Читать книгу A Very Personal Assistant: Oh-So-Sensible Secretary / The Santorini Marriage Bargain / Hired: Sassy Assistant - Jessica Hart - Страница 6

EVERYTHING was in place. A sleek computer sat on my desk, humming gently. A notebook and freshly sharpened pencil were squared up to one side of a high-tech phone, but otherwise the desk was empty, the way I like it. I can’t bear clutter.

There was only one thing missing.

My new boss.

Phin Gibson was late, and I was cross. I can’t bear unpunctuality either.

I had been there since eight-thirty. Wanting to make a good impression, I’d dressed carefully in my best grey checked suit, and my make-up was as subtle and professional as ever. Rattling over the keyboard, my nails had a perfect French manicure. I was only twenty-six, but anyone looking at me would know that I was the ultimate executive PA, cool, calm and capable.

I might have looked cool, but by half past ten I certainly wasn’t feeling it. I was irritated with Phin, and wishing I had bought myself a doughnut earlier.

Now, I know I don’t look like the kind of girl with a doughnut fetish, but I can’t get through the morning without a sugar fix. It’s something to do with my metabolism (well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it), and if I don’t have something sweet by eleven o’clock I get scratchy and irritable.

OK, even more irritable.

Chocolate or biscuits will do at a pinch, but doughnuts are my thing, and there’s a coffee bar just round the corner from Gibson & Grieve’s head office which sells the lightest, jammiest, sugariest ones I’ve ever tasted.

I’d fallen into the habit of buying one with a cappuccino on my way into work, and waiting for a quiet moment to get my blood sugar level up later in the morning, but today I’d decided not to. I wasn’t sure what sort of boss Phin Gibson would prove to be, and I didn’t want to be caught unawares with a sugar moustache or jammy fingers on our first day working together. This job was a big opportunity for me, and I wanted to impress him with my professionalism.

But how could I do that if he wasn’t there?

Exasperated, I went back to my e-mail to Ellie, my friend in Customer and Marketing.

No problem, Ellie. To be honest, I was glad of something to do. There’s a limit to what you can do as a PA without a boss—who STILL hasn’t appeared, by the way. You’d think he could be bothered to turn up on time on his first day in a new job, but apparently not. Am already wishing I was back in the Chief Executive’s office. I have a nasty feeling Phin and I aren’t going to get on, and unless

——Original Message——

From: e.sanderson@gibsonandgrieve.co.uk

To: s.curtis@gibsonandgrieve.co.uk

Sent: Monday, January 18, 09:52

Subject: THANK YOU!

Summer, you are star! Thank you SO much for putting those figures together for me—and on a Friday afternoon, too! You saved my life (again!!!!!).

Any sign of Phin Gibson yet??? Can’t wait to hear if he’s as gorgeous as he looks on telly!

Exx

‘Well, well, well … Lex must know me better than I thought he did.’

The deep, amused voice broke across my exasperated typing and my head jerked up as I snatched my fingers back from the keyboard.

And there—at last!—was my new boss. Phinneas Gibson himself, lounging in the doorway and smiling the famously lop-sided smile that had millions of women, including my flatmate Anne, practically dribbling with lust.

I’d never dribbled myself. I’m not much of a dribbler at the best of times, and that oh-so-engaging smile smacked a little too much of I’m-incredibly-attractive-and-charming-and-don’t-I-know-it for my taste.

My first reaction at the sight of Phin was one of surprise. No, thinking about it, surprise isn’t quite the right word. I was startled.

I’d known what he looked like, of course. It would have been hard not to when Anne had insisted that I sit through endless repeats of Into the Wild. It’s her flat, so she gets control of the remote.

If you’re one of the two per cent of the population fortunate enough never to have seen it, Phin Gibson takes ill-assorted groups of people to the more inhospitable places on the planet, where they have to complete some sort of task in the most appalling conditions. On camera.

According to Anne, it makes for compulsive viewing, but personally I’ve never been able to see the point of making people uncomfortable just for sake of it. I mean, what’s the point of hacking through a jungle when you can take a plane?

But don’t get me started on reality TV. That’s another thing I can’t bear.

So I was braced against the extraordinary blue eyes, the shaggy dark blond hair and the smile, but I hadn’t counted on how much bigger and more immediate Phin seemed in real life. Seeing him on the small screen gave no sense of the vivid impact of his presence.

I’m not sure I can explain it properly. You know that feeling when a gust of wind catches you unawares? When it swirls round you, sucking the air from your lungs and leaving you blinking and ruffled and invigorated? Well, that’s what it felt like the first time I laid eyes on Phin Gibson.

There was a kind of lazy grace about him as he leant there, watching me with amusement. So it wasn’t that he radiated energy. It was more that everything around him was energised by his presence. You could practically see the molecules buzzing in the air, and Phin himself seemed to be using up more than his fair share of oxygen in the room, which left me annoyingly short of breath.

Not that I was going to let Phin guess that.

‘Good morning, Mr Gibson,’ I said. Minimising the screen just in case, I took off the glasses I wear for working at the computer and offered a cool smile.

‘Is it possible that you’re my PA?’ The blue eyes studied me with a mixture of surprise, amusement and appreciation as Phin levered himself away from the doorway and strolled into the room.

‘I’m Summer Curtis, yes.’

A little miffed at his surprise, and ruffled by the amusement, I pushed back my chair so that I could rise and offer my hand across the desk. Some of us were professional.

Phin’s fingers closed around mine and he held onto my hand as he looked at me. ‘Summer? No.’

‘I’m afraid so,’ I said a little tightly. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I was called something sensible, like Sue or Sarah, but never more than at that moment, with those blue eyes looking down into mine, filled with laughter.

I tried to withdraw my hand, but Phin was keeping a tight hold on it, and I was uncomfortably aware of the firm warmth of skin pressed against mine.

‘You are so not a Summer,’ he said. ‘I’ve never met anyone with a more inappropriate name. Although I did know a girl called Chastity once, now I come to think of it,’ he added. ‘Look at you. Cool and crisp. Conker-brown hair. Eyes like woodsmoke. What were your parents thinking when they called you Summer instead of Autumn?’

‘Not about how embarrassing it would be for me to go through life named after a season, anyway,’ I said, managing to tug my hand free at last. I sat down again and rested it on the desk, where it throbbed disconcertingly.

‘I must thank Lex,’ said Phin. To add to my discomfort, he perched on my desk and turned sideways to look at me. ‘He told me he’d appointed a PA for me, but I was expecting a dragon.’

‘I can be a dragon if required,’ I said, although right then I felt very undragon-like. I was suffocatingly aware of Phin on the other side of the desk. He wasn’t anywhere near me, but his presence was still overwhelming. ‘I’m fully qualified,’ I added stiffly.

‘I feel sure Lex wouldn’t have appointed you if you weren’t,’ Phin said.

He had picked up my pencil and was twirling it absently between his fingers. It’s the kind of fiddling that drives me mad, and I longed to snatch it from him, but I wasn’t that much of a dragon.

‘What’s your brief?’ he added, still twirling.

‘Brief?’

The look he shot me was unexpectedly acute. ‘Don’t tell me Lex hasn’t put you in here to keep an eye on me.’

I shifted uncomfortably.

‘You’re the most sensible person around here,’ had been Lex Gibson’s exact words when he offered me the job. ‘I need someone competent to stop that idiot boy doing anything stupid. God knows what he’d get up to on his own!’

Not that I could tell Phin that. I admired Lex, but I wondered now if he was quite right. Phin didn’t seem like an idiot to me, and he certainly wasn’t a boy. He wasn’t that much older than me—in his early thirties, perhaps—but he was clearly all man.

‘Your brother thought it would be helpful for you to have an assistant who was familiar with the way the company operates,’ I said carefully instead.

‘In other words,’ said Phin, interpreting this without difficulty, ‘my brother thinks I’m a liability and wants you to keep me in order.’

I’d leapt at the chance of a promotion, even if it did mean working for Lex Gibson’s feckless younger brother. Perhaps I should just explain, for those of you who have just jetted in from Mars—well, OK, from outside the UK—Gibson & Grieve is a long-established chain of department stores with a reputation for quality and style that others can only envy. The original, very exclusive store was in London, but now you’ll find us in all the major British cities—setting a gold standard in retail, as Lex likes to say.

The Grieves died out long ago, but the Gibsons still have a controlling share, and Lex Gibson now runs the company with an iron hand. As far as I knew, Phin had never shown the slightest interest in Gibson & Grieve until now, but, as heir to a substantial part of it, he was automatically a member of the board. He was coming in right at the top, and that meant that his PA—me—would be working at the most senior level.

I gathered the idea was for Phin to spend a year as the public face of Gibson & Grieve, so even though the job wasn’t permanent it would look very good on my CV. And the extra money wouldn’t hurt, either. If I was ever going to be able to buy my own place I needed to save as much as I could, and this promotion would make quite a difference to my salary. I’m someone who likes to have a plan, and this job was a major step on my way. I might not be thrilled at the thought of working for Phin Gibson, but it wasn’t an opportunity I was prepared to lose.

I couldn’t dream about a future with Jonathan now, I remembered sadly, and that left buying my own flat the only plan I had. I mustn’t jeopardise it by getting on the wrong side of Phin, no matter how irritatingly he fiddled.

‘I’m your personal assistant,’ I assured him. ‘It’s my job to support you. I’m here to do whatever you want.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course,’ I began with dignity, then saw that his eyes were alight with laughter. To my chagrin, I felt a blush steal up my cheeks. It was just a pity my plan involved working with someone who was clearly incapable of taking anything seriously. ‘Within reason, of course.’

‘Oh, of course,’ Phin agreed, eyes still dancing.

Then, much to my relief, he dropped the pencil and got up from the desk. ‘Well, if we’re going to be working together we’d better get to know each other properly, don’t you think? Let’s have some coffee.’

‘Certainly.’ Making coffee for my boss. That I could do. Pleased to be back in proper PA mode, I swung my chair round and got to my feet. ‘I’ll make some right away.’

‘I don’t want you to make it,’ said Phin. ‘I want to go out.’

‘But you’ve just arrived,’ I objected.

‘I know, and I’m feeling claustrophobic already.’ He looked around the office without enthusiasm. ‘It’s all so … sterile. Doesn’t it make you want to shout obscenities and throw rubbish everywhere?’

I actually winced at the thought.

‘No,’ I said. Gibson & Grieve had always been noted for its style and up-market image. The offices were all beautifully designed and gleamed with the latest technology. I loved the fact that this one was light and spacious, and free as yet of any of the clutter that inevitably accumulated in a working office. ‘I like everything neat and tidy,’ I told Phin.

‘You know, I should have been able to guess that,’ he said in a dry voice, and I suddenly saw myself through his eyes: crisp and restrained in my grey suit, my hair fastened neatly back from my face. In comparison, he looked faintly unkempt, in jeans, a black T-shirt and a battered old leather jacket. He might look appropriate for a media meeting, but it was hardly appropriate for an executive director of a company like Gibson & Grieve, I thought disapprovingly.

Still, I had no doubt he was even less impressed by me. I would have bet on the fact that he thought me smart, but dull.

But then maybe all men thought that when they looked at me. Jonathan had, too, in the end.

I pushed the thought of Jonathan aside. ‘We can go out if you’d rather,’ I said. ‘But don’t you at least want to check your messages first?’

Phin’s brows rose. ‘I have messages?’

‘Of course. You’re a director and a board member,’ I pointed out. ‘We set up a new e-mail address for you last week, and you’ve been getting messages ever since. I’m able to filter them for you, and you have another address which only you will be able to access.’

‘Great,’ said Phin. ‘Filtering sounds good to me. Is there anything important?’

‘It’s all important when you’re a director.’ I couldn’t help the reproving note in my voice, but Phin only rolled his eyes.

‘OK, is there anything urgent?’

I was forced to admit that there wasn’t. ‘Not really.’

‘There you go,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I didn’t think I’d need a PA, but Lex was right—as always. You’ve saved me wading through all those e-mails already. You deserve a coffee for that,’ he told me, and held open the door for me. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

It was all going to be very different now, I thought, stifling a sigh as we headed down the corridor to the lift. I was used to working for Lex Gibson, who barely stopped working to sip the coffee Monique, his PA, took in to him.

Lex would never dream of going out for coffee, or bothering to get to know his secretaries, come to that. I was fairly sure he knew nothing about my private life. As far as Lex was concerned you were there to work, not to make friends, and I was perfectly happy with that. I didn’t want to get all chummy with Phin, but for better or worse he was my boss now, so I could hardly refuse.

‘Where’s the best place for coffee round here?’ Phin asked when we pushed through the revolving doors and out into the raw January morning. At least it wasn’t raining for once, but I shivered in my suit, wishing I’d bothered to throw on my coat after all.

‘Otto’s is very good,’ I said, hugging my arms together. ‘It’s just round the corner.’

‘Better and better,’ said Phin. ‘Lead the way.’ He glanced down at me, shivering as we waited to cross the road. ‘You look cold. Would you like to borrow my jacket?’

The thought of his jacket, warm from his body, slung intimately around my shoulders, was strangely disturbing—quite apart from the fact that it would look very odd with my suit. ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ I said, clenching my teeth to stop them chattering.

‘Let’s step on it, then,’ he said briskly. ‘It’s freezing.’

The warmth and the mouth-watering smell of freshly baked pastries enveloped us as we pushed through the door into Otto’s. Inside it was dark and narrow, with four old-fashioned booths on one side and some stools at a bar in the window.

The coffee and sandwiches were so good that first thing in the morning and at lunchtime there was always a long queue out of the door, but it was relatively quiet now. We lined up behind three executives exuding testosterone as they compared bonuses, a German tourist, and a pair of middle-aged women carrying on a conversation that veered bizarrely between some terrible crisis that a mutual friend was enduring and whether a Danish pastry was more or less fattening than a blueberry muffin.

Phin picked up a tray and hustled me along behind them. ‘What about something to eat?’ he said. ‘I’m going to have something. I’m starving.’

I eyed the doughnuts longingly, but there was no way I was going to eat one in front of him. ‘Just coffee, please.’

‘Sure?’ I could almost believe he had seen the yearning in my eyes, because he leant suggestively towards me. ‘You don’t want a piece of that chocolate cake?’ he said, rolling the words around his mouth suggestively. ‘A scone with cream? One of those pastries? Go on—you know you want to!’

I gritted my teeth. ‘No, thank you.’

‘Well, you’re a cheap date,’ he said. ‘I’m going to have one of those doughnuts.’

I had to press my lips firmly together to stop myself whimpering.

Ahead, Otto’s ferocious wife, Lucia, was making coffee, shouting orders back to Otto, and working the till with her customary disregard for the service ethic. Lucia was famous for her rudeness and the customers were all terrified of her. I’ve seen senior executives reduced to grovelling if they didn’t have the correct change. If the coffee and the cakes hadn’t been so good, or if Lucia hadn’t been so efficient, Otto’s would have closed long ago. As it was, she and the café had become something of a local institution.

‘Next!’ she snarled as we made it to the top of the queue, and then she caught sight of me and smiled—a sight so rare that the executives now helping themselves to sugar stared in disbelief.

‘Back again, cara?’ she called, banging out old coffee grounds from the espresso machine. ‘Your usual?’

‘Yes, thanks, Lucia.’ I smiled back at her, and then glanced at Phin, who was watching me with an oddly arrested expression. ‘And …?’ I prompted him.

‘Americano for me,’ he supplied quickly, before Lucia got impatient with him. ‘No milk.’

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ I asked Phin as I slid onto a shiny plastic banquette. Otto’s wasn’t big on style.

‘I’m curious,’ he said, transferring the cups to the table and pushing the tray aside.

‘Curious?’

‘Perhaps intrigued is a better word,’ said Phin. ‘You know, I’ve dodged guerrillas in South America, I’ve been charged at by a rhino and dangled by a rope over a thousand-foot crevasse, but I found Lucia pretty scary. She had every single person in that queue intimidated, but you she calls cara. What’s that about?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ I said, making patterns in the cappuccino froth with my teaspoon. ‘I wrote her a note once, that was all.’

‘What sort of note?’

‘I noticed that she wasn’t here one day, mainly because the queue doesn’t move nearly as fast when she’s not around. I asked why not, and she told me she’d had to go back to Italy because her father had died. I wrote her a short note, just to say that I was sorry. It wasn’t a big deal,’ I muttered. I was rather embarrassed by the way Lucia had never forgotten it.

Phin looked at me thoughtfully. ‘That was a kind thing to do.’

Feeling awkward, I sipped at my coffee. ‘I didn’t do much,’ I said. ‘Anyone can write a note.’

‘But only you did.’

He picked up his doughnut and took a big bite while I watched enviously. My mouth was watering, and I was feeling quite light-headed with the lack of sugar.

‘Want a bit?’ he asked, offering the plate.

I flushed at the thought that he had noticed me staring. ‘No … thank you,’ I said primly.

‘Sure? It’s very good.’

I knew it was good. That was the trouble. ‘I’m sure.’

‘Suit yourself.’ Phin shrugged, and finished the doughnut with unnecessary relish.

The more he enjoyed it, the crosser I got. What sort of boss was this, who dragged you out to coffee, tried to force-feed you doughnuts and then tortured you by eating them in front of you?

Scowling, I buried my face in my cappuccino.

‘So, Summer Curtis,’ he said, brushing sugar from his fingers at last. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

It sounded like an interview question, so I sat up straighter and composed myself. ‘Well, I’ve been working for Gibson & Grieve for five years now, the last three as assistant to the Chief Executive’s PA—’ I began, but Phin held up both hands.

‘I don’t need to know how many A levels you’ve got or where you’ve worked,’ he said. ‘I’m sure Lex wouldn’t have appointed you if he didn’t trust you absolutely. I’m more interested in finding out what makes you tick. If you’re going to be my personal assistant I think we should get to know each other personally, and your work experience won’t tell me anything I really need to know.’

‘Like what?’ I asked, disconcerted.

Phin sat back against the banquette and eyed me thoughtfully. ‘Like your pet peeves, for instance. What really irritates you?’

‘How long have you got?’ I asked. ‘Sniffing. Jiggling. Mess. Smiley faces made out of punctuation marks. Phrases like “Ah … bless …” or “I love her to bits, but …” Men who sit on the tube with their legs wide apart. Unpunctuality. Sloppy spelling and misuse of the apostrophe—that’s a big one for me.’ I paused, aware that I might have been getting a bit carried away. ‘Do you want me to go on?’

‘I think I might be getting the picture,’ he said, his mouth twitching.

‘I’m a bit of a perfectionist.’

‘So I gathered.’ I could tell he was trying not to laugh, and I was beginning to regret being so honest.

‘You did ask,’ I pointed out defensively.

‘I did. Maybe I should have asked you what you do like.’

‘I like my job.’

‘Being a secretary?’

I nodded. ‘Organisations like Gibson & Grieve don’t work unless executives have proper administrative back-up. I like organising things, checking details, pulling everything together. I like making sure everything is in its right place. That’s why I like filing. I find it satisfying.’

Phin didn’t say anything. He just looked at me across the table.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, putting up my chin. ‘I do. Shoot me.’

He grinned at that. ‘So … an unexpectedly kind, nitpicking perfectionist with an irrational prejudice against poor punctuation and a bizarre attachment to filing. I think we’re getting somewhere. What else do I need to know about you?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing? There must be more than that.’

I drank my coffee, unaccountably flustered. I was more thrown than I wanted to admit by the blueness of his eyes, by that lazy smile and the sheer vitality of his presence. There was a whole table between us, but I was finding it hard to breathe.

‘I really don’t know what you want me to tell you,’ I said. ‘I’m twenty-six, I share a flat in south London with a friend, and my life is the exact opposite of yours.’

His eyes gleamed at that, and he leant forward. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you come from a wealthy family whose stores are a household name,’ I pointed out. ‘You make television programmes doing the kind of things the rest of us would never dare to do, and when you’re not skiing down a glacier or hacking through a jungle you’re at all the A-list parties—usually with a beautiful girl on your arm. The closest I get to an A-list party is reading about one in Glitz, and I’d rather stick pins in my eyes than set foot in a rainforest. We don’t have a single thing in common.’

‘You can’t say that,’ Phin objected. ‘You don’t really know anything about me.’

‘I feel as if I do,’ I told him. ‘My flatmate, Anne, is your biggest fan, and after listening to her talk about you for the past two years I could take a quiz on you myself.’ I pushed my empty cup aside. ‘Go on—ask me. Anything,’ I offered largely, and even gave him an example. ‘What’s your latest girlfriend called?’

A smile was tugging at the corner of Phin’s mouth. ‘You tell me,’ he said.

‘Jewel,’ I said triumphantly. ‘Jewel Stevens. She’s an actress, and when you went to some awards ceremony last week she wore a red dress that had Anne weeping with envy.’

‘But not you?’

‘I think it would have looked classier in black,’ I said, and Phin laughed.

‘I’m impressed. Clearly I don’t need to tell you anything about myself, as you know it all already. Although I think I should point out that Jewel isn’t, in fact, my girlfriend. We’ve been out a couple of times, but that’s all. There’s no question of a real relationship, whatever the papers say.’

‘I’ll tell Anne. She’ll be delighted,’ I said. ‘She’s got a very active fantasy life in which you figure largely, in spite of the fact that she’s very happy with her fiancé, Mark.’

‘And what do you fantasise about, Summer?’ asked Phin, his eyes on my face.

Ah, my fantasies. They were always the same. Jonathan realising that he had made a terrible mistake. Jonathan telling me he loved me. Jonathan asking me to marry him. We’d buy a house together. London prices being what they were, we might have to go out to the suburbs, and even pooling our resources we’d be lucky to get a semi-detached house, but that would be fine by me. I didn’t need anywhere grand. I just wanted Jonathan, and somewhere I could stay.

I realise a suburban semi-detached isn’t the stuff of most wild fantasies, but it was a dream that had kept me going ever since Jonathan had told me before Christmas that he ‘needed some space’. He thought it was better that we didn’t see each other outside the office any more. He knew how sensible I was, and was sure I would understand.

I sighed. What could I do but agree that, yes, I understood? But I lived for the brief glimpses I had of him now, and the hope that he might change his mind.

Phin was watching me expectantly, his brows raised, and I had an uneasy sense that those blue eyes could see a lot more than they ought to be able to. He was still waiting for me to answer his question.

Jonathan had been insistent that we keep our relationship a secret at the office, so I hadn’t told anyone. I certainly wasn’t going to start with Phin Gibson.

‘I want a place of my own,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t have to be very big—in fact I’ll be lucky if I can afford a studio—but it has to be mine. It has to be somewhere I could live for ever.’ I glanced at him. ‘I suppose you think that’s very boring?’

‘It’s not what I was expecting, and it’s not a fantasy I understand, but it’s not boring,’ said Phin. ‘I don’t find much boring, to tell you the truth. People are endlessly interesting, don’t you think? Obviously not!’ he went straight on, seeing my sceptical expression. ‘Well, I find them interesting. Why is it so important for you to have a home of your own?’

‘Oh … I moved around a lot as a child. My mother has always been heavily into alternative lifestyles, and she’s prone to sudden intense enthusiasms. One year we’d be in a commune, the next we were living on a houseboat. When my father was alive we had a couple of freezing years in a tumbledown smallholding in Wales.’

It was odd to find myself telling Phin Gibson, of all people, about my childhood. I didn’t normally talk about it much—not that it had been particularly traumatic, but it was hard for most people I knew to understand what it was like growing up with a mother who was as charming and lovely and flaky as they come—and there was something about the way he was listening, his expression intent and his attention absolutely focused on me, that unlocked my usual reserve.

‘Wales was the closest we ever got to settling down,’ I told him. ‘The rest of the time we kept moving. Not because we had to, but because my mother was always looking for something more.

‘Basically,’ I said, ‘she’s got the attention span of a gnat. I lost count of the schools I attended, of the weird and wonderful places we lived for a few months before moving on.’

I turned the cup and saucer between my fingers. ‘I suppose it’s inevitable I grew up craving security the way others crave excitement. My mother can’t understand it, though. She’s living in a tepee in Somerset at the moment, and for her the thought of buying a flat and settling down is incomprehensible. I’m a big disappointment to her,’ I finished wryly.

‘There you are—we’ve something in common after all,’ said Phin, sitting back with a smile and stretching his long legs out under the table. ‘I’m a big disappointment to my parents, too.’