She might stand absolutely no chance of ever having her love for him returned, but at least she could work with him, see him almost every day, and that was better than nothing.
‘You keep the chocolates, as they’re your favourite brand,’ she told him stiltedly.
‘Oh, I couldn’t do that, Tazzy,’ he refused. ‘After all, how would you explain not having them?’
She frowned. ‘To whom?’
‘Your admirer, of course,’ Ross reproved teasingly.
‘I don’t have an admirer!’ she bit out through gritted teeth.
‘Of course you do,’ Ross contradicted, sitting on the edge of the desk to lift the lid of the box of chocolates. ‘Ah.’ He paused. ‘Tazzy…?’
‘What is it now?’ she sighed, so weary from all of this that she just wanted to put her head on her arms on the desktop and go to sleep—or weep! ‘Don’t tell me, there aren’t any chocolates in the box, just empty papers!’ In truth, she really would prefer that this was a practical joke rather than someone seriously secretly in love with her.
Because she was never going to be in love with any man but Ross…
‘Oh, no, there’s chocolates,’ he assured her. ‘But there’s also this.’
‘This,’ Tazzy found out seconds later as Ross lifted it up for her to see, turned out to be a gold chain with a gold heart suspended on it!
‘Certainly not one of the usual fillings to these particular chocolates,’ he murmured with amusement. ‘Let’s put it on and see how it looks—’
‘No!’ Tazzy protested sharply as Ross would have stood up to fasten the chain about the slenderness of her neck. ‘Let’s not.’ She stared at the necklace as if it were a snake about to strike her.
Ross frowned. ‘But you never wear jewellery. And this is rather a beautiful necklace, even if I do say so myself.’ Once again he made a move to stand up.
‘I said no, Ross.’ Tazzy raised a protesting hand.
She never wore jewellery because she couldn’t afford jewellery. It was all she could do to feed herself, pay her mortgage, and maintain and run her car, let alone spend her money on frivolous things like jewellery!
She stood up abruptly. ‘I don’t want it,’ she told him flatly. ‘If I want a necklace, I’ll buy it myself,’ she added at his puzzled look, ‘not accept it from a complete stranger.’
Ross relaxed back on the desk, the gold chain still dangling from his fingers as he looked up at her. ‘Obviously this man doesn’t want the two of you to remain strangers,’ he said slowly.
Her eyes flashed deeply green as she glared at him. ‘Then he can behave like any other man would have done, in the circumstances, and introduce himself—not use the excuse of Valentine’s Day to send me an assortment of expensive and impractical gifts!
Ross looked at her quizzically for several long seconds, finally giving a shake of his head. ‘You know, Tazzy, I don’t think I’ll ever understand women. The man has done everything to show you how he feels but propose—and you still don’t want to know!’
‘Of course I want to know,’ she snapped. ‘I want to know who on earth he is—if only so I can give back his expensive presents.’
Ross shrugged. ‘Maybe he doesn’t want them back.’
‘Don’t you understand? I don’t care what he wants!’ Her voice rose in her agitation.
‘No, Tazzy, I really don’t understand…’ he said.
‘Then that makes two of us!’ She breathed out heavily.
He shook his head. ‘Most women that I know would be at least flattered by this—attention. And if not flattered, then amused. You just seem angry.’
Maybe that was because she was angry! Because this was sending out all the wrong messages to Ross. The man she was in love with.
‘After all,’ Ross continued, ‘you seem to like the kitten well enough. And the roses are beautiful. Is it that you don’t like this particular brand of chocolates?’
Tazzy looked at him in astonishment. Could he really not see—? No, she acknowledged wryly, of course he couldn’t see why it was that she was so angry. Because, despite those kisses earlier this morning, he didn’t see her as anything other than his efficient PA!
And she would do well to remember that… ‘I like them fine,’ she answered in a calmer voice. ‘And perhaps you’re right,’ she added ruefully. ‘Perhaps I should find all of this amusing.’
‘Hmm.’ He nodded consideringly. ‘But perhaps not too amusing. After all, the man must have his feelings too,’ he reasoned.
He might have, but those feelings were causing her severe embarrassment!
‘Never mind, let’s just forget about it for now.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Do you think we should leave now? After all, I have to check on the kitten before we go to lunch.’
Ross nodded, standing up. ‘What do you intend doing with this?’ He held the necklace up pointedly.
Tazzy took it from him, carefully placing it back inside the box before replacing the lid. ‘When—if,’ she corrected heavily, ‘I ever get to meet the man who sent me these, I shall make sure it is safely returned to him.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘If that’s the way you feel about it.’
‘It is,’ she said with finality, moving to collect her coat from the back of the door. ‘Are we going in your car or mine?’ She stood ready to leave.
‘Mine. But give me five minutes, will you?’ He turned to go back to his own office. ‘Perhaps you could use the time to go and explain things to Mrs Brown?’ he suggested teasingly. ‘The poor woman was looking completely befuddled earlier!’ he added before going through to his office.
Mrs Brown was befuddled? How did he think Tazzy felt?
She gave one last lingering glance at the box of chocolates, easily able to envisage the beautiful necklace that nestled inside it. No one had ever given her jewellery before. And it was such a beautiful necklace, with an old-fashioned style that appealed to her, the heart a solid piece of gold.
Oh, well…
It would have to go back, and that was the end of the matter.
Pity…
CHAPTER FOUR
‘THIS is nice,’ Ross commented admiringly as he looked around the comfort of Tazzy’s kitchen.
Being an end-of-terrace house, it obviously wasn’t very big, but Tazzy had tried to make the most of the space, having had the dining-room and kitchen knocked into one room, a small table at one end at which two people could sit to eat, the rest of the room taken up with the green kitchen cabinets and the Aga she had allowed herself as her only indulgence.
Growing up with her aged aunt in an old, draughty house in Norfolk, Tazzy had come to loathe the idea of ever being cold again. And the Aga burning away all day certainly ensured that the kitchen, at least, was always warm and welcoming.
In fact, the kitten had been curled up fast asleep in her basket beside it when Tazzy and Ross had arrived at the house a few minutes ago.
Tazzy had tried to get Ross to wait outside in the car, still not comfortable with this intrusion into her home, but his request to be allowed to see the kitten made her suggestion seem churlish.
He looked so big in the confines of her kitchen, his head almost brushing the low ceiling, and he had to take great care not to hit the range of copper saucepans that hung from a rack from the ceiling.
‘She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?’ Ross murmured now as he squatted down beside her next to the kitten’s basket.
Yes, the kitten was certainly a lovely little thing, had actually seemed to recognize Tazzy when she’d come in. At least, she had stretched languorously in her basket and given an almost soundless miaow of greeting!
‘Won’t you find it a little difficult giving her back?’ Ross prompted gruffly.
Tazzy had already thought of that, and knew that she was going to find it incredibly difficult, but if the gold heart-shaped necklace had to go back to its giver—and it did!—then, unfortunately, so did the kitten. She couldn’t just pick and choose what gifts s
he was willing to accept!
‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘But I’m sure you’ll agree, travelling as we often do, that it’s totally impractical for me to have any sort of pet.’
Ross gave her a considering look. ‘Have you always based your decisions on practicality?’
Tazzy felt the warm colour in her cheeks. ‘You find something—wrong, in that?’ she challenged.
‘No, not wrong, exactly.’ He shrugged. ‘But what about spontaneity?’
What about it? It must be difficult for Ross to understand the lack of it in her own life, being the only child of fairly wealthy parents, and then having been so successful himself as a freelance troubleshooter for any company that needed his assistance with their software—and plenty of them did. But the most recent spontaneity for Tazzy had been whether or not to buy a new winter coat this year or make do with the old one; she had finally decided to make do with the old one!
‘Forget I asked.’ Ross apologized, seeming to have read at least some of her thoughts. ‘That was insensitive of me. It is a pity you can’t keep the kitten, though.’
Yes, it was, especially as the kitten had now climbed out of its basket and was padding Tazzy’s ankles with velvet paws in an effort to persuade her into picking it up.
Tazzy bent down and scooped the furry bundle into her arms, nuzzling into its fur as it began to purr softly, knowing as she did so that she had already lost her heart to it. Probably because she sensed that the kitten was as much in need of love as she was…
She blinked as sudden tears blurred her vision. This was silly; what on earth was she crying about?
‘Don’t make any hasty decision about it, hmm?’ Ross encouraged as he moved to stand beside her, the kitten’s neck arched in ecstasy as he moved a caressing finger against her fur.
Tazzy’s breath once again felt constricted—and she knew it had everything to do with Ross’s close proximity. Even if it was only so that he could stroke the kitten!
‘No,’ she agreed huskily. ‘I—er—I think I’ll just go upstairs and change, after all, if you don’t mind?’ She thrust the kitten into his arms, moving away abruptly.
‘Go ahead.’ Ross sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, the kitten on his knee. ‘We’ll be fine down here. Won’t we, Shadow?’ He spoke softly to the kitten as it settled itself more comfortably on his knee.
Tazzy nodded tersely in acknowledgement before hurrying from the room, her breathing returning to normal as she walked slowly up the stairs to her bedroom.
It wasn’t only the kitten that was throwing her into confusion—Tazzy knew without a doubt that after today she would never be able to walk into her kitchen again without sensing Ross’s presence there.
Which was precisely why she had tried to prevent her private life and her business one from ever crossing over each other; it was sweet torture to spend every day with Ross and know how much she loved him, but her home had always been the one place she could go to lick the wounds of unrequited love.
But not anymore…
* * *
Deciding what to wear to go out to lunch was a little harder than she had thought it would be. On the one hand she wanted to keep her working relationship with Ross as comfortable as it had always been, but, on the other hand, she was conscious of the fact that this was not a business lunch.
Quite what it was, she had no idea, but, on the positive side of things, at least while she was out of the office there couldn’t be any more deliveries from her mystery admirer!
Tazzy finally settled on a black sheath of a dress, teamed with the red jacket from a suit she rarely wore to work, on the basis that it was a little too—too vibrant, to wear to the office, especially with her copper-coloured hair.
She looked smart, but still elegantly businesslike, Tazzy decided after one last glance in the mirror before she hurried back down the stairs to rejoin Ross.
‘Very nice,’ he complimented as she entered the kitchen. ‘Smart, but elegant.’
Tazzy felt an inner glow as his words echoed her own thoughts about her change of clothes. Not that she should read too much meaning into Ross’s approval of her appearance, but nevertheless—
‘Except for your hair, of course,’ he added softly.
She gave him a sharp look before moving to stand in front of the mirror hooked on the end kitchen cupboard; she had tidied her hair while upstairs, could find nothing wrong now with its neatness.
‘You never wear it down anymore,’ Ross murmured as his reflection came to stand next to hers in the mirror. ‘I’ve never forgotten how it looked that day you came for your interview.’
Tazzy couldn’t move, barely breathed, could feel the warmth of his body as he stood directly behind her, aware of him with every fibre of her being.
‘Such a beautiful copper colour,’ Ross continued gruffly. ‘With blonde highlights. And please don’t tell me those highlights come from a bottle,’ he added ruefully. ‘I don’t think I could stand the disappointment!’
She swallowed hard, trembling slightly at his closeness. ‘They don’t,’ she assured him huskily, her gaze riveted on his reflection in the mirror beside her own.
‘Good,’ he murmured with satisfaction, one of his hands moving up to start deftly removing the pins that held her hair in place. ‘Don’t, Tazzy,’ he instructed as she would have put up a hand to stop him.
Her hand dropped back to her side, and she was totally aware now of the touch of his fingers against her nape and down her neck, tiny ripples of pleasure moving down the length of her spine as she continued to watch his reflection.
‘Better.’ He nodded approvingly as her hair fell down in rippling waves onto her shoulders, his hands—those hands Tazzy so loved!—threading through the fiery strands to loosen them out even more onto the collar of the red jacket.
The effect was startling even to Tazzy, her hair long and silky, emphasizing the deep green of her eyes, her slightly flushed cheeks giving her a beauty that wasn’t always apparent.
‘Much better.’ Ross admired her reflection, his hands resting caressingly on her shoulders. ‘How old are you, Tazzy?’
She was way past the stage today of trying to get him to stick to the rules of formality she was usually so insistent on, knew that she was just wasting her time, anyway; Ross was a man who always did exactly what he wanted.
Although quite what he wanted at the moment Tazzy wasn’t sure!
‘How old am I?’ She repeated his question, frowning slightly.
‘Mmm.’ He nodded, his reflection smiling at her, his thumbs lightly caressing the silkiness of her throat now.
Was it the fact that they seemed to be talking to each other in a mirror that made their conversation take on an intimate note? Tazzy had no idea; she only knew that after this she was going to have a problem maintaining her own side of their businesslike relationship.
‘Twenty-five,’ she answered him slowly, wondering what her age had to do with anything; unless he was going to point out that at that age she was well on her way to being an old maid, and should perhaps consider her mystery admirer’s attention with a little more seriousness!
‘That’s what I thought. Then why do you do everything you can in order to make yourself appear older? Like wearing this glorious hair confined,’ he continued determinedly as she would have protested. ‘Very little make-up. And those nondescript coloured suits teamed with white blouses that you always wear to come to work.’ He held her gaze in the mirror, those hands caressing the lobes of her ears now.
For exactly that reason! She was all too aware that Ross was twelve years older than she was, that his taste ran to more mature women, usually aged in their thirties, women who knew exactly where the relationship was going—absolutely nowhere!—and were quite happy with that arrangement.
Not that she wanted Ross to think she was at all like those women in that way, she had just thought that if she were to look a little more mature, more confident, he might one day at least notice she was fem
ale!
She deliberately broke their gaze in the mirror, moving away from those caressing hands at the same time. ‘I had no idea you so disapproved of my appearance,’ she said. ‘Maybe if you had said something earlier—’
‘I don’t disapprove of your appearance, Tazzy.’ He sighed deeply as he turned to look at her.
‘Really?’ she snapped. ‘It certainly sounded that way to me!’
‘If it did, then I apologize,’ he told her quietly, his gaze searching.
‘I just wondered as to the reason for—for—Well, for looking so prim and proper.’ He grimaced. ‘When you can actually look like this.’
‘Like this’ meaning slightly tousled, her cheeks naturally flushed from the touch of his hands against her sensitized skin, her eyes glittering emerald-green, the dress and jacket giving her a look of slim sophistication!
She gave him a scathing glance, more hurt by his criticism than she would ever let him see. ‘I’m your assistant, Ross,’ she bit out tartly. ‘An efficient one, I hope?’
‘Efficiency could be your middle name.’ He nodded ruefully. ‘By the way, what is—?’
‘Never mind what my middle name is, Ross,’ She cut him off, having no intention of ever revealing to him that her middle name had been chosen in deference to her mother’s aunt Mabel, the maiden aunt who had brought Tazzy up after her parents were killed in a car crash. Anastasia Mabel Darling; what had her parents been thinking of? ‘The point is that I’m your assistant, and as such I dress the part.’
‘Yes, but if you just—Never mind.’ He obviously thought better of what he had been going to say as he saw the deepening gleam in her eyes. ‘I fed Shadow while you were upstairs, by the way.’ He indicated the plate of food and saucer of milk. ‘So if you’re ready, I think we should be on our way to the restaurant?’
‘I’m ready,’ Tazzy answered him stiffly before picking up her handbag, still smarting from those comments he had made concerning her usual—drab?—appearance.
His Darling Valentine Page 3