Читать книгу The Billionaire Boss's Secretary Bride - Helen Brooks - Страница 8

‘I STILL can’t believe you’re really going, that this is your last day. All along I thought you’d change your mind. I mean, you’ve been here for ever, Gina.’

Gina Leighton couldn’t help but smile at her office junior’s plaintive voice. ‘Perhaps that’s why I’m leaving, Natalie,’ she said quietly. ‘Because I’ve been here for ever, as you put it.’

OK, so ‘for ever’ was actually the last eleven years, since she had left university at the age of twenty-one, but clearly as far as Natalie was concerned Gina was as much a part of Breedon & Son as the bricks and mortar. As far as everyone was concerned, most likely. Especially him.

‘I know I shan’t be able to get on with Susan.’ Natalie stared at her mournfully. ‘She’s not like you.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Gina said bracingly. She didn’t mean it. In the last four weeks since she had been showing Susan Richards—her replacement—the ropes, she had come to realise Susan didn’t suffer fools gladly. Not that Natalie was a fool, not at all—but she was something of a feather-brain at times, who had to have everything explained at least twice for it to click. Susan had already expressed her impatience with the girl in no uncertain terms, ignoring the fact that Natalie was a hard worker and always willing to go the extra mile.

But this wasn’t her problem. In a few hours from now, she would walk out of Breedon & Son for the last time. Not only that but she was leaving the Yorkshire market-town where she had been born and raised along with all her friends and family and moving to London at the weekend. New job, new flat, new lifestyle—new everything.

Her stomach doing a fairly good imitation of a pancake on Shrove Tuesday, Gina waved her hand at the papers on her desk. ‘I need to finish some things, Natalie, before the drinks and nibbles.’ Her boss was putting on a little farewell party for her for the last couple of hours of the afternoon, and she wanted to tie up any loose ends before she left.

Once Natalie had returned to the outer office, however, Gina sat staring round the large and comfortable room that had been her working domain for the last four years, since she had worked her way up to personal secretary to the founder of the agricultural-machinery firm. She’d been thrilled at first, the prestige and extremely generous salary adding to her sense of self-worth. And Dave Breedon was a good boss, a nice family-man with a sense of humour which matched hers. But then Dave Breedon wasn’t the reason she was leaving…

‘No eleventh-hour change of heart?’

The deep male voice brought Gina’s gaze to the doorway. ‘Of course not,’ she said with a composure that belied her racing heartbeat. But then she had had plenty of practice in disguising how she felt about Harry Breedon, her boss’s only son and right-hand man. She stared into the tanned and ruggedly handsome face, her deep blue eyes revealing nothing beyond cool amusement. ‘You didn’t seriously think there was any chance of that, surely?’

He shrugged. ‘“Hoped” is perhaps a better word.’

Ridiculous, because she had long since accepted Harry’s flirting meant absolutely nothing, but her breathing quickened in spite of herself. ‘Sorry,’ she said evenly. ‘But my bags are already packed.’

‘Dad’s devastated, you know.’ Harry strolled into her office, perching on the edge of her desk and fixing her with smoky grey eyes. Gina tried very hard not to focus on the way his trousers had pulled tight over lean male thighs. And failed.

‘Devastated?’ she said briskly. ‘Hardly. It’s nice he’ll be sorry to see me go, but I think that’s about it, Harry. And Susan is proving to be very capable, as you know.’

Susan Richards. Blonde, attractive and possessed of the sort of figure any model would be grateful for. Just Harry’s type, in fact. Over the last twelve months—since Harry had returned to the United Kingdom following his father’s heart attack, and taken on more and more of Dave Breedon’s work load—Gina had heard the company gossip about his succession of girlfriends, all allegedly blonde and slender. Whereas she was a redhead—at school she’d been called ‘carrot top’, but she preferred to label her bright auburn locks Titian. And, although her generous hour-glass shape might have been in fashion in Marilyn Monroe’s day, it wasn’t now.

So why, knowing all that, had she fallen for him? Gina asked herself silently. Especially as he was the original ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ male. It was the same question she had mulled over umpteen times in the last year, but she was no nearer to a logical answer. But then love didn’t pretend to work on logic. All she knew was that this feeling—which had begun with an earthy lust that had knocked her sideways, and had rapidly grown into a love that was all consuming the more she’d got to know him—was here to stay. Whereas to Harry she was merely the secretary he shared with his father—admittedly someone he liked to chat and laugh and flirt with, but then he’d be the same with any female. End of story.

‘I didn’t think you liked London when you were at uni there. I remember you saying you couldn’t wait to get home.’

Gina frowned. ‘I said I was glad to come home.’ She corrected quietly. ‘That didn’t mean I didn’t like the city.’

He stared at her for a moment before hitching himself off her desk and standing to his feet. ‘Well, it’s your life,’ he said so reasonably Gina wanted to hit him. ‘I just hope you don’t regret it, that’s all. All big cities can be lonely places.’

‘The old thing about being surrounded by people but knowing no one?’ Gina nodded. ‘I’ve lots of old university friends living in London, so that’s not a problem. And I’m sharing a flat with another girl, anyway. I’m not living alone.’

She didn’t add she was feeling more than a little trepidation about that. For the last six years she’d had her own place, a small but beautifully positioned top-floor flat in a big house on the edge of town, with views of the river. After living with her parents, she had revelled in having a home of her own, where she was answerable to no one and could please herself at weekends, getting up when she wanted and eating when she felt like it. But renting in London was vastly different from renting in Yorkshire, and although her new job paid very well she couldn’t run to her own place.

‘Don’t forget to leave your new address.’ He was already walking to the door. ‘I might look you up next time I spend a few days in the capital. Doss down on your sofa for a night.’

Over her dead body. She took a deep breath and let it out evenly. ‘Fine,’ she said nonchalantly, wishing she could hate him. It would make everything so much easier—she wouldn’t be uprooting herself for one thing. Although, no, that wasn’t quite fair. Even before she’d fallen for Harry she’d acknowledged she was in a rut and needed to do something with her life. Both her sisters and most of her friends were married with children; going out with them wasn’t what it had once been. In the twelve months before Harry had come on the scene, she’d only had the odd date or two, as the only men around had either been boring or convinced they were God’s gift to women, or, worse, married and looking for a bit of fun on the side. She’d begun to see herself as a spinster: devoted to her job, her home, and godmother to other people’s children.

Her friends thought she was too choosy. She stared at the door Harry had just closed behind him. And maybe she was. Certainly she’d had offers, but she balked at the idea of trying to like someone. Either the spark was there or it wasn’t. Besides which, she wasn’t desperate to settle down. What she was desperate for was a life outside work that was interesting and exciting and carried a buzz—nightclubs, the theatre, good restaurants and good company. She was only thirty two, for goodness’ sake! So London had beckoned, and she’d embraced the notion.

It was the right decision. She nodded at the thought. Definitely. Without a doubt. Of course, if Harry had shown any interest…But he hadn’t. And so roses round the door, cosy log-fires and breakfast in bed for two with the Sunday papers wasn’t an option.

Gina swallowed the lump in her throat, telling herself she’d cried enough tears over him. However hard it was going to be to say goodbye, it would have been emotional suicide to stay. That one brief kiss at Christmas had told her that. Merely a friendly peck on her cheek as far as he was concerned, when he’d wished her merry Christmas. But the feel of his lips, the closeness of him, the delicious smell of his aftershave, had sent her into a spin for hours.

Christmas had been a bitter-sweet affair, and it was then she’d decided enough was enough. Self-torture wasn’t her style. And it had been added confirmation when on the afternoon of Boxing Day, whilst she’d been walking her parents’ dogs in the snowy fields surrounding the town, she’d seen him in the distance with the blonde of the moment. She had hidden behind a tree and prayed they wouldn’t see her, but once the danger was over and she’d continued her walk she’d realised merely leaving Breedon & Son wasn’t enough. She had to get right away, where there was no chance of running into him.

And now it was the beginning of April. D-Day. Outside spring had come with a vengeance the last few days, croci and daffodils bursting forth, and birds busy nesting—new life sprouting seemingly everywhere. And that was the way she had to look at this, as an opportunity for new life. No point feeling her world had come to an end, no point at all.

Nevertheless, it was with gritted teeth that she joined everyone in the work canteen later that afternoon. She was touched to see most of Breedon & Son’s employees—over a hundred in all, counting the folk on the factory floor—had gathered to say goodbye, and even more overcome when she was given a satellite-navigation system for her car to which everyone had contributed.

‘So you can find your way back to us now and again,’ Bill Dent, the chief accountant, joked as he presented her with the gift. She had a reputation—richly deserved—of having no sense of direction or navigation skills, and over the last weeks had endured a host of teasing about negotiating city streets.

‘Thank you all so much.’ As she gave a tearful little speech she kept her gaze from focusing on one tall, dark figure standing a little apart from the rest of the throng, but she was still vitally aware of every movement Harry made. She knew exactly when Susan Richards made her way over to him, for instance, and the way the other woman reached up on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear.

All in all, Gina was glad when after an hour or so people began to drift home. Loving someone who didn’t love you was bad enough at the best of times, but when you were trying to be bright and cheerful, and keep a lid on a mounting volcano of tears, it didn’t help to see the object of your desire receiving the full batting-eyelash treatment from an undeniably attractive blonde.

When there was just a handful of people left, Gina made her way back to her office to pick up the last of her things. She felt like a wet rag. Dropping into her chair, she glanced round the room, feeling unbearably sentimental.

Dave entered a moment later, Harry on his heels. Shaking his head, Dave said, ‘Don’t look like that. I told you, you shouldn’t leave us. Everyone thinks the world of you.’

Not everyone. Forcing a smile, Gina managed to keep her voice light and even as she said, ‘The big wide world beckons, and it’s now or never. It was always going to be hard to say goodbye.’

‘While we’re on that subject…’ Dave reached into his pocket and brought out a small, oblong gift-wrapped box. ‘This is a personal thank-you, lass. I’m not buttering you up when I say you’ve been the best secretary I’ve ever had. It’s the truth. If London isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, there’ll always be a job somewhere in Breedon & Son for you.’

‘Oh, it’s beautiful.’ After unwrapping the gift, Gina gazed, entranced, at the delicate little gold watch the box held. ‘Thank you so much. I didn’t expect…’ The lump in her throat prevented further speech.

‘Harry chose it,’ said Dave, looking uncomfortable at the show of emotion. He was all down to earth, blunt Yorkshireman, and prided himself on it. ‘I was going to give you a cheque, more practical in my opinion, but he thought you’d like something to remind you of your time here, and he noticed you hadn’t been wearing your watch the last few weeks.’

‘It broke,’ she whispered. He had noticed.

‘Aye, well, there we are, then.’ Dave clearly wanted to end what was to him an embarrassing few moments. ‘Don’t forget to look us up when you’re back visiting your parents. All right, lass? I’ll be off now, the missus and I are out for dinner tonight. Lock up the offices, would you, Harry?’ he added, turning to his son. ‘The factory’s already been taken care of.’

‘Goodbye, Mr Breedon.’ Gina stood up to shake her boss’s hand—he was of the old school, and didn’t hold with social pleasantries such as kissing or hugging—but then on impulse quickly pressed her lips to the leathery old cheek before she sat down again.

Dave cleared his throat. ‘Bye, lass. You look after yourself,’ he said gruffly before disappearing out of the door.

Silence reigned for some moments while Gina tidied 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 googoo 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 good idea, probably, but irresistibly tempting. ‘Fine,’ she nodded, drawing on the cool aplomb she’d developed over the last twelve months, as the powerful car leapt into life and left the car park far too fast.

She glanced at Harry’s hands on the steering wheel. Large, capable, masculine hands. What would it feel like to have them move over every inch of her body, explore her intimate places, along with his mouth and tongue? To savour and taste…

‘…parents now and again.’

‘Sorry?’ Too late she realised he’d spoken, but she had been deep in a shockingly erotic fantasy. Blushing scarlet—an unfortunate attribute which went with the hair and her pale, freckled skin—she lied, ‘I was thinking how nice everyone’s been today.’

‘Of course they’ve been nice. You’re very popular.’

She didn’t want to be popular. She wanted to be a slender, elegant siren with long blonde hair and come-to-bed eyes, the sort of woman who might capture his heart, given half a chance.

‘I was just saying we must keep in touch, and perhaps meet up for lunch now and again when you visit your parents,’ he continued easily. ‘I count you as a friend, Gina. I hope you know that.’

Great. ‘As I do you.’ She smiled brightly. Once she was in London, he’d forget she’d ever existed within days. Probably by the time he got up tomorrow morning, in fact. Harry wasn’t the sort of man who had women friends. Just women.

The cool spring twilight had almost completely given way to the shadows of night by the time Harry turned the car off the country lane they had been following for some time, and through open wrought-iron gates on to a scrunchy pebble drive. Gina was surprised how far they’d travelled; she hadn’t realised his home was so far away from Breedon & Son. She had supposed he’d settled somewhere near his parents’ home.

The drive wound briefly between mature evergreens and bushes, which effectively hid all sight of the building from the road, and then suddenly became bordered by a wide expanse of green lawn with the house in front of them. Gina hadn’t known what to expect. Probably a no-nonsense modern place or elegant turn-of-the-century manor-type house. In the event the picturesque thatched cottage in front of her was neither of these.

‘This is your home?’

She had asked the obvious, but he didn’t appear to notice. ‘Like it?’ he asked casually as the car drew up on the horseshoe-shaped area in front of the cottage.

Did she like it? How could anyone fail to? The two-storey cottage’s white walls and traditional mullioned windows were topped by a high thatched roof out of which peeped gothick dormers. The roof overhung to form an encircling veranda, supported on ancient, gnarled tree-trunks on which a table and chairs sat ready for summer evenings. There was even evidence of roses round the door on the trellis bordering the quaint arched door, and red and green ivy covered the walls of the veranda. It was so quintessentially the perfect English country-cottage that Gina was speechless. It was the last place, the very last place, she would have expected Harry to buy, and definitely no bachelor pad.

Whether he guessed what she was thinking or her face had given her away Gina wasn’t sure, but the next moment he drawled, ‘I had a modern stainless-steel and space-age place in the States, overlooking the ocean; I fancied a change.’

‘It’s wonderful.’ He opened the car door as he spoke, and now as he appeared at her side and helped her out of the passenger seat she repeated, ‘It’s wonderful. A real fairy-tale cottage. I half expect Goldilocks and the three bears to appear any moment.’ She liked that. It was light, teasing. She’d got the fleeting impression he hadn’t appreciated her amazement at his choice of home, despite his lazy air.

He shrugged. ‘It’s somewhere to lay my hat for the moment. I’m not into putting down roots.’

She’d been right. He hadn’t wanted her to assume there was any danger of him becoming a family man in the future. Not that she would. ‘Hence your travelling in the past?’ she said carefully as they walked to the front door.

‘I guess.’

She stared at him. ‘Your father’s hoping you’ll take over the family business at some point, isn’t he?’

‘That was never on the cards.’ He opened the door, standing aside so she preceded him into the wide square hall. The old floorboards had been lovingly restored and varnished, their mellow tones reflected in the honey-coloured walls adorned with the odd print or two. ‘I agreed to come and help my father over the next couple of years, partly to ease him into letting go of the strings and making it easier to sell when the time comes, but that’s all.’

‘I see.’ She didn’t, but it was none of her business. ‘So, you’ll go back to the States at some point?’

Again he shrugged. ‘The States, Germany, perhaps even Australia. I’m not sure. I invested a good deal of the money I’ve earned over the last years, played the stock exchange and so on. I don’t actually need to work, but I will. I like a challenge.’

It was the most he had ever said about himself, and Gina longed to ask more, but a closed look had come over his face. Changing the subject, she said, ‘Everything looks extremely clean and dust free. Do you have a cleaner come in?’

‘Are you saying men can’t clean for themselves? That’s a trifle sexist, isn’t it?’ He grinned at her, leading the way to what proved to be the sitting room, and he opened the door into a large room dominated by a magnificent open fireplace, the wooden floors scattered with fine rugs, and the sofas and chairs soft and plumpy. ‘You’re right, though,’ he admitted unrepentantly. ‘Mrs Rothman comes in three days a week, and does everything from changing the lightbulbs to washing and ironing. She’s a treasure.’

‘And preparing your meals?’ she asked as he waved her to a seat.

‘Not at all. I’m a great cook, if I do say so myself, and I prefer to eat what I want when I want to eat it. Glass of wine while you wait?’ he added. ‘Red or white?’

‘Red, please.’ She glanced at the fireplace as he disappeared, presumably to the kitchen. There were the remains of a fire in the fireplace, and plenty of logs were stacked in the ample confines of the hearth. She pictured him sitting here in the evenings, sipping a glass of wine maybe, while he stared into the flickering flames. The wrench her heart gave warned her to keep her thoughts in check. And she wasn’t going to dwell on the likelihood of the blonde of the moment stretched out on a rug in front of the fire, either, with Harry pampering and pleasing her.

‘One glass of wine.’

Gina was brought out of her mental agony as Harry reappeared, an enormous half-full glass of deep-red wine in one hand. She took it with a doubtful smile. There must have been half a bottle in there, and she’d been too het up to eat any of the extensive nibbles earlier, or much lunch, for that matter.

‘I won’t be long. There’s some magazines there—’ he gestured towards one of the occasional tables dotted about the room ‘—and some nuts and olives alongside them. Help yourself.’

‘Thank you.’ As soon as he’d left again, she scuttled across and made short work of half the bowl of nuts, deciding she’d worry about the calories tomorrow. Tonight she needed to be sober and in full charge of her senses. One slip, one look, and he might guess how she felt about him, and then she’d die. She would, she’d die. Or have to go on living with the knowledge she’d betrayed herself, and that would be worse.

She retrieved her glass of wine and sipped at it as she wandered about the room. Rich, dark and fruity, it was gorgeous. Like Harry. Although he had never been fruity with her, more was the pity.

She glanced at herself in the huge antique mirror over the fireplace. The mellow lighting in the room made her hair appear more golden than anything else, and blended the pale ginger freckles that covered her creamy skin from head to foot into an overall honey glow. It couldn’t do anything for her small snub nose and nondescript features, however. She frowned at her reflection, her blue eyes dark with irritation. This was the reason Harry had never come on to her. She was the epitome of the girl next door, when she longed to be a femme fatale: tall, slim, elegant—not busty and hippy. Even her mother had to admit she was ‘nicely rounded’, which meant—in the terms the rest of the world would use—she was on the plump side.

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.