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to Max and let him share some of the burden—whether he'd be angry or not—then the idea had flown out of the window.
    She didn't even want to look at him, never mind hold a personal conversation with him.
    'How much of what I say to you here are you honour bound to pass on to Max?' she asked Joe without preamble. He was sitting behind his desk, looking cool and elegant in a dark grey suit and a crisp white shirt. He was perhaps only about two years older than Max, and very attractive. But in character, Joe was nothing like Max. He was very much married, and content within it. His attention sharpened at the question, grey eyes narrowing on her pale face as he tried to work out why Clea felt he need to ask it.
    'Only in as much as what you say will affect the company itself,' he said levelly. 'I can be as confidential as any doctor—until what you say crosses the line between personal problems and company policy.
    Why?' he asked quietly. 'What's the matter, Clea?'
    Clea sighed, and dropped down in the chair Mandy usually used. 'I want to give notice to leave,' she informed him heavily. Joe's fair brows rose. 'Without telling Max?' Clea closed her eyes, nodding and swallowing at the same time. Her hair fell around her as a black backcloth to her incredible beauty. It wasn't just the perfect balance of her features that made her stand out as something very special, there was something almost sybaritic about her; her eyes reflected a cool serenity, but couldn't quite mask the innate sensuality of her nature, her mouth was too generous—too pleasurably inviting for a man to believe the impression of inner reserve she liked to portray. Those long, thick black lashes did a lot to hide the real Clea right now, and her mouth was being held in tight control, her skin paler than it usually was. The black tailored suit she was wearing seemed symbolic, somehow. She was tall and slim, but the feminine curves were all there in abundance; full high breasts and a narrow waist, hips which curved deliciously, a stomach which was flat and firm. Clea had legs that any model would envy. But that cloud of blue-black hair, combined with an ivory smooth complexion and the biggest pair of pansy eyes ever seen, made Clea look, in every way, an exotic creature.
    'Joe ... ' She said his name on a husky sigh that stirred even his very married loins, and he smiled inwardly at himself for it. 'Will you let me work just a week's notice—and not tell Max that I'm leaving?'
    Her eyes anxiously appealed. His were narrowed and assessing.
    He lifted an elbow on to the arm of his chair, his fingers playing absently with his clean jaw. When she had come in here, asking him if she could speak to him, he'd been alerted to something serious. But this?
    He shook his blond head thoughtfully.
    'I think you'd better explain why you want such a quick release from your contract before I comment.
    And why you don't want Max told. He'll be furious—and you know it.'
    Her full mouth widened into a semblance of a bitter smile. 'I should think that he'll be relieved,' she drawled, then tossed her head defiantly; sometimes her Latin blood showed through startlingly. 'It's over, Joe,' she told him heavily. 'Max and I are in the final throes of a staling relationship.'
    Joe revealed surprise, then disbelief. 'Then why the cloak-and-dagger routine? Surely, if both you and Max are of the same mind, then there's no reason for you to leave the company behind his back.'
    Clea shrugged her slender shoulders. 'We haven't actually discussed any of this. I just know it's time to get out ... and I prefer to do it this way. It—it will be less embarrassing for both of us like this.'
    Joe studied her narrowly for a long moment, while Clea trembled a little under his gaze. Then he got up, striding over to the coffee machine bubbling away in the corner of the room. He came back with two cups and placed one in front of Clea. The aroma made her stomach object, and she had to swallow on a