Buttoned-Up Secretary, British Boss. Susanne James
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over his interview with Sabrina Gold again, he realized that she was going to be very different from Janet. For one thing, Janet was a grandmother obsessed with her family and their new babies, while Sabrina was young and, from what he’d gathered from their conversation, lived with a sister, free of any emotional ties. That had to be a good thing, he thought—no commitments which might stand in the way of her work and their business association.
Feeling restless, as he often did when beginning to reach the end of a novel, he decided to go for a stroll before settling back down to do some more work later.
It was a delightfully soft, still, warm evening as he wandered along the pavement towards the local park at the end of the road, and he suddenly thought nostalgically of his wonderful home in France. With some luck he could arrange to be there by the end of October. He’d only managed two quick visits so far this year, he reminded himself ruefully, so he might even try and stay on over Christmas this time. That thought definitely appealed, because it would mean avoiding family and all the tedious joie de vivre that always took over the festive season. He could make the excuse that he was already committed to his next book and needed space and solitude.
His luxurious place abroad filled his mind. It was a large converted barn, standing almost alone amongst vines and olive groves, and in his absence safely watched over by his near-neighbours Marcel and Simone. Its large swimming pool, always warm and soothing, was surrounded by an expansive patio where on placid evenings he and some local friends would share freshly baked baguettes, sip wine from local vineyards, savour home-grown olives steeped in garlic-flavoured oil and just talk and let time slip by.
It was nearly dark as he wandered, lost in thought, through the almost-deserted park. He nearly fell over a courting couple lying on the grass. He stepped away quickly, muttering an awkward apology. But he needn’t have bothered. They were oblivious to anything but themselves, their intertwined bodies and audible cries demonstrating the erotic pleasure of their coupling.
For some reason which he couldn’t explain, a peculiar sadness came over Alexander for a few seconds. Those two were so young, so in love. He looked back to his own youth and the women he’d known. It seemed such a long time ago, another time, another country. Why had he indulged in no-strings-attached affairs for so long? Why had he never wanted true commitment? Was he that selfish? Had his disastrous relationship with Angelica put him off for ever? For heaven’s sake, that was nearly ten years ago.
When he got back home he poured a fresh glass of whisky, then flung himself down on his bed. Ten minutes’ sleep would do him good, he thought, before he returned to the study and perhaps the conclusion of that penultimate chapter which was worrying him.
Almost immediately, he fell into a deep sleep. A sleep filled with unbelievably colourful dreams which made his head move restlessly from side to side, his lips forming incomprehensible murmurings.
He was lying naked beside the beautiful, unclothed body of a woman. To his amazed delight, she was responding to his passionate advances with uninhibited ardour as she encouraged him to caress her body, her slender limbs, her cool, smooth breasts…When he knelt over her and possessed her completely, she parted her moist lips to receive the warmth of his mouth, the urgent thrust of his tongue…
Suddenly, he awoke and sprang up into a sitting position, his brow beaded with sweat. What the hell was that all about? What had set those particular bells ringing? This wasn’t like him! He couldn’t begin to remember the last time his emotions had been stirred with such an erotic, white-hot passion, either consciously or subconsciously.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stripped off his clothes and went into the bathroom. What he needed now was a long, very cold shower, he told himself.
Because in that so-immediate dream, the woman he had been making such intense love to had been unmistakable. She had been small with long, fair hair, unpolished fingernails and green, green eyes like those of an enchanting cat.
Chapter Two
JUST after eight o’clock the following morning, wearing black trousers and a grey-and-white pin-striped shirt, Sabrina found herself standing once again outside number thirteen. Just as she was about to ring the bell, the door was thrust open and she came face to face with a short, grey-haired, middle-aged woman who was just coming out of the house, a couple of carrier bags in her hands.
‘Oh, hi…’ Sabrina began uncertainly, and the woman moved back for the girl to enter.
‘Miss Gold? Ah. Mr McDonald left a note saying I might see you. I’m Maria, his daily—or his three-times-a-week, I should say.’ She smiled. ‘I haven’t seen him this morning. He isn’t up yet—probably getting over a heavy night!’
‘Oh, I see,’ Sabrina said, slightly taken aback. From yesterday’s phone call, she’d imagined him to be an early riser. Shouldn’t he already be hard at work and ready to spell out his instructions for the day?
‘Anyway, go on up to the study—he said you knew where it was,’ Maria said. ‘I don’t expect he’ll be too long. By the way, the kitchen’s just along there in the hall, first door on the right. Have some coffee, why don’t you?’ She paused, smiling again. ‘Make yourself at home—and good luck!’
With that, Maria departed, leaving Sabrina feeling like some sort of intruder.
She decided against making herself acquainted with Alexander McDonald’s kitchen just yet. Anyway, she’d had her usual light breakfast of cereal, yoghurt and honey and wouldn’t need any coffee for a while. There was no sound at all in the house and for some reason Sabrina felt distinctly embarrassed to think of her employer tucked up in bed. As she trod lightly up the stairs, she wondered which room he was still sleeping in, whether it was one of those on the next floor. Trying to contain her thoughts, she reached his study and went inside.
The place was a total shambles. The rug on the floor had been pushed at a slightly drunken angle, and numerous books on the desk were scattered everywhere haphazardly, only just making room for three empty, stained coffee-mugs. Two baskets on the floor alongside were full of crumpled, screwed-up paper, and there seemed to be dust everywhere; Sabrina could see its lazy motes moving and shifting in the shafts of strong sunlight streaming in from the windows. She made a face to herself. This room was obviously out of bounds to Maria, she thought. It also felt over-warm and stuffy; impulsively she went over and unlatched one of the windows, throwing it wide open to let in some fresh air. She didn’t know how long she would survive in this atmosphere.
Glancing down, she saw that the long, narrow garden was laid out in a strip of lawn, and here and there were clusters of stone pots filled with bright-red geraniums.
‘Good morning.’
Alexander’s voice made her turn quickly—she hadn’t heard him come in—and immediately her pulse quickened as she looked up at him. He was wearing chinos and a black shirt, his hair roughly brushed and still damp from his shower. His face was unshaven, the line of dark stubble along his chin drawing Sabrina’s helpless gaze to the seductive black hair just visible beneath his open-necked shirt. He came over to stand next to her and stared down, his dark, sensuous eyes trapping her enquiring green ones for a second.
‘Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you on your first morning,’ he said, swallowing. The memory of last night’s fantasy was still vivid, and uppermost in his mind. How was he going to rid himself of it and act normally? he thought briefly. He straightened his shoulders.
‘I didn’t get to bed until very late last night—well, it was early this morning, actually,’ he added. ‘But I have to keep going until I’m satisfied that I’ve got things right, whatever the hour. Not that it worked this time, I’m afraid,’ he added.
Sabrina frowned briefly, not knowing how to respond to that remark. She moved away from him and went towards her own desk.
‘Well, sometimes a new day can bring fresh ideas?’ she suggested, cross at the way her cheeks had flushed at being alone with Alexander McDonald. She hadn’t felt this way yesterday at the interview. But that