plural?’ She didn’t want to be out of her comfort zone too long, but his solid approach to not only resolving the current problem but also protecting against a repeat, yes, that all would take time.
Molly suppressed another updraft of panic. She would have to find a way to ease out of things after the initial strike. Surely that would be possible?
‘Whatever it takes. The art exhibition will be a start.’ He drew a breath. ‘But, realistically, only a start. Even if we are able to track down the rumourmonger immediately, there’s still damage control and shoring up to be done.’
‘How many events are we talking about? How much, ah, out of hours time I guess is what I mean? A night or two per week, or—?’
‘A full onslaught at first. There’s the art exhibition tonight, and then a charity auction tomorrow, Saturday. That won’t be quite as formal.’ He paused to think. ‘There’ll be more. I’ll need to check my calendar to see what else is happening.’
Two events; two to worry about for now. She simply wouldn’t think beyond those two until she had to. Molly drew a breath and told herself that wasn’t so bad.
She would do the job asked of her, be eyes and ears and a show of strength, and be back at her desk Monday morning in PA mode, contained and unscathed as ever.
She wouldn’t embarrass him, and she wouldn’t fall prey to other feelings about him either just because they would be seeing each other away from their desks.
See? All sorted.
Except for her unease about spending his money. And a few dozen other worries all seething away in there. ‘I can provide my own clothes for the second event. Things I already have.’
‘If you wish, but be prepared to purchase a number of evening dresses at my cost.’ He rose from the table, drew out his wallet and handed her a card from within. Even the gold colouring of the plastic looked expensive. ‘You’ll use this for purchases.’
When he lowered his head to murmur the code to operate the card, Molly stood very still and forced her mind to think of those numbers, not his closeness. She almost succeeded.
‘We’ll head back. I’ll make those key phone-calls while you shop.’ He gestured for her to precede him from the outdoor area.
They left the restaurant and began to retrace their earlier steps.
‘When I get back to the office I’ll create a spreadsheet of the names of all our clients so we can keep track of who we’ve talked to. I’ll take the PDA with me tonight.’ Molly dived into plans and strategies, workaday ones—because those were safe, normal and about the truth of their relationship, even if Jarrod’s decisions had shaken the edges of that truth for her today.
At least he hadn’t offered to help her shop. That would have been too unnerving!
CHAPTER TWO
‘ACTUALLY, the spreadsheet will require a list of clients and associates. We’ll want to track all the significant people we’ve talked to, or am I going too far with the tracking idea?’ All the significant wealthy, upper-class, socialite so-far-out-of-her-reach people. Molly’s mouth flattened.
‘That will be fine. We can sort out a list of names this afternoon.’ Jarrod touched her elbow again to guide her along the street.
The Prince led Cinderella along the streets of Brisbane so she could go and buy a pretty dress.
Cinderella stared at him through her geeky glasses, while tingles tiptoed up her arm and scurried down her spine simply because of a touch.
Molly suppressed a snort. Cinderella indeed. Her mum, Aunt Izzy and Faye might think like that, might dream pie-in-the-sky dreams with no foundation in reality. Molly knew better, and she would stick to that knowledge. Heck, just the thought of being in his world made her knees want to knock together. She should focus on that!
‘You’ll have a chance to use that latest software package and the PDA uplink.’ Jarrod had insisted she purchase the software when he’d noticed she had it circled in a catalogue. ‘That way, if you take electronic notes over the weekend, the data collation will be as streamlined as possible afterwards.’
‘Yes, it will.’ Molly fell silent.
They were a block away from the building that housed their suite of offices when a voice spoke from behind them.
‘Jarrod.’ The tone was cultured, deep and rather devoid of expression.
Her boss’s body seemed to tighten. In fact, he seemed to tighten all over—posture, expression, muscle and sinew. Prickly. Wary. Was it because of the rumours? Was this someone from his world?
Molly’s gaze sought his, but he’d already clasped her elbow. He turned her until they faced a well-dressed middle-aged couple. ‘Dad, Mum. What brings you to this part of the city?’
His parents! Molly had never met them. They didn’t come to her boss’s office. He didn’t talk about them. She had assumed he didn’t feel his personal life was any of her business.
‘You’re right to be surprised by our presence here.’ Jarrod’s mother spoke the words through chilly lips. ‘We usually delegate such tasks as shopping, but sometimes they are unavoidable.’
‘We won’t be here long. Just taking care of one essential matter,’ Jarrod’s father added.
‘I rather enjoy the shopping experience.’ Jarrod made the observation in a mild tone, but there were shutters down over his face.
For some reason Molly couldn’t help edging closer to her boss’s side.
‘We’re here on business.’ His mother made the announcement as though it meant everything. ‘We’re to be guests of the king of an island country.’
She named the country, a small but beautiful paradise Molly had only read about and seen in travel documentaries, and went on.
‘We came to collect a gift we’ve had handcrafted. The king may agree to import our Road Ten furnishings into the country. It’s necessary to impress him.’
‘Good luck with that.’ Jarrod said it amenably enough. When Molly shifted slightly at his side, he forced a smile to his face. ‘We’ve been remiss in the introductions. This is my personal assistant, Molly Taylor. Molly, my parents, Stuart and Elspeth Banning.’
‘Hello.’ Molly offered her best professional smile.
Jarrod’s father dipped his head infinitesimally. His mother didn’t even bother with that.
When his parents all but snubbed his PA, a growl came out of Jarrod’s throat before he could stop it.
He would tolerate his parents’ coldness towards him. Hell, that had been his lot since the day he’d been born. But they could be polite to Molly, and if not…
‘Perhaps I should walk on ahead, leave you to say your hellos.’ Molly’s pointy chin went up. Strands of brown hair had escaped her ponytail and blew softly against her neck and cheek in the mild, warm breeze. She chased them with her fingertips.
A girl in clunky shoes and an odd, wraparound top and A-line skirt. He hadn’t liked hearing Allonby’s offer to her. He didn’t like his parents staring through her either. ‘No need, Molly. We’re done here.’
He turned to his parents one last time. ‘You’ll excuse us. Enjoy your time out of the country.’
Before Molly could more than blink, he hustled her away. He’d wondered if his parents had heard the rumours. He might have asked, but somehow he doubted they’d have remained silent on the topic if they knew something. They’d probably been out of the country too much recently to hear anything.
If they did hear something, and dared to raise the topic with him, he would soon set them