The Heiress's Secret Baby. Jessica Gilmore
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to sort out your laundry and...’ she swallowed but kept her gaze and voice firm ‘...you remain fully dressed and act appropriately at all times. Understood?’
Gabe’s mouth quirked. ‘Of course,’ he murmured.
‘Good.’ She pushed the door open.
This was it, this was where the magic happened.
Polly blinked as she stepped out. They had entered the home furnishings department on the top floor and the lights were switched to full, purposely dazzling to best showcase the silks, cushions, throws, ceramics, silverware and all the other luxury items Rafferty’s told their customers were essential for a comfortable home. Beneath them were floors and galleries devoted to technology, books, toys, food and, of course, fashion.
Polly’s heart swelled and she clenched her fists. She was home.
And yet everything had changed. She had changed.
She had hoped that being back would ground her again but it was odd walking through the galleries with Gabe. If her staff greeted her with their usual respect, they greeted him with something warmer.
And how on earth did he know every name after what? Three or four weeks?
‘Bonjour, Emily.’ Polly narrowed her eyes at him as they entered the world-famous haberdashery room. Had his accent thickened as he greeted the attractive redhead who had turned the department into the must-go destination for a new generation of craft lovers?
‘How is your cat? Did the operation go well?’ He had moved nearer to Emily, smiling down at her intimately.
Polly’s head snapped round. No way. He knew the names of every staff member and all about the health of their pets too?
‘Yes, thank you, Mr Beaufils, she’s desperate to go outside but she’s doing really well.’ Emily was smiling back, her voice a little breathy.
‘They can be such a responsibility, non? I ’ave...’
Had he just dropped an aitch? Really? Polly had known him for what, an hour? And she already knew perfectly well that Gabe spoke perfect, almost accentless English. Unless, it seemed, he was talking to petite redheads. She coughed and could have sworn she saw a glimmer of laughter in the depths of his almost-black eyes as he continued.
‘I ’ave been looking after Mademoiselle Rafferty’s cat for the last few weeks. He is a rascal, that one. Such a huge responsibility.’
‘They are,’ Emily said earnestly, her huge eyes fixed on his. ‘But worth it.’
‘Oui, the way they purr. So trusting.’
That was it. Polly felt ill just listening. ‘So greedy,’ she said briskly. ‘And so prone to eviscerating small mammals under the bed. If you’re ready, Gabe, shall we continue? Nice work,’ she said to Emily, unable to keep a sarcastic tone from her voice. ‘Keep it up.’ And without a backwards glance she swept from the department.
* * *
It had been an interesting morning. Gabe was well aware that he had been well and truly sized up, tested and judged. What the verdict was he had no idea.
Nor, truth be told, was he that interested. He had his own weighing up to do.
Tough, but not as tough as she thought. Surprisingly stylish for someone who lived and breathed work; the sharp little suit she was wearing would pass muster in the most exclusive streets in Paris—unusual for an Englishwoman. He liked how she wasn’t afraid of her height, accentuating it with heels, the blonde hair swept up into a knot adding an extra couple of centimetres.
And she wasn’t going to give him an inch. The solution to the offices was masterful. It was going to be fun working with her.
He loved a good game.
Gabe strode through the foyer, smiling at Rachel as she looked up with a blush. Maybe he should have gone a little easier on the flirting. He wouldn’t make that mistake with his own assistant—he would request a guy or, even better, a motherly woman who would keep all unwanted callers away and feed him home-made cake. He made a note to keep an eye on the ‘interests’ section of any applicants’ CVs.
He opened the door to Polly’s office without knocking; after all they were sharing it.
‘This is going to be fun,’ he said as Polly looked up from her computer screen, trying unsuccessfully to hide her irritation at the interruption. ‘Roomies, housemates. We should take a road trip too, complete the set.’
Bed mates would really make it a full hand but he wasn’t going to suggest that. Totally inappropriate. But, despite himself, his eyes wandered over her face, skimming over the smattering of freckles high on her cheeks, the wide mouth, the pointed little chin. She kissed like she spoke—with passion and purpose—but there was none of the coolness and poise. No, there was heat simmering away behind that cool façade.
Heat he was better off pretending he knew nothing about.
‘I’ll let you have a lift in the company car. Will that do?’ She looked unamused. ‘Did you decide on office furniture? There’s a temporary desk for you there.’ She nodded over towards the wall where a second desk had already been set up, a monitor and phone installed on its gleaming surface.
‘I’ll be here a week or two at the most according to Building Services and then you’re free of me.’
‘Hardly,’ she muttered so low he could barely make out her words then spoke out in her usual crisp tones. ‘Are you available to talk now?’
‘Certainement, if you need me to be.’ He didn’t mean to let his voice drop or to drawl the words out quite so suggestively but the colour rising swiftly in her cheeks showed their effect all too clearly. ‘It would be good to start again, properly,’ he clarified.
‘Good.’ Polly waited until he had taken his seat at his new desk. It wasn’t quite as good a position as hers, which faced the incredible windows. When Gabe had sat there absorbed in his work he would look absently up every so often, only to be struck anew by the light, the simple artistry of the stylised floral design.
Now his view was the bookshelves that lined the opposite wall—and Polly, her desk directly in his eyeline. She swivelled her chair towards him, a notepad and pen poised in her hand, her legs crossed.
The only way this was going to work was if he behaved himself in thought and deed. But he was a mere man after all and better souls than him would find it hard to stop their gaze skimming over the long willowy figure and the neatly crossed legs. Incredibly long, ridiculously shapely legs. Of course they were.
‘You’ve got a pretty impressive CV,’ she said finally. ‘Why Rafferty’s?’
‘That means a lot coming from you,’ he said honestly. ‘Oh, come on,’ as her brows rose in surprise. ‘Polly Rafferty, you set the standard, you must know that. I came here to work with you.’
‘With me?’
‘Don’t misunderstand me, there’s a lot you can learn from me as well. In some ways Rafferty’s is stuck in the Dark Ages, especially digitally. But, you have done some great things here over the last few years. I have no problem admitting there are still things I need to learn if I am going to be a CEO by the time I’m thirty...’
‘Here?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Would you let me?’
‘You’d have to kill me first.’ She shook her head, her colour high.
‘That’s what I thought. No, maybe a start-up, or even my own business. I’ll see nearer the time.’
‘You’re ambitious. It took me until I was thirty-one to make it.’ Her eyes met his coolly, the blue of her eyes dark.
‘I know.’ He grinned. ‘A little competition keeps me focused.’ He shrugged. ‘Rafferty’s is possibly the most