At His Service: His 9-5 Secretary. Michelle Celmer
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the last few papers on her desk. Every nerve and muscle was screaming, and the blood was racing through her veins. Act cool. Keep calm and businesslike. Don’t give yourself away. You knew this moment was going to come.
Yes, she answered the voice in her head. But she hadn’t expected they would be alone when she had to say the final goodbye.
‘Your car wasn’t in its normal spot in the car park this morning.’
Surprised, Gina raised her head, and looked fully at him for the first time since he’d entered the room. He gazed back at her from where he was leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his trousers and grey eyes half-closed, their expression inscrutable. She’d noticed this ability to betray nothing of what he was thinking early on. It was probably part and parcel of what had made him so successful in his own right since leaving university and working abroad, first in Germany and Austria, and then in the States. By all accounts he had left an extremely well paid and powerful position in a massive chain of pharmaceutical companies in America when he had returned to help his father, although she had learned this from Dave Breedon. Harry never talked about his past, and when she had asked the odd question his replies had been monosyllabic.
‘My car?’ She tried to collect her thoughts. It was difficult with him looking so broodingly drop-dead gorgeous. ‘I knew I’d be having a drink, so I decided to travel by taxi today.’ It was only partly the truth. She hadn’t known how she would feel when the knowledge that she would never see him again became reality.
‘No need.’ He straightened, and her stomach muscles clenched. ‘I’ll run you home.’
No, no, no. She had seen his car, a sexy sports job that moved like greased lightning, and it was seduction on wheels. ‘Thanks, but that’s not necessary. It’s the wrong direction for you.’
He smiled. She wondered if he knew what a devastating effect it had on the opposite sex. Probably, she thought a trifle maliciously.
‘It’s a beautiful spring evening, and I’m not doing anything. I’ve all the time in the world,’ he drawled lazily.
‘No, really, I’d feel awful putting you to so much trouble.’
‘I insist.’ He brushed aside the desperate refusal.
‘And I insist on travelling by taxi.’ She could be just as determined as him. The thought that she might suffer the unthinkable humiliation of giving herself away necessitated it.
‘Don’t be silly.’ He walked over and perched on her desk—a habit of his—lifting her chin and looking into her eyes as he said softly, ‘You’re all upset at leaving, and no wonder. You’ve been here since the beginning of time. I can’t possibly abandon you to the anonymity of a taxi.’
She didn’t like the ‘beginning of time’ bit. Who did he think she was—Methuselah? And she despised herself for the way her whole insides had tightened at his touch. But they always did, however casual the action. ‘You’re not abandoning me,’ she said stiffly. ‘It’s my choice.’
‘A bad one.’ He slid off the desk and walked to the door, opening it before he turned and said, ‘And therefore I’m fully justified in overruling it. I’ll get my coat.’
‘Harry!’ she shouted as he went to disappear.
‘Yes, Gina?’ He popped his head back round the door, grinning.
She gave up. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she muttered ungraciously. And dangerous. For her.
‘Put your coat on and stop grumbling.’
He was back within a minute or so, taking the satellite-navigation system from her as she met him in the outer office. ‘You’d better have my keys.’ She handed him her office keys, which included those to all the confidential files. ‘I meant to give them to Susan earlier.’ But she was so busy making goo-goo eyes at you I never got the chance.
He pocketed them without comment.
She had slipped the case holding the watch into her handbag, and as they walked towards the lift she said quietly, ‘Thank you for thinking of the watch, Harry. It’s really beautiful.’
‘My pleasure.’ Once inside the carpet-lined box, he added, ‘Dad really meant what he said, you know, and the watch is from both of us. You were great when he had his heart attack, holding the fort here, and then putting in endless hours once I was having to pick up all the threads. I couldn’t have done it without you, Gina.’
This was torture. Exquisite torture, perhaps, but torture nonetheless. ‘Anyone would have done the same.’
‘No, they wouldn’t.’ His voice deepened, taking on the smoky quality that was dynamite as he murmured, ‘I just wanted to say thank you.’
The lift easily carried twelve people, but suddenly it was much too small. She caught the faintest whiff of his aftershave and breathed it in greedily. Drawing on all her considerable willpower, she said evenly, ‘There’s no need, I was just doing my job, but it’s nice to know I’m appreciated.’ She forced a smile as the lift doors opened, stepping into the small reception with a silent sigh of relief. Too cosy. Too intimate. And the car was going to be as bad.
It was worse. Every single nerve in her body registered the impact as, after settling her in the passenger seat and shutting the door, Harry joined her in the car. The interior was all black leather with a state-of-the-art dashboard, but it was the close confines of the car that had Gina swallowing hard. Her voice something of a squeak, she said, ‘This is a lovely car.’ Understatement of the year. ‘Toys for boys?’ she added, attempting a wry smile.
He turned his head, smiling. He was so close she could see every little, black hair of his five o’clock stubble in spite of the gathering twilight. ‘I had one of these in the States, and I guess I got used to fast cars.’
And fast women, no doubt. Not that any of his girlfriends lasted for more than five minutes. Gina nodded. ‘It must have been a wrench to leave America.’
‘Yes, it was.’ He started the engine before turning to her again. ‘How about dinner?’
‘What?’ She stared at him, utterly taken aback.
‘Dinner?’ he repeated patiently. ‘Unless you’ve other plans? I thought it might be a nice way to round off your time at Breedon & Son. A small thank-you.’
‘You’ve already thanked me with the watch,’ she said, flustered beyond measure, and hoping he wouldn’t notice.
‘That was a combined thank-you. This is just me.’
Whatever he was, he wasn’t ‘just’ anything. And it would be crazy to say yes. The whole evening would be spent trying to hide her feelings and play at being friendly, when just looking at him made her weak at the knees. But she would never have the chance of another evening of his company, that was for sure. Two more days of tying up all the loose ends, and she was off to London for good. Could she cope with the agony of being with him? It would mess her head up for days.
‘My other plans were clearing out cupboards and beginning to spring-clean the flat,’ she admitted weakly. ‘It can wait.’
‘Good. Dinner it is, then. There’s a great little Italian place not far from where I live. Do you like Italian food?’
She didn’t think she would taste a thing tonight anyway. ‘I love it.’
‘I’ll make sure they’ve got a table.’ He extracted his mobile phone, punching in a number before saying, ‘Roberto?’ and then speaking in rapid Italian. She hadn’t known he could speak the language, but it didn’t particularly surprise her. That was Harry all over. ‘That’s settled.’ He smiled at her. ‘Eight o’clock. OK with you if we call at my place first? I’d like to put on a fresh shirt before we go.’
His place. She’d see where he lived. She’d be able to picture him there in the weeks and months to follow. Not a