At His Service: His 9-5 Secretary. Michelle Celmer
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After staring at herself for a full minute, she walked over to the window and looked out over the grounds at the back of the cottage while she finished her glass of wine. She needed something to give her dutch courage for the evening, considering Harry was accompanying a creature not far removed from the Hunchback of Nôtre Dame.
‘You can’t see much tonight.’
He must have crept into the room, because she hadn’t heard him coming. Gina was glad there was no wine in the glass, because with the jump she gave as he came up behind her it would have been all down her dress. He continued to stand behind her, his hands loosely on her waist, as he said, ‘To the left beyond that big chestnut tree there’s a swimming pool, but it’s too dark to see it, and a tennis court. Are you sporty?’
Sporty? She didn’t know what she was with him holding her like this. Dredging up what was left of her thought process, she managed to mumble, ‘I swim a bit.’ She didn’t add that she hadn’t played tennis for years, because whatever sports bra she bought it still didn’t seem to stop her breasts bobbing about like crazy. Too much information, for sure.
‘You’ll have to come and have a swim in the summer, if you’re up this neck of the woods.’
That so wasn’t an option. ‘That’d be great.’
‘If you’re ready, we’ll make a move.’
When he let go of her, she felt wildly relieved and hopelessly bereft. When she turned to face him it didn’t help her shaky equilibrium one bit. He’d obviously had a quick shower along with changing, and his ebony hair was still damp and slightly tousled. Suddenly he appeared vastly different from the immaculately finished product during working hours, and the open-necked black shirt and casual black trousers he was wearing added to the transformation. In the designer suits, shirts and ties he favoured in the office, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. Now he was a walking sex-machine, with enough magnetism to cause a disturbance in the earth’s orbit.
Controlling a rush of love so powerful she was amazed it didn’t show, Gina handed him her empty glass and walked over to the sofa, where her handbag and jacket were, saying over her shoulder, ‘This is very good of you, Harry. There was nothing more exciting than beans on toast waiting for me at the flat.’
‘My pleasure.’
No, hers, given the merest encouragement, Gina thought wryly. She had never been tempted to go all the way with any of her boyfriends in the past, and had even begun to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Harry’s entrance into her life had put paid to that. She only had to think about him to get embarrassingly aroused. If he ever actually made love to her …
He took her jacket from her, helping her into it with a warm smile. She was everlastingly thankful he couldn’t read her mind. Taking a deep breath, she walked briskly out of the room.
CHAPTER TWO
WHY had he done this? Why had he invited her out to dinner tonight? He hadn’t intended to. He’d meant their goodbye to be friendly, swift and final, and definitely with a third party present.
As Harry slid into the car, he glanced at Gina for a second. He was, by virtue of his genetic background and upbringing, a very rational man. ‘Cold’ had even been the word used by former girlfriends on occasion, but that had been after he had firmly disabused them of the idea that their relationship had any chance of becoming permanent.
He knew exactly what he wanted out of life. Since Anna. And, because the knowledge had been forged in the furnace, it was not negotiable—Independence. Following his own star, with no tentacles of responsibility to prevent him doing so. Companionship and sex along the way, of course, good times with women who knew the score. But nothing that came with strings and ties and required sacrifices he wasn’t willing to make.
He’d left university with a first in business studies, gaining experience in a couple of jobs, before landing the big one in the States where he’d moved to the top of the ladder after acquiring a postgraduate degree, Master of Business Administration. He had enjoyed working for that, although with his job it had meant regular twenty-hour days. But that had been fine. It had happened after Anna, and anything which had enabled him to go to bed too dog-tired to think had been OK by him.
‘Is it far?’
The soft voice at the side of him brought his head turning. ‘Just a couple of miles,’ he said evenly, swinging the car out of the drive onto the quiet tree-lined lane beyond. ‘It’s only a very small place, by the way, nothing grand, but the food is excellent. Roberto has the knack of turning the most simple dish into something special. The first time I saw a warm-bread salad with roasted red peppers on the menu, I thought it a fairly basic starter. Big mistake. It came with capers and anchovies and fresh basil, and a whole host of other ingredients, that made it out of this world.’
‘You’re making my mouth water.’
Harry smiled. ‘Do I take it you’re someone who lives to eat, rather than eats to live?’
His swift glance saw her wrinkle her little nose. ‘Can’t you tell?’ she said a trifle flatly.
His smile vanished. He didn’t know what it was about this gentle, ginger-haired woman that had attracted him from day one, but her softly rounded, somewhat voluptuous curves were part of it. ‘Your figure’s fine,’ he said firmly.
‘Thank you.’
‘I mean it. There are far too many women these days who don’t actually look like women. Lettuce leaves are great for rabbits, but there’s where they should stop. I hate to see a woman nibbling on a stick of celery all evening, and drinking mineral water, while insisting she’s full to bursting.’
He’d just pulled up before turning on to the main road, and in the shadowed confines of the car he caught her glance of disbelief. ‘What?’ he said, turning to face her.
‘You might say that, but I bet the women you date are all stick insects.’
He opened his mouth to deny it before the uncomfortable truth hit. To anyone on the outside looking in, it would appear Gina was spot on-target. He did tend to date trim, svelte types. Why? He pulled on to the main road, his very able and intelligent mind dissecting the matter.
Because he’d found by experience that women who were obsessed with their figures, and appearance, and street cred, tended to be on the insular side—especially when they were also career minded, as he made sure all his girlfriends were. Less inclined towards cosy twosomes at home, and more likely to favour a date involving dinner and dancing, or the theatre, where they could see and be seen. Women with their own, forged-in-steel goals who weren’t looking for happy-ever-after but good conversation, good company and entertainment, and good sex. He’d made the odd mistake, of course, but mostly he tended to get it right.
In fact, if he thought about it, one criterion for dating a woman more than a couple of times was her level of self-interest. He grimaced mentally. Which made him … what? He decided not to follow that train of thought, but it confirmed he’d been crazy to take Gina out tonight, even on the basis of friendship.
Realising he hadn’t given her any reply, he ducked the issue by saying self-righteously, ‘Anorexia is becoming an ever-increasing problem these days, and no one in their right mind can say those women, young girls some of them, look attractive.’
‘I suppose not.’
They drove in silence for the rest of the short journey. When he finally pulled into Roberto’s tiny car-park, he saw Gina looking about her. The restaurant was situated on the edge of a typical Yorkshire market-town, but in the darkness it appeared more secluded than it was. In the muted lighting from the couple of lamps in the car park, her hair gleamed like strands of copper. He wondered what she would say if he asked her to loosen it from the upswept bun she usually favoured for work. He’d seen it down a couple of times, and it was beautiful.
Stupid. He brushed the notion away ruthlessly.