Authors: Robyn Grady
Crossing
to his desk, Alex collected the documents he’d received from that CEO and the
bold
Alex Wolfe
logo caught his eye.
Everyone was eager to see how far his brand-name net would fly and Eli was
great to bounce new ideas and strategies off. He was more than an assistant;
Eli was a first-class friend. They’d known each other only three years and yet
Eli was closer to him than any of his brothers. Not that Alex blamed anyone for
that … or, rather, he blamed no one other than the man who had single-handedly
torn his own family apart: William Wolfe, may he rot in hell.
And
he was seriously giving too much thought to all this lately but, for once, he
couldn’t seem to avoid it.
Staring
blindly at those documents, Alex recalled how he’d waited until he’d left the
hospital to reread Annabelle’s email and compose an adequate reply.
Great to hear about Jacob’s return and
Nathaniel’s upcoming nuptials
, it had said.
Can’t
believe he’s old enough to tie the knot!
Will be in contact again soon. Hope you’re well. Love to you, Alex
.
He’d
thought about phoning; he had her number. But he knew Annabelle favoured email.
Frankly, in this circumstance, so did he. Not that he and Annabelle didn’t
speak every couple of years or so … but never about that night. Not about what
a different girl Annabelle was now from the lively chit she’d once been.
Alex
lowered into his high-back leather chair, only half hearing Eli’s last remark.
‘…
I’m sure Libby Henderson explained that to you.’
Alex’s
thoughts slid all the way back. Eli was talking about the increased chance of
incurring a similar injury to his shoulder in the future.
‘I’ll
keep up the exercises,’ Alex said, ‘and whatever else she prescribes.’
‘As
long as you don’t screw it up permanently in the meantime by going back to the
track too soon.’
Alex
tossed a wry look around the walls, covered with victory memorabilia. ‘I think
I’ve done fairly well so far.’
But
when Eli’s dark blue gaze dropped and he rubbed the scar above his temple the
way he did whenever he had something more to say, Alex blew out a breath and
set the document down on the desk with a slap.
‘Spit
it out.’
Eli
edged a hip over the corner of the polished rosewood desk and gave a shrug that
said he was perplexed. ‘I guess I’d expected Libby Henderson to put up at least
a half-decent fight.’
In
truth, Alex had expected that too. She’d almost agreed
too
easily to his generous offer. Nevertheless, ‘Money’s a strong
motivator. With that kind of dosh on the table and the endorsements I’ll flick
her way, she’d be a fool not to jump at this chance.’
‘I
wouldn’t have thought she’d be motivated by money any more than you are.’
‘Why’s
that?’
‘You
seriously don’t recognise the name?’
Alex
rolled it over in his mind and came up a blank. ‘Sorry.’
‘Elizabeth
Henderson was World Surfing Champion a few years back.’
Alex
recalled her radiant can-do glow, the determined look in those swirling amber
eyes, not to mention the alluring beach-babe hair and tan. Elizabeth Henderson,
world champion surfer? He grinned. Sure. It fit.
‘I
had no idea,’ he admitted. ‘Water sports aren’t my thing.’ He and Libby had
even had that discussion.
‘I
don’t much follow female sport either. Do they televise women’s surf
championships?’
With
a sardonic grin, Eli collected the document Alex had set aside. ‘For a smart
man, you’re one hell of a chauvinist.’
Alex
held his heart. ‘You’ve wounded me.’ Then he offered up a conciliatory smile. ‘Don’t
worry. I’m on top of it. When Libby Henderson sets her mind to something, she
does it her way and leaves the rest for dead. Which can only bode well for her
performance as a physio.’
Dark
brows knitted, Eli was flicking through the document, sifting through data. Eli
was a hound for tracking down and assimilating facts. Which begged the question
…
Eyes
narrowed, Alex swung his chair one way, then the next. Finally he asked, ‘Why
didn’t you tell me about Libby Henderson’s past first-up?’
Eli
continued analysing the pages. ‘I wanted you to meet her without any
preconceptions.’
‘I
don’t see how knowing about her sporting acumen could hurt.’
When
Eli kept his focus on the document, Alex’s antennae began to prickle. Had being
cooped up without driving privileges brought out a paranoid streak? Or was
there something more to Libby Henderson? Something that Eli, for some curious
reason, preferred his boss not discover?
He’d
set out to hire someone who would be malleable to his needs. That objective
hadn’t changed. And yet after a single meeting he couldn’t deny he was
intrigued to learn more about this former surf queen turned sports star physio.
Was his curiosity in part due to the fact that Libby reminded him of his
sister? She and Annabelle conveyed a similar almost regal reserve, although
Alex well remembered his sister in her younger years—open and vibrant. So eager
to experience all life had to offer. He’d wager Libby harboured a more
effervescent side as well. Either way …
Eli
leaned over to point out some anomaly in the document but Alex found his
thoughts still on Libby.
An attractive option. Boundless
possibilities
.
Yes.
When Ms Henderson visited next, he’d be certain to dig deeper.
HALF
an hour later, Libby walked through the entrance of her city office. Behind the
front desk, her twenty-one-year-old receptionist, Payton Nagle, flicked back
her waist-length chestnut hair and beamed out an enthusiastic smile.
‘So
oooo
… how was the superstar?’
Containing
a grin, Libby crossed over and scooped up the morning mail from the counter’s
top shelf. ‘Still shining bright.’
‘What’s
he like?’ Eyes round, Payton tipped for ward. ‘Is he as sexy in real life as he
is on the TV?’
‘I’d
have to say sexier,’ Libby replied, matter-of-factly. The man was
so
sexy, it was criminal.
Falling
back in her seat, Payton sighed long and hard at the ceiling. ‘That strong
square jaw, that deep to-die-for Brit accent … Honestly, Libby, I don’t know
how you stopped from swooning.’
‘I’m
a professional, Payton,’ Libby said, shuffling through letters and invoices. ‘Professionals
aren’t allowed to swoon.’ Or rather they weren’t allowed to let those kinds of
unprofessional feelings show.
She
set down the mail and drilled her receptionist with her most serious gaze. ‘Remember,
not one word about my appointments with Alex Wolfe to anyone. He wants the
press to think he’s flown back to the UK or the paparazzi would be all over
this. He doesn’t want the situation with his shoulder made out to be any worse
than it is.’
Didn’t want to be projected as a cripple
.
Shaking
off that thought, Libby stretched toward the keyboard to check her email
account while Payton crossed her heart to seal the promise. ‘Did you tell him
about your surfing?’
Libby
recalled her thoughts from earlier, when she’d left Alex Wolfe and his
premises. Other than the everyday reminder below her left knee, ‘That part of
my life’s behind me.’
Payton’s
brows tugged together. ‘But being a world champion … it’s something you’d have
in common.’
‘I’m
not there for chitchat.’
Or
here, for that matter.
Setting
her mind squarely back on business, Libby moved toward her office. A long low
whistle, the sound of a missile falling, came from behind.
Hands
on hips, Libby rotated back.
Payton
was twirling a thick strand of hair around an index finger. ‘You really like
him, don’t you?’
Libby’s
eyes bugged out.
Like
him?
‘Payton,
he’s impossibly arrogant. Consumed by his own celebrity. And besides that …’
Libby’s fists loosened, her inflexible look melted and, beaten, she exhaled. ‘Besides
that, any woman with her full quota of hormones couldn’t
help
but like him.’ She shrugged. ‘He’s
drugging
. Same way honey is to a bee.’
‘I
wonder …’ An eyebrow arched as Payton twirled more hair. ‘Are you the honey or
the bee?’
Libby
coughed out a laugh. If Payton was suggesting that Alex Wolfe found
her
irresistible …!
‘I’m
neither,’ Libby replied in an end-of-conversation tone. ‘I’m a physiotherapist
who has a full day ahead of her. As does her receptionist.’
Moving
into her office, Libby shut the door and took two calming breaths to rein in
the cantering pace of her heartbeat. She and Payton might be friends but
foremost she was the younger woman’s employer. Someone Payton should be able to
hold up as an example. Revealing a vulnerable side—the purely female side that
found Alex Wolfe absurdly attractive—had been foolish. And a onetime mistake.
Crossing
to her desk, Libby told herself that Mr
Wolfe
had fleets of starry-eyed admirers the globe over, women who dreamed about
being with him, talking to him,
doing
for him. They would also dream about how that kissable mouth might feel
sensually closing over theirs, or the way he might move when he made hot,
unhurried love deep into the night.
Resigned,
Libby dropped into her chair.
Hell,
she wasn’t so different to those other mesmerised hoards. And that had to stop.
She
knew Alex Wolfe’s type. World Number Ones were all about staying on top. He
would use anything and everything within his means to have her capitulate, wave
her physio’s green flag and get himself back on the track whether his injury
was sufficiently healed or not. But no matter how distracting Mr Wolfe’s looks
and charm, she would
not
let herself
be manipulated. There was only one thing for it.
Spine
straight, knees together, she swept up her schedule.
From
now on she would be nothing but objective in his company. Ruthlessly ethical. A
consummate, non-sexual, iron-willed professional.