook her head in definite disagreement. ‘No, Mr Benson, I shouldn’t do that. This is a fine gesture on your part and it’d be unfair of me to take over.’

‘Ruby…’

‘Hey.’ Still seated beneath them, Peta was catching her breath. Catching her dignity. Sort of. ‘There’s no need for any of this. I told you. I don’t need help.’

‘If you need to face Charles then you need help,’ Marcus told her and Ruby nodded.

‘Take his advice, miss,’ she said gently. ‘You’re Australian?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘If I was in Australia, then I’d take your advice on your territory,’ she said. ‘But this is corporate America. There’s no one more at home in this territory than Marcus Benson. You put yourself in his hands and you’re putting yourself in the hands of an expert.’

‘I don’t want to be in anyone’s hands.’

‘You truly think you can get what you want without me?’ Marcus demanded and she faltered.

‘To be honest…’

‘To be honest, what?’

‘To be honest, I don’t think I can get what I want anyway,’ she admitted. ‘I was a fool to come. But I need to try.’

‘So if you’ve come all this way,’ Marcus said, his tone becoming gentler, ‘why not give yourself the best chance you could possibly have? Take my advice.’

‘Put myself in your hands?’

‘That’s right.’

She stared up at him, bemused, and he gazed back down. Astonishingly, her eyes were bright and challenging. Her chin tilted upward, somehow defiant. She might look bereft but she certainly didn’t act bereft. She had spirit, Marcus thought appreciatively. And courage.

It seemed she also had the sense to know when to concede. ‘Okay.’ She swallowed. ‘Okay.’

Ruby beamed. Marcus Benson’s assistant, it seemed, was enjoying this. Enjoying this a lot. ‘You do exactly what Mr Benson says,’ Ruby told her, and Peta gave her a rueful smile.

‘I’m not much good at doing what anyone tells me.’

‘Then be tactful,’ Ruby told her and his assistant even had the temerity to chuckle. ‘Maybe it’ll be good for both of you. Okay. I’m off to save the world—or your deal, Marcus—while you two front the awful Charles. I know which I’d rather. Good luck.’

‘Um…do you employ her?’ Peta asked as Ruby disappeared down the fire-escape with an airy wave. Ruby had come to work this morning looking tired, but now she was practically bouncing down the fire-escape.

‘I acquired Ruby,’ he said, watching her disappear. ‘By accident. Sort of like getting hit by a bus.’

‘You really like her.’ Peta’s face had focused. All at once she seemed really interested. Her distrust backed off a pace.

‘I don’t do like,’ he told her. ‘I’m a businessman.’

‘So if Ruby threatened to quit…’

‘I’d raise heaven and earth to keep her,’ he admitted. ‘Of course I would. As I said, I’m a businessman.’

First the ankle. Which she intended to ignore.

‘My ankle’s just a bit bruised. It’s no problem.’

‘Your ankle’s puffing while we watch.’

‘I’ve done worse than this and lived without a doctor. I’ve come too far and time’s too important to waste any in a doctor’s waiting room.’

‘You won’t have to wait. Put your hands around my neck and I’ll carry you…’

‘You? Carry me? What, are you crazy? I’ll be sorry for myself with a strained ankle; you’ll be a cripple for life.’

‘I can carry you.’

‘No one carries me. Ever.’ She hauled herself up against the stair rail and took two tentative hops.

It clearly hurt. A lot.

‘Peta…’

‘No.’

Enough. ‘Yes,’ he told her. And, although he’d never done such a thing in his life, he stepped forward and hoisted her into his arms.

She weighed nothing.

‘Do you ever eat?’ he demanded, stunned, and she gave an indignant wriggle.

‘Eat? Are you kidding? Of course I do. Except when corporate businessmen throw my lunch downstairs. Put me down.’