Anne Douglas by The Wardens Daughters Page B

rose from his desk at her entrance Lynette didn’t think so. Tall, dark and handsome, maybe, but too strong in features, too severe in manner, to have anything to do with dreams. See how the brief smile he’d managed didn’t meet his gold-flecked brown eyes, and how his jaw was so firmly set, he looked as though he spent his life getting the better of people.
    Oh, but this wasn’t the way to begin an interview, was it? Quick, she told herself, give him the benefit of the doubt. Who cared if he wasn’t a dreamboat? As long as she could convince him to give her the job.
    ‘Miss Forester, Mr Allan,’ announced Mrs Atkinson.
    ‘Thank you,’ Mr Allan replied, and as his assistant withdrew, he invited Lynette to take a seat in a voice that sounded more English than Scottish, and certainly wasn’t Highland.
    ‘How do you do, Miss Forester? I’m Ronan Allan, the hotel manager. Sorry if we are a little late in seeing you.’
    ‘That’s quite all right, Mr Allan.’
    While the manager returned to his desk, Lynette arranged herself as gracefully as possible on the chair he’d indicated. Somehow she still had the feeling that she was off to a bad start with this man in his dark, three-piece suit, white shirt and blue silk tie, who had a signet ring on the little finger of his right hand and an expensive looking wristwatch showing beneath his cuff. But why should she already be at a disadvantage? She had hardly said a word.
    Looking down at her application, he was silent for a moment. Then he raised his unusual eyes to look at her.
    ‘I see you say you have come up from Edinburgh to live at the hostel in Conair, Miss Forester?’
    His tone was cold, almost disapproving.
    ‘That’s correct. As I explained, my father’s the new warden. He’s a widower and my sister and I – we thought we’d like to come up with him.’
    ‘A bit of a contrast for you, from the city?’
    Lynette allowed herself a smile. ‘You could say that.’
    ‘But you think it will work out?’
    ‘Yes, we do. My sister’s going to be assistant warden, and I’m in the process of finding a job.’
    ‘Not so easy in this part of the world.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘Though you have secretarial qualifications, which are always useful.’
    ‘I am an experienced shorthand typist.’
    Mr Allan looked down again at Lynette’s application.
    ‘But your experience has been with a legal firm. You’d need to be in Inverness to find something similar.’
    ‘I wanted a change anyway.’
    ‘A change.’ He raised his dark brows. ‘To come here as senior receptionist would certainly provide that, Miss Forester. I think you’d find the work very different.’
    Lynette nodded. ‘I’d be prepared, Mr Allan.’
    ‘You’d be working longer and unsocial hours, alternating with an assistant in the evenings, for instance – how would you feel about that?’
    ‘As I say, I’d be prepared.’
    ‘And then you’d be providing customer service to all sorts of guests who all expect miracles. Taking charge of the reception desk, using your own initiative when problems crop up, as they always do. And, of course, supervising your assistant. Think you could cope?’
    ‘Definitely. I’d enjoy it.’
    ‘What makes you so sure?’
    ‘I like meeting different kinds of people, I like making decisions and I’m sure I could manage an assistant.’ Lynette gave a confident smile. ‘And I even like providing miracles.’
    Mr Allan sat back in his chair, clasping his hands together. He did not return her smile, and for what seemed an interminable time, there was silence in his large, pleasant office except for the sound of the wind outside. Finally, he rose again and extended his hand.
    ‘Thank you, Miss Forester. As you’ll understand, it won’t be possible for me to make a decision on the appointment today, but I’ll be in touch by post as soon as possible.’
    ‘That’s fine, Mr Allan. Thank you.’
    ‘Now, if you’d care to join the other young ladies, I’d