The Everywhere Man Read online

  ‘I’m sure it matters damned well to young Geoff,’ Alix snapped in reply, then turned on her heel and walked quickly away, her back rigid with suppressed anger but all too aware of Quinn Tennant’s green eyes following her.

  And the same to you, Quinn Tennant, she thought angrily. You deserve it!

  The chilling attitude created by that afternoon carried on into the next day at work, and Alix found herself straining to keep her temper on the three occasions Quinn came into the studio to discuss her work. The dog incident wasn’t brought up by him, and Alix was bothered if she’d be the first to raise it. Not after the attitude he had already shown.

  Instead, she forced herself to be icily polite, dealing with the work problems calmly and professionally but giving Quinn no opportunity for non-essential small talk.

  The next two days were easier, because Quinn was out of town, but conversely more difficult because Alix not only knew where he was—but with whom. And no matter how much she tried to convince herself that she didn’t care anyway, the thought of Quinn enjoying the questionable delights of the annual Brisbane Show with Michelle did little for Alix’s peace of mind.

  Saturday morning, she knew, was to include the judging of gun-dogs and some working breeds, and by the time she rolled up at the office on Friday morning, she was more than half convinced she would fly to Brisbane next day to have a look. Except that he would be there, with Michelle, and Alix didn’t feel confident enough to be sure of hiding her growing feelings for the man. Not that Quinn himself would ever have noticed, she thought. But Michelle ... sneaky, lying, cunning Michelle ... she would definitely notice something and speculate correctly.

  She was just wrapping up her work before lunch when the telephone in her studio rang and she picked it up to hear an all-too-familiar voice.

  ‘Glad I caught you,’ Quinn’s resonant voice said, and while Alix stood in dumbfounded amazement he rattled ofif a long list of instructions that amazed her even more.

  In addition to collecting several ‘important’ papers, she was to carry them personally to Brisbane on that afternoon’s two o’clock plane. Some of the papers related to design work she had been involved in, but Alix could see no relevance in the personal delivery of them. And she said so in terms so emphatically cold that even Quinn Tennant should have got the message.

  ‘My dear Alix,’ he said in tones that would brook no ailment, ‘has anybody ever told you that you have an alarming tendency to ignore the direct orders of your employer? Now stop it! Yours is not to reason why, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera ... but to do what you’re damned well told.’

  He paused only slightly at her audible gasp of alarm at the long-distance chastisement. ‘Now I want you on that plane without any further arguments. Bring the papers, enough clothing and feminine frippery to last you a day or two or three, make arrangements with Mrs B. to feed the dogs and all, and stop being obstreperous. It’s unbecoming in a young woman.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Tennant, anything you say, Mr Tennant,’ she muttered, then almost dropped the phone when he fairly shouted through it:

  ‘I heard that, and you may well wish I hadn’t. Oh, and one final thing ... you’d better bring that dress you bought with your bonus; you may need it.’ Whereupon he hung up in her ear.

  Alix didn’t have time to rant and rage about the callous domineering attitude he had shown. She had only just enough time, in fact, to throw together a travelling kit, make the arrangements he had requested, and taxi to the airport in time to make her plane.

  Even on the short flight to Brisbane she was more intrigued than actually angry. What could be at the root of his demands? Would he explain when he met her at the airport? Or would he meet her at all? Quinn Tennant was more than capable, she knew, of simply leaving her a further round of terse instructions to await her as she got off the plane.

  Despite the rush, she had found a moment to change into a casual but stylish dress that was slightly less businesslike than her usual office gear, and with hair piled high and just enough make-up, she didn’t require the admiring glances of several male passengers to know she looked quite appetising indeed.

  For what it was worth; there was no sign of Quinn Tennant at the airport, only a message and a hired car to take her ... where? The answer was revealed when the car stopped before a hotel of such luxury status that Alix would never personally have considered it. Surely Quinn didn’t intend for her to stay here on company business, she mused as the driver took her cases inside and she followed to be directed by a smiling desk clerk to a suite high in the building.

  She knocked tentatively at the door after dismissing the bell-boy, and immediately wished she had kept him with her. She felt quite ridiculous and suddenly all too vulnerable, standing suitcase in hand outside the door of this luxury suite. What could Quinn Tennant be thinking of?

  Alix suddenly began having very deep misgivings about the whole thing, yet inwardly rejected any thoughts that Quinn had deliberately planned anything ... no, he wouldn’t. It simply wasn’t his style.

  ‘Alix! Right on time as usual,’ he greeted her, ushering her into the room and stooping to collect her luggage almost in the same movement.

  ‘You’ll have a drink? Of course you will,’ he grinned, ‘and then I imagine you’ll want to freshen up.’

  ‘Somewhat bewildered, Alix allowed herself to be led across to where an ornate drinks cupboard held bottles, glasses and a small refrigerator. She said nothing as Quinn poured her drink, but perched precariously on the edge of the seat he offered and looked shyly into the glass.

  ‘Here’s to wicked weekends in the city,’ he said, raising his glass with a flourish and treating Alix to a thoroughly overdone grin.

  ‘My word,’ she replied, suddenly confident again. He was having her on, playing out some deliberate charade of his own devising. But to what purpose? And did it matter anyway? She’d show him that two could play his silly little game, provided of course that it was a game.

  ‘And is it?’ The grin was gone but an unholy light lurked in those flashing green eyes.

  ‘Is it what?’ Alix replied innocently. Let him do all the work, she thought to herself. After all, I didn’t start this.

  ‘A game, of course. That’s what you’ve been thinking.’

  Alix merely shrugged.

  ‘Of course it might not be,’ he mused, almost as if he were talking to himself. ‘Or do you totally discount the possibility of my bringing you here to seduce you into making mad, passionate love to me?’

  ‘I’d think it a rather expensive waste of both our time if you did,’ she replied calmly. ‘But honestly, no. It isn’t your style.’

  He laughed, and Alix was relieved to see it was the kind of friendly, open laughter she had come to find one of the things she liked most about him. ‘You flatter me, I think,’ Quinn said. ‘Although I’m rather glad to see you consider me not entirely an ogre, even though you’ve been treating me rather like one lately.’

  ‘I have not!’

  ‘Oh? Sure could have fooled me. Or is this ice maiden image you’ve been portraying for the last few days the real Alix? If I didn’t know you quite so well I’d almost believe it.’

  ‘You don’t know me at all,’ she replied tartly. It gained only another, rather wicked, laugh.

  ‘I know you far better than you think, Miss McLean,’ he chuckled. ‘Far better, and when I collect on my rain check I’ll know you better still, but that’ll have to wait on more pressing issues.’

  He bent to pick up Alix’s cases and walked ahead of her to a doorway opening to a most exquisite bedroom. ‘Your own amenities,’ he said, pointing to the en suite, ‘and even a lock on the door, in case you’re afraid of my good intentions vanishing during the night.’

  ‘It’s reassuring,’ she replied cautiously, momentarily taken aback by the sheer luxury of the room. ‘But surely you don’t expect me to stay here ...’

  ‘With me? Of’course I do,’ he replied with haughty calm. ‘After
all, dear girl, we are adults ... and, I hope, quite responsible adults. But if it worries you all that much ... I mean, I wouldn’t want you wasting your weekend in mortal terror.’

  ‘Responsible or not, there are still the proprieties,’ Alix replied, unsure of her ground and still not certain just how much of a game Quinn was playing. If she made too much of a fuss, she thought, he would be just as likely to inform her blandly that she was sharing the suite not with him, but with another woman. Another woman ... like Michelle. That, she decided, would be just about par for the course.

  ‘If you’re implying I show something of a proprietory interest in you, then you’re quite correct,’ he replied mockingly. ‘After all, I have my investment to protect. Good rain checks are hard to come by these days.’

  Alix couldn’t help joining his laughter then, and when he suggested that she tidy up and then ‘trundle off shopping or something until six o’clock at least,’ she blithely accepted the suggestion without any further discussion.

  When she had washed her face and unpacked her slender wardrobe, she returned somewhat apprehensively to the sitting room of the suite to find Quinn poring over the business papers she had brought. So intent was he that he failed to notice her arrival, and she took the moment to study him unseen.

  In a casual but expensive suit, strong wrists protruding from French cuffs studded with heavy, simple gold cufflinks, he presented an impeccable image of the professional businessman, she decided. Only the slightly too long hair and bronzed suntan seemed slightly out of place, but Quinn Tennant need be no slave to imagery; he was his own man and all of a piece.

  And when he suddenly looked up to find her watching him, it was Tennant the businessman, not Tennant the pseudo-lecher who spoke.

  ‘Right, off you go, then,’ he said rather brusquely. ‘And please try to be back promptly at six, because we’re dining at seven. You did bring your honey-coloured dress, 1 hope.’

  Alix could only nod, slightly taken aback by the abrupt change in his demeanour. Of course she had brought the creamy golden-green dress; it was the nicest one she owned and her personal favourite, not least because of the pleasant mental associations involved. She couldn’t, of course, tell Quinn how she had very nearly left it behind in strict defiance of his orders.

  Then, as if suddenly becoming aware of her reaction to his brusqueness, he grinned and shook his head wearily. ‘Sorry, Alix, I guess that sounded a bit short. It’s just that the next couple of hours may be pretty hectic here and my mind sometimes gets extremely compartmentalised where business is concerned.’

  He grinned again. ‘Now trundle off and window-shop or something. I promise to be in a far better frame of mind when you return. Oh, and if you didn’t bring anything comfortable for walking, pick up a pair of sneakers or something, because tomorrow we’ll be spending most of the day at the Show, and I think you might find high heels a bit much.’

  Albc took his advice, and also splurged on a pair of fashion jeans and a light cotton top to match. And she made certain to return promptly at six.

  She was hailed by the desk clerk when she entered the lobby of the hotel, and mildly surprised to find that Mr Tennant was out, would return shortly, and would she please wait for him in the suite. What was the logic of sending her out if he wasn’t using the suite himself in any event? she wondered, then decided it was none of her business and continued following Quinn’s earlier instructions.

  Dinner at seven ... then so be it. Alix took a leisurely shower, changed to her ‘bonus’ dress and spent more time than usual with her make-up and hair. Finally satisfied that she looked her very best, she returned to the sitting room and fixed herself a long, mild drink, then sat down with a magazine to await Quinn’s return.

  He didn’t arrive until past six-thirty, and the evidence of strain showed clearly on his face when he finally strode through the door. But it was quickly replaced by an admiring smile as Alix rose to greet him.

  ‘You look splendid,’ he said sincerely. ‘Now if you’ll just pour me a good strong Scotch-and-water and don’t say a single word for five minutes, I’ll love you for ever.’

  Alix raised one eyebrow enquiringly, but silently poured him the drink and stood quiet as he strode over to stare enigmatically out of the window as he sipped at the drink, then gulped down the last half in a single swallow.

  ‘Fantastic,’ he muttered. ‘Do it again while I get changed, love, and then we’ll be off.’

  Alix shivered slightly at the implied domesticity of it all, and when Quinn retired to his own bedroom to change for dinner, she poured him another drink even stronger than the first and then recklessly fixed herself one as well.

  Damn all Australian men for their habit of calling every woman ‘love’, she thought. Just the sound of it emerging from his lips had made her go all quivery inside, and if she’d dared to believe it meant anything at all ... but no sense thinking of that!

  And yet she couldn’t ignore just how comfortable it all was, fixing his drinks, and now ultimately seeing him emerge from the bedroom immaculate in dinner jacket and dark trousers, his shoes gleaming and his hair slightly kinky from the shower. His tie was a shade crooked, and Alix’s fingers quivered with a sudden desire to straighten it for him ... but too late, he had done it himself

  They finished their drinks in silence, Quinn thoughtful and Alix suddenly unnerved by his proximity. Then they were in the large hire car, driving the evening streets until they arrived at the restaurant he had chosen.

  Quinn’s name brought instant attention from the head- waiter, and they were immediately escorted to a large, semi-private booth that to Alix’s surprise was already occupied. The two men there rose to greet her and Quinn, and Alix stopped dead in her tracks, her heart rising into her throat at the sight of the younger man.

  It couldn’t be, she thought. Bruce . . . here? For an instant she feared she would faint; then anger surged forth in salvation, only to be replaced by confusion as Quinn spoke.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘This is the young lady whose designs you’ve been admiring, gentlemen—Alix McLean. Alix, please meet Dean Sanderson and his son Derek.’

  At close quarters the startling resemblance between Derek Sanderson and Bruce was slightly less apparent, and when Derek spoke his greeting the Queensland twang of his accent was enough to destroy the myth almost entirely.

  The men were, Alix discovered, exceptionally large clients of Quinn’s various business interests, and indeed it was they who had taken up his time that afternoon.

  Between Quinn and the older Sanderson there was an obvious atmosphere of comfortable competition and pleasure, but Alix sensed immediately that Quinn held the younger man in somewhat less regard. Not that it showed, especially, but there was ... something ... that spelled tension between them from the moment of her arrival with Quinn.

  Alix half wished it had been as simple as jealousy, but she had been so surprised at the tall young Queenslander taking her hand and kissing it in the approved Continental fashion that she hadn’t noticed Quinn’s reaction to the gesture.

  What was obvious, however, was that while Quinn and Dean Sanderson welcomed Alix’s presence at what continued to be a business dinner, young Derek was far more impressed with her presence from a purely social viewpoint.

  He courted her with undisguised vigour during the excellent dinner, allowing his father and Quinn to carry the business end of the conversation while he devoted himself exclusively to Alix and her needs.

  It was, to say the very least, somewhat embarrassing. But there was nothing Alix could do to stave off the attention without being totally rude, and since she felt herself to be involved in the occasion only because of her business interest, she felt compelled to try and hold Derek at arm’s length.

  It was easier thought than done, especially when he was not speaking. Then, in certain movements of his head and a way he had of holding his mouth, he continued to be startlingly like Bruce. Enough so, in any event, that Alix
found herself having to concentrate on not calling him Bruce.

  And he was so young. Especially when compared to Quinn Tennant, who carried only a few years over Derek — and Bruce — in chronological age, but who was so totally, solidly self-assured that he seemed much older. It was a matter of maturity, Alix thought, and she found herself wondering what on earth she could ever have seen in Bruce in the first place.

  I never loved him, not really, .she thought. And coupled with that realisation and all its implications was the obvious confirmation that if she loved anyone, it was the enigmatic Quinn Tennant himself. Not, she considered, the wisest thing for her to do, but it was already done, and she could only begin planning how to ensure that he shouldn’t find out.

  At the moment that wasn’t a problem. Quinn was deep in discussion with the older Sanderson, while young Derek ...

  ‘I’m sorry, but I missed that,’ Alix was forced to say to Derek. ‘Very rude of me, but my mind just ... slipped away for a moment.’

  ‘1 should be terribly insulted, but I’ll forgive you because you’re so lovely,’ he replied with the gallantry that was slowly becoming rather wearing. ‘What I wanted to know was if you’d care to dance.’

  Dance? Alix looked round the restaurant with fresh eyes, suddenly realising that it had a dance floor, and that obviously several other couples had been using it for some time.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I would,’ she replied then. And a few moments later she was sincerely regretting the impulsive reply. Derek’s Continental manner, picked up during a three-month tour of Europe and nowhere near as suave as he imagined, obviously hadn’t extended to any European dance floors.

  Admittedly, the space in the restaurant was limited, but Derek didn’t even need that excuse; he persisted in dancing as dose to Alix as if they had been hemmed in by a crowd, and none of her gentle dissuaders had the slightest effect.

  His strong arms held her against him as they moved around the floor, and she could feel his need of her despite the fact that it did nothing to rouse her own emotions. And finally, she could take no more. She forcibly thrust him away from her until she had gained breathing space, and specifically told him to please keep it that way.