Three Blind-Date Brides: Nine-to-Five Bride

By the middle of the afternoon it was raining—a drenching fall that obscured the skyline and turned the water in the harbour choppy. Marissa stared at the dismal view before she turned back to the photocopier.

‘Deep breath,’ she muttered. This was an irritation, after all, not a major problem. She eased open the three side doors on the machine, the one at the back, and pulled out both paper drawers and hit the spring catch on the feed cover so she could see in there as well.

Paper jams happened and, yes, there would now be pages missing from the report and she’d have to figure out what she’d lost, but that was fine.

The printer had needed a new ink cartridge an hour ago. One of the computer applications had quit mid-keystroke and she’d lost a few minutes of work. The phone continued to ring hot and there’d been more people from other departments through the door today than in the entirety of last week. She had enough typing sitting on her desk to take her the rest of the day by itself.

Rick was also busy. He was deep in phone talks about some crisis or another right now and it was clear from the content of the several tapes he’d asked her to work on ‘urgently’ that he was handling the equivalent of photocopier breakdown times about a thousand from his desk.

The corporate shark was doing his thing with a great deal of style today, controlling his world, working through problems, making it all come together despite the difficulties and … thriving on it and being cheerful about it as he went along. Marissa did not find this at all stimulating, and it did not show her a different side of her boss, making it exponentially more difficult for her to keep viewing him as a corporate danger zone.

‘Let’s go. We’re finished with this for today.’ The day had felt interminable to Rick. From that trip up the building construction, when he’d wanted to protect Marissa, keep her safe, never let anything happen to her, through the rainy afternoon and on into this evening, Rick had struggled with his attraction to her.

She was amazing, the way she got down to work without a word of complaint, no matter what was thrown at her. And he … found that too appealing about her.

Maybe that explained this current madness, because not only was he determined to take her out of the office and feed her, he had no intention of letting her refuse. He took her bag from the desk drawer and pressed it into her hands, and drew her out of her chair.

Well, it was no big deal. Marissa deserved a reward for working so hard. As her boss, he wanted to give her that reward. He’d done the same for Tom countless times.

But this wasn’t Tom and, the moment Rick touched Marissa, desire buzzed through his system and threatened to overwhelm him. Well, he would control that desire by the force of his will—maybe he needed to show himself he could do that.

‘Wait. What are you doing? I have work up on the computer and I’m nowhere near finished.’ She dug her shoes into the carpet, her eyes wide and startled as surprise and uncertainty and the same fire he fought in his bloodstream all bloomed in her gaze.

‘We’re going to eat and then go to our respective homes to get some rest.’ That sounded suitably businesslike. A pity he ruined it by adding, ‘The office can wait until tomorrow.’

Not only had he not intended to downplay the importance of his work, but his voice had mellowed as his gaze roved over her, over the hair sticking out from the times she’d whipped the transcription headset on and off, and bent over the photocopier cursing.

She had trousers on today. Pale tan trousers and a black cashmere top that hugged her curves, and soft leather lace-up shoes she hadn’t needed to change for their fieldwork.

Though the clothing screamed ‘comfortable’ and ‘sensible’ it also lovingly displayed every curve. He’d believed himself beyond reacting to those curves now.

Fooled yourself, you mean.

Well, it was too late to back out of this dinner now. Instead, he scooped everything on her desk into the tray and locked it away while she gasped. Then he shut down her computer and hustled her to the door.

‘We’re eating.’ As colleagues. An hour in her company outside of working hours might take care of his inexplicable interest in her in any case. What did he know of her, after all, personally? She might bore him to tears. He might do the same to her. ‘Don’t argue. There are shadows under your eyes. And if there’s too much work for you we’ll farm some out to the general staff.’

This was not an option that had ever occurred to him before. That it did now shocked him into a silence that lasted the entire ride in the lift to the underground parking area.

As he helped her into his big car, she spoke.

‘I’m not overwhelmed by the workload and it’s kind of you to want to feed me but I assure you I’m not faint or anything.’ She turned her head to face him. ‘I’ve taken care to eat snacks regularly since that incident the first day.’

‘I know.’ He’d been watching, had checked on her though she wouldn’t have realised he was doing it. And, because that knowledge of himself made him feel exposed, he reiterated, ‘This is not a kindness. It’s a reward for efforts rendered, for both of us, that’s all. And I’m pleased to hear it about the workload because, in truth, I don’t really like the idea of handing work out of my office.’

They passed the rest of the trip in silence. He figured it was just as well since the words coming out of his mouth didn’t seem to be much under his control.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Rick settled Marissa at the table in the same way he seemed to manage everything. With care and courtesy and without any hint of being the user and taker Michael Unsworth was.

‘Thank you.’ How could Marissa keep up her shield against her boss when he behaved this way? Right now she didn’t want to, and that was a dangerous attitude. ‘I’ve finally managed to take a breath for the first time today. I guess … I’m glad you thought of this, of us catching a quick meal on the way home.’

Marissa toyed with her water glass and tried not to think how nice it was to be seated opposite Rick in the tiny restaurant tucked away in a side street only about a ten minute drive from his offices.

Bilbie’s @ Eighty-Eight sported just a handful of dining tables, spaced far apart and lit individually with a fat red candle on a chipped saucer in the centre of each.

Rain stung the darkened windows and the street lights and car headlights blurred out there, but inside all was quiet and calm.

Well, except for the tension she felt as she finally lifted her gaze and looked into Rick’s eyes. Because it was a tension that had nothing to do with residual work stresses, that had an intimacy to it that just wouldn’t seem to leave them.

Despite Rick’s assertion this was nothing more than a reward for hard work. Despite her need to be attracted to someone other than him.

The latter wasn’t working out very well right now.

So why hadn’t she declined this meal with him?

Good manners. It might have seemed churlish if she’d refused.

Sure, Marissa. That’s what it is.

Rick tore a piece of dense crusty bread from the loaf and dipped it in the herbed dressing and held it out to her. ‘It would take as long for you to go home and prepare something for your dinner.’

‘Thank you. I didn’t realise what I was missing. Here. With this restaurant. It’s … a nice setting. You know, for colleagues to visit briefly on a one-off basis. I don’t find it romantic at all. I’m sure you don’t either. Overall, I’d say the place is homely.’ She popped the bread in her mouth before she could say anything else.

The taste and texture of the food enticed a soft sigh from her. The sight of his intent expression as he watched her did the same again. ‘The bread … the … er … the bread is delicious.’

‘The décor could do with a facelift.’ In the candlelight the grey of his eyes darkened as his gaze focused on her. His lashes cast shadows over the strong slash of his cheeks. ‘I don’t particularly like the colour red either. I prefer autumn tones, like your—’ He frowned. ‘Like the season.’

Like her hair and the clothing she chose to wear most often? Marissa felt warmed despite herself.

Was she so foolish that she couldn’t avoid falling for this kind of man again? For her ex-fiancé’s kind of man? Because Rick was corporate to the core. He wouldn’t care about building a family or doing any of the things she wanted …

‘Feta on warm salad.’ A waiter deposited the entrées and whisked a bottle of white wine forward, poured and left the rest of the bottle on the table. Disappeared again.

Rick drew a deep breath. ‘Eat.’ He gestured to the food, lifted his fork and seemed determined to back the tension off. Back it right off and keep it backed off.

Marissa wanted that too. To assist in that endeavour, she said a little desperately, ‘You said you’re a skilled diver. Is that something you’ve done for long?’

Small talk. Surely if she smothered them in small talk it would have the desired effect?

‘I started diving in my twenties after my sister Darla … For leisure.’ He sipped his wine and something in his face seemed to close up. ‘I’ve dived coastal reefs and other places but nowadays I mostly work locally on some endangered species projects.’

‘Your niece really is in good hands with her swimming lessons, then.’ A flash of that day, of him bare-chested and off-centre as he’d made up excuses for those swimming lessons, did something warm and tingly to her insides. It softened her emotions and made it difficult to remember him as the highflying boss, a man very much out of her emotional league.

‘Your family—’

‘I’d rather hear about you.’ He didn’t bark the words, but the closed door was clear just the same. ‘About your interests. We probably don’t have a lot in common.’

No. They probably didn’t, and she should appreciate that he wanted them both to accept that.