At His Service: His 9-5 Secretary. Michelle Celmer

voice husky with a mixture of sleep and remembered passion, she called, ‘It’s OK, I’m awake,’ and then squeaked with surprise with the door opened and Harry strode in carrying a tray.

      He seemed unaware that she’d hastily dragged the duvet up to her chin, owing to the fact the robe had worked itself open and under her back, smiling as he said, ‘I didn’t know if you’re a tea or coffee girl, so I brought both.’

      Her voice higher-pitched than usual, Gina said, ‘Either, thanks, but you needn’t have bothered.’

      ‘No bother.’

      He placed the tray on the bedside cabinet and gazed at her from the advantage of being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He was very big and very dark in the pastel-coloured room, and his sheer magnetism detracted from the realisation that he wasn’t dressed in his normal suit and tie for a moment or two. When she could get her breath, Gina said carefully, ‘Are we taking the puppies and then coming back here?’ as she took in his black jeans and casual blue shirt.

      He didn’t answer this directly. With a smile that turned the grey eyes smoky-warm, he said, ‘Drink your “either” and then come downstairs when you’re ready. There’s no rush.’

      She stared at him. Something was different. Or was it just the casual clothes? Still clutching the duvet to her chest with one hand for all the world like a Victorian maiden, she brushed the hair out of her eyes with the other. ‘What time is it?’

      He glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. ‘Eleven o’clock,’ he said calmly.

      ‘Eleven o’clock?’ She struggled into a sitting position, which wasn’t easy with the robe and the need to remain decent hampering her. ‘It can’t be. What about work?’

      ‘You don’t work, or at least not till Monday.’

      ‘I mean you.’

      ‘I decided to give work a miss today.’

      ‘You’ve never given work a miss in all the time I’ve known you,’ she said, astounded.

      ‘Then perhaps it’s high time I did.’

      ‘What about your father? And Susan? She’s still settling in, and—’

      ‘Will be fine. She’s that sort of woman,’ he said quietly.

      Well, that was true at least. Unable to take in that half the day had gone already, Gina stared up at him. His eyes were dark, unblinking, as they watched her; his slightly uneven mouth curved in a wry smile that told her her bewilderment was plain on her face. She hoped her bout of crying the night before didn’t show in pink-rimmed eyes. Gathering her wits, she swallowed hard. ‘Are the puppies all right? You haven’t taken them already, have you?’

      ‘The puppies are fine,’ he said soothingly. ‘I had them out on the lawn for half an hour earlier. That was hectic,’ he added drily. ‘They can shoot off like exocet missiles when they want to.’

      She wished she didn’t love him so much. Controlling her voice with some difficulty, Gina forced a smile as she said, ‘You should have woken me earlier to help.’

      ‘You needed your sleep.’

      What did that mean—that the bags under her eyes could carry potatoes, or was he just being thoughtful? Deciding it was probably better she didn’t know, Gina wondered how long he was going to continue standing watching her. ‘Have you phoned the animal sanctuary?’

      ‘No,’ he said calmly.

      She waited for him to elaborate and, when he didn’t, began to feel acutely uncomfortable. It was all right for him standing there, fully clothed and showered and shaved. She felt like something the cat wouldn’t bother to drag in.

      His open-necked shirt showed the springy black hair of his chest, and his jeans were tight across the hips. The flagrant masculinity that was such a part of his attraction was even stronger today, and more than a little intimidating. Her mouth dry and her heart racing, she decided to take the bull by the horns. ‘I’ll see you downstairs in a little while, shall I?’ she said pointedly.

      ‘Violet-blue.’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘Your eyes are the colour of the wild violets that grow close to the stone wall in my garden,’ he said very softly. ‘Beautiful little flowers, tiny but exquisite. Much better than the cultivated variety.’

      ‘Oh.’ The sudden tightness in her chest made her voice a little husky when she said, ‘Thank you.’

      ‘My pleasure.’

      He didn’t seem in any hurry to go. ‘I’ll be down shortly and we can take the puppies straight away, if you like. I know you must have things to do, and I need to get home and sort out the last of my things.’ Now he had to take the hint.

      He gave her a long look. ‘I’m cooking a bacon flan and baked potatoes for lunch, or perhaps I should say brunch.’ His reproachful voice expressed disappointment at her ingratitude.

      ‘Are you?’

      He seemed surprised by her astonishment. ‘Of course. You didn’t think I’d send you home without feeding you, surely?’

      He made her sound like a stray dog that had landed on his doorstep—four of which were already occupying his utility room. ‘I just thought you’d want the puppies off your hands as soon as possible,’ Gina said carefully, wondering when he’d become so touchy.

      His frown smoothed to a quizzical ruffle that did the strangest things to her breathing. ‘Oh, I see. So you’re not in a mad rush to get away, then?’

      ‘Considering it’s eleven o’clock in the morning, if I was I’ve failed miserably, wouldn’t you say?’ Gina said a little tartly.

      He smiled. ‘You didn’t have anyone calling round first thing, I hope?’

      She thought about Janice in the flat below. Until this very moment she had forgotten she’d promised to cook Janice breakfast before she went on her shift at the local hospital, where she worked as a nurse. It was to have been a goodbye-and-we’ll-keep-in-touch meal and, because of the shift Janice was on this month, breakfast had been the most appropriate time. Blow and double blow. She hated to let people down. The trouble was when she was in Harry’s company the rest of the world faded into the background. ‘I did, actually.’ She felt awful now. ‘But I can put that right later.’

      A thick black eyebrow lifted. ‘I’m sorry.’

      He didn’t sound sorry. In fact for some reason he seemed put out, if the look on his face was anything to go by. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Just go, go.

      Harry didn’t go. His mouth had thinned, accentuating its uneven curve, and his gaze was hard when he said, ‘It never pays to let someone walk all over you, you know.’

      She stared at him. ‘No, I suppose it doesn’t,’ she agreed bewilderedly.

      ‘And a clean break should be just that—a clean break.’

      Had she missed something here? ‘I’m sorry, Harry, but I don’t follow.’

      ‘It was him, this guy who’s effectively told you thanks but no thanks, who was calling round, wasn’t it? Hell, can’t you see him for what he is, Gina? He knows how you feel about him and why you’re leaving, and yet he calls round to … what? Why was he calling round?’

      Gina tried not to gape. For a moment her brain whirled, and then she forced her face into an indignant expression. ‘A friend of mine who lives in the flat below, a female friend, was coming for breakfast,’ she said haughtily. ‘OK? So, whatever your overactive little mind has come up with, it’s wrong.’

      It took a second or two for the outrage to be replaced by a sheepish expression that immediately melted Gina’s heart—not that she would have revealed it for all the tea in China. ‘Sorry,’