Читать книгу At His Service: His 9-5 Secretary: The Billionaire Boss's Secretary Bride / The Secretary's Secret / Memo: Marry Me? - Michelle Celmer, Helen Brooks - Страница 8

WHATEVER had possessed her? Why had she challenged him like that? Gina stood, staring at her flushed reflection in the spotted little mirror in the ladies’ cloakroom, mentally groaning. He had looked absolutely amazed, and no wonder.

Grabbing her bag, she hunted for her lip gloss and then stood with it in her hand, still staring vacantly. It had been his attitude that had done it. It had brought out the devil in her, and the temper that went with the hair. When she and her two sisters had been growing up, her father had repeatedly warned them about the folly of speaking first and thinking later—often lamenting the fact that he was the only male in a household of four red-haired women, while he’d been about it.

‘A homebody.’ And, ‘you’re bound to meet someone in London.’ How patronising could you get? And why shouldn’t she be a career woman, anyway? It wasn’t only scrawny blondes like Susan Richards who had the monopoly on such things.

Suddenly she slumped, her eyes misty. She had behaved badly out there, and if she was being honest with herself it was because the sight of Harry and Susan had acted like salt on a raw wound.

Dabbing her eyes with a tissue, she sniffed loudly and then repaired her make-up. This was all her own fault—she should never have come out to dinner with him. She had known it was foolish, worse than foolish, but she had done it anyway. Harry couldn’t help being Harry. Being so drop-dead gorgeous, he was always going to have women panting after him, but at least after tonight she wouldn’t have to watch it any longer.

The lurch her heart gave made her smudge the lip gloss down her chin. She stopped what she was doing and held herself round the middle, swaying back and forth a number of times, until the door opening brought her up straight.

A tall matronly looking woman entered, nodding and smiling at her before entering the one cubicle the tiny room held.

Gina wished she was old, or at least old enough for this to be past history. She wished she didn’t love him so much. And more than anything she wished she wasn’t so sure that she would never meet anyone who could stir her heart like Harry, which meant she wasn’t likely to get the husband and children she’d always imagined herself having. She bit hard on her lip, her eyes cloudy. Harry was right. She was a homebody. And because of him she was being forced down a road she had never seen herself walking.

It was all his fault. She glared at her reflection, wiping her streaked chin, and then packing her make-up away. He was so content with his lot, so happy, so completely self-satisfied. The rat.

Taking a deep breath, she told herself to get a grip. He was buying her dinner, hardly a crime. And the watch was beautiful, made even more so by the fact he had noticed she wasn’t wearing her old one. It had been kind of him to round off her time at Breedon & Son by taking her out, when all was said and done. So … no more griping. Get yourself in there and be bright and sparkling, and leave him with a smile when the time comes.

When Gina walked back into the dining area the sight of him caused her breath to catch in her throat, but then it always did. Which was at best annoying and worst embarrassing—like the time she had been eating a hot sausage-roll in the work canteen and had choked, until Natalie had slapped her on the back so hard she’d thought her spine had snapped in two.

She arrived at the table just as the waitress brought their main course, which was good timing. She could bury herself in the food to some extent, she thought, sliding into her seat and returning his smile. At least he was smiling now. He’d looked thoroughly irritated with her when she had left, and she couldn’t altogether blame him.

‘More wine?’ He was refilling her glass as he spoke, and Gina didn’t protest. She needed something to help her get through the evening without making a complete fool of herself, and in the absence of anything else alcohol would do. Although, that was flawed thinking, she told herself in the next moment. The wine was more likely to prompt her to do or say something silly.

Warning herself to go steady, she took a small sip and then tried the tagliatelle. It was delicious. The best she had ever tasted. Deciding that she was definitely a girl who would eat for comfort rather than pine away, she tucked in.

By the time the main course was finished, Gina had discovered that you could laugh and really mean it, even if your heart was on the verge of being broken. Harry seemed to put himself out to be the perfect dinner companion after their earlier blip, producing one amusing story after another, and displaying the wicked wit which had bowled her over in the first days of their acquaintance. Back then she had desperately been seeking a way to make him notice her as a woman; now that strain was taken off her shoulders at least. He saw her as a friend, and only as a friend, and she’d long since accepted it.

She chose pistachio meringue with fresh berries for dessert, and it didn’t fail to live up to expectations. She didn’t think she’d eat for a week after this evening, and she said so as she licked the last morsel of meringue off her spoon.

Harry grinned, his eyes following her pink tongue. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. If I’d thought I could have introduced you to this place months ago.’

If he had thought. Quite. ‘I’m glad you didn’t. I’d be two stone heavier by now.’

‘You could have taken your parents’ dogs for a few extra walks and worked off the pounds,’ he said easily.

‘There speaks someone who’s never had to diet.’ Why would he? The man was perfect.

‘Do you—have to diet, I mean?’

A bit personal, but she’d brought it on herself. Gina nodded. ‘My sisters—wouldn’t you just know?—follow after my dad, and he’s a tall streak of nothing. My mother on the other hand is like me. We go on a diet every other week, but just as regularly fall by the wayside. My mum blames my dad for her lapses. She says he gives her no incentive because he likes her to be what he calls “cuddly”.’ She grimaced.

‘I’m with your father.’

Gina smiled wryly.

‘I mean it.’

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Purposely changing the subject, she said, ‘Thank you for a lovely meal, Harry. I’ve really enjoyed it. It was a nice way to end my time at Breedon & Son.’

He seemed to digest that for a few seconds. ‘It’ll be odd, coming into work each day and you not being there.’

Be still, my foolish heart. She forced a smile. ‘I think you’ll find Susan a more than adequate replacement. She’s very keen.’ In more ways than one.

‘I guess so.’

He didn’t sound overly impressed, and Gina’s heart jumped for joy before she reminded herself it meant nothing. If it wasn’t Susan it would be someone else. Her voice even, she said, ‘It’ll all work out fine. Things always do, given time.’ Except me and you.

‘I think we’re both long enough in the tooth to know that’s not true,’ he said drily. ‘It goes hand in hand with accepting there’s no Santa Clause.’ He cleared his throat, his heavily lashed eyes intent on her face. ‘Look, this is none of my business, and tell me to go to blazes if you want, but is this decision to leave Yorkshire anything to do with your personal life?’

She stared at him.

‘You know what I mean,’ he said after a moment. ‘A man. Has a relationship ended unhappily, something like that? Because, if that’s the reason, running away won’t necessarily improve your state of mind.’

Panic stricken, she opened her mouth to deny it before logic stepped in. He had no idea the man in question was him, and if nothing else confirming his suspicions would work to her advantage. One, he’d have to accept she had a concrete reason for moving away, and two, it would explain her reluctance to visit in the future.

‘I’m right, aren’t I? Someone has let you down.’

After their earlier conversation, she couldn’t bear the idea of Harry thinking she’d been discarded like an old sock. Stiffly, she said, ‘It’s not like that. I made the decision to end the relationship and move away.’

His eyes narrowed. She recognised the look on his face. It was one he adopted when he wouldn’t take no for an answer on some business deal or other. It was this formidably tenacious streak in his nature that had seen Breedon & Son go from strength to strength in the last year since he’d come home. And that was great on a business level. Just dandy. It was vastly different when that acutely discerning mind was homed in on her, though. Recognising the wisdom of the old adage that pride went before a fall, she said quickly, ‘It wasn’t going anywhere, that’s all. End of story.’

‘What do you mean, not going anywhere? You’re obviously upset enough about the finish of it to move away from your family and friends, your whole life,’ he finished, somewhat dramatically for him. Then he added suddenly, ‘He’s not married, is he?’

‘Excuse me?’ It was a relief to hide behind outrage. ‘I have never, and would never, get involved with someone else’s husband.’

‘No, of course you wouldn’t.’ He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I know that, really I do. But what went wrong, then?’

Gina wondered if she could end this conversation with a few well-chosen words along the lines that he should mind his own business. But this was Harry she was dealing with. He was like one of those predatory fish of the Caribbean she’d read about recently: once it seized hold on something, it couldn’t let go even if it wanted to. ‘A common scenario,’ she said as lightly as she could manage. ‘He was content to jog along as we were indefinitely. I wanted more.’

He looked shocked. ‘Did he know how much you cared for him?’

That was rich, coming from the man who—if office gossip was to be believed—discarded girlfriends like cherry stones once he’d enjoyed their fruit. Talk about a case of the pot calling the kettle black! Gina shrugged, keeping her voice steady and unemotional when she said, ‘That’s not really the point. We wanted different things for the future, that’s all. I was ready to settle down, and he wasn’t. Actually, I don’t think he will ever settle down.’

He stared at her, a frown darkening his countenance. ‘In other words, he strung you along?’

‘No, he didn’t string me along,’ Gina said severely. ‘He was always absolutely straight and above board, if you must know. I suppose I just … hoped for more.’ And always had, from the first moment she had laid eyes on him. Always would, for that matter, if she didn’t put a good few miles between them.

‘You are being too kind. He must have known the sort of girl you are from the start.’

She couldn’t do this any more. Her voice low, she said, ‘Could we change the subject, please, Harry?’

He opened his mouth to object, but the waitress was at their side with the coffee. He waited until she had bustled off, and then spoke in a very patient tone, which had the effect of making her want to kick him. ‘Believe me, Gina,’ he said gently, ‘I know the type of man he is, and he’s not worthy of you.’

That was true at least. ‘Really?’ she said drily. ‘You know this without even having met him?’

‘Like I said, I know the type. Now, I’m not saying he’s wrong not to want to settle down, I’m the same way myself. But I wouldn’t get involved with someone who had for ever on their mind, and there’s the difference. And a man can tell. Always.’

He really was the most arrogant male on the planet. ‘How?’

‘How?’

‘How can you tell if a woman is looking for something permanent or just a roll in the hay?’ she asked baldly.

He looked askance at her. ‘I hope it’s never anything as crude as “just a roll in the hay”,’ he said stiffly. ‘I’m a man, not an animal. I’ve never yet taken a woman just because she’s indicated she’s available.’

This self-righteous side of him was new. Gina fixed him with purposely innocent eyes. ‘So you have to get to know someone first? Find out if they can provide mental as well as physical stimulation, perhaps? Make sure their slant on life and love is the same as yours?’

He stared at her as though he wasn’t sure whether she was mocking him or not. After a moment, his eyes glinting, he said, ‘You make it sound very cold-blooded.’

In for a penny, in for a pound. ‘Perhaps because it is?’ she suggested sweetly.

‘I prefer to think of it as honest, and if this man you’ve been involved with had done the same you wouldn’t be in the position you’re in now,’ he ground out somewhat grimly.

‘But attraction, love, desire, doesn’t always fit into nicely labelled little packages, does it?’ Gina countered, the feeling that she’d hit him on the raw wonderfully satisfying. ‘It can be a spontaneous thing, something that hits you wham-bang in the heart and takes you completely by surprise. Something so overpowering and real that everything and everyone else goes out of the window.’

He folded his arms over his chest, settling more comfortably in his seat as he studied her flushed face. ‘It can be like that,’ he agreed after some moments. ‘But, if it is, things inevitably go wrong.’

‘Of course they don’t—’

‘Was it like that for you with this man?’ he interjected swiftly. ‘A head-over-heels thing?’

She hesitated, and immediately he seized on it. ‘You see?’ he said coolly.

‘What I see is that your attitude is a wonderful excuse for playing the field without fear of reprisals.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

Refusing to be intimidated by his growl, Gina met his glare without flinching. ‘You have the best of all worlds, Harry, you know you do. You can wine, dine and bed a woman as often as you like, and then walk away with a smile and a “I told you what to expect” when you’ve had enough. I find that … distasteful.’

‘Distasteful?’

If the situation had been different, she could have laughed at the sheer outrage on his face. Funnily enough, his mounting temper had the effect of calming her. ‘Yes, distasteful,’ she said firmly. ‘You can’t tell me some of your girlfriends haven’t fallen for you because, whatever modern thinking tries to promote, sex means more to a woman than a man in the emotional sense. Just the sheer mechanics of it means a woman allows—’ She stopped abruptly as he raised a sardonic eyebrow.

‘Yes?’ he drawled with suspicious blankness.

‘It means a woman allows a man into her body,’ she said bravely, wondering why she was giving Harry—of all people—a biology lesson. ‘Whereas, for a man …’

‘It’s possession, penetration?’

Ignoring her fiery cheeks, Gina nodded sharply. ‘Exactly.’

‘You don’t think the man feels anything beyond physical satisfaction?’

‘I didn’t say that.’ He knew she hadn’t said that. ‘But it is different.’

‘Vive la difference.’

Her embarrassment seemed to have restored his equanimity. Drawing on her dignity, Gina said flatly, ‘I’m sorry if you find it old-fashioned or amusing, but I happen to think that love should enter the equation however things turn out in the end. And I know there’s no guarantee with any relationship; I’m not in cloud cuckoo land.’

He looked at her quietly for a moment. ‘I wasn’t laughing at you, Gina.’

And pigs fly.

‘In fact the time was I might have expressed the same views myself, but—’ He paused. ‘People change. Life changes them.’

Gina said nothing. In truth she was startled by this last remark. His tone of voice, the look on his face, was different from anything that had gone before.

‘I guess I’ve become self-sufficient, independent. I like my life the way it is, and to share it with another person would be at best inconvenient and worst a nightmare.’

She wished she’d never started this conversation. Breathing shallowly to combat the shaft of pain that had seared her chest, Gina said quietly, ‘You missed out cynical.’

‘You think I’m cynical?’

She nodded. ‘Not just from what you’ve said tonight, but more over the last twelve months. I wonder, actually, if you really like women much, Harry.’

For a moment he didn’t react at all. Then he said softly, ‘I assure you, I’m not of the other persuasion.’

‘No, I didn’t mean—I—I know you’re not—’

He cut short her stammerings with a dark smile, his voice self-mocking when he said, ‘I know what you meant, Gina. It was my way of prevaricating.’

‘Oh.’ Sometimes his innate honesty was more than a little disturbing.

‘Because you’re right. I am cynical where the fair sex is concerned.’

Why was being proved right so horribly depressing? Hiding her feelings, Gina nodded slowly. Picking her words carefully, she said, ‘Bad experience somewhere in your long-lost youth?’ She hoped to defuse what had suddenly become an extremely charged atmosphere with her tone, knowing he wouldn’t want to talk about it in any detail. The last year had proved he was a master at deflecting questions about his past.

This time he surprised her. Nodding, he leaned forward, taking one of the mints the waitress had brought with their coffee and unwrapping it before he said, ‘Her name was Anna, and it was a wild, hot affair. We were crazy about each other at first, but we were young; I’d just left uni when we met. I thought it would go on for ever, made promises, you know? But after a year or so I found my feelings were beginning to change. I still loved her, cared about her, but I wasn’t in love with her. That something had gone. Perhaps it had only ever been lust, I don’t know.’

‘And Anna?’

‘She said she loved me with all her heart. Then she got sick. A rare form of cancer. Although, she wasn’t. I only found out she’d lied to me after we’d married. One of her friends told me when she was drunk, she thought it was hilarious. I was a joke, apparently.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She was. His voice was painful to hear.

‘So far from Anna only having a few short months to live, months she’d begged me to spend with her as man and wife, she was as healthy as the next person.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I told her I was leaving. That night she cut her wrists in the bath.’

Unable to believe her ears, Gina could only stare.

‘And so it began. Months of manipulation and tears and threats and rages. Two more supposed suicide attempts when I was going to leave. Damn it, I was young, little more than a kid. I was in way over my head, and I was stupid. I really thought she might kill herself. Eventually it came to the point where I began to fear I was going mad. That was the point I walked out. Went abroad.’

‘What … what did she do?’

He shrugged. ‘Took me for every penny she could get, and made sure my name was mud, then married some other poor sop.’

Appalled, Gina reached out and touched his hand. ‘She must have been sick.’

‘Sick?’ His lips twisted. ‘No, I don’t think Anna was sick. Manipulative, determined, cruel, hard—all under a cloak of fragile femininity, of course—but sick? I could have forgiven sick, but not the sheer resolve to get her own way no matter whom she trampled underfoot.’

And so he had decided never to get caught like that again. She could understand it. But surely he realised all women weren’t like Anna? Quietly, she said, ‘I think she was sick, Harry. I’ve never met anyone like her. All the women I know would be horrified at what she did.’

He didn’t argue the point. Draining his cup of coffee, he shrugged slowly as he replaced the cup on the saucer. ‘You’re probably right, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Like I said, life changes people. She perhaps did me a favour, in the long run. I wouldn’t have ended up in the States, maybe, wouldn’t have decided what I wanted—and more importantly what I didn’t want—so early on in life, but for Anna.’

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think she did you a favour,’ Gina said with more honesty than tact. ‘How can living an autonomous life be a favour? You’ll miss out on a wife, children—’

‘I don’t want a wife and children, Gina,’ he said calmly and coolly. ‘I have what I want, and I consider myself most fortunate.’

She could have believed him one hundred per cent, but for the shadow darkening the smoky-grey eyes. And then he blinked and it was gone. Perhaps she’d imagined it in the first place. Gathering all her courage, she said, ‘And what you want is a beautiful empty shell of a house, with no family to make it a home? Not ever? A life of complete independence with no one to grow old with, no one to look back over the years with? No one to cuddle when the night’s dark and morning’s a long way off?’

For several seconds, seconds that shivered with a curious intimacy, he held her gaze. Then the grey eyes closed against her. When he looked up again, he was smiling, his voice holding an amused note when he said, ‘You’re a romantic, Gina Leighton.’

How the knowledge that he wasn’t smiling inside had come, Gina wasn’t sure, but it was there. She didn’t smile back, her face sweetly solemn as her eyes searched the sharply defined planes and angles of the hard male features.

‘I believe in love,’ she said softly. ‘I believe in the sort of love between a man and a woman that has the potential to go on for a lifetime, and nothing else can measure up to the contentment and wonder of it. It has the power to sweep away barriers of culture and religion, heal unhealable hurts, and mend broken hearts. It can change the most dyed-in-the-wool cynic for the better and make the world a place worth living in. Yes, I believe all that, and if that fits your definition of a romantic then I hope up my hands and plead guilty, gladly.’

Harry shook his head slowly. ‘And all this when the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with has let you walk away?’

She blinked. That had been below the belt, and it hurt. Lots.

‘I’m sorry.’ Immediately he reached out and took her hand, holding on to her fingers when she would have pulled away. A thousand nerves responded to the feel of his warm flesh, and as she closed her eyes against the flood of desire his voice came, low and repentant. ‘I’m really sorry, Gina. That was unforgivable. I’m the sort of primeval animal that attacks when it’s threatened.’

Threatened? Bewildered, she met his gaze. For once his face was open, even vulnerable, and it betrayed something: a need, a longing. For what, she didn’t know, but it was there in the smoky depths of the grey eyes. She swallowed hard. ‘You objected to my placing you on a par with an animal earlier,’ she reminded him, managing a fair attempt at a smile.

‘So I did.’

She could read the relief in his face. He hated emotional scenes. She knew the reason for that now. ‘Can I have my hand back, please?’ she said with the sort of cheerfulness he expected of her. ‘I want to drink my coffee.’

‘Sure.’ He grinned at her, and her heart writhed. She couldn’t imagine not seeing him every day. She hadn’t tried to, knowing it would weaken her resolve if she did. But now the time was here. In a little while, maybe an hour or two, he would happily drive out of her life without a care in the world. He’d perhaps even sing along to the car radio or one of his CD’s on the way home, feeling he’d done his duty to the stalwart secretary who had babysat him in his first weeks at work.

She wondered what he’d do if she succumbed to the sudden temptation to tell him how she felt. To ask him to kiss her, really kiss her, just once. For old times’ sake, or whatever he wanted to call it.

He’d be horrified. The answer was there with bells on. Horrified, embarrassed, alarmed. And every time he thought of her from now on—if he ever did, of course—it would be with awkwardness and discomfiture. And she didn’t want that. OK, it was probably her pride again, but she would really rather walk through coals of fire than have him mentally squirm if her name came to mind.

‘… your address?’

‘I’m sorry?’ Too late she realised he’d been talking, and she hadn’t heard a word.

He shook his head. ‘You were thinking of him just now, weren’t you?’ he accused. ‘This guy who’s let you down. Are you seeing him again before you leave for London?’

He seemed put out, but she couldn’t think why. It was no skin off Harry’s nose whether she saw her imaginary lover or not. She shrugged. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said dismissively. She’d discussed this whole thing enough, besides which she was worried she might trip herself up. Lying didn’t come naturally to her, and she knew she was extremely bad at it. ‘And he didn’t let me down, not like you mean. What did you say before?’ she added, before he started to argue the point.

‘I said, you’ll have to remember to give me your address and telephone number tonight,’ he said.

A trifle sullenly, Gina thought. But then Harry never had been able to stand being disagreed with. She nodded. She had no intention of giving Harry her address in London after his comment earlier in the day about dossing down on her sofa if he was in town. She’d make some excuse when he dropped her off, saying she’d post it to him, something like that. And she wasn’t going to delay their goodbye, either. She didn’t want his last sight of her to be one of her howling her head off.

They finished their coffee and mints, and Harry paid the bill. Gina’s heart was beating a tattoo as they walked out to the car, Harry’s hand at her elbow. The night was scented with spring and to Gina’s heightened emotions, unbearably lovely. She didn’t think she had ever felt so miserable in the whole of her life.

Once in the car, Harry didn’t start the engine immediately. Instead he twisted in his seat to look at her, frowning slightly. ‘I’m worried about you, Gina,’ he said quietly.

She became aware her mouth had fallen open, and shut it quickly. If he’d suddenly taken all his clothes off and danced in the moonlight, she couldn’t have been more surprised. More thrilled, certainly, but not more surprised. ‘I don’t follow,’ she hedged warily.

‘This taking off to London to nurse a broken heart. It’s dangerous. You’re leaving yourself wide open for the worse sort of guy to take advantage of you. Away from friends and family, all alone in the bit city, you’ll be incredibly vulnerable.’

He made her sound like Little Orphan Annie. She stared at him for a moment before she said stiffly, ‘I’m thirty-two years old, Harry. Not sweet sixteen.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘Everything.’

His mouth set in the stubborn pout he did so well. It made her toes curl, but she wasn’t about to betray that to this big, hard, sexy man. Just occasionally—like now—she caught a glimpse of what the boy Harry must have looked like, and it was intoxicating. But Harry was no callow youth. He was an experienced and ruthlessly intelligent man who would capitalise on any weakness an opponent revealed. She’d seen him too often in action on the business front to be fooled.

‘I don’t think you’ve thought this through,’ he said flatly, after a few tense moments had ticked by.

‘Excuse me?’ She couldn’t believe the cheek of it. She hadn’t thought it through? She’d done nothing else for months. Months when he’d been busy getting up close and personal with some blonde or other. He clearly didn’t only see her as unattractive and sexless, but stupid as well. ‘What on earth would you know about it?’ she said stonily.

‘Don’t get on your high horse.’ He seemed unaffected by her obvious rage. ‘I’m merely pointing out you’re on the rebound, because anyone who is on the rebound never makes allowance for it.’

Agony aunt as well—there was no limit to his attributes. Gina glared at the man she loved with every fibre of her being. ‘So, you’ve pointed it out,’ she said frostily. ‘Feel better?’

‘If you’ve taken it on board?’

‘Oh, of course I have,’ she said sarcastically. ‘You said it, after all.’

‘Very funny.’ He started the car engine. ‘I’m only trying to look out for a friend. What’s wrong with that?’

A grey bleakness settled on her. ‘Nothing,’ she said flatly. ‘Thanks.’

‘My pleasure.’ He swung the car out of the tiny car park and on to the road, the darkness settling round them as only country darkness can.

Gina sat absolutely still, staring out of the windscreen, but without seeing the road in front of them. She felt shattered, emotionally, mentally and physically. The countless sleepless nights she’d endured over the last months as she’d agonised about Harry, the build up to today which she’d been dreading, the surprise invitation to have dinner with him—and not least their conversation throughout—had all served to bring her to a state of exhaustion. And of course all the wine she’d drunk had added to the overall stupor she was feeling, she thought drily, shutting her eyes and relaxing back against the seat.

She didn’t know if she had actually dropped off or not when she became aware Harry had brought the car to a halt. She opened her eyes to find they were still deep in country and darkness. ‘What is it?’ she asked in some alarm as he began to reverse along the narrow lane they’d been travelling down.

‘I’m not sure.’ He glanced at her. ‘Go back to sleep. This isn’t a “I’ve run out of petrol” scenario.’

No, more’s the pity. ‘I never thought it was,’ she said, her voice holding the ring of truth.

He reversed some hundred yards or so before pulling up. ‘I saw a car start off from this point, and as we passed I saw a cardboard box by the side of the verge. I just want to look in it.’

‘Look in it?’

He nodded, his voice somewhat sheepish as he said, ‘I don’t know why, but I’ve got a funny feeling about it. Stay in the car.’ He opened the driver’s door and climbed out, Gina following a second later. He was already bending over the box, and before he opened it he said, ‘I said stay in the car.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ She came round the bonnet. ‘What’s in it?’

‘Hell.’ He’d lifted the lid as she had been speaking, and now as she reached him and looked down she saw several tiny shapes moving and squeaking.

‘Oh, Harry.’ She clutched his sleeve, her eyes wide and horrified. ‘Someone’s dumped some puppies. Out here, in the middle of nowhere. How could they?’

‘Quite easily, it seems,’ he said grimly.

‘Are they all right?’ They were both crouching down by the box now, and could make out four puppies in the moonlight, wriggling about on folded newspaper and smeared with their own excrement. ‘Oh, poor little things.’ Gina was nearly crying. ‘What are we going to do?’

Harry stood up. ‘If I put the car blanket over your knee, could you have the box on your lap?’

‘Of course. Anything, anything.’ She couldn’t believe someone had actually been so heartless as to put the puppies in a box, bring them to a deserted spot and just drive off. Not with all the sanctuaries that took unwanted litters these days.

Once they were back in the car again, the box on her lap, Gina peered in. ‘They’re very small,’ she said shakily. ‘Do you think there’s something the matter with them?’

‘Not with the racket they’re making,’ Harry said drily.

‘Where are we going to take them?’

‘There must be a vet somewhere around here, but I haven’t got a clue where. Look, my cleaner, Mrs Rothman, has dogs. Do you mind if we retrace our footsteps so to speak, and call on her? If nothing else she might be able to point us in the right direction. It’ll mean you’re late back, though. We’re halfway back to your place.’

She hadn’t realised they’d travelled so far. He was right. She had been asleep. ‘It doesn’t matter about being late. I haven’t got to get up for work in the morning, remember? It’ll be a cleaning and sorting day, so please do go and see your Mrs Rothman.’ At least she’d have extra time with him. Not that she would have wished it at the cost of someone dumping the puppies, but still …

The puppies quietened down as the warmth of the car kicked in, but this had the effect of causing Gina to check them every couple of minutes, terrified they’d died. It was a huge relief when eventually they came to the small village, which was a stone’s throw from Harry’s secluded cottage, and drew up outside a neat terraced house.

Mrs Rothman proved to be a plump, motherly type who drew them into the warmth of her smart little house and insisted on her husband making them all a cup of tea while she oohed and ahhed over the contents of the box. ‘Jack Russell crosses, by the look of it,’ she announced once she’d inspected the puppies. ‘All females. I bet whoever owned the bitch could get rid of the males but not the females. Happens like that sometimes. Or maybe it was just a huge litter.’

After cleaning the four little scraps up, Mrs Rothman lined the box with fresh newspaper while her husband mushed up some of their dog food. The puppies made short if somewhat messy work of it, after which Mrs Rothman popped them back in the box on top of an old towel. All four promptly went to sleep, clearly worn out by their unwelcome adventure.

‘How old do you think they are?’ Gina asked Mrs Rothman once she and Harry and the older couple were sitting sipping a second cup of tea in front of the blazing coal-fire, the puppies snuggled together in their box to one side of the hearth.

‘Hard to tell, but they managed the food fairly well, so I’d say about six weeks or so, maybe seven or eight. They wouldn’t have lasted long, left where they were. The nights can still be bitter.’ Mrs Rothman turned to Harry. ‘I know of a dog sanctuary not far from here. I’ll give you the telephone number and address. They’ll take them, I’m sure.’

Harry nodded. ‘Thanks.’

One of the puppies began to squeak with little piping sounds, and Gina knelt down and lifted the squirming little body out of the box and onto her lap, stroking the silky fur until it went back to sleep again. Harry looked at her. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘What sort of so-and-so could watch them grow to this stage and then leave them to die?’

It was exactly what she had been thinking, and his understanding brought tears to her eyes. That and the fact that she could see he too was deeply affected by the puppies’ plight. As another one began to scrabble about, he fetched it out of the box and fussed over it until it settled on his lap.

Mrs Rothman plied them with more tea and a slice of her home-made seed cake, the fire crackled and glowed, the puppies slept, and the big grandfather clock in a corner of the room ticked on. It was cosy and warm, and Gina didn’t want the moment ever to end.

And then Harry stood up. ‘Right,’ he said briskly, depositing his puppy back with her sisters. ‘We’ve bothered you long enough. If you could let me have the address of the sanctuary, and a tin of dog food to tide them over until I drop them off, we’ll be on our way.’

The brief interlude was over.