His Darling Valentine

February is the traditional month of love, when Cupid gets busy. So here is a timely short Valentine's treat. Curl up on the sofa, make a mug of something soothing, maybe have just a little chocolate nearby and take a break with one of our favourite writers, Carole Mortimer!

His Darling Valentine

Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CHAPTER ONE

WHAT the—!

In the process of stepping out of her own front doorway, Tazzy came to an abrupt halt, instead staring down wide-eyed at the tiny kitten that sat in a basket on the doorstep.

Where on earth had it come from? More to the point, what was it doing here?

Well, one thing was for certain, it hadn’t arrived here of its own volition; a stray kitten did not come complete with basket, bowl, and sachets of food. Or with a red ribbon tied in a neat bow about its tiny neck!

Tazzy bent down to look at the ball of grey fluff, suddenly finding herself the focus of startled blue eyes as it became aware of her presence.

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ she soothed as the tiny thing leapt to its feet in surprise, holding out her hand—for it to either lick or scratch, depending on whether it saw her as friend or foe.

While it made up its mind, Tazzy took the opportunity to glance up and down the street. As expected, at seven-thirty in the morning, it was totally deserted. The lights were on in several of the houses, but all the cars were still in the driveways. Only Tazzy, it seemed, with her innate sense of responsibility, left the house at seven-thirty in the morning in order to be at her desk by eight-fifteen. There was certainly no one visible who could possibly have delivered the kitten to her doorstep.

She gave a start of surprise herself as she felt the moist rasp of a minute tongue on the back of her hand, the kitten jumping back too at this sudden movement.

‘We could go on like this all morning.’ She laughed, reaching out to pick the kitten up, absolutely enchanted by the way the little ball of fur, its face looking at her so trustingly, fitted neatly into the palm of her hand.

But even as Tazzy acknowledged that she noticed the small white card attached to the red ribbon. ‘To Anastasia. With love’, the card read.

How very peculiar. No one ever called her by her full name of Anastasia, in fact most people weren’t even aware that was her actual name. And why on earth would someone give her a kitten, with or without love? Christmas had been and gone, and her birthday wasn’t until August.

Not that it mattered why someone had thought she would appreciate having a pet, she simply couldn’t keep the kitten. She was Personal Assistant to Ross Valentine, a computer software troubleshooter of unparalleled skill. His business took him all over the world, and Tazzy usually accompanied Ross on those trips, which didn’t allow for attachments of any kind.

Talking of which, what was she going to do with the kitten today while she was at work?

The frown deepened between clear green eyes. She might not be able to keep it, but she couldn’t just leave the poor little thing out here in the cold, either; it might wander off and get itself lost, or worse—run over. And she certainly couldn’t take it with her—she could already imagine the look of surprise on Ross’s face if she were to arrive at his house, their place of work as well as Ross’s home, with the kitten in tow!

She really didn’t have any choice; she would just have to make it comfortable in the kitchen until she returned later, when she could turn her mind to finding somewhere—or someone—who would take the kitten off her hands.

‘I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is,’ she told the kitten ruefully as it continued to look up at her with those trusting blue eyes.

It took her a few minutes to take off the bow, to make the kitchen safe and put out food for the tiny creature, by which time, she realized agitatedly, she was going to be late into work this morning.

The traffic, usually minimal at that early hour, was already starting to build up by the time she finally got on the road, Tazzy’s tension building along with it.

Consequently, she was not her usual calm, collected self when she finally made it into her office at eight-thirty. Her agitation deepened as she found Ross Valentine already standing beside her desk, a pile of her carefully logged files in his hand, files Tazzy knew from experience would no longer be in any sort of order. Served her right for being late, she inwardly remonstrated with herself.

Being a computer expert, Ross had pooh-poohed the fact that she kept everything on paper as well as on disk, but as her system had saved him work on several occasions when his computer had crashed, he had stopped mentioning how antiquated her own system was.

Ross raised dark brows now over eyes the colour of sherry. ‘Dare I say that you’re looking less than your usual unflustered self this morning, Miss Darling?’ he mocked, those brows shooting up even further as Tazzy, her cheeks flushed, scowled at him in reply. ‘Perhaps not,’ he muttered under his breath.

Tazzy wordlessly took down the hanger from behind the door, carefully hanging her outer coat on it before replacing it neatly back on the hook. She smoothed back the neat chignon of her copper-coloured hair before moving to switch on the coffee percolator that stood on top of one of the filing cabinets, using the normality of her usual morning routine to try to bring some calm to her day, totally thrown by the fact that Ross had appeared in her office before her.

The day had not started well, with the mysterious arrival of that kitten on her doorstep—and being late for work certainly didn’t improve matters!

Ross Valentine watched her as she moved efficiently about the room, preparing a coffee tray for him and a separate cup for herself. ‘Tell me, Miss Darling, how long have you worked for me now?’ he asked, arms folded across the muscled width of his chest.

Tazzy turned to give him a puzzled frown. ‘I don’t understand—’

‘Just answer the question, hmm?’ he encouraged lightly.

‘I believe it’s eighteen months, Mr Valentine,’ she said smartly.

Eighteen months, one week, and half an hour, to be exact. And she had been in love with this man, it seemed, for every minute of that time!

She loved the way his dark hair was inclined to curl slightly if he forgot to get it cut—which was often!—the deep sherry-brown of his eyes, eyes that became incredibly warm when he smiled. His high cheekbones gave him a slightly foreign appearance, his nose was long and aristocratic, and his sensual mouth was wide above the squareness of his jaw. His body was athletically slim, and as for his hands—! More than once she had sat and daydreamed about what it would feel like to have those long, slender hands move caressingly over her body …

She loved his sense of humour too, the closeness he had maintained with his parents, despite having lived in this house on his own, apart from the housekeeper, the last ten years. Sylvia and Nigel Valentine were frequent visitors to the house Ross used to work in as well as live in, two rooms that overlooked the back garden having been converted into offices for both Ross and Tazzy.

Having been orphaned at five years old herself, and brought up by an elderly maiden aunt who had died five years ago when Tazzy was twenty, she rather envied Ross his warm family life.

But none of her thoughts or love for this man showed in her expression now as she continued to look at him enquiringly.

Ross nodded. ‘And in all of that time how many times have you failed to be seated at your desk by eight-fifteen in the morning?’

She eyed him warily. ‘Just this morning,’ she finally replied, still uncertain as to what point he was trying to make; either he was about to sack her for being late, or congratulate her for never having been so before!

‘Exactly,’ he acknowledged dryly. ‘So why are you skulking around the room as if you expect me to fire you at any moment?’

Because by arriving at eight-fifteen every morning she gave herself enough time to tidy her appearance, check e-mails, and be her normal efficient self by the time Ross usually came in at eight forty-five. The arrival of that kitten on her doorstep had completely thrown her normal routine into disarray—and Tazzy along with it! She simply wasn’t her usual calm, controlled self this morning, which made her feel slightly defensive.

‘I—something happened to delay me this morning. Someone left me—left a present on the doorstep for me,’ she explained.

‘It’s the day for it, isn’t it?’ Ross shrugged.

Tazzy frowned. ‘Day for what—? Oh.’ She broke off abruptly as she suddenly realized exactly what day it was.

The fourteenth of February. Valentine’s Day. And the kitten had had a red bow tied about its tiny neck, the gift card that accompanied it unsigned …

Ross nodded. ‘So what did you get?’ he prompted interestedly, making himself comfortable on the side of her desk. ‘Red roses? A cuddly teddy bear? A box of chocolates? Or perhaps some sexy underwear—’

‘It was a kitten,’ she cut in sharply, embarrassed colour in her cheeks at his last suggestion.

The only way she had been able to cope with loving Ross in the way that she did was to maintain a certain formality in their relationship, insisting on calling him Mr Valentine, and having him always refer to her as Miss Darling. Having him talk about ‘sexy underwear’ was not conducive to that formality!

‘A kitten?’ Ross repeated incredulously. ‘I had no idea you liked cats.’

‘I’m not sure that I do,’ she answered slowly, at the same time aware that the defenceless ball of fur left on her doorstep earlier had already made a dent in her heart. ‘I told you, it was a present,’ she added.

A Valentine present …

But who from? Oh, she had dated often before coming to work for Ross Valentine eighteen months ago, occasionally accepted invitations even now, if only to stop other people from drawing their own conclusions concerning her single status when her boss was so obviously an extremely eligible bachelor of thirty-seven. But the fact that she rarely dated the same person twice meant that she now had no idea who could have placed the kitten outside her front door!

‘What are you going to do with it?’ Ross looked amused.

Good question. The truth was, she had no idea, very much aware that her job as Ross Valentine’s Personal Assistant, travelling around the world with him, did not even allow for the luxury of owning a goldfish.

But, at the same time, she couldn’t shake off the vision of that endearing little face, the tiny black nose, those beautiful blue eyes that had gazed up at her so appealingly earlier as she’d left the kitten in the warm snugness of her kitchen.

But, tempted as she might be, there was no way she could keep it!

‘I have no idea,’ she answered honestly. ‘Try to find someone who will take it in, I suppose.’

‘I’ll take it if you don’t want it,’ Ross offered.

Tazzy stared at him in surprise. Admittedly, he had the luxury of a housekeeper who could look after the kitten any time he had to be away on business. But even so …

‘I haven’t definitely decided what I’m going to do with him yet,’ she resisted.

‘Or her,’ Ross pointed out.

Tazzy frowned. ‘Or her,’ she acknowledged slowly, having no idea whether it was a she or a he! ‘But its name is Shadow,’ she added without thinking.

Now exactly where had that come from? She hadn’t even been aware until the word had come out of her mouth that she had actually named the kitten!

When she had finally left the house this morning, the kitten safely ensconced in the kitchen, she had had every intention of delivering it to a cat sanctuary when she returned home later on this evening. Ross’s offer to take the kitten off her hands seemed to have brought out a possessive streak in her.

Ross smiled, brown eyes warm. ‘You named it already.’

Tazzy once again felt flustered. ‘Not really. I—Shadow would do for a boy or a girl, though.’

‘So it would,’ he agreed, standing up.

Allowing Tazzy to breathe normally once again. Outwardly, she managed to remain efficient and professional in front of this man, but inwardly, whenever Ross was close, she felt a constriction in her throat, a fluttering in her chest. It didn’t exactly make for calm working conditions—but the thought of not working for Ross was completely unacceptable to her.

‘I’ll bring your coffee through in a moment,’ she told him with cool dismissal.

‘Thanks.’ He nodded. ‘Could you bring the e-mails through when you’re ready, too?’

‘Of course, Mr Valentine,’ she answered briskly, finding her usual confidence in adopting her role as his PA.

‘Oh, and Tazzy …?’ He paused before moving away.

She looked up at him with calm enquiry, deciding to ignore his slip of addressing her by her Christian name in preference to hastening his departure.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day,’ he murmured huskily, bending his head and briefly brushing his lips against hers. ‘Mmm, nice,’ he said appreciatively, hands lightly cupping each side of her face. ‘In fact, it was so nice, I think I’ll do it again,’ he added softly before his lips claimed hers a second time, a lingering kiss this time as he tasted and sipped the softness of her lips.

Tazzy was too stunned to do any more than kiss him back, her lips tingling from the touch of Ross’s, her body trembling with rising desire, breasts up-tilted as they pressed against the hardness of his chest.

Finally, when Tazzy felt as if her knees were about to give way completely, Ross raised his head to look down at her. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Tazzy,’ he murmured again before moving away to leave the room, softly closing the connecting door behind him.

Leaving Tazzy in a state of total shock!

CHAPTER TWO

WELL—!

For the second time that morning Tazzy found herself at a complete loss for words. And it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet!

She moved to sit down abruptly in her chair behind the desk, moving a hand up to tentatively touch lips that still tingled from contact with Ross’s.

Not by word or deed had he ever before stepped over that line between employer/employee. Leaving Tazzy to wonder why he should have done so now … She didn’t—

‘Tazzy, could I have the file on the Hanson hotel chain?’ Ross stood in the open doorway between their two offices, his manner completely businesslike now.

Just as if those kisses, that melting touch of his lips on Tazzy’s, had never happened!

He raised dark brows at her silence. ‘Today, if possible?’ he teased.

She stood up abruptly, inwardly urging herself to pull herself together; Ross Valentine was far from the first man to kiss her, for goodness’ sake. But at the same time, he was the first man she had ever been in love with who had kissed her!

‘Yes, of course, Mr Valentine.’ She moved to one of the filing cabinets that stood along one wall of her office.

At least, that was what she intended doing—until she sensed that Ross still stood in the doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the frame as he made no effort to hide the fact he was watching her every move.

Making Tazzy feel extremely self-conscious! ‘I’ll bring it through once I’ve found it,’ she assured him sharply.

‘Fine,’ he accepted, making no effort to move. ‘You know, Tazzy—’

‘I thought we had agreed that it was much more suitable, during our hours of working together, if we stick to Mr Valentine and Miss Darling?’ she reminded him coolly. Goodness knew it was strange enough actually working in this man’s house, without being any more familiar with each other.

She had thought it an unconventional arrangement when she’d first come for her job interview eighteen months ago, but once she had met Ross Valentine she would have agreed to work out in the garden shed!

‘As I remember it, you were the one to come up with that particular rule,’ Ross drawled. ‘Personally, I’ve always thought it sounded very unfriendly.’

‘Unfamiliar,’ Tazzy corrected briskly, at the same time whipping the appropriate file from the drawer and holding it out to him. ‘I really do think that it’s best during office hours.’

He took the file, his expression one of reproach. ‘Well, as we don’t seem to have any “out of office hours,” when do I get to call you Tazzy?’

Her eyes widened with impatience. ‘You don’t.’ That was the whole idea, for goodness’ sake!

She wasn’t sure, spending as much time as she did in his company, often travelling abroad together for several days at a time, if she would be able to cope with working for him at all if she hadn’t put up some sort of barrier of formality between them from the first.

‘I’m not sure I particularly care for that,’ he pondered.

She looked at him in exasperation. ‘Mr Valentine—’

‘Tazzy Darling?’ he came back blandly, dark brows raised in innocent query.

Her exasperation deepened. Not that she wasn’t used to her surname being the butt of jokes, had been teased about it unmercilessly ever since she’d first started school; it was just that she wasn’t used to her employer resorting to such inanity.

‘Miss Darling will do,’ she said impatiently. ‘I—’ She broke off as a knock sounded on her office door, Ross’s housekeeper opening the door seconds later to admit the man who accompanied her.

At least, Tazzy presumed it was a man. It was a little hard to tell when he—she?—was carrying the hugest bouquet of red roses Tazzy had ever seen in her life!

‘The gentleman has instructions to deliver the roses personally,’ Mrs Brown, the housekeeper, explained apologetically.

Tazzy turned accusing eyes on Ross Valentine; she knew that he dated occasionally, but none of those women seemed to last very long—which begged the question, which one of them had sent him this huge bouquet of red roses for Valentine’s Day? Honestly, it was totally out of—

‘Miss Darling?’ the delivery man prompted as he looked at her hopefully.

Tazzy turned slowly to look at the man, her tone wary as she answered him. ‘Yes …?’

The man nodded his satisfaction with her answer. ‘Then these are for you.’ He placed the bouquet into her unresisting arms. ‘Whoever he is, he must have it real bad!’ he added, giving a knowing wink in Tazzy’s direction before departing the room, Mrs Brown following behind him.

Tazzy didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Could only stare at what had to be dozens of deep red roses in her arms.

There had to have been some sort of mistake. These flowers couldn’t possibly be for her. She never received roses, on Valentine’s Day, or any other day.

But thinking of Valentine …

She glanced across at her employer, a blush warming her cheeks as she saw he was looking straight back at her, dark brows raised in a question.

That look was enough to shake Tazzy out of the daze she had lapsed into on being presented with the red roses. ‘I think there must have been some mistake, and these were meant for you.’ She grimaced as she held out the flowers to him.

Ross shook his head, making no effort to take the blood-red blooms from her. ‘He distinctly said they were for Miss Darling, and as we both know that’s you …’ He strolled over to pluck out the white card that nestled amongst the roses. ‘“To Anastasia. Much love,”’ he read out. ‘No, they’re definitely for you, Tazzy.’ He grinned teasingly. ‘As the man said, someone’s got it bad,’ he added with an appreciative glance at the dozens of roses.

To Anastasia. Much love …

The card attached to the kitten earlier this morning had read, ‘To Anastasia. With love.’ The messages were so similar that it was impossible not to wonder if the kitten and the roses hadn’t been sent to her by the same person. But if so, who could that person be?

She had no idea!

She really didn’t. Oh, several of the men she had met while travelling with Ross had flirted with her or paid her compliments, but she was certain that none of them knew her name was Anastasia.

The postman occasionally paid her a compliment when she went to the door to collect the mail from him, as did the young man from the courier service they habitually used, but as there had to be at least fifty red roses here, delivered on Valentine’s Day too, Tazzy would hazard a guess at such an extravagant gesture of love being out of either of their financial leagues. No, she really had no idea who could have sent them to her.

Neither did she appreciate their being delivered here at her place of work, in front of Ross, of all people; on today’s evidence he was going to believe there was someone serious in her life!

‘Have you been holding out on me, Miss Darling?’ Ross’s next words seemed to confirm that particular worry. ‘You aren’t thinking of leaving me in order to get married, by any chance?’ he asked.

‘Certainly not!’ Tazzy dropped the roses down onto her desktop as if she had been pricked by one of their thorns. ‘I think someone must be playing a practical joke on me,’ she excused lamely.

‘An expensive practical joke,’ Ross disagreed with a shake of his head. ‘No, Tazzy—Miss Darling,’ he corrected himself as she gave him a pointed look, ‘I think you should look at the distinct possibility that you have a secret admirer.’ He lightly touched one of the velvety soft flowers.

Then whoever it was had kept it such a secret that she didn’t have a clue as to who it could possibly be!

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped, deciding that office protocol had been broken enough for one day. ‘I have some work to do,’ she added pointedly when Ross still made no effort to leave but continued to look at her speculatively.

‘I think, Miss Darling,’ he finally murmured consideringly, ‘that you and I ought to have lunch together today in order to discuss the possibility of someone stealing you away from me, don’t you?’

She glared at him. ‘I told you, there is nothing to discuss!’

Ross shook his head. ‘I disagree.’

Oh, great, not only did she not know who was indulging in these ridiculous Valentine pranks, but now she had to try and explain it to her employer!

She gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’ll ask Mrs Brown to make us both some sandwiches.’ It would be far from the first time Tazzy had worked through her lunch-hour.

‘No, I don’t think so.’

Tazzy gave a puzzled frown. ‘You would prefer me to ask her to prepare something else?’ A cooked lunch would save her the problem of cooking for herself this evening when she got home. In view of the fact that she had to do something about the kitten, that arrangement could work out quite well.

Ross smiled as he shook his head. ‘I would prefer it if we went out somewhere to eat. What’s the name of that little place you occasionally go to with that friend of yours—Anne, isn’t it?—that sometimes calls for you here?’

‘Luigi’s?’ Tazzy supplied with a frown.

‘That’s the place!’ His smile deepened. ‘We’ll go there for lunch.’