At His Service: His 9-5 Secretary
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‘I see.’ He tried for nonchalance when he said, ‘You’re full of surprises, Gina Leighton. I had you down as more of a homebody, I guess. Someone who wouldn’t be happy if they were far away from where they were born.’
‘London isn’t exactly the ends of the earth.’
She lifted her chin as she spoke, and he said quickly, ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. That wasn’t a criticism.’
‘Good.’ She sipped at her wine.
‘If anyone can understand the urge to travel, I can. It’s just that I saw you differently, more …’
‘Boring?’
‘Boring?’ He stared at her in genuine amazement. ‘Of course I never thought you were boring. How can you say that? I was going to say contented with what you had, where you were in life.’
‘You can be all that and still fancy a change,’ she said flatly, just as the waitress came with their warm-bread salads.
Once she’d gone, he reached across the table and touched Gina’s hand for one brief moment. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you,’ he said softly. ‘And I swear I’ve never thought of you as boring.’ Disconcerting, maybe. Definitely unsettling on occasion, like when he’d stolen a swift kiss at the Christmas party and the scent of her had stayed with him all evening. And, on the couple of instances she’d worn her hair down for work, he’d had to stuff his hands in his pockets all day to avoid the temptation to take a handful of the shining, silky mass and nuzzle his face into it. But boring? Never.
Gina shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter one way or the other.’
She had moved her fingers out from under his almost as soon as they had rested on her hand, and it suggested she was still annoyed.
‘It does.’ Irritated, his voice hardened. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’
‘We are—we were—work colleagues, first and foremost,’ came the dampening answer. ‘We were friendly, but that’s not the same as being friends.’
He stared at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, and he couldn’t read a thing in her closed expression. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt out of his depth when speaking to a woman, but it was happening now. Raking back a lock of hair from his forehead, he leant back in his seat, surveying her broodingly. ‘So, what’s your definition of friends?’
She ate a morsel of bread and pronounced it delicious, before she said, ‘Friends are there for you, right or wrong. You can have fun with them or cry with them. They know plenty about you, but stick in there with you nonetheless. They’re part of your life.’
He became aware he was frowning, and straightened his face. He felt monumentally insulted. ‘And none of that applies to us, apparently? Is that what you’re saying?’ he said evenly.
‘Well, does it?’ she asked matter-of-factly.
‘I think so.’
‘Harry, we’ve never met out of work, and know very little about each other.’
He shook his head stubbornly. ‘Don’t be silly, we know plenty about each other,’ he said firmly, his annoyance rising when she narrowed her eyes cynically. He was possessed by the very irrational desire to do or say something remarkable to shock her out of her complacency, something that hadn’t happened since he had been a thirteen-year-old schoolboy trying to impress the school beauty. But Delia Sherwood had been a walkover compared to the self-contained, quiet young woman watching him with disbelieving eyes. And this was a crazy conversation. He wasn’t even sure how it had come about. Why did Gina’s opinion about their relationship matter so much, anyway? ‘I know you have two sisters, a best friend called Erica, and that you walk your parents’ dog to keep fit, for instance. OK?’ Even to himself he sounded petulant.
‘Those are head facts. Not heart facts.’
‘I’m sorry?’ he said, his temper rising.
She gave what sounded like a weary sigh and ate another mouthful of food. ‘Think about it,’ was all she said.
He ate his warm-bread salad without tasting it. There had been undercurrents in their friendship from day one—and it was a friendship, whatever she said—but there she was, as cool as a cucumber, stating they were merely work colleagues. Damn it, he knew there was a spark there, even if neither of them had done anything about it. And the reason he’d held his hand had been for her sake. An act of consideration on his part.
He speared a piece of pepper with unnecessary violence, feeling extremely hard done by. He had known she wasn’t the type of woman to have a meaningless affair, and because he couldn’t offer anything permanent he’d kept things light and casual. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t something real between them.
The waitress appeared as soon as they had finished and whisked their plates away, whereupon Gina immediately stood up, reaching for her handbag as she did so. ‘I’m just going to powder my nose,’ she said brightly.
He had risen to his feet and now he nodded, sitting down again, watching her make her way to the back of the small restaurant and open the door marked Ladies.
He had thought he knew her, but she had proved him wrong. His frown deepened. The woman who had sat there and blatantly told him he could stick their friendship—or as good as—was not the Gina of nine-to-five. In fact, she was a stranger. A beautiful, soft, honey-skinned stranger, admittedly, with eyes that could be uncertain and vulnerable one moment and fiery, to match the hair—the next. But a stranger nonetheless. And he didn’t understand it.
Harry finished his glass of wine but resisted pouring himself another as he was driving, instead reaching for the bottle of sparkling mineral-water he’d ordered along with the wine.
He had imagined there was a … buzz between them, and all the time she’d probably been carrying on with someone else. Of course she’d been entitled to; he’d had one or two, maybe three—but very short-lived—relationships in the last twelve months. But it was different for her. And then he grimaced at the hypocrisy, scowling in self-contempt. Damn it, she’d caught him on the raw, and he didn’t know which end of him was up. Which only confirmed a million times over he had been absolutely right not to get involved with Gina. She was trouble. In spite of the air of gentle, warm voluptuousness that had a man dreaming he could drown in the depths of her—or perhaps because of it—she was trouble.
Swilling back the water, he made himself relax his limbs. It was ridiculous to get het up like this. She was leaving Yorkshire at the weekend, and that would be that. His mouth tightened. And Susan Richards had made it very plain she was up for a bit of fun with no strings attached. His perfect kind of woman, in fact.
His scowl deepened. When he replaced the empty glass on the table, it was with such force he was fortunate it didn’t shatter.
CHAPTER THREE
WHATEVER had possessed her? Why had she challenged him like that? Gina stood, staring at her flushed reflection in the spotted little mirror in the ladies’ cloakroom, mentally groaning. He had looked absolutely amazed, and no wonder.
Grabbing her bag, she hunted for her lip gloss and then stood with it in her hand, still staring vacantly. It had been his attitude that had done it. It had brought out the devil in her, and the temper that went with the hair. When she and her two sisters had been growing up, her father had repeatedly warned them about the folly of speaking first and thinking later—often lamenting the fact that he was the only male in a household of four red-haired women, while he’d been about it.
‘A homebody.’ And, ‘you’re bound to meet someone in London.’ How patronising could you get? And why shouldn’t she be a career woman, anyway? It wasn’t only scrawny blondes like Susan Richards who had the monopoly on such things.
Suddenly she slumped, her eyes misty. She had behaved badly out there, and if she was being honest with herself it was because the sight of Harry and Susan had acted like salt on a raw wound.
Dabbing her eyes with a tissue, she sniffed loudly and then repaired her make-up. This was all her own fault—she should never have come out to dinner with him. She had known it was foolish, worse than foolish, but she had done it anyway. Harry couldn’t help being Harry. Being so drop-dead gorgeous, he was always going to have women panting after him, but at least after tonight she wouldn’t have to watch it any longer.
The lurch her heart gave made her smudge the lip gloss down her chin. She stopped what she was doing and held herself round the middle, swaying back and forth a number of times, until the door opening brought her up straight.
A tall matronly looking woman entered, nodding and smiling at her before entering the one cubicle the tiny room held.
Gina wished she was old, or at least old enough for this to be past history. She wished she didn’t love him so much. And more than anything she wished she wasn’t so sure that she would never meet anyone who could stir her heart like Harry, which meant she wasn’t likely to get the husband and children she’d always imagined herself having. She bit hard on her lip, her eyes cloudy. Harry was right. She was a homebody. And because of him she was being forced down a road she had never seen herself walking.
It was all his fault. She glared at her reflection, wiping her streaked chin, and then packing her make-up away. He was so content with his lot, so happy, so completely self-satisfied. The rat.
Taking a deep breath, she told herself to get a grip. He was buying her dinner, hardly a crime. And the watch was beautiful, made even more so by the fact he had noticed she wasn’t wearing her old one. It had been kind of him to round off her time at Breedon & Son by taking her out, when all was said and done. So … no more griping. Get yourself in there and be bright and sparkling, and leave him with a smile when the time comes.
When Gina walked back into the dining area the sight of him caused her breath to catch in her throat, but then it always did. Which was at best annoying and worst embarrassing—like the time she had been eating a hot sausage-roll in the work canteen and had choked, until Natalie had slapped her on the back so hard she’d thought her spine had snapped in two.
She arrived at the table just as the waitress brought their main course, which was good timing. She could bury herself in the food to some extent, she thought, sliding into her seat and returning his smile. At least he was smiling now. He’d looked thoroughly irritated with her when she had left, and she couldn’t altogether blame him.
‘More wine?’ He was refilling her glass as he spoke, and Gina didn’t protest. She needed something to help her get through the evening without making a complete fool of herself, and in the absence of anything else alcohol would do. Although, that was flawed thinking, she told herself in the next moment. The wine was more likely to prompt her to do or say something silly.
Warning herself to go steady, she took a small sip and then tried the tagliatelle. It was delicious. The best she had ever tasted. Deciding that she was definitely a girl who would eat for comfort rather than pine away, she tucked in.
By the time the main course was finished, Gina had discovered that you could laugh and really mean it, even if your heart was on the verge of being broken. Harry seemed to put himself out to be the perfect dinner companion after their earlier blip, producing one amusing story after another, and displaying the wicked wit which had bowled her over in the first days of their acquaintance. Back then she had desperately been seeking a way to make him notice her as a woman; now that strain was taken off her shoulders at least. He saw her as a friend, and only as a friend, and she’d long since accepted it.
She chose pistachio meringue with fresh berries for dessert, and it didn’t fail to live up to expectations. She didn’t think she’d eat for a week after this evening, and she said so as she licked the last morsel of meringue off her spoon.
Harry grinned, his eyes following her pink tongue. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. If I’d thought I could have introduced you to this place months ago.’
If he had thought. Quite. ‘I’m glad you didn’t. I’d be two stone heavier by now.’
‘You could have taken your parents’ dogs for a few extra walks and worked off the pounds,’ he said easily.
‘There speaks someone who’s never had to diet.’ Why would he? The man was perfect.
‘Do you—have to diet, I mean?’
A bit personal, but she’d brought it on herself. Gina nodded. ‘My sisters—wouldn’t you just know?—follow after my dad, and he’s a tall streak of nothing. My mother on the other hand is like me. We go on a diet every other week, but just as regularly fall by the wayside. My mum blames my dad for her lapses. She says he gives her no incentive because he likes her to be what he calls “cuddly”.’ She grimaced.
‘I’m with your father.’
Gina smiled wryly.
‘I mean it.’
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Purposely changing the subject, she said, ‘Thank you for a lovely meal, Harry. I’ve really enjoyed it. It was a nice way to end my time at Breedon & Son.’
He seemed to digest that for a few seconds. ‘It’ll be odd, coming into work each day and you not being there.’
Be still, my foolish heart. She forced a smile. ‘I think you’ll find Susan a more than adequate replacement. She’s very keen.’ In more ways than one.
‘I guess so.’
He didn’t sound overly impressed, and Gina’s heart jumped for joy before she reminded herself it meant nothing. If it wasn’t Susan it would be someone else. Her voice even, she said, ‘It’ll all work out fine. Things always do, given time.’ Except me and you.
‘I think we’re both long enough in the tooth to know that’s not true,’ he said drily. ‘It goes hand in hand with accepting there’s no Santa Clause.’ He cleared his throat, his heavily lashed eyes intent on her face. ‘Look, this is none of my business, and tell me to go to blazes if you want, but is this decision to leave Yorkshire anything to do with your personal life?’
She stared at him.
‘You know what I mean,’ he said after a moment. ‘A man. Has a relationship ended unhappily, something like that? Because, if that’s the reason, running away won’t necessarily improve your state of mind.’
Panic stricken, she opened her mouth to deny it before logic stepped in. He had no idea the man in question was him, and if nothing else confirming his suspicions would work to her advantage. One, he’d have to accept she had a concrete reason for moving away, and two, it would explain her reluctance to visit in the future.
‘I’m right, aren’t I? Someone has let you down.’
After their earlier conversation, she couldn’t bear the idea of Harry thinking she’d been discarded like an old sock. Stiffly, she said, ‘It’s not like that. I made the decision to end the relationship and move away.’
His eyes narrowed. She recognised the look on his face. It was one he adopted when he wouldn’t take no for an answer on some business deal or other. It was this formidably tenacious streak in his nature that had seen Breedon & Son go from strength to strength in the last year since he’d come home. And that was great on a business level. Just dandy. It was vastly different when that acutely discerning mind was homed in on her, though. Recognising the wisdom of the old adage that pride went before a fall, she said quickly, ‘It wasn’t going anywhere, that’s all. End of story.’
‘What do you mean, not going anywhere? You’re obviously upset enough about the finish of it to move away from your family and friends, your whole life,’ he finished, somewhat dramatically for him. Then he added suddenly, ‘He’s not married, is he?’
‘Excuse me?’ It was a relief to hide behind outrage. ‘I have never, and would never, get involved with someone else’s husband.’
‘No, of course you wouldn’t.’ He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I know that, really I do. But what went wrong, then?’
Gina wondered if she could end this conversation with a few well-chosen words along the lines that he should mind his own business. But this was Harry she was dealing with. He was like one of those predatory fish of the Caribbean she’d read about recently: once it seized hold on something, it couldn’t let go even if it wanted to. ‘A common scenario,’ she said as lightly as she could manage. ‘He was content to jog along as we were indefinitely. I wanted more.’
He looked shocked. ‘Did he know how much you cared for him?’
That was rich, coming from the man who—if office gossip was to be believed—discarded girlfriends like cherry stones once he’d enjoyed their fruit. Talk about a case of the pot calling the kettle black! Gina shrugged, keeping her voice steady and unemotional when she said, ‘That’s not really the point. We wanted different things for the future, that’s all. I was ready to settle down, and he wasn’t. Actually, I don’t think he will ever settle down.’
He stared at her, a frown darkening his countenance. ‘In other words, he strung you along?’
‘No, he didn’t string me along,’ Gina said severely. ‘He was always absolutely straight and above board, if you must know. I suppose I just … hoped for more.’ And always had, from the first moment she had laid eyes on him. Always would, for that matter, if she didn’t put a good few miles between them.
‘You are being too kind. He must have known the sort of girl you are from the start.’
She couldn’t do this any more. Her voice low, she said, ‘Could we change the subject, please, Harry?’
He opened his mouth to object, but the waitress was at their side with the coffee. He waited until she had bustled off, and then spoke in a very patient tone, which had the effect of making her want to kick him. ‘Believe me, Gina,’ he said gently, ‘I know the type of man he is, and he’s not worthy of you.’
That was true at least. ‘Really?’ she said drily. ‘You know this without even having met him?’
‘Like I said, I know the type. Now, I’m not saying he’s wrong not to want to settle down, I’m the same way myself. But I wouldn’t get involved with someone who had for ever on their mind, and there’s the difference. And a man can tell. Always.’
He really was the most arrogant male on the planet. ‘How?’
‘How?’
‘How can you tell if a woman is looking for something permanent or just a roll in the hay?’ she asked baldly.
He looked askance at her. ‘I hope it’s never anything as crude as “just a roll in the hay”,’ he said stiffly. ‘I’m a man, not an animal. I’ve never yet taken a woman just because she’s indicated she’s available.’
This self-righteous side of him was new. Gina fixed him with purposely innocent eyes. ‘So you have to get to know someone first? Find out if they can provide mental as well as physical stimulation, perhaps? Make sure their slant on life and love is the same as yours?’
He stared at her as though he wasn’t sure whether she was mocking him or not. After a moment, his eyes glinting, he said, ‘You make it sound very cold-blooded.’
In for a penny, in for a pound. ‘Perhaps because it is?’ she suggested sweetly.
‘I prefer to think of it as honest, and if this man you’ve been involved with had done the same you wouldn’t be in the position you’re in now,’ he ground out somewhat grimly.
‘But attraction, love, desire, doesn’t always fit into nicely labelled little packages, does it?’ Gina countered, the feeling that she’d hit him on the raw wonderfully satisfying. ‘It can be a spontaneous thing, something that hits you wham-bang in the heart and takes you completely by surprise. Something so overpowering and real that everything and everyone else goes out of the window.’
He folded his arms over his chest, settling more comfortably in his seat as he studied her flushed face. ‘It can be like that,’ he agreed after some moments. ‘But, if it is, things inevitably go wrong.’
‘Of course they don’t—’
‘Was it like that for you with this man?’ he interjected swiftly. ‘A head-over-heels thing?’
She hesitated, and immediately he seized on it. ‘You see?’ he said coolly.
‘What I see is that your attitude is a wonderful excuse for playing the field without fear of reprisals.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
Refusing to be intimidated by his growl, Gina met his glare without flinching. ‘You have the best of all worlds, Harry, you know you do. You can wine, dine and bed a woman as often as you like, and then walk away with a smile and a “I told you what to expect” when you’ve had enough. I find that … distasteful.’
‘Distasteful?’
If the situation had been different, she could have laughed at the sheer outrage on his face. Funnily enough, his mounting temper had the effect of calming her. ‘Yes, distasteful,’ she said firmly. ‘You can’t tell me some of your girlfriends haven’t fallen for you because, whatever modern thinking tries to promote, sex means more to a woman than a man in the emotional sense. Just the sheer mechanics of it means a woman allows—’ She stopped abruptly as he raised a sardonic eyebrow.
‘Yes?’ he drawled with suspicious blankness.
‘It means a woman allows a man into her body,’ she said bravely, wondering why she was giving Harry—of all people—a biology lesson. ‘Whereas, for a man …’
‘It’s possession, penetration?’
Ignoring her fiery cheeks, Gina nodded sharply. ‘Exactly.’
‘You don’t think the man feels anything beyond physical satisfaction?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ He knew she hadn’t said that. ‘But it is different.’
‘Vive la difference.’
Her embarrassment seemed to have restored his equanimity. Drawing on her dignity, Gina said flatly, ‘I’m sorry if you find it old-fashioned or amusing, but I happen to think that love should enter the equation however things turn out in the end. And I know there’s no guarantee with any relationship; I’m not in cloud cuckoo land.’
He looked at her quietly for a moment. ‘I wasn’t laughing at you, Gina.’
And pigs fly.
‘In fact the time was I might have expressed the same views myself, but—’ He paused. ‘People change. Life changes them.’
Gina said nothing. In truth she was startled by this last remark. His tone of voice, the look on his face, was different from anything that had gone before.
‘I guess I’ve become self-sufficient, independent. I like my life the way it is, and to share it with another person would be at best inconvenient and worst a nightmare.’
She wished she’d never started this conversation. Breathing shallowly to combat the shaft of pain that had seared her chest, Gina said quietly, ‘You missed out cynical.’
‘You think I’m cynical?’
She nodded. ‘Not just from what you’ve said tonight, but more over the last twelve months. I wonder, actually, if you really like women much, Harry.’
For a moment he didn’t react at all. Then he said softly, ‘I assure you, I’m not of the other persuasion.’
‘No, I didn’t mean—I—I know you’re not—’
He cut short her stammerings with a dark smile, his voice self-mocking when he said, ‘I know what you meant, Gina. It was my way of prevaricating.’
‘Oh.’ Sometimes his innate honesty was more than a little disturbing.
‘Because you’re right. I am cynical where the fair sex is concerned.’
Why was being proved right so horribly depressing? Hiding her feelings, Gina nodded slowly. Picking her words carefully, she said, ‘Bad experience somewhere in your long-lost youth?’ She hoped to defuse what had suddenly become an extremely charged atmosphere with her tone, knowing he wouldn’t want to talk about it in any detail. The last year had proved he was a master at deflecting questions about his past.
This time he surprised her. Nodding, he leaned forward, taking one of the mints the waitress had brought with their coffee and unwrapping it before he said, ‘Her name was Anna, and it was a wild, hot affair. We were crazy about each other at first, but we were young; I’d just left uni when we met. I thought it would go on for ever, made promises, you know? But after a year or so I found my feelings were beginning to change. I still loved her, cared about her, but I wasn’t in love with her. That something had gone. Perhaps it had only ever been lust, I don’t know.’