‘You—’ Grey took her upper arm into his free hand as he stared with aggravation, and something else that wasn’t aggravation at all, right into her eyes ‘—are a very odd kind of personal assistant.’

She could have taken offence, but she didn’t. Maybe because his fingers held her arm in a gentle clasp. He might not want to admit it, but Soph thought he found her at least a little intriguing.

His eyes widened and he stepped abruptly away from her. Soph backed towards the door. She had to put distance between them before the Gremlin of Temptation struck and she said something terribly inappropriate.

Australian author Jennie Adams grew up in a rambling farmhouse surrounded by books, and by people who loved reading them. She decided at a young age to be a writer, but it took many years and a lot of scenic detours before she sat down to pen her first romance novel. Jennie is married, with two adult children, and has worked in a number of careers and voluntary positions, including transcription typist and pre-school assistant. Jennie makes her home in a small inland city in New South Wales. In her leisure time she loves long, rambling walks, starting knitting projects that she rarely finishes, chatting with friends, trips to the movies, and new dining experiences.

Jennie loves to hear from her readers, and can be contacted via her website at www.jennieadams.net

Dear Reader

Families come in all shapes and sizes. I confess I have unashamedly explored some of the motivations, behaviours and attitudes of my own broad ‘family’ as I’ve written each of my Gable sisters stories. All of that exploration is underpinned with the one special ingredient that gives us hope, holds us up and keeps us going. Love.

The Gable sisters’ journey began when middle sister Chrissy Gable butted heads with Nate Barrett as she determined to protect her elderly employer from harm in HER MILLIONAIRE BOSS, and instead fell into the love of a lifetime herself. It carried through when Bella, the eldest Gable sister, and Luc Monticelli faced their combined difficult pasts in THE ITALIAN SINGLE DAD, and were finally able to find forgiveness and healing and a future together.

Now it is Sophia Gable’s turn to find something even beyond the wonderful love of her sisters. And, indeed, Soph is set to take on the world, or at least the part of it populated by a certain wounded, grumbly and delicious employer named Grey Barlow—whether he thinks her quirky way of assisting and caring for him is outrageous or not! Grey is equally determined to protect himself from entanglements, but will his heart be able to resist the onslaught of one determined and unusual assistant?

I hope you enjoy Soph and Grey’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and in this centenary year of celebrating so many wonderful Mills & Boon stories perhaps the Gable sisters will live on in your hearts just a little, as they have in mine.

Love and hugs

Jennie

THE BOSS’S UNCONVENTIONAL ASSISTANT

BY

JENNIE ADAMS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Mark, because you always smile when I sing.

CHAPTER ONE

‘SO THIS is where a multimillionaire property developer comes for the occasional weekend away from the city.’ Sophia Gable made the observation as she drew her elderly yellow car to a stop outside Grey Barlow’s country home. ‘Or in this case it’s where he comes to recuperate from an accident.’

The house sat part way up an unspoiled section of Victorian mountainside, a large, solid structure made of slate and stone and mortar with a weathered roof of terracotta tiles. Vines twined about the veranda posts. Meadows full of wild flowers bloomed in every direction. Beyond those, snowcapped mountains rose in early spring splendour.

It was a change from the hustle and bustle of Melbourne, but Soph was adaptable. She glanced at the white flop-eared domestic rabbit that rested, nose twitching, in a deep basket strapped to the front passenger seat of the car. Alfred might also enjoy the change of scene.

Despite Soph’s efforts to remain calm, a small bout of nerves surfaced. This was a change of more than just her usual city surroundings. She sucked in a steadying breath. Her career change had been the right thing and for her first assignment she got to help a man in need, which she knew she would find fulfilling. It was all perfect. There was nothing to worry about.

Nothing except the fact that Soph had used up three of her four weeks of financial buffer zone before the We Work for You agency had given her this first posting. But the agency would see this proof of her versatility and skill and go on to send her into all sorts of varied jobs where she could help others and feel great as she did so.

Soph climbed out of the car, twitched her fluffy cerise jumper and black trousers into place and spared just a moment to admire the matching crimson ankle boots. With a cheerful expression pasted on to her face, she headed for the house and climbed the steps to the veranda.

‘You’re Sophia Gable, the assistant I acquired through the staffing agency?’ The question came as a low rumble of sound from a corner of the veranda where the speaker would have had a perfect view of Gertie the Beetle’s arrival, and Soph’s exodus from said car. ‘I thought you’d be older, less colourful.’

Was it the crimson tips in her hair? They probably looked a bit metallic in the sunlight, now Soph thought about it, but she’d wanted power hair for this fresh start. She squinted into the shadowed corner.

‘I’m Sophia, but most people call me Soph. I hope you will too, Mr Barlow.’ Despite the shadows, she could make out a cast on his arm and one foot in an ankle brace, stuck out awkwardly in front of him where he sat in an outdoor chair.

Poor fellow, but at least his injuries were temporary. ‘The position outline said clerical with a bit of housekeeping and cooking, other general duties and assistance related to your injuries as required. I want to assure you I’m prepared for all contingencies. I’ve given quite a bit of thought to how I can best assist in your recovery.’

‘You can assist by performing the required tasks and driving me places when needed. I’m certain nothing else will be necessary.’ He rapped the words out with every appearance of annoyance and even a hint of suspicion. ‘My injuries are simple, after all.’ Following this pronouncement he glared and said, ‘I’m merely dealing with a sprained ankle and a broken arm. There’s nothing at all to fuss about.’

‘That’s a very positive outlook.’ Though a bit taken aback, Soph tried to put a good spin on his grouchiness. The man may have placed his injuries last on his list of needs with the agency, but they were still needs. He might require a little coaxing to accept help with them. That was all. ‘Even so, I have lots of great ideas—’

‘Sit down, please.’ He interrupted her without compunction and gestured towards the chair opposite his. ‘At least you’re not late, but I don’t have a lot of time for pleasantries.’

Soph moved forward and got a proper look at him. ‘I thought you’d be older. It’s always the way when we anticipate meeting someone, isn’t it? We tend to imagine something quite different to the reality.’

She wondered what made him so defensive about his injuries, but didn’t have time to think about it now.

In truth, she was a little distracted. Now she could see him properly, she acknowledged that he was rather impressively packaged. Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, he had a chiselled face and stormy green eyes and not an ounce of spare flesh on him anywhere. She’d place him in his mid-thirties.

He said in a dry tone, ‘I’m sure we’ll manage to get over our mutual astonishment.’

‘Yes. I guess so.’ Despite his dryness and his wounded irritability, he had a presence. There was something compelling about him.

Soph’s pulse skittered, but she rejected her reaction. The man was a stranger, not in her social or economic set, at least a decade older than her, and her employer to boot.

When Soph chose to date, it was with average guys her own age and financial status, and she made it clear she only wanted company for an evening out or two. If they started to want a piece of her soul or anything similar, she was out of there.

One day, a long time in the future, Soph might want to choose someone more permanent from among those very ordinary men but it would have to be a relationship she could control, and she would have to feel ready.

Something told her that Grey Barlow couldn’t be ordinary or controllable if he tried. Nor did he seem the kind who would seek permanency, certainly not if it came with the picket fence she imagined she might some day want. Well, her sisters had both fallen for it.

With millionaires of their own, no less, and in spite of the trust issues they had carried, thanks to their deserting parents.

Soph hadn’t suffered like Bella and Chrissy. Her older sisters had shielded her, allowed her to live a normal and happy life after their parents had abandoned them, even when things had been at their toughest. Nope. Soph had no hang-ups, just a lot of gratitude and love and the wish that she could have done more for Chrissy and Bella in return.

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Barlow. I hope we’ll have a satisfying association while I work for you.’ This was the point. Something new and interesting to do, something which would drive away her restlessness, give her a feeling of completion, a feeling that she had contributed in a pleasing way. She simply liked to help people, and wanted more of a chance to do so.

‘The agency assured me you were the best they had to offer.’ After a brief hesitation in which he lifted his right hand, frowned in annoyance and dropped it down again, he reached out his undamaged left one.

Did he have to sound so dubious about her? Soph hoped he hadn’t got that impression from the agency itself. She reached out her left hand too. ‘I’ll do my utmost to live up to your expectations.’

The back to front handshake was firm and quickly over. It should have felt impersonal or simply awkward, but a flash of heat travelled up her arm and into her chest. She thought she saw a matching momentary reaction in his gaze.

Of course her response was a glitch, since she’d decided it wouldn’t be wise to notice him in that way.

As for him, a second glance revealed nothing but a blank mask. She had probably imagined anything else.

He began to rap out words. ‘On doctor’s orders, I’ve agreed to a break here for the next week. I concede the fresh air and change of scenery probably won’t do me any harm, although I think my doctor is being overly cautious about my…health.

‘After the week here, I’ll relocate to my town house in Melbourne. You’ll carry out your work for me at both locations.’

‘I’ll do my best to assist you.’ The town house would have a garden, a place for Alfred’s collapsible enclosure. That was a good thing. She needed to explain about Alfie, how she’d found the domestic pet abandoned, tied to a pole near her flat just last night and now needed to keep him with her.

Her employer gave a nod. ‘Aside from the duties you mentioned earlier, you’ll screen all my phone calls and turn away any person who might appear here at the house. I’ve made it clear I don’t want visitors, but some people might try to ignore that fact.’

No visitors, huh? If Soph had a broken arm and a damaged ankle, her sisters and brothers-in-law would be all over her. They’d tell her how to get better, bring her food and comfort. Actually, they’d probably insist she go to live with one or the other of them until she made a complete recovery.

She wondered about Grey Barlow’s family. Maybe he didn’t want his work colleagues or relatives to see him at less than his best. It made a proud male kind of sense. In response to this thought, she smiled at him extra kindly. ‘If anyone tries to get inside the house, I’ll be better than a Pekingese. They won’t know what’s—’

‘Bitten them?’ He finished the sentence for her and a wry smile touched his lips.

‘Do Pekingese bite? I think they just yap, don’t they?’ Soph’s heart pitter-pattered. He looked younger and more approachable when he smiled. Could she be blamed for noticing? ‘Do you have pets, Mr Barlow? You see, I have this—’

‘No, I don’t do the pet thing.’ The hint of a smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. ‘I’d find that kind of commitment restricting.’

Maybe she wouldn’t mention Alfie’s presence just yet. And definitely no picket fences on this man’s horizon if he couldn’t even cope with the thought of a pet responsibility. She’d been right about that, and it was fine with her.

‘Perhaps we could get back to our discussion of your duties?’ He sounded irritable again. ‘Although I’m incarcerated here for no good reason, I concede that I can’t physically cover ten floors of office space every day or go out to examine the construction sites in Melbourne and beyond until my ankle is better. But I will keep my finger on the pulse of the company.

‘I’ll keep in touch by electronic conferencing. I’ll also review and respond to written reports from the various departments daily.’ He paused to draw a breath. ‘You’ll type my correspondence and do any other work I hand over to you, including research.’

‘I look forward to getting started.’ Soph curved her lips into what she hoped looked a confident smile, although she began to wonder just where the ‘rest’ portion of his recovery came in if he planned to do all these things.

In any case, she wanted him to put his faith in her. ‘I’m up for any challenge this job may represent.’

‘Your positive attitude is…appreciated.’ His dark gaze roved over her, lingered on the fluffy jumper, the colourful hair. It then cut to the driveway, where Gertie the faithful Beetle sat in loaded-to-the-rafters splendour.

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally. ‘You do have the skills to perform well in these areas?’

‘I have proficient computer skills, I touch type at a speed of seventy-five words per minute, can format and edit any document as required and know my way around transcription machines.’ It didn’t matter that none of these areas had been tested beyond an evening course at the local further education college and lots of practice on the computer at home over the past months.

She’d trained for it; she was ready for it. Soph also had other skills. She hit him with all of them that she thought might be relevant. ‘I understand filing systems, both on the computer and off it. I’ve spent plenty of time running an appointments diary and handling incoming and outgoing phone calls.’ Nothing was busier than an inner city hair salon. ‘My driving record is spotless.’

That last part she threw in because no doubt they’d end up going somewhere sooner or later, even if only when they moved from here to Melbourne. Backing into a pole once on her L-plates didn’t count. ‘Um, I’ve rather a lot of stuff in my car, but I’m sure I’ll be able to fit your things in when it comes time for us to return to the city.’

‘Your vehicle will be returned to the city for you eventually. I prefer my own car so I had a driver drop me here in it.’

Oh. Right. He’d probably sent the man back in a taxi or even had a company car and driver follow him out for the purpose. ‘No problem. I enjoy the chance to drive different vehicles.’

Namely, she had driven Gertie and one other car—her brother-in-law Nate’s old restored convertible, which she still remembered with fondness. She’d worn a silk scarf around her neck and big sunglasses and pretended to be a movie star, and then she’d talked her landlady into going with her and done it all again. Fun!

‘I can spare you fifteen minutes to unload your belongings.’ He rose to his feet and hobbled towards the front door of the house. ‘Once that’s done, join me in the office. It’s the large room on the right as you come in. Your bedroom is upstairs, first on the left.’ With those words, he tugged the door open.

It was going to be like that, was it? Come help me, I’ll even pay generously for you doing so, but don’t acknowledge my injuries?

She could take care of him silently, if he wanted it that way, but Soph would perform all her duties to him.

‘Did you bring the voice recognition software package?’ He had lifted his foot off the floor, clearly because standing still on it had made it ache.

‘Yes, I collected it from the agency yesterday afternoon.’ She searched his face again. This time she looked beyond the appealing features to the weary lines around his eyes, the slight pallor of his face. Oh, yes. He needed to rest, get off that foot. Be pampered a little.

‘Bring me the software first.’ He stepped inside the door. ‘I’ll install it and get it going so I can at least send emails without your help and without having to type with one hand. Your first job will be the dictation I’ve done this morning.’

It was barely nine a.m. Soph had risen at the crack of dawn to load her car and get here on time and the man had been at work for how long already?

‘I’m happy to do whatever works best for you.’ Provided it included appropriate care of his injuries. She turned away and moved towards Gertie. ‘I’ll bring the software package straight in, then sort out everything else.’

Alfred would have to be secreted into the back garden for the moment. Soph would find the right opportunity to explain about him, but that moment didn’t seem to be now. It might be a good idea to impress her employer with her dedication and hard work for an hour or two, first.

Inside the house, a phone rang.

Soph turned back. ‘I’ll get that for you before I start to unpack.’

She preceded him into the house and followed the ringing to its source in the office. ‘Sophia Gable. Mr Barlow is unavailable at the moment. Please give me your name, phone, fax and email and the reason for your call and I’ll relay it on your behalf.’

‘Peter Coates here. I head up the architecture department of Barlow Enterprises.’ He had a friendly voice, although right now it seemed to hold a hint of long-suffering. ‘I’m returning Grey’s call. He left a message saying he wanted another update on the Mitchelmore project.’

‘I’ll find out if Mr Barlow can speak with you.’ Soph pressed the hold button and swung around.

Grey stood right behind her, closer than she had realised. Her heart did that little stutter thing again.

She thrust the phone towards him and relayed the name of the caller. ‘He says you asked for another update on the Mitchelmore project. Do you want to speak to him?’

‘Yes, I’ll take it.’ He added a muttered, ‘Some things are too important to ignore, no matter what the doctor says.’

This didn’t make a lot of sense to Soph, but she placed the phone into his hand anyway.

Grey lowered himself into his office chair in a slightly awkward manoeuvre. Soph noticed that he didn’t have a footrest under there or anything.

‘Peter.’ His attention centred immediately on his caller. ‘Do you have any further news about the zoning issues?’

Soph left him to it and scuttled outside to Gertie, grabbed the software package and hurried it back into the office. Her boss still had the phone to his ear so she left the package on the desk and raced back out to the car and a problematical but adorable rabbit.

First she would take care of Alfie and then she would start to figure out how to best look after her boss.

Collapsible rabbit cage and associated paraphernalia in one hand, Alfie in his basket in the other, Soph hurried to the back of the house. She breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted a part of the garden tucked away behind a tree and a flower border, and hidden from sight of the house by a big shed that had a mesh gate enclosing its front.

‘There’s plenty of long grass, Alfie.’ Soph tugged the collapsible enclosure upright and eased the rabbit inside, then ran to the back of the house and filled her pet’s water container.

She set down the water and a bowl full of pellet supplement from the five kilogram bag she’d scrounged from a neighbour. It was just as well she knew someone with guinea pigs and that rabbits ate the same supplement. Soph placed a blanket over part of the cage for shade.

Between the friendly single mum and Joe the mechanic, who had the cage from days gone by, Soph had her bases covered. Without these things, she didn’t know how she would have fed and housed Alfred, but she would have made it work somehow. She didn’t walk away from anyone who needed or relied on her.

Not like her parents had done, but that was long ago.

Soph returned to the car and unloaded the remainder of her things. It took several trips. She didn’t travel light and she’d brought a few things especially with her employer in mind. But she hurried, and soon presented herself in the office in time to hear Grey snarl a string of words into a headset. He then glared daggers at the resulting words as they appeared on his computer screen.

‘I dropped by the kitchen. Did you want anything specific for lunch today?’ A brief inventory had revealed staples—healthy enough ingredients, but nothing fancy. Fortunately, she’d brought her own extras so they wouldn’t have to be bored on the food front.

Her boss drew the headphones off and tossed them on to the desk. ‘You can make sandwiches or something at twelve-thirty. Meanwhile—’ he gestured to the second desk ‘—you’ll sit there. Work your way through the tapes in the order they’re in the tray. You’ll email the correspondence to me to look over. Once I’m happy with it, you’ll fax or email each item as directed.’

‘Yes, Mr Barlow.’ Soph took the first tape and fitted it into the player on the second desk but she didn’t immediately sit down.

‘Grey will do.’ He turned away, retrieved his headset and started to growl again. He interspersed the words with occasional irritated clicks of his computer mouse and one-handed typing.

It seemed the new voice program and he hadn’t fully come to an understanding as yet.

Soph left the room, pulled a soft scatter cushion from one of the big squishy chairs in the living room and carried it back into the office. She grabbed two reams of copy paper from a box in the corner and, armed with packets of paper and cushion, dropped to her hands and knees beside his desk and edged underneath. ‘Okay, I’m ready. Lift your foot and I’ll scoot all this under.’

He didn’t respond immediately and Soph wiggled a little. The floor felt hard beneath her knees, despite the curves on the rest of her.

A hiss of breath followed and then some muffled words that sounded like, ‘Anything to get you out from under there.’ He lifted his foot.

Soph gently moved the paper packages and cushion into place. ‘Try that and let me know if it’s soothing at all.’

‘Soothed is not the word that comes to my mind right now.’ He spoke in a controlled tone that, oddly, sent delicious warmth in a cascade down her spine. But he lowered his foot.

When he said nothing more, Soph assumed all was well—the first strike at looking after him went to her. She wiggled out from under the desk and got to her feet, dusting her trouser legs although she suspected a cleaner had been through here recently.

‘I’d be happy if you’d place your bottom in your chair now, Sophia, and keep it there.’ His eyes glittered and he seemed to almost grind his teeth before he looked away. ‘Quite a lot of that correspondence is urgent.’

Soph stared at the back of his beautifully shaped head as sensual awareness belatedly impinged on her consciousness. Heat rushed into her face. That was the reason for his indrawn hiss of breath a moment ago? He’d been watching her bottom wiggle?

With a muttered agreement, Soph hurriedly took up her workload.

CHAPTER TWO

AS THE hours passed Soph learned a number of things. Her new employer knew how to churn out work. The phone wasn’t about to stop ringing simply because she needed to concentrate, and Grey had three stepmothers who all seemed determined to demand his attention. Three!

At twelve-thirty Soph handed her boss the latest phone message, from Leanna Barlow:

‘I’m his stepmother, dear. I hope he’s feeling all right? Good, good. I also need to touch base with him and…um…talk to him about a little problem I have with my credit cards…’

The message followed similar ones from Sharon Barlow and Dawn Barlow, who had both bemoaned Grey’s absence from Melbourne and his idea that he should isolate himself completely in the country for the first phase of his recovery.

They had then said they respectively wanted to—Sharon—use his yacht for a three-month cruise and—Dawn—use the plane the company chartered to fly to Greece because there was this expo on for the next week and a half—something to do with hand-crafted table decorations.

Grey ignored all the messages and carried on with his work.

Soph wanted to get chatty and ask about his family, but refrained. She did, however, help herself to a piece of paper she spotted tucked half under a pile of files on his desk as she stood there after passing him the latest message.

‘Is this your physio outline?’ Exercises he hadn’t done all morning? ‘I can help you with the routine now. It’s lunch time, so we’re due for a break anyway.’

‘I’ll do the exercises before I join you for the meal.’ He held his hand out for the piece of paper. ‘That will give you time to organise some food.’

Soph pretended not to notice his outstretched hand and, instead, walked to the photocopier in the corner of the room and made a copy of the regimen. She then passed the original back to him and disappeared into the kitchen with her page before he could say anything. She studied it as she went.

While the soup heated, Soph rushed out to the back garden via the laundry room door. Alfie was fine, but clearly wanted to play, and to come back inside with her. When she spoke his name—made up when she’d found him because she’d thought he looked like an Alfred and he had had no identification on him—he twitched his nose as though he liked to hear it.

Soph smiled at the thought and gave him as much time as she dared, then returned inside alone. It still didn’t seem a good idea to bring the topic of the rabbit up with her boss.

Grey hobbled into the kitchen moments after she got there.

‘The food is almost ready.’ She gestured towards the table. ‘Please, have a seat.’

He sniffed the air. ‘What can I smell? Sandwiches would have done. There’s shaved double-smoked ham in the fridge, cheese, pickles.’

‘It’s soup. I made it last night.’ Her sisters said her cooking efforts were legendary for all the wrong reasons. Her brothers-in-law agreed, but Soph thought they all just liked to tease her.

After all, she ate her creations and couldn’t discern anything wrong with them. ‘I hope you like roast pumpkin with some other vegetables blended in. I’ve flavoured it with curry paste, Italian herb blend and vanilla bean. I’ll make toasted sandwiches to follow.’

‘I see.’ He lowered himself into a chair and again his weariness showed. ‘It sounds…interesting.’

‘Yes, exactly. Spices add variety to life,’ she said, deliberately rewording the usual saying and smiled at him, then carried the mugs of soup to the table and placed one in front of him before she took her seat opposite. ‘You need good food to help you get well.’

‘Healthy food and quiet surroundings, fresh air and rest and a complete break from all stressors.’ Her employer seemed to quote the words verbatim. No doubt the admonitions had come from his doctor, although it did sound a little over-the-top for these simple injuries.

Grey certainly should get some rest, though, yet had he slowed his workload? If he had, she hated to imagine what it was like normally.

Lips pursed, he took a tentative sip of the orange brew. His nose wrinkled and he sniffed it a second time. Another sip followed, and he frowned and poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the table and quickly drank.

‘I’m glad you understand the concept of rest to help you get better.’ Even if he wasn’t following it very well as far as she could see.

He gave her a sharp glance across the table, but Soph maintained a serene, silent pose. Her boss may not realise it yet, but he really did need her. To chivvy him along, watch out for him.

With a smile still hovering, Soph tasted the soup. Oh, yes, lovely job. She lifted her gaze and waited, eyebrows raised, for him to express his opinion.

Grey cleared his throat. ‘You say you made the soup yourself, especially to bring here?’

‘Yes. Last night. It took a couple of hours, but I wanted to get you off to a good start, and I figured there might not be time to make it today once I got here.’ She had certainly been right about that.

His shoulders shifted in a gesture that seemed to reflect a mental discomfort rather than a physical one. Then, with a deep breath, he raised his soup mug and drank it all down. His eyes sparkled and a flush rose in his cheeks as he set the mug back on the table.

Sunshine broke out all over Soph’s world. She had harboured just the tiniest seed of doubt, but he didn’t know about that and had gulped her food with alacrity anyway.

‘You liked it.’ Pleasure and a hint of gratitude filled her voice. Grey Barlow liked her soup! Soph buried her nose in her mug to hide her grin.

‘It was…very tasty.’ He drank more water.

The water would also benefit him. Soph nodded her approval. Somewhere sweet and warm inside her couldn’t help but soften towards him. They had tastes in common—culinary ones at least—even if he felt a little shy about expressing his compliments to her.

Well, it was probably fine to like him, provided none of those other initial responses resurfaced.

When they finished the toasted sandwiches minutes later, she turned a determined gaze on him. ‘It’s time to do the physio exercise you can’t do by yourself. I’ve looked at the sheet and, if you don’t do it, you’ll miss one of the most helpful exercises on the list. You did do the rest, didn’t you?’

‘I did, and it’s not convenient to do more right now. I have work waiting.’ His lips stopped just shy of a manly pout. ‘Besides, I’ve already replaced the brace and laced it up.’

‘You shouldn’t have done that, either.’ Soph got to her feet and did not think about how kissable his lips might be, shaped in just that particular way.

He wasn’t at all adorable in his prickly splendour, either. He was stubborn and far too protective of his personal space when he’d hired her to get right in it. That was the fact of the matter. ‘Not unless you tied the laces one-handed.’

She searched the kitchen drawers until she found a cloth long enough to suit her purposes. ‘Shall we go? You said you’re in a hurry.’

On those words she bustled into the sitting room before he could argue and hoped he would simply follow. The boss-man needed a little bossing of his own.

‘Why don’t you sit there, on the sofa?’ Sophia gestured without looking at Grey, for all the world as though she hadn’t just ordered him about in his own home. Albeit a second home he visited less often than he would like, when he managed to eke out some free time to climb in the nearby mountains.

Grey wasn’t accustomed to taking orders. He wasn’t accustomed to having his statements ignored, either. He wanted to be able to scale those mountains too, not be stuck just looking at them when he glanced out of the windows. ‘I did say I don’t have time for this.’

‘I know, but we’re here now and it will only take a couple of minutes.’ She blinked guileless sherry-coloured eyes at him.

The lashes were ridiculously long. If he held her to him, cheek to cheek, those lashes would brush his skin. ‘Fine, do your worst. Just get on with it.’

‘First I’ll have to unlace the ankle brace and remove it.’ She waited expectantly.

Grey sat. Controlling her was like trying to trap light in a bottle. He had no idea how to manage her exuberance.

Sophia sat beside him, so close their thighs pressed together. Necessary, he knew, but the knowledge didn’t stop him from tensing as his body catalogued every nuance of that touch, reacted to it and wanted more of it.

She had golden skin and a soft, slender neck, her face a perfect oval with winged brows and a straight little nose and full, generous lips that were right out of a man’s fantasy. His gaze caught on those lips, caught on the smile that lingered there even now.

With a murmured word, Sophia leaned down and made quick work of removing the brace. When finished, she turned that megawatt smile on him again. The breath she drew held just enough of a hitch to tell him she wasn’t unaware of their closeness.

‘There.’ She lifted her hand and almost patted his leg. Almost, before she snatched her wandering appendage back. ‘The brace is off. Let’s get started with the exercise, shall we?’

‘By all means, let’s complete the physio routine.’ Grey didn’t want assistance with his physiotherapy. He didn’t want to be incarcerated in the countryside for the next week either, but Doc Cooper had some bug in his brain that Grey could be on the road to serious trouble.

All because a few readings had come in high on the scale after the accident—it was silly! Just because Grey’s mother had died young of a heart attack, no apparent trigger, and his father had had high cholesterol and high everything else before he, too, had died.

Okay, those weren’t silly, but Grey looked after himself. ‘Bloody doctor probably doesn’t know what he’s on about, anyway.’

‘Your exercises seem sensible to me,’ Sophia offered with a slightly confused look.

Grey ignored it and instead noted the way her hair cupped her face and neck.

Her body was all sweet curves. The sight of her bottom as it had wiggled about beneath his desk had almost made him moan, and Grey wasn’t someone to be affected easily by a woman.

Not unless he chose to be, and never involuntarily. Yet he’d noticed Sophia.

‘How does that feel?’ Her mouth formed the words and Grey could imagine her lips beneath his, lush and generous.

He didn’t want to, damn it.

Because Sophia Gable wasn’t only fluffy and colourful and capable of making a soup that truly defied description; she was a girl some man would take home to his mother. Grey didn’t take women anywhere, other than to bed. He stayed away from the kind who wouldn’t understand that.

As for the idea of him taking a woman to meet his three stepmothers? What a concept.

‘Grey? Your foot?’ Sophia spoke as though to prompt a child. ‘I’m trying not to hurt you.’

‘You’re not hurting me, and you won’t.’ Injuries aside, she had no power to hurt him in other ways. No woman did. Grey had seen to that, yet he wondered at his need to voice the knowledge aloud. Another thought followed.

He could hurt Sophia Gable without trying.

Grey was a hard man, toughened by years in a cutthroat business world. Hardened by his upbringing, too, although that truly was history, aside from the ongoing legacy of his late father’s three bored and at times self-indulgent past wives. He had let himself love them as surrogate mothers, one after another, until he’d finally realised the futility and refused to love anyone at all.

Sophia Gable was too gentle for him, soft and young. She looked as though she would care about anyone who gave her half a chance, and would expect them to care for her in return. Such women were made for marriage—an institution Grey respected when it worked, but would never enter into.

Why hadn’t he dismissed her completely from his awareness, then? Why did the curiosity, the interest, remain?

‘I appreciate your trust in me.’ She misread the meaning behind his words. Luminous eyes smiled at him. ‘My middle sister Chrissy broke two toes once, when we decided to rearrange the furniture in our apartment and she didn’t have her glasses on.’

A chuckle escaped. ‘That was a few years ago, but boy, did Bella, the eldest, get uptight. We all live separately now, but we had some fun times.’

For a moment he thought she looked just the tiniest bit sad, but she went on to work on his ankle, and to prattle about her life in Melbourne, and the thought faded.

A picture of a close-knit family emerged. Two elder sisters, one with a stepdaughter, the other with a nine-month-old baby named Anastasia. The husbands of those sisters. An elderly grandfather they all seemed to have taken to their hearts.

How would it feel to have a family like that? Grey couldn’t begin to imagine. He realised her chatter had died away and she had released his ankle.

‘Are you done already?’ The woman had talked to distract him while she’d put him through the requisite number of stretches. It had worked, and they’d been perfectly undisturbed the whole time. He even felt something close to relaxed—almost sleepy, actually.

Doc Cooper would be pleased.

Grey shuffled the sarcastic thought aside. He had goals to focus on. ‘It’s a wonder the phone hasn’t rung several times by now.’

‘It probably has. I put it on silent ring and sent it to the answering service before I left to make our lunch.’ She didn’t lift her head as she replaced and laced the exoform brace.

His relaxed mood frayed. ‘I need to know of all incoming phone calls the moment they occur. I have a company to control.’ He leaned forward and gave her the benefit of his displeased expression. ‘There could have been something urgent.’ One project in particular had issues right now and could cost him upward of three million dollars if it crashed and burned.

Her gaze locked with his, caught in the glare of his anger. ‘I’m sorry. I thought lunch time would be a break from all of that. I’ll check the messages now.’

The woman sounded disappointed in herself and her mouth looked vulnerable, as it had when she’d watched and waited to see if he liked her bizarrely flavoured soup. It might have grown on him, he supposed, but how could he know for certain? His taste buds had imploded after the first two sips.

Another urge overcame Grey now. For a scant moment in time, he thought of kissing her uncertainties away. Maybe he revealed something of that thought as he looked at her because her gaze flared from curiosity to interest.

Of its own volition, Grey’s body leaned towards hers. She copied his action before she stopped abruptly.

‘I’ll turn the coffee on to brew before I check the messages. I prepared it earlier so it’s only a matter of flicking a switch.’ She removed herself from beside him, didn’t stop until she stood half a room away.

With her hands clasped in front of her she cleared her throat. ‘I assume you’d like coffee?’

‘One cup.’ Damn the doctor’s orders. ‘Not too strong, plenty of milk.’ Grey forced aside other wants—unacceptable wants that had nothing to do with coffee. It must be the country air addling his brain. Not that he’d breathed any of it except for this morning when he’d waited those few minutes on the veranda for Sophia to arrive.

Well, country air or simply the closeness of a woman—he had reacted on instinct, no thought involved. Now he had to engage his brain to override those instincts. Sophia Gable was not someone he should mess with.

‘You could take a nap instead of going straight back to work.’ She fidgeted from one foot to the other, burned into action, perhaps, by his glare.

‘I’m keeping off the foot as much as I can.’ Yes, he’d felt better, but, considering his injuries, that was to be expected. ‘And I’ll turn in at a decent hour tonight.’ Those were the only concessions he would give, and ‘decent hour’ was a relative term.

She sighed. ‘Coffee it is, then.’

Soph did indeed sigh, and repeated the sigh as she hesitated before she left the room. She didn’t want to irritate her employer, truly she didn’t. Rather, she wanted to help him, to be of assistance, to contribute appropriately to the working relationship. He didn’t make that easy. Nor did the way she reacted when in close proximity to him.

‘Are you resting well at night?’ She tried not to picture him in that big bed in the master suite and, yes, she had peeped into the room when she’d first arrived. So sue her.

Grey shook his head, whether as a statement of his lack of rest or resistance to her questions, she couldn’t have said. ‘Perhaps we should concentrate on you, Sophia, and your tendency to make arbitrary decisions about my care without consulting me.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’m not accustomed to that kind of behaviour in my employees.’

‘I won’t do the phone thing again.’ Why did she get all shivery when he put on his growly voice? She pushed the question aside. Maybe it was simply chilly today or something.

And he was annoyed with her. She should think about that. ‘You see, I thought you wanted me to take care of all those things, but that you didn’t want either of us to acknowledge my efforts openly.’

When he didn’t appear to understand, she went on. ‘I thought your pride was stung and, although that would actually be silly, I would still be willing to work with it but you would have to reciprocate. I must be able to take proper care of you.’

Her voice tightened at the end of that statement, because it mattered, blast him. She wanted to succeed at the job. And yes, fine, maybe she also needed to feel useful and know she was giving back, not just receiving. It was called a community consciousness, and lots of people had it.

Certainly it was nothing to do with him personally, or with the fact that he attracted her just a little.

She turned her focus back to what mattered, and cut him a glare to make it clear she meant business right now. ‘The alternative is that I do nothing at all for you. That’s not acceptable to me.’

‘I’m not embarrassed by my injuries.’ Even as he said it, a faint tinge of colour came into his cheeks.

Soph raised her gaze farther and got caught in deep-green eyes that seemed to hold surprise, a hint of unease, and something else.

‘I’ll play back the phone messages while you make the coffee. If anything’s gone amok, I’ll just have to fix it.’ Most of his anger was gone now.

She was glad that he was prepared to let the matter go.

The deep mellow tone of his voice raised goose flesh on her skin despite the distance between them, despite her lofty resolutions. That wasn’t so great.

As though he, too, felt it, he shook his head. ‘Take a few minutes to pre-plan what we’ll eat for dinner tonight.’ Oh, prosaic words, but his gaze held a different story. ‘Perhaps a casserole, so it can cook while we work.’ He made his suggestion without meeting her gaze. ‘There’s a pre-set function on the oven.’

Broad shoulders and slender hips receded from her view while Soph stood there, silent. She told herself to wake up, stop watching, to resist the lure of an interest that couldn’t be allowed to grow.

Already she liked him, was intrigued by him, felt more towards him than she should. That had to stop.

Grey buried himself in work for the rest of the afternoon. He seemed intent on maintaining distance. Those two things were good, Soph decided as she clacked away on the computer keyboard and assured herself that that earlier aberration of feeling was now firmly in the past.

While Grey scattered his emails about the universe, Soph worked her tail off on his tapes.

‘I need to check on the casserole now.’ She took a deep breath and suggested he sit on the veranda in the sunshine. ‘It won’t last much longer, and Vitamin D is good for you. Or is it Vitamin E? Whichever is right, just give it ten minutes. That’s all I’ll need, and I’ll bet it makes you feel good.’

He muttered under his breath as he hobbled out there, taking his dictation recorder with him, but he went. Soph managed the food issues in seven minutes and spent the other three with a lonely and disgruntled Alfie.

‘Taking a “smoko” break?’ Grey asked from the kitchen when she rushed back inside. She almost jumped out of her skin.

‘I’m certainly not. I don’t do that. That is, my sisters would have flayed me if I’d ever decided to try it, and once I grew up I didn’t want to anyway.’ She snapped her jaws shut before any more babble could escape.

‘I just took a breath of fresh air.’ Soph sidled inside. He couldn’t have seen Alfie’s cage, even if he had looked all the way through and out the laundry room door. She moved to step past him and return to the office. ‘You don’t smell cigarette smoke on me, do you?’

What a dumb question. Did she want him to grab her and sniff her hair, her clothing? Not to mention that would be far too close for comfort—witness the problems she’d had after lunch when she’d helped him do ankle stretches.

‘You smell like flowers,’ he pronounced and turned his back and started towards the office once more. ‘I don’t need to get close again to know that.’

Well, certainly not, and no doubt he didn’t want to get close, either. She was simply the hired help, and short-term help at that.

So not in his league, Sophia.

He wasn’t in hers, either.

Nope. Grey Barlow was not ordinary, not a safe bet.

Yet he had noticed the subtle scent she wore. Soph had only dabbed the tiniest bit behind each ear and on her wrists before she’d left home this morning.

So what? She had simply leaned too close to him on the sofa. He couldn’t help but smell her perfume, and probably didn’t even like it.

‘The casserole is doing nicely.’ She needed to get back to matters at hand. ‘It’s a curry, since you enjoy spicy food. I’ll serve rice pilaf with it.’ As though he would even care, but the silence yawned and Soph talked on. ‘You…you smell quite nice, yourself.’

That stopped her, even if it was a little late. With a sharp breath she bustled past him and subsided into her office chair. From then on she focused her attention on her work!

She did, however, draw the line at six o’clock. With a determined air she shut down her computer and tidied the remaining work on her desk. Then she faced her employer and waited until he gave up on whatever he was typing one-handed and lifted his head reluctantly to look at her.

‘It’s after six o’clock. You must have worked since at least seven this morning to churn out so many tapes before I got here. That’s an eleven hour day and far more than you should take on.

‘Would you like your bath before or after dinner, and would you like me to shut down your computer for you while you make your way to the living room and start your next set of physio exercises?’ She asked it all in one stream of words and then waited, arms crossed in front of her.

‘There’s still work for me to do before I finish for the day.’ He gestured towards the computer screen.

‘I think your company can probably survive without your input until tomorrow morning.’ Most of the employees would have gone home by now, wouldn’t they? ‘Unless you work your people in around-the-clock shifts, none of this is going anywhere at this hour, anyway.’

‘Be that as it may…’ he started.

‘I’ll just help you with this.’ Soph leaned across, saved his email into his drafts folder, clicked out of the program and shut his computer off.

He made a half startled, half disbelieving sound and pushed his chair back. It had the unfortunate result that his shoulder brushed against the inside of her outstretched arm and across her breast.

Soph froze. He froze. And then they both hurriedly shifted away from each other.

He got to his feet, swung to face her, wincing as he did so, and the movement put pressure on his ankle. He cradled his arm against his body.

Irritated green sparks shot at her from his eyes.

‘Don’t bother to say anything.’ She held up her hand. ‘You left me no other choice.’

Had the man heard of backing off a little, rather than needing to be right in the thick of everything that happened in his working world? Yes, he appeared to have a project in trouble, but what about all the reports that things were going perfectly well in other departments? Did he really need to be so hands-on and go into such detail with all of that?

Soph poked a finger into the air in front of him. ‘Your ankle is causing you pain. For the last two hours you’ve favoured your arm. I suspect it should be in a sling, but would you answer me when I asked about either of those things earlier? No. I got the death glare while you continued to speak into Bear Growling.’

‘Bear Growling?’ He stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose.

The intensity in his gaze made her catch her breath. ‘I…uh…it’s how I think of your voice program.’

Because he had a gorgeous growly voice that she would like to listen to, snuggled at his side…

No. She wanted no such thing.

Irritation crept through his tone even now. ‘It’s not my fault the voice program doesn’t work properly. I trained it at the start, exactly as instructed.’

‘Yes, but did you snarl at the time, because if you didn’t, it wouldn’t recognise snarl-speak now, would it?’ Soph said absently, still caught in the thought of having him growl just for her. When she realised what she had said and glanced at his face, she almost laughed at the look of surprise there.

‘You—’ he took her upper arm into his free hand as he stared with aggravation and something else that wasn’t aggravation at all, right into her eyes ‘—are a very odd kind of personal assistant.’

She could have taken offence but she didn’t. Maybe because his fingers held her arm in a gentle clasp and stroked lightly. The bear might not want to admit it, but Soph thought he found her at least a little intriguing.

His eyes widened and he stepped abruptly away from her. Soph backed towards the door. She had to put distance between them before the Gremlin of Temptation struck and she said something terribly inappropriate. Like, Grey, I really notice you as a man even though I’ve decided it’s not a good idea to do so, and it’s clear you’re appalled that you’ve noticed me.

Instead, Soph went for the most prosaic words she could come up with. ‘Will you come into the kitchen? I’ll tape a bag over your cast so it doesn’t get damaged if you accidentally splash it while you’re bathing.’ She blocked her mind to all thoughts of her employer in the bathtub!

‘I’ll cope without a bag on the arm.’ He just said so instantly, unequivocally, and turned away.

Soph didn’t feel the least disappointed in this further example of his resistance to her care. The attraction side of it was irrelevant, of course. Hmph. But what could she do if he wouldn’t accept her help?

‘I’ll get on with dinner, then. I still have a side dish to prepare to go with the curry.’ She turned her back, busied herself in the kitchen and didn’t look around again until she heard water running upstairs. At least she had the healthy food aspect well in hand.

Soph donned protective mitts and drew the casserole out of the oven, removed the lid, then discarded the mitts and gave the contents of the dish a vigorous stir.

She and her employer just had some random chemical reaction going on between them. No doubt it would go away through lack of a receptive audience. On either side!

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