Читать книгу Oh-So-Sensible Secretary / Housekeeper's Happy-Ever-After: Oh-So-Sensible Secretary - Jessica Hart - Страница 10

HE LEFT for Peru a week later. ‘How long will you be away?’ I asked him.

‘We should be able to wrap it up in twelve days.’ Phin looked up from the computer screen with a grin. ‘Why? Do you think you’ll miss me after all?’

‘No,’ I said crushingly. ‘I just need to know when to arrange a date with Glitz.’

But the funny thing was that I did miss him a bit. I realised I’d got used to him being in the office, managing to seem both lazy and energetic at the same time, and without him everything seemed strangely flat.

I told myself that I enjoyed the peace and quiet, and that it was a relief to be able to get on with some work without being teased or constantly interrupted by frivolous questions or made to stop and eat doughnuts—OK, I didn’t mind that bit so much. I had a whole week without Phin juggling with my stapler and my sticky note dispenser, or messing around with the layout of my desk, which I know quite well he only did to annoy.

He was always picking things up and then putting them down in the wrong place, or at an odd angle, and he seemed to derive endless amusement from watching me straighten them. Sometimes I’d try and ignore it, but it was like trying to ignore an itch. After a while my hand would creep out to rearrange whatever it was he had dislodged, at which point Phin would shout, ‘Aha! I knew you couldn’t do it!’

I mean, what kind of boss carries on like that? It was deeply unprofessional, as I was always pointing out, but that only made Phin laugh harder.

So all in all I was looking forward to having the office to myself for a few days, but the moment he’d gone I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.

That first morning on my own I went down to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. I’d got out of the habit of buying myself a doughnut, I realised. Phin always bought them now, and I’d forgotten that I wouldn’t have anything to have with my coffee. It wouldn’t kill me, but the lack of sugar just added to my grouchiness as I carried my mug back to my desk.

Khalid from the postroom was just on his way out of my office. ‘I’ve left the mail on your desk,’ he told me. ‘You’ve got a Special Delivery, too.’

I’d ordered a scanner the day before. The supplies department must have moved quickly for once, I thought, but as I set down my mug I saw a small confectionery box sitting in front of my keyboard. ‘Summer Curtis, Monday’ was scribbled on the top. Not a scanner, then.

Puzzled, I opened it up. Inside, sitting on a paper napkin, was a doughnut.

There was a business card, too. I pulled it out. It had Phin’s name and contact details on one side. On the other he had scrawled, ‘I didn’t want to think of you without your sugar fix. P x’

My throat felt ridiculously tight. Nobody had ever done anything as thoughtful for me before.

Of course it didn’t mean anything, I was quick to remind myself. It was just part of Phin’s pathological need to make everyone like him. His charm was relentless.

But still I found myself—annoyingly—thinking about him, about where he was and what he was doing, and when I picked up the phone and heard his voice my heart gave the most ridiculous lurch.

‘Just thought I’d check in,’ said Phin. ‘I hardly know what to do with myself. I’m so used to you telling me what to do and where to be all day. I’ve got used to being organised. Are you missing me yet?’

‘No,’ I lied, because I knew he’d be disappointed if I didn’t. ‘But thank you for the doughnut. How on earth did you organise it?’

‘Oh, that was easy. I had a word with Lucia—who, by the way, smiled at me the other day, so you’re not the only favourite now—and I asked her to send you a selection, so that you get something different every day I’m away. I think we’re in a doughnut rut.’

‘I like my rut,’ I said, but I might as well have spared my breath. Phin was determined that I would try something different.

Sure enough, the next day an apricot Danish arrived at half past ten, and even though I was determined not to like it as much as a doughnut, I had to admit that it was delicious.

The next day brought an almond croissant, and the one after that an apple strudel, and then an éclair. Pastries I’d never seen before appeared on my desk, and I found myself starting to glance at the clock after ten and wondering what I’d have with my coffee that day. I’d try and guess what would be in the box—vanilla turnover? Pain au chocolat?—but I never got it right.

Inevitably word got round about my special deliveries. I wasn’t the only one who was guessing. I heard afterwards they were even taking bets on it in Finance.

‘I wish my boss would send me pastries,’ my friend Helen grumbled. ‘You’d think in Food Technology it would be a perk of the job. You are lucky. Phin’s so lovely, isn’t he?’

I heard that a lot, and although I always said that he was a nightmare to work for, the truth was that I was finding it hard to remember just how irritating he was. When he walked into the office the following Tuesday, my heart jumped into my throat and for one panicky moment I actually forgot how to breathe.

He strolled in, looking brown and fit, his eyes bluer than ever, and instantly the air was charged with a kind of electricity. Suddenly I was sharply aware of everything: of colour of my nails flickering over the keyboard—Cherry Ripe, if you’re interested—of the computer’s hum, of the feel of the glasses on my nose, the light outside the window. It was as if the whole office had snapped into high definition.

‘Good morning,’ I said, and Phin peered at me in surprise.

‘Good God, what was that?’

‘What was what?’ I asked, thrown.

‘No, no…it’s OK. For a moment there I thought I saw a smile.’

‘I’ve smiled before,’ I protested.

‘Not like that. It was worth coming home for!’ Phin came to sit on the edge of my desk and picked up the stapler. ‘I’m not going to ask if you missed me because you’ll just look at me over your glasses and say no.’

‘I would have said a bit—until you started fiddling,’ I said, removing the stapler from his grasp and setting it back into its place. ‘But now I’ve remembered how irritating you are.’

Deliberately, Phin reached out and pushed the stapler out of alignment with one finger. ‘Irritating? Me?’

‘Stop it,’ I said, slapping his hand away. I straightened the stapler once more. ‘Haven’t you got some other trip to go on? I’m sure they must need you in Ulan Bator or Timbuktu or somewhere.’

‘Nope. Next time you’re coming with me.’ He had started on the scissors now, snapping them at me as he talked. ‘So, what’s the news here?’

‘We’ve set up your Glitz interview for Thursday,’ I told him. ‘The interviewer is called Imelda Ross, and she’s bringing a photographer with her. They’ll be at your house at ten, so can you please make sure you’re ready for them?’

‘That’s an appointment, not news,’ he said. ‘What’s the gossip? Has Lex run off with a lap dancer? Has Kevin been caught siphoning funds to some offshore bank account?’ Kevin was our Chief Financial Officer and famously prudent.

‘Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. Everyone’s been doing what they always do.’

Actually, that wasn’t quite true. Jonathan was looking much more relaxed these days. I had shared a lift with him a few days earlier, and instead of being stiff and awkward he had smiled and chatted about the spell of fine weather.

I’d replayed the conversation endlessly, of course, and was hugging the hope that he might be warming to me again. Between that and Phin’s pastries I’d been happier than I’d been for ages—but I didn’t think that would be of much interest to Phin, even if I had been prepared to confess it, which I wasn’t.

‘According to the gossip mags, Jewel Stevens has got a new man,’ I offered instead.

‘Has she? Excellent! I was hoping she’d lost interest.’

‘She rang looking for you a couple of times, but I didn’t think you’d want to speak to her in Peru, so I said you were out of contact.’

‘Summer, you’re a treasure,’ he told me, putting down the scissors at last and digging around at his feet. ‘So, even though you haven’t missed me, you deserve a reward,’ he said as he produced a paper bag. ‘I’ve brought us something special to celebrate my return.’

The ‘something special’ turned out to be a cream doughnut each. ‘I didn’t feel we knew each other well enough to tackle one of these before,’ he said as I eyed it dubiously, wondering how on earth I was going to eat it elegantly.

‘I defy you to eat one of these without making a mess,’ Phin added, reading my expression without any difficulty.

I couldn’t, of course. I started off taking tiny nibbles, until he couldn’t bear it any more.

‘Get on with it, woman,’ he ordered. ‘Stop messing around at the edges. Take a good bite and enjoy it! That’s not a bad recipe for life, now I come to think of it,’ he said, watching as I sank my teeth obediently into the middle of the doughnut and cream spurted everywhere. ‘The doughnut approach to living well. I might write a book about it.’

‘Make sure you include a section on how to clean up all the mess,’ I said, dabbing at my mouth with my fingers, torn between embarrassment and laughter. I spotted a blob of cream on my skirt. ‘Ugh, I’ve got cream everywhere!’

‘The best things in life are messy,’ said Phin.

‘Not as far as I’m concerned,’ I said, as I carefully wiped the cream from my skirt. ‘But maybe I’ll make an exception for cream doughnuts. It was delicious!’

With a final lick of my fingers, I got to my feet. ‘I’d better get back to work,’ I said.

Phin got up, too. His smile had faded as he watched me eat the doughnut, and his expression was oddly unreadable for once. He was looking at me so intently that I hesitated.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘You’ve missed a bit,’ he said and, reaching out, he wiped a smear of cream from my cheek, just near my mouth. Then he offered me his finger to lick.

I stared at it, mesmerised by the vividness with which I could imagine my tongue against his finger. I could practically taste the sweetness of the cream, feel the contrast between its smoothness and the firmness of his skin, and a wave of heat pulsed up from my toes to my cheeks and simmered in my brain. For one awful moment I was afraid that the top of my head would actually blow off.

Horrified by how intimate the mere idea seemed, and about Phin—my boss!—of all people, I found myself taking a step back and shaking my head at the temptation.

Phin’s eyes never left my mouth as he licked the cream off himself.

‘Yum, yum,’ he said softly.

I know, it doesn’t sound very erotic, but my heart was thudding so loudly I was sure he must hear it. My pulse roared in my ears and I had a terrible feeling that I might literally be steaming. I had to get out of the room before Phin noticed.

I cleared my throat with an effort. ‘I…er…I should let you get on. Haven’t you got a meeting now?’

‘I have?’

‘Yes, in HR. You wanted me to set it up for you, to talk to Jane about staff development and the Cameroon trip. It’s in the diary.’ I could feel myself babbling as I backed away towards the door. ‘I’ll forward the e-mail to you…’

Somehow I made it back to my desk, and had to spend a few minutes just breathing very carefully.

I felt very odd, almost shaken. I had never thought about Phin that way before. I had never thought about Jonathan like that either, to be honest. I loved Jonathan, but he was safe. This wild pounding of my blood felt dark and rude and dangerous, and I didn’t like it.

I pulled myself together at last. A momentary aberration, I told myself. A huge fuss about nothing. I mean, we hadn’t even touched. A flick of Phin’s finger against my cheek. That was all that had happened. Nothing at all, in fact.

I was just…hot. Was this what a hot flush was like? I wondered wildly. If so, I wasn’t looking forward to the menopause at all.

Jittery and unsettled, I took myself off to the Ladies’ to run cold water over my wrists. Someone had once told me that was the best way to cool yourself down, and I had no intention of splashing cold water all over my make-up. I wasn’t in that much of a state.

I met Lex’s PA, Monique, on her way in at the same time. Typical, isn’t it, that the moment you’re desperate to be alone people you don’t normally see for ages start popping out of the woodwork? This wasn’t even Monique’s floor.

I was afraid that she would comment on how hot and flustered I looked, but fortunately she didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Reassured, I stopped to chat.

See, I told myself, all I needed was a little normality. It was a relief to talk about ordinary stuff, and I began to feel myself again.

‘So what’s the gossip?’ I asked Monique, remembering Phin’s question earlier. Monique was famously discreet, but if she did have any news it would be good to be able to pass a titbit on to Phin. At least it would be something to say other than Could we try that cream on the finger thing again?

‘Funny you should say that.’ Monique glanced around and lowered her voice, even though there was no one else in there with us. ‘Have you seen Jonathan recently?’

Phin and the cream were instantly forgotten. ‘A couple of times,’ I said, as casually as I could. My poor old heart was working overtime this morning. Now it was pattering away at the mention of Jonathan. ‘Why?’

‘He’s a changed man, isn’t he?’

I thought of how relaxed he had looked the last time I’d seen him. ‘He seems to be in a good mood.’

‘Yes, and we all know why now!’

‘We do?’ I asked cautiously.

Monique grinned. ‘Our steady, sensible Jonathan is in love.’

Not content with pattering, my heart polevaulted into my throat, where it lodged, hammering wildly. ‘In love?’ I croaked.

She nodded. ‘And with Lori, of all people! I wouldn’t have thought she was his type at all, but they’re all over each other and they’re not even bothering to try and hide it. Oh, well, at least he’s happy.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’d better get on. Lex will be wondering what’s happened to me.’

There was a rushing in my ears. I think I must have said something, but I’ve no idea what, and Monique waggled her fingers in farewell as she hurried off, oblivious to the fact that my world had come crashing down around me.

Shaking, feeling sick, I shut myself in a cubicle and put my head between my knees. I mustn’t cry, I mustn’t cry, I mustn’t cry, I told myself savagely. I had the rest of the afternoon to get through, and if I cried my mascara would run and everyone would know my heart was broken.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but it can’t have been that long. I knew I had to get back. Lifting my head, I drew long, painful breaths to steady myself. I could do this.

Thank God for make-up. I reapplied lipstick very carefully and studied my expression. My eyes held a stark expression, but you’d have had to know me very well to spot that anything was wrong. Inside I felt ragged and raw, and I walked stiffly, so as not to jar anything, but outwardly I was perfectly composed.

I made it back to my desk and sank down in my chair, staring blankly at the computer screen. I just had to sit there for another few hours and then I’d be able to go home. Phin had gone out to his lunch with Jane, the director of HR, so I was spared him at least. Those blue eyes might be full of laughter but they didn’t miss much.

By the time he came back it was after four, and I had had plenty of time to compose myself. I ached all over with the effort of not falling apart, and my brain felt as if it had an elastic band snapped round it, but I was able to meet his gaze when he came in.

‘How was your meeting?’ I asked, knowing Phin would never guess what it cost me to sound normal.

‘Very useful. Jane’s great, isn’t she? We talked about Cameroon and she’s all for a trial visit to see—’ He broke off and frowned. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing.’ My throat was so tight I had to force the word out.

‘Don’t try and deny it,’ said Phin. ‘That stapler is a millimetre out of alignment. And…’ he peered closer ‘…yes, I do believe that’s a chip in your nail polish!’ The laughter faded from his voice and from his face. ‘Come on, I can see in your eyes that something’s wrong. What is it?’

‘It’s…nothing.’ I couldn’t look at him. I stared fiercely away, pressing my lips together in one straight line.

‘You’re not the kind of person that gets upset about nothing,’ he said gently. Going back to the door, he closed it. ‘Tell me,’ he said.

There was a great, tangled knot of hurt in my throat. I knew if I even tried to say Jonathan’s name I would break down completely, and I wasn’t sure I could bear the humiliation. ‘I…can’t.’

‘OK,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to say anything. But we’re going out. Get your coat.’

I was too tired and miserable to object. He took me to a dimly lit bar, just beginning to fill with people leaving work early. Like us, I supposed. We found a table in a corner and Phin looked around for a waiter.

‘What would you like?’ he asked. ‘A glass of wine?’

God, I was so predictable, I realised. No wonder Jonathan didn’t want me. Even Phin could see that I was the kind of girl who sensibly just had a small glass of white wine before going home. I was boring.

‘Actually, I’d like a cocktail,’ I said with a shade of defiance.

‘Sure,’ said Phin. ‘What kind?’

I picked up the menu on the table and scanned it. I would love to have been the kind of girl who could order Sex on a Beach or a Long Slow Screw Against a Wall without sounding stupid, but I wasn’t. ‘A pomegranate martini,’ I decided, choosing one at random.

His mouth flickered, but he ordered it straightfaced from the waiter, along with a beer for himself.

When it came, it looked beautiful—a rosy pink colour with a long twirl of orange peel curling through it. I was beginning to regret my choice by then, but was relieved to take a sip and find it delicious. Just like fruit juice, really.

I was grateful to Phin for behaving quite normally. He chatted about his meeting with Jane, and I listened with half an ear as I sipped the martini which slipped down in no time. I even began to relax a bit.

‘Another one?’ Phin asked, beckoning the waiter over.

About to say that I shouldn’t, I stopped myself. Sod it, I thought. I had nothing to go home for. ‘Why not?’ I said instead.

When the second martini arrived, I took another restorative pull through the straw and sat back. I was beginning to feel pleasantly fuzzy around the edges.

‘Thank you,’ I said on a long sigh. ‘This was just what I needed.’

‘Can you talk about it yet?’

Phin’s voice was warm with sympathy. The funny thing was that it didn’t feel at all awkward to be sitting there with him in the dim light. Maybe it was the martini, but all at once he felt like a friend, not my irritating boss. Only that morning the graze of his finger had reduced me to mush, but it was too bizarre to remember that now.

I sighed. ‘Oh, it’s just the usual thing.’

‘Boyfriend trouble?’

‘He’s not my boyfriend any more. The truth is, he was never really my boyfriend at all,’ I realised dully. ‘But I loved him. I still do.’

In spite of myself, my eyes started to fill with tears. ‘He told me before Christmas that he wanted out, that he didn’t think it was working,’ I went on, my voice beginning to wobble disastrously. ‘I’d been hoping and hoping that he’d change his mind, and I let myself believe that he was beginning to miss me, but I just found out today that he’s going out with Lori and he’s mad about her and I don’t think I can bear it.’

I couldn’t stop the tears then. It was awful. I hate crying, hate that feeling of losing control, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Phin saw me frantically searching for tissue, and silently handed me a paper napkin that had come with the bowl of nuts.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ I wept into it.

‘Hey, don’t be sorry. It sucks. Who is this guy, anyway?’ he said. ‘Do you want me to go and kill him for you? Would that help?’

‘I don’t think Lex would be very pleased if you did.’ I sniffed into the napkin. ‘He’d have to find a new PR person.’

Phin’s brows crawled up to his hairline. ‘Are we talking about Jonathan Pugh?’

I could see him trying to picture Jonathan’s appeal. I know Jonathan isn’t the sexiest looking guy in the world, but it was about more than looks.

‘Jonathan’s everything I ever wanted,’ I told him tearfully. ‘He’s a bit older than me, I know, but he’s so steady, so reliable. He seems reserved, but I always had the feeling that he’d be different in private, and he is. I never thought I’d have a chance with him, but then there was the summer party…’

I’ll never forget my starry-eyed amazement when Jonathan came over to talk to me, and suggested going for a quiet drink away from all the noise. I’d been bedazzled by all my dreams coming true at once.

‘I was so happy just to be with him,’ I told Phin. Now I’d started talking, it was as if I couldn’t stop. I had to blurt it all out. I gulped at my martini. ‘I’d never been in love before, not like that, and when I was with him it felt like I had everything I’d ever wanted. I didn’t mind that he wanted to keep our relationship a secret—to me that was just him being sensible, and I loved him for that, too. But he’s not being sensible with Lori,’ I said bitterly. ‘He’s not keeping her a secret. He doesn’t care who knows how he feels about her.’

My mouth began to tremble wildly again. ‘It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have a proper relationship. He just didn’t want me. He wanted someone like Lori, who’s pretty and feminine.’

‘I bet she isn’t prettier than you,’ said Phin.

‘She is. If you saw her, you’d know.’

I’d never liked Lori. She’s the kind of woman who gives the impression of being frail and shy and helpless, but who always manages to get her own way. Men hang around, asking her if she’s all right the whole time. As far as I knew Lori had no female friends—always a bad sign, in my opinion—but even I had to admit she was very pretty. She was tiny, with a tumble of blonde curls, huge blue eyes and a soft, breathy little voice.

Phin wouldn’t be able to resist her any more than Jonathan had.

‘OK, maybe she’s pretty,’ Phin allowed, ‘but you’re beautiful, Summer.’

‘I’m not.’ I blew my nose on the napkin. ‘I’m ordinary. I know that.’

He laughed at that. ‘You are so not ordinary, Summer! You’ve got fantastic bones and beautiful skin and your eyes are incredible. And don’t get me started on your mouth…Your trouble is that you don’t make the most of yourself.’

‘I do,’ I protested, still tearfully. ‘Look at me.’ I gestured down at my suit. Even in the depths of my misery I knew it was better not to draw attention to my face right then. I’m not a pretty crier. Maybe the likes of Lori can cry without their skin going blotchy and their eyes puffy and their nose running, but I couldn’t. ‘I always take trouble over my clothes,’ I pointed out. ‘I never go out without make-up. What more can I do?’

‘You could let your hair down sometimes,’ said Phin, lifting a hand as if to touch it, but changing his mind at the last minute. ‘It looks as if it would be beautiful, thick and silky. It would make you look more…’ he searched for the right word ‘…accessible,’ he decided in the end, and I remembered what Anne had said about changing my image by letting my hair hang loose.

But what difference would it have made? ‘What’s the point in looking accessible when I’m boring?’ I asked despairingly. ‘Jonathan still wouldn’t want me.’

‘He must have wanted you at some point or he wouldn’t have got involved with you in first place.’

‘No, he didn’t.’ I was just starting to accept the truth. ‘I flung myself at him, and I must have been convenient, but he never meant it to be more than that. He didn’t want me. And why should he? I’m boring and sensible and practical,’ I raged miserably, remembering now—too late—some of the things Jonathan had said. In hindsight, it was all so obvious. Only I hadn’t wanted to see the truth before.

‘Jonathan doesn’t want someone as competent as he is. He doesn’t want someone who can look after herself. He wants someone needy and feminine—like Lori. Someone he can look after. But I can’t do needy. I’m too used to dealing with everything, ever since I was child. I can’t help it, but Jonathan thinks it makes me bossy. He used to make comments about it. I thought he was being affectionate, but now I wonder if it really bothered him. Funny how a man is never bossy, isn’t it?’ I added in a bitter aside. ‘A man is always assertive or controlling, but never, ever bossy.’

‘I don’t think you’re bossy,’ said Phin. ‘You’re practical, which is a very different thing.’

‘Jonathan thinks I am. He just got bored with me. All that time I was telling myself how much I loved him, he was losing interest. I should have realised that he hadn’t invested anything in the relationship. He didn’t even leave a toothbrush at my flat. When he ended it, there was nothing to discuss.’

Oh, dear, here came the tears again. I groped around for the wet napkin until Phin found me another, and I scrubbed furiously at my cheeks before drawing a shuddering breath.

‘When Monique told me about Lori today, it just made me realise what a fool I’ve been about everything,’ I said. ‘I’d had this dream in my head for so long, and it was all wrapped up with being with Jonathan and feeling safe, but I should have known it was too good to be true,’ I said wretchedly. ‘He’d never want someone like me.’

‘But you still want him?’

I nodded. ‘I love him,’ I said, my voice catching.

‘Then I think you should go out and get him back,’ said Phin. ‘I didn’t have you down as someone who would give up as easily as that. What have you been doing since you split up?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Precisely, and look where it’s got you. You’re miserable, and Jonathan’s dating a woman named after a truck. Lori? I mean, how serious can he be?’

I looked at him. ‘That’s a pathetic joke,’ I said, but I managed a watery smile even so.

‘I’m just saying you shouldn’t give up,’ Phin said. ‘Your trouble is that you’re too subtle. I had lunch with you both the other day, and I didn’t have a clue that there had been anything at all between you. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jonathan thinks you don’t care one way or the other. I suggest we have another drink,’ he went on, gesturing for the waitress to bring another round, ‘and plan your strategy.’

I considered that, my brow creased with the effort of thinking after two martinis. ‘You think I should tell Jonathan how I feel?’

‘Absolutely not!’ Phin tutted. ‘Really, Summer, you haven’t got a clue, have you? If you get heavy on him he’ll panic and think you’re about to drag him off to the suburbs via the nearest registry office—which is what you want, of course, but this is not the time to tell him that. You’ve got to reel him in first.’

‘Well, what do you suggest, if you’re such an expert?’ I asked, wiping mascara away with the napkin. What was the point of waterproof mascara if you couldn’t cry? I would have to write and complain. ‘If I tell him how I feel, I’m too intense. If I don’t, he won’t notice because I’m so boring and predictable.’ I lapsed back into gloom once more.

Another beer and a fresh martini were placed on the table. Phin pushed my glass towards me. ‘For a start, you’ve got to get this idea that you’re boring out of your head,’ he told me sternly. ‘You’re smart, you’re funny—not always deliberately, I’ll grant you—and you’re sexy as hell.’