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 9

HARRY was experiencing a whole host of emotions new to him, and none of them was welcome.

This evening had been a mistake of gigantic proportions from start to finish, he thought grimly as he and Gina made their goodbyes and walked to the car, the box tucked under his arm, and Gina carrying a bag containing several tins of dog food which Mrs Rothman insisted on pressing on them. And finding the puppies had been the icing on the whole damn cake.

Once he’d settled Gina in the car with the box on her lap, he walked round the bonnet to the driver’s side.

Gina Leighton was beautiful, sweet, intelligent and heart-wrenchingly vulnerable, and a woman like that definitely didn’t feature in his life. No way. With someone like Gina came commitment, responsibilities, ties, problems, and he was done with such things for good. He’d rather jump out of a plane without a parachute than ever consider travelling down that road again in a hundred lifetimes.

Once in the car, the puppies were yelping and mewing and scrabbling about in the box like crazy. ‘I think they want their mum,’ Gina said as he pulled on his seat belt. ‘They must wonder what on earth is happening.’

He knew how they felt. Life had seemed so straightforward this morning. He’d thought that if she followed through on actually leaving—which he’d doubted till the last moment—than a warm goodbye, a little word about the watch and all she’d done for him and how grateful he was, and that would be that. Pleasant departure. Smiles all round. Simple. Clean.

So why had he asked her to have dinner with him? He went to start the car, but one of the puppies made a good attempt at using her sisters as a springboard to catapult on to the rim of the box, causing Gina to squeal before she said quickly, ‘Sorry. She made me jump.’

‘Nimble little blighters, aren’t they?’ Harry couldn’t help smiling. Abandoned they might be. Quitters they most certainly were not.

‘How are you going to travel all the way back from my place without them escaping in the car?’ Gina tilted her head at him. ‘Wouldn’t it be simpler to take them to your house first and settle them somewhere, in the kitchen maybe, before you take me home? Or I could call a taxi. Or, failing that, I’ll have them and take them to the sanctuary in the morning.’

He stared at her. None of the women he’d seen over the last few years would have been bothered about him in this situation—or the puppies come to that. Their prime concern would have been their clothes, hair, nails—in that order.

Then he shook himself mentally. He was probably being grossly unfair to the odd one or two. But only the odd one or two. ‘It might be a good idea to nip home and put them in the utility room before I take you back,’ he admitted. ‘The boiler’s in there, so it’s always warm, and I’ve got some bits of wood in the garage I can use to pen them in and contain them. It’ll give them room to be comfortable.’

She nodded. ‘Do that, then.’ She gave a weak giggle. ‘But quickly. This big one is determined to make a break for it. She’s obviously got leadership qualities.’

He smiled back at her. ‘There’s always one …’

As he started the car, Gina said, ‘They’re very sweet, aren’t they? And that puppy smell. It’s gorgeous.’

‘It wasn’t so gorgeous before Mrs Rothman cleaned them up,’ Harry said practically.

She giggled again. He wondered why such a simple, innocent sound should make him so sexually excited. But then, if he was truthful, he’d been fighting the attraction this woman held for him since day one. Her soft, generous curves, the pale, ginger-speckled skin, that mass of silky hair that shone with myriad shades of red and copper when a shaft of sunshine touched it …

He swung the car on to the road, driving automatically, taken up with his thoughts. Sometimes he’d only had to walk into the office and see Gina sitting demurely at her desk to become as hard as a rock. If she knew the sexual fantasies he’d indulged in … The situation had annoyed him, irritated him on occasion, and certainly disturbed him not a little. It had also frightened the dickens out of him, he realised with a little shock of self-awareness.

If she’d been some brassy, hard-boiled piece it would all have been different. They could have enjoyed each other’s bodies for as long as it had taken for the attraction to burn itself out. If she was attracted to him, that was. He frowned to himself. He’d thought there was a spark between them, but he might be fooling himself here. She’d always been the model of decorum. Damn it, it was an impossible situation. Which was why he had to admit to an initial feeling of relief when she’d said she was leaving.

Did he still feel relief? The car headlights caught a fox crossing the road in front of them, the animal’s red fur and thick bushy tail disappearing into the shadows in the next instant.

He wasn’t sure what he felt any more. He wanted to take her to bed, no question of that. He did not want a woman in his life permanently, set in concrete. And now she had revealed she was leaving because of a man which, he was forced to acknowledge, had thrown him somewhat. It had been a long time since he’d felt the nasty little gremlin of jealousy jabbing at him, but it had been there tonight. Their whole conversation had made him realise he didn’t know Gina as well as he’d thought he did.

She’d said the man wasn’t married, and he believed her. Gina wouldn’t lie. But selfish he most certainly was. She had clearly been seeing him for a long time, and to let her walk away the way he had … A muscle contracted in his jaw. He’d love five minutes alone with the swine.

Another little squeal from Gina brought his eyes to her as she carefully pushed the biggest puppy down in the box again. ‘We’re nearly home,’ he said, just as he swung the car off the road and on to his drive.

‘Not before time.’ She glanced at him as he drew up outside the cottage. ‘How are you going to get them to the sanctuary in the morning? This box won’t be any good.’

‘I’ll find something else. Failing that, a generous contribution to the place might persuade someone to come out and fetch them.’

Once in the cottage, he left Gina in the utility room with the puppies while he went to the garage and sorted out a couple of pieces of wood. When he returned, it was to find her kneeling on the tiles with the puppies scampering about her.

‘They’re so cute.’ She glanced up at him, her eyes alight, and his stomach muscles registered her tousled softness. ‘I thought they were all the same at first, but one’s bigger than the others, and that one—’ she pointed ‘—is smaller, and the other two are the same size.’

He nodded. ‘There are two puddles on the floor,’ he said.

She grimaced. ‘They can’t help that, they’re only babies. Aren’t you?’ she added, lifting the smallest puppy into her arms and stroking the small, downy head. ‘You’re just little babies without your mum. Take no notice of moany old Harry.’

Harry fought down the urge to take her straight upstairs into his bed, and show her that there was pleasure and enjoyment and life after this rat who had let her down. Instead he positioned the wood so it effectively enclosed a third of the utility room, spreading a wad of newspapers in one corner in the hope further puddles would be kept to one spot. In another corner, he made a bed of towels.

In the meantime Gina had wandered into the kitchen and found a couple of saucers, one of which she filled with water and one with pulped dog-food. The minute she came back and put them down, the puppies were on them.

They stood for a good few minutes, watching them feed and explore their new surroundings, laughing at their antics.

They really were four little clowns, Harry thought as he watched the smallest puppy hanging onto the biggest one’s tail by its teeth, before she was bowled over by one of the others. He’d grown up with dogs, but his parents had always chosen ones on the large side—Labradors and German Shepherds. These little mites were quite different, but seemed full of personality.

A stifled yawn at the side of him brought him back to the realisation it was very late. He glanced at his watch and was amazed to see it was after one o’clock. ‘Why don’t you stay the night?’ he said suddenly.

‘What?’

Gina looked as startled as he felt, he told himself with dark humour. Where on earth had that invitation come from?

‘Stay the night,’ he repeated quietly. ‘It’s very late, and you’re obviously dead beat. It seems sensible to stay here.’

He saw her mouth open and close. Something in the blue eyes made him sure she was going to refuse, and he added quickly, ‘Mrs Rothman always keeps the guest-room bed aired and made up.’

He saw her swallow. ‘I couldn’t.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ She appeared lost for words for a moment. ‘Because I’ve loads to do in the morning.’

That wasn’t the true story. His mouth dried. He’d bet his bottom dollar she’d arranged to see Lover Boy in the morning. Perhaps before this guy went into work. Damn it, couldn’t she see this man was just using her? Perhaps he even expected a bon-voyage quickie. Without a shred of remorse for the crudity, he said carefully, ‘You’ll be home first thing—I’ve got to go to work, don’t forget. Perhaps we could even drop the puppies off at this sanctuary on the way. That’d be a great help to me. In fact, I don’t know how I’m going to manage it without you.’

She stared at him, her blue eyes dark with some emotion he couldn’t fathom. She was probably weighing up the pain and pleasure of seeing Lover Boy compared to lending him a hand. Feeling he needed to press his cause, he said gently, ‘Like you said, they’re just little babies without their mum. I’d hate for things to be more difficult than they need to be in the morning, and handling the four of them might prove a problem.’ Deciding the end justified the means, he lied through his teeth as he added, ‘You’re used to dogs. I’m not.’

He saw her eyes narrow and realised he’d overdone it when she said, ‘I thought you once told me your parents have always had dogs?’

They had had too many long chats over coffee breaks. Recovering quickly, he smiled. ‘That’s true, but I left home well over a decade ago, besides which these little things bear no resemblance to the sort of dogs I grew up with.’

‘Mrs Rothman thought they were Jack Russell crossed with fox terriers, something like that. They’re not exactly going to be tiny dogs.’

‘But they’re tiny now. And wriggly.’ He wondered how far he could push the helpless-male scenario.

Gina glanced from him to the puppies, who were now quiet again, curled up together and looking pathetically helpless on their bed of towelling. Knowing her soft heart, he murmured, ‘I’d hate to drop one of them.’

He saw her shut her eyes for an infinitesimal second. Whether it was with despair at his feebleness, or irritation at her predicament, he wasn’t sure.

‘All right,’ she said ungraciously. ‘I’ll stay. But I need to be away first thing.’

Definitely expecting a visit from the rat. ‘Sure thing. I don’t want to be late. Busy day in front of me tomorrow, and Susan’s not clued up on things like you are, although she’s doing great.’

‘Isn’t she?’ Gina said.

He could tell she was still mad at being trapped here, because there was an edge to her voice. ‘Want a cup of coffee or anything before we turn in?’

‘Do you have any cocoa?’

‘Cocoa?’ he asked in surprise.

She flushed. ‘I usually have a mug of milky cocoa in bed,’ she said a trifle defensively.

Dampening down a mental image of Gina sitting up in bed stark-naked, her hair about her shoulders while her pink tongue licked at the froth on top of a mug of cocoa, Harry cleared his throat. His voice husky, he said, ‘Sorry, no cocoa, but there’s plenty of milk. How about a mug of hot milk instead—will that do?’

Gina nodded. He thought she looked very unhappy, and a mixture of anger and resentment slashed through him. Anger at this no-good character she was mixed up with. Resentment that someone he had thought so sensible and discriminating could allow themselves to be treated this way. The sooner she was well away from Yorkshire, the better. And yet he didn’t want her to go. How much he didn’t want her to go he hadn’t realised until just this very moment.

Feeling confused, he led the way into the kitchen. Gina perched on a stool and watched him as he placed two mugs on the breakfast bar, and then poured a pint of milk into a saucepan. ‘I’ll join you in the milk,’ he said obsequiously, aiming to get into her good books.

She nodded but didn’t comment.

‘And I appreciate you staying and helping with the puppies in the morning.’

His tone had been light, and he saw her rouse herself and stitch a smile on her face. ‘I couldn’t leave a mere male to cope with four offspring, now, could I?’

‘True.’ He’d never noticed just how superb her legs were before, but with her sitting on that stool he was probably seeing more of them than usual. Ignoring the stirring in his body, he said cheerfully, ‘At least babies of the animal variety don’t necessitate the use of nappies.’

‘Nappies are no problem these days, even to the most incompetent man. There’s no pins or folding them over in a certain way. It’s all done for you. You just stick two tabs together, and job’s a good ‘un.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he said drily.

‘Don’t tell me—you believe nappy changing and the rest of it is women’s work.’

‘Actually, I don’t,’ he said mildly.

‘No?’ Her lifted eyebrows expressed her disbelief.

‘No. If a couple decide to take on the enormous responsibility of bringing a new life into the world, then it’s a joint decision all the way, or should be. Taking it as read that certain functions can only be performed by a mother—breastfeeding, for example … I think parenthood should be a fifty-fifty undertaking.’ He poured the milk into the mugs.

‘Oh.’

‘You don’t believe me?’ he asked, turning to look at her.

‘I didn’t say that,’ she protested quietly.

‘You didn’t have to. You had a funny look on your face.’

Her face cleared of all expression. ‘I can’t help my face,’ she said with a weak smile. ‘So you’re a new-age man, then?’

‘Ah, now that’s a different question. I only said having a child should be a mutual undertaking, not that I’d consider it for myself.’

She nodded. ‘No, of course not. You’re strictly autonomous. You take what you want when you want, and then move on.’

He’d been in the process of handing a mug of milk to her, and for a moment his body stilled before carrying on. ‘Is that how you see me?’ he asked very quietly, a surge of emotion warning him he needed to control his temper.

She stared at him, her eyes unreadable. ‘That’s the picture you’ve presented to me.’

‘I don’t think so.’

Shrugging, she said, ‘Perhaps you should listen to yourself some time, Harry.’

‘I don’t need to, damn it. I know what I am and how I think.’ Or he had, up till this evening. Glaring at her, he growled, ‘I’m not some sort of conscienceless stud, Gina.’

‘That’s fine, then,’ she said flatly, her expression inscrutable.

He didn’t know if he wanted to shake her or kiss her, he thought rawly, fighting down an anger he would never have acknowledged had its roots in hurt. ‘We’ve known each other for twelve months, and for most of that time we’ve met every working day. We’ve talked and laughed and shared about our lives, and you can honestly say you see me like that?’ he asked intensely.

She hesitated, putting down her mug and letting her eyelashes sweep down over her eyes for some moments, before she looked at him again. Her voice soft, she said, ‘I don’t want to make you angry, Harry, but I think most of the sharing—at least regarding past history—came from me. And that’s fine, I wouldn’t want to force a confidence from anyone, but you didn’t really give anything of yourself. And before you fire off at me, think about it.’

He sat back on his stool, genuinely amazed.

‘You’re a very private man, and after what you told me about Anna and everything I can understand why you don’t want to be involved with anyone. But …’ She cleared her throat. ‘Sex doesn’t equate to much the way you view it. Fact.’

He stated the obvious. ‘The women I take to bed know the score.’

‘Yes, I know. You’ve already explained that.’

Silence hung between them like a pulsing entity. He was aware his body was taut with the effort to appear relaxed and unconcerned, and suddenly he threw pretense to one side and said simply, ‘I don’t like the way you see me, Gina.’

Something in her face changed, and her voice was throaty when she murmured, ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that. Your life is your own, and I’ve got no right to criticise one way or the other.’

Was she thinking of this man and the mess she’d made of her own life? So swiftly that it surprised him, his anger was gone, replaced with a desire to comfort her. ‘You’re probably closer to me than anyone else on earth,’ he said quietly. ‘So of course you have the right to state your opinion.’

He saw her face contract as though with pain, and felt a growing fury towards the unknown man who had broken her heart, and a surge of protectiveness. ‘You’re too good for him, you know that, don’t you?’

‘What?’

Her eyes widened in confusion, and he saw she hadn’t followed him. Slightly embarrassed, he said gently, ‘You’ll meet someone, Gina, and all this will be like a bad dream.’

Her pent-up breath escaped in a little sigh. Shaking her head, she whispered, ‘I’m not banking on it. You didn’t meet someone else. And anyway, we were talking about you, not me.’ She drained the last of her milk and slid off the stool, wisps of hair about her cheeks, and smudges of tiredness staining the pale skin beneath the dark pools of her eyes. ‘Could you show me my room?’

A shiver of desire flickered through his blood. He wanted her. More badly than he had wanted any woman. Possibly because he had waited longer for her than anyone else. But, no, it wasn’t just that. If it had been just that it would have been easily dealt with. But this was Gina. He not only wanted her but he—His mind came to an abrupt stop, a door slamming shut. He liked her, he finished silently. As a friend. And you didn’t take friends to bed.

He stood up, managing a creditable smile. ‘Sure.’

When they reached the stairs Harry stood aside for her to precede him, his eyes on her very nicely rounded bottom as he followed her to the landing. By the time they reached her room, he was deep in the grip of an erotic fantasy that was causing problems with a certain part of his anatomy.

‘It’s lovely.’ Gina glanced round the room after he had opened the door and waved her through. She turned, smiling politely. ‘Goodnight, then.’

Struggling with his self-induced state of arousal, Harry said thickly, ‘Goodnight, Gina. You’ll find towels and toiletries and so on in the en suite; Mrs Rothman likes to keep everything ready just in case. I’ll give you a knock twenty minutes or so before breakfast, OK?’

‘Thank you.’ She hesitated, and then said in a rush, ‘And thank you for offering me a bed for the night. I didn’t sound very grateful down there, did I?’

‘Why should you? It’s you doing me the favour, not the other way round.’ Actually he was doing her a massive favour in keeping her from the love rat, but she’d never see it even if he came clean. He watched her rub her small, cute nose, something she did when she was uncertain or wary. He realised there were lots of little things he knew about her.

‘Well, thanks anyway,’ she repeated.

She was clearly waiting for him to go, so why did he feel glued to the spot? Softly, he said, ‘Sleep well, Gina.’ And, even knowing it was a mistake, he bent forward and brushed her lips with his.

As kisses went it was fleeting, but the scent of her, the softness of her half-parted lips, produced a reaction that rocked him to his core. Desire, primitive and raw, shot through him and it took all of his control to turn away and walk towards the stairs. He heard the door close as he reached them, and stopped, closing his eyes and resting one hand on the banister as he drew in a hard, shaky breath.

Crazy. Everything about tonight was crazy. Crazy conversations. Crazy feelings. Crazy situation.

It would be different in the morning, in the cold, bright light of day. He opened his eyes, his face hardening. It would have to be.