A Royal Wedding(73)
‘Then I suggest we get started, Mr Reynolds. Shall we say thirty minutes in the main conference room?’
‘Looking forward to it,’ he said, his eyes sparkling with something close to wicked humour. ‘See you in thirty minutes. Partner.’
CHAPTER THREE
WITH a low groan, Kate propped her elbows on the table, dropped her head into her hands and pressed her fingers onto her throbbing temples.
She was pathetic.
‘Are you feeling okay, Kate?’ Molly asked, her gentle voice full of concern as she softly touched Kate’s arm.
I am surrounded by kind people who are here to help me do a great job, Kate thought. I am an idiot.
Kate immediately sat back and smiled. Time to snap out of this and get the work done. Molly had a conference to keep on track.
‘Touch of a headache. Nothing to worry about,’ she replied, and watched Molly’s frown relax. ‘I’m fine. Do you need me to help you with anything?
Molly shook her head. ‘The other way round. I’ve tracked down this fine young man, who has been working with Simon on one of the projects you have just taken over. He has a few minutes to spare, so this is a good time to get to know each other before the presentations start.’
Molly turned to one side and gestured towards a tall, gangly teenager who had been lurking behind her. ‘Paul, this is Kate O’Neill, who I was telling you about. I’m sure she would love to hear about the programme in your village. Why don’t you sit down and join her?’
Kate grinned and held out her hand towards Paul, who reached out his long arm and gave her fingers a brief shake before sitting down awkwardly opposite her. Before Molly could join them the reception desk filled up again, and Molly excused herself and took off.
‘Lovely to meet you, Paul,’ Kate said, as she took in Paul’s immaculately pressed white long-sleeved shirt, smart black trousers with a sharp crease, and black briefcase.
He was tall, and his shoulders and chest were just filling out, so she was guessing that he was probably around sixteen or seventeen years old, yet there was a certain air of confidence about him which blended with a certain touch of childlike wonder that was absolutely charming. This one was going to break hearts one day.
Paul, on the other hand, seemed totally uninterested in her, and was staring, apparently mesmerised, at the laptop computer she had in front of her, at her palm-top organiser on the table next to it, and her smartphone. All the latest models from top suppliers.
Men. Kate chuckled to herself.
Once the way to a man’s heart had been through his stomach. Now it was through whatever the latest gadget or gizmo the world had created—especially at technology conferences.
‘I would love to catch up with some of Andy’s projects, Paul. I did not have time to go through the field reports before flying out here, so anything you can tell me would be a great help.’
Paul dragged his gaze away from the technology and gave her a dazzling smile. Oh, yes, the girls would be queuing for miles to have that smile turned on them. No doubt at all. Heartbreaker in the making.
‘Of course, Miss O’Neill. I would be very pleased to answer any of your questions,’ Paul replied, in English so perfect that she could cut it with a knife. Which totally stunned her for a second. Either Paul had been in expensive formal education in Britain, or somewhere in Ghana there was an impressive coaching service for spoken English.
Kate swallowed down her personal prejudices. She had worked hard to learn how to speak correctly and cover up the strong regional dialect and poor speech patterns from her early years. She had no right at all to judge someone whose parents had probably worked just as hard to afford an education for their son. Even if it did rattle her a little.
After all, wasn’t his voice one of the many things which had attracted her to Simon Reynolds on that first day at university? She’d yearned to be around people who had been brought up to speak that way from the day they were born. Be part of that crowd. Overcome what she had left behind in her old life and reinvent herself as a new person.
That was why she had agreed to move with Tom and Gemma to the historic university town, with its ancient stone walls and centuries of history. So that she could start all over again.
She had taken her adopted father’s surname instead of her real name, and matched it to a new voice, new haircut and clothes. New hopes and aspirations. New dreams.
Kate swallowed hard and pushed down the instinctive urge to copy Paul’s speech patterns. He might think that she was mocking him, the way she’d used to copy Simon and make him laugh so hard he fell off his chair. And that would not be fair to Paul.