âI donât think dinnerâs a goodidea.â
âWhy ever not?â
Sally looked up then, and her blue eyes shone with an unnatural intensity. âIt would be too much like a date.â
âAnd thatâs a crime?â
âYouâre my boss, remember?â
âWell, yes. Thatâsâ¦true.â Logan scratched his jaw. Somehow, his original plan to keep business and pleasure apart no longer made any sense. He was quite sure that he and Sally should have dinner together. The sooner the better. âLetâs keep work out of this. Youâll be sacrificing your evenings to help me. Surely I owe you one dinner?â
CHAPTER ONE
SALLY FINCH stood before the mirror in the pretty terrace house she had recently inherited and knew sheâd made a huge mistake.
So much depended on todayâs job interview. If she didnât start earning soon, she wouldnât be able to stay in this gorgeous old house that sheâd loved since she was six years old. She couldnât start her new life as an independent woman in the city. Bottom line, she couldnât eat!
But as Sally studied the results of this morningâs careful grooming, she was swamped by doubtsâniggling at first, but growing stronger with every twist and turn in front of the mirror.
Until this moment, sheâd been confident that she knew exactly how to dress for a big city interview, but the mirror posed an uncomfortable question. Shouldnât she, at the very least, be able to recognise her own reflection?
What had gone wrong?
Sheâd woken early in a fever of confident excitement, had sung in the shower, eaten a super-healthy breakfast of fresh fruit and yoghurt in Chloeâs cheerful, sun-filled kitchenâshe still thought of this house as her godmotherâsâand then sheâd raced upstairs to her bedroom.
The new and too expensive navy-blue dress fitted like a dream. Made from fine merino wool, with a high neckline and a neat white collar, it fell in straight, slim lines to a softly flared hemline. Its simplicity and neatness, Sally fervently hoped, signalled the very essence of efficiency.
Intent on completing her efficient image, sheâd carefully brushed and crammed every wayward wisp of her blonde curling hair under hairpins and into a tight knot at the back of her head.
And then sheâd stepped back to appraise the results and saw, with a chilling certainty, that she looked as grim and forbidding as her unforgettable third grade teacher.
How had this happened? The neck to knee navy had looked flattering in the shop. âFabulousâ was the word the shop assistant had used.
Now the dress made Sally look too thin.
Admittedly, she had always been on the light side. Her older brothers had teased her about it when she was a skinny kid and she hadnât given two hoots. Dressed in their hand-me-down jeans, sensible cotton shirts and sturdy riding boots, sheâd simply been one of the gang, riding horses or quad bikes all over her familyâs Outback property at Tarra-Binya.
Today, however, at the age of twenty-three and on the brink of life as a city woman, Sally would have loved to show more of her womanly curves.
She wondered what Chloe would have thought of this outfit. Her godmother had had a brilliant sense of style, and an even greater capacity for living life to the full. Sheâd been sensitive and warm-hearted too and had always said exactly the right thing to make Sally feel good about herself.
That she wasnât here to help Sally phase into city life was almost too much to bear.
Blinking back tears she couldnât afford on such an important morning, Sally tipped her head from side to side and swiftly switched her attention to her hair. Perhaps that was an even bigger problem than the dress. Sheâd overdone the efficient image.
After all, her interview at Blackcorp Mining Consultancies was for a front desk job and, if she got it, she would be meeting people all day long. And, although the Human Resources manager at Blackcorp would require efficiency in a receptionist, she would be expecting friendliness too.
Friendliness was Sallyâs forte. She loved people and loved to chat, had always hoped for a job that involved plenty of talking. But now, as she practised smiling into the mirror, forced a sparkle into her eyes and gave a cheerful flash of her white teeth, she still looked like the Wicked Witch of the West.
That hair knot has to go.
Frantically, she began to rip out hairpins. She didnât really have time to start rearranging her appearance, but she couldnât face her appointment looking like this.