No Mistaking Love

CHAPTER TWO

The lift was lined with mirrors. Kate checked her reflection, tugging her jacket down and smoothing an invisible strand of hair from her cheek.

She was reluctant to admit to herself how much she needed this job. Living in London was proving a lot more expensive than she had envisaged, and the rent was due on her flat soon. Besides, she was tired of trailing round agencies. Friends like Serena teased her, but she was an orderly person and missed the routine of work.

The girl in the mirror looked back at her critically. She was trim and neat in a grey suit and high-necked white blouse, and her thick brown hair was twisted up and held away from her face by a tortoiseshell clasp.

She looked crisp and efficient-and dull, Kate decided as clear eyes gazed back at her a little wistfully. No wonder Luke Hardman hadn't remembered her! It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with her, but there was nothing very special either. She was just Kate: cool, capable Kate. An ideal secretary, in fact, she reminded herself sensibly as the doors slid open on to a thickly carpeted corridor. Stepping out, Kate was met by a harassed-looking girl with wavy red hair.

`Miss Finch? I'm Paula Stephens. We spoke on the phone.' She seemed relieved by Kate's businesslike air. `I had hoped to explain a bit about this job before you met the managing director, but he's in a tearing hurry today, so would you mind if I introduced you to him first and then we had a word later?'

'Of course not,' Kate said politely, wondering if it was the managing director who had reduced her to such a jittery state.

Paula led her along the corridor and into an office. It was a large, bright room, equipped with all the latest technology. `This would be your room,' she said, and then lowered her voice. `That's his office in there,' she said in a conspiratorial whisper, nodding her head at a door on the far side of the room.

With a visible attempt to steel herself Paula went over and knocked. `Miss Finch is here to see you,' she said nervously.

Kate heard an impatient voice say, `Ail right, all right. Tell her to come in,' before Paula stood back and, with a look that was suspiciously sympathetic, gestured her inside and shut the door behind her.

She found herself in a vast, high-ceilinged room with a window that looked out over the elegant Knightsbridge street below. For a moment she hesitated, confused by the fact that she seemed to be alone in the room, and then the voice spoke again, deep and abrupt.

`Sit down, if you're staying. I've just got to finish this.'

It came from a high-backed revolving chair, which had been turned away from the desk to face the window. Kate raised one eyebrow at the man's rudeness and chose an upright chair set against the wall. Lifting it forward, she set it in front of the desk and sat down composedly, smoothing her skirt over her knees and folding her hands calmly in her lap. The squashy leather chairs looked inviting, but she would be at a distinct disadvantage if she sank into one of them, f and she had a strong feeling that she was going to need all the advantages she could get in dealing with this man.

Minutes passed. The only indication of another presence in the room was the sound of turning pages from behind the chair. Kate waited, but her lips tightened disapprovingly. She was tempted to get up and leave, but a stern, sensible voice inside her reminded her about the fat salary, and the rent due, and the imprudence of chucking in her chances of a good job by storming out, and no doubt causing an embarrassing scene.

Eventually he spoke. `I gather from my personnel manager that you claim to speak French?'

'I do speak French,' Kate corrected him with frosty emphasis.

`I've seen a succession of girls who say they speak French, but in fact can barely muster an O level between them. They're all just a little rusty.' He mimicked the feminine tones contemptuously. `Frankly, I don't want to waste any more time on you unless you can speak French fluently.'

'I_. wasn't aware that you'd wasted any time on me. Kate said with a slight edge to her voice. 'However, I can assure that I can speak French. I'm bilingual.'

'Prove it.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I said, prove it. Say something in French!'

`Well…, what would you like me to say?' Kate asked carefully.

`What does it matter?' he retorted, impatient and irritable. `Anything. N'importe quoi.'

His French was pronounced with such an appalling accent that Kate's tawny eyes gleamed suddenly gold.

'N'importe quoi?' she repeated. He obviously didn't speak French himself, so she could allow herself free rein! `It's a little hard to know what *.o say to a chair,' she continued in fluent French and with a deceptively calm intonation. `I've never had to address one before. In France we have the courtesy to get up and greet people when they come into the room, but obviously things are a little different here! Frankly, if it weren't for the fact that I'd really rather like this job I would have got up and left ten minutes ago! Not that I'm sure now that I would like it if it means working for someone who can't even be bothered to turn round when I talk to him,' she went on reflectively. `I can't see that there's any excuse for those kind of sheer bad manners-'

She broke off abruptly as the chair swung round.

`That's fine, thank you,' he said in such a noncommittal tone that Kate was convinced, not without some relief, that he hadn't understood a word.

She still couldn't see his face. His dark head was bent over a report and he was making neat notes in the margin with a pencil. Kate's eyes narrowed at the sheer arrogance of the gesture. However this man had got to be managing director, it certainly hadn't been through charm!

Then he laid his pencil very neatly beside the report and looked up.

It was Luke Hardman.

Kate's heart stopped. For that long, shocked moment as she stared incredulously into the flat blue-grey eyes all she could think about was whether it would ever start beating again.

It seemed an age, but was probably no more than a few seconds before the sharpening of

Luke's unnerving gaze jerked her heart back into action.

'Is something the matter?' he demanded, brusque suspicion in his voice as he took in her expression of stunned disbelief.

Kate struggled to regain her composure. There was absolutely no recognition in his eyes; she could see that now. It was just that he had occupied her thoughts so much since she had seen '":m at the theatre that it seemed incredible that he had not been just as aware of her, and as astonished to find the gauche, clumsy girl who had stumbled away from his kiss sitting in front of him now. As astonished as she was to find that the village rebel had somehow transformed himself into a successful businessman! It was the last thing she would have expected.

But the awareness was one-sided now, just as it had been last night, just as it had been ten years ago. Kate should have been glad, but a quite irrational feeling of pique at finding herself so utterly unmemorable helped her to pull herself together.

'I'm sorry if I was staring. I was merely surprised to find myself addressing a man instead of a chair,' she said, pleased at the cool way she was able to meet his eyes. Preoccupied with the shock of coming face to face with him again so unexpectedly, Kate had forgotten that she was here for an interview, but Luke evidently had not.

`Doesn't take much to surprise you, does it?' Luke said with something of a sneer. He reached out and pulled a sheet of paper off the pile in front of him; Kate recognised it as the CV she had sent to Paula Stephens and wondered if anything about her name would jog his memory.

He was frowning as he scrutinised her details. Kate sat, outwardly calm, dreading the moment when he would look up and recognise her, but he only grunted non-committally as he tossed her

CV back dismissively on to the pile.

Sitting back in his chair, he twirled a pen between his fingers and studied her with opaque slate eyes narrowed appraisingly. Kate forced herself to return his look with composure, and her chin tilted in instinctive response to the challenge in his silence.

`Well, you can speak French, I'll give you that… what's your name?' Luke leant forward and turned over the CV. 'Kate… yes, I'll give you that, Kate,' he said at last. His voice was as hard as his expression. `But speaking French doesn't make you a good secretary. What about typing and shorthand? Can you do all that?'

'It says there that I can,' Kate said, nodding at the CV. She had recovered from those first few moments of shocked disbelief and was fast losing her temper. He obviously had no idea how to treat people! The cynical indifference that had so intimidated her ten years ago still had the power to affect her, but now her reaction was one of annoyance instead of mortification. She wasn't a shy sixteen-year-old any longer, and Luke would find out, surprise or no surprise, that she wasn't prepared to put up with it.

`I know it says you can,' Luke was saying. `It says you've got all sorts of impressive-looking skills to boast about.' He tapped the CV with a sneer. `Bilingual shorthand, bilingual typing, exceptional speeds… It all looks very good on paper, but I want to know if you can actually do any of it!'

I wouldn't have put them down if I couldn't,' She said, keeping a tight rein on her temper with some difficulty.

'Oh, really? In my experience, women have a fine disregard for the truth when it suits them! I'm sure you can type, I'm just not convinced that you haven't increased your speeds-oh, just an extra ten or twenty words a minute! -to make your CV look more impressive.'

I have done nothing of the sort!' Kate said icily. Looking up from her CV, Luke was in time to catch the flash of fury in her eyes, brightening their brown depths to a fierce gold and making the quiet face suddenly vivid. He frowned, the strong brows drawing together as if a chord had been struck, but Kate was too angry to notice.

'You can't have a working relationship with someone you distrust on principle!' she swept on.

`If you're that concerned about speeds it's simple enough to arrange for tests, but, frankly, if you're not prepared to take my word I might as well leave now!'

`All right, all right, calm down,' Luke said irritably, throwing his pen on to the desk. `I'll assume you're as pure as the driven snow and that all your qualifications are quite as phenomenal as they appear, if that'll make you any happier.' His unnerving eyes inspected her thoughtfully. `But if you're such a perfect secretary, why do you want this job so badly?'

'I'm not sure that I do!' Kate said, still angry.

`Oh? I was under the impression that you wanted this job-at least enough to make sure

you didn't get up and walk out the way you wanted to when faced with my appalling manners.'

Kate looked wary. She had said something like that… but surely he hadn't understood?

`I think you should know,' Luke answered her unspoken question with a sardonic look, `that, although my accent is poor, I understand French perfectly well.'

`Oh,' she said uncomfortably.

`Oh, indeed,' he mocked, and Kate knew that he was enjoying her discomfiture. To her annoyance, she coloured faintly.

`Well?' he prompted.

`I'm sorry if I was rude,' she said stiffly.

I don't mind your being rude, but I can't be bothered with a secretary who's going to sulk if I'm rude, or lecture me on my manners. I've got -c o much to do to worry about trivia like that!'

* It's not trivia,' Kate said before she could help herself. `If you want people to work for you you've got to treat them like human beings.'

^-I said I didn't want to be lectured on my -manners!' Luke snapped, but Kate was unrepentant.

'Ill-mannered people never do!'

His dark brows drew together in a dangerous scowl. 'Do you want this job or not?'

Did she? Kate felt as if she had been suddenly brought up short. Could she really contemplate working for Luke Hardman? It would be hideously embarrassing if he ever recognised her, but how likely was that? If he hadn't remembered her by now he probably never would. When Paula Stephens had described the job on the phone it had sounded so much more interesting than the other jobs she had contemplated.

Kate stared down at her hands. It would be wonderful to have a good salary again, too. Luke was rude and unpleasant, but she was surprised at how little he frightened her now. He would be infuriating, of that she had no doubt, but she was oddly certain that she could handle him.

With a little shock she realised that she found the prospect exciting. Steady, sensible Kate had always been content with security and routine, had never yearned for excitement, but suddenly it seemed natural to be sitting here contemplating working closely with Luke with a small thrill of disbelief. Only last night she had seen him for the first time in ten years, and now she was calmly considering spending most of her days with him!

`Well?' he demanded again impatiently. `Make up your mind!'

Kate looked up from her hands. `Yes,' she said. `I do want it.'

`You don't seem very sure.'

`I am sure.'

`Why?' he asked abruptly. `According to your CV, you had a good job with a wine exporter in Dijon. What made you give that up? You're not the kind of girl who chucks in a job on a whim, are you?'

'No,' Kate said in a level voice. `My niece has been sent to boarding-school in England while her parents are in Africa. She doesn't know anyone else here, so I said I'd be around to take her out for weekends or in case there were any problems. That meant coming back to England and finding a job here.'

`Very worthy,' Luke jeered. `Not many aunts would give up a good job to go and work in another country just to be near a niece. There must be some other reason for all this altruism.'

Kate flushed angrily at his tone. `I'd been thinking about coming back to England anyway -for personal reasons,' she added, seeing brows raised in enquiry. There was no need to go into details about her mother's new husband. It was none of his business.

'Hmmnn,' he grunted. `I suppose that means boyfriend trouble?'

'No.' Kate refused to elaborate. `This just seemed a good opportunity to come back,' she said with a note of finality.

Luke was tapping his pen on the desk. `How long had you been living in France? I assume you're English, with a name like Kate Finch?'

'I'm half-French and half-English. I grew up in England, but after my father died my mother took me back to Dijon. We must have lived there about ten years now.'

`I see. And what happens if you get homesick for France and want to go back there?'

'I won't. I grew up in England; it feels like home to me to me. I still have school friends here, so it's not as if I'm all alone. In any case, I wouldn't leave Solange, my niece, here on her own.'

Pushing back his chair, Luke stood up and prowled over to the window. `My last secretary left before Christmas, and I'm sick of a succession of temps who all burst into tears as soon as I raise my voice. At least you don't look as if you'll do that.'

`Certainly not,' Kate said crisply.

`What did Paula tell you about the job?' he asked suddenly.

`She said it was very much a personal assistant's role. You wanted an efficient secretary, but also someone who was prepared to get involved so that you could delegate some of your responsibilities when you were away.'

`That's about it. I don't want someone who's going to sit and file her nails all day!'

Involuntarily Kate glanced down at her hands. They were slim and elegant, but she had always kept her nails cut short and neat for practical reasons.

`Do you know what we do here at LPM?'

'I know the letters stand for London Project Management,' Kate said cautiously. `I gathered you were engineering consultants of some kind.'

Luke nodded, moving away from the window to pace about the room, hands thrust in his pockets, as if he had too much energy to sit still any longer.

`We dress it up in nice language for the clients, but we're more or less Mr. Fixit on major building projects. There are an enormous number of interests involved in any one project- architects, consultants, contractors, subcontractors, suppliers, you name it-and we act as a liaison between them all, representing the client. That means we have to know exactly what's going on at any one point, sort out any problems, and make sure our client is getting what he's paid for.

'I used to spend a lot of my time on site, but ^,he firm has expanded in the past couple of years, and I delegate most of the technical work now. My main concern nowadays is getting new contracts, especially now we're extending into the international market. That's why I need a proper P.A. I've got to have someone capable of holding the fort while I'm away-although I might need you to come with me sometimes.' His pacing had brought him back to the desk. `Are you free to travel?'

'Yes, except for when Solange comes to me for.he weekend.'

`Nobody else likely to make a fuss if you're away a lot? No boyfriend lurking in the wings, ready to sulk if you don't leave work at five-thirty on the dot?'

'No,' said Kate.

It was strange, she thought, how he could be so familiar, and yet a stranger at the same time. The brusque, aggressive businessman was new to her, but the turn of his head or the set of his mouth would bring back vivid memories of the Luke she had known, a wilder, more reckless Luke. This man prowling around the room was harder and tougher, his rebelliousness channeled into impatient ambition and the old half suspected vulnerability firmly vanquished by an air of crisp efficiency and clear indifference to other people's opinions.

Luke was standing by the window again, staring down at the street as he thought.

`You seem sensible enough,' he admitted grudgingly. `And you're the first person I've seen who can speak French properly. We've done quite a bit of work in the States and Australia, but I want to move into Europe now. There are plenty of opportunities opening up, and I want to be the first in there. We're bidding for a big French project at the moment, but, although I can understand French, I can't speak it, so I badly need an assistant who can. I also need someone who's prepared to work as hard as I do without whining or crying or droning on about her rights. Is that clear?'

'Perfectly,' Kate said, a dry edge to her voice.

`I'm a difficult man to work for,' he warned.

`I'd gathered that,' murmured Kate.

`But in return,' Luke went on, ignoring her interruption, `you'll get a generous salary. I expect you to earn it. I don't want you bleating that you didn't know what I was going to be like or how much work you'd have to do!'

`Are you offering me the job?' Kate sat up a little straighter and fought down a feeling of panic. What had she done?

`On a month's trial,' he said quickly. `I want to see those famous skills of yours in action before I commit myself to paying you that kind of money every month.'

'Very well.'

Luke raised a sardonic eyebrow. `Is that all you've got to say? Very well? You might sound a little more enthusiastic about getting the job!'

`You don't sound very enthusiastic about employing me,' Kate retorted, nettled by his grudging offer.

Over the desk their eyes met and clashed. Kate's cheeks were pink, and her brown eyes bright with antagonism. Luke glared at her, clearly unused to being answered back, and then, quite suddenly, the wrathful expression disappeared.

He walked back round his desk towards Kate, still sitting straight and prim in her upright chair. He had always moved like that, she thought irrelevantly, with that deliberate tread. It overwhelmed her with memories, like a series of flashcards flicking rapidly in front of her eyes: Luke walking down the quiet village street, Luke reaching up to pull Helen off her horse, Luke running his hand down Helen's bare arm in a gesture which had shaken Kate even then with a frisson of sexual awareness.

He was standing in front of her, studying her face intently. Kate had no choice but to look back at him as coolly as she could. Close to, he seemed bigger than she remembered, as if his frame had thickened out to lean, muscled strength. Those lines around his eyes had not been there before and nor had the grooves in his cheeks. Luke might be successful now, but the last few years had not been easy ones.

`Stand up,' he ordered abruptly.

Kate raised her brows in unconscious hauteur, and he ground out, `Please!'

She stood.

Kicking the chair out of the way, Luke walk round her, studying her figure so impersonally that Kate felt herself quiver with anger.

`You'll do,' he said at last. `You've got good legs and a neat figure, but you need to smart yourself up a bit.'

`I wasn't aware that I was taking part in beauty contest!' Kate's eyes flashed dangerously again, and Luke stiffened.

He turned her to face him properly and to her chin in one strong hand, forcing it up so that she had to look mutinously into penetrating slate eyes.

`I thought I recognised you,' he said.