For a few seconds Jenna was rooted to the spot, unable to take in what she had just witnessed, but as the woman cried out she followed a basic instinct and ran towards the cyclist. ‘How dare you?’ she screamed, outrage making her oblivious to the danger as she threw herself in the cyclist’s path and snatched the bag.
‘Get off me, bitch.’ His voice was muffled through his balaclava, but the cyclist’s aggression was obvious, and he quickly pushed Jenna out of his path and sped off, before any of the other pedestrians who had witnessed the scene could intervene.
At little more than five feet tall, Jenna was a lightweight, and the cyclist had used all his strength, so she literally flew through the air and met a concrete bollard with a resounding thud, her shoulder taking the force of the blow.
‘Oh, God, are you okay? Have you hit your head?’ The woman’s hands were shaking as she stooped over Jenna. ‘I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe he did that. Do you need an ambulance?’
‘No! I’m fine, really. Just a bit winded.’
Jenna was unable to disguise her panic at the thought of an ambulance. She really didn’t have time for any further delays, she thought frantically, and she pinned a smile on her face, ignored the screaming pain in her shoulder and scrambled to her feet.
‘Here’s your bag,’ she said belatedly, holding out the handbag to the woman, who shook her head disbelievingly.
‘You read about these things, but I never thought…’
A curious crowd of onlookers had joined them, and Jenna smiled faintly at an elderly man who’d come to help. ‘I’ve called the police. That was very brave of you, my dear; stupid, but brave.’
‘I really must go,’ Jenna said to the woman, with a hint of desperation in her voice. ‘I’m late for work; I don’t have time to wait for the police.’
‘But you’re hurt,’ the woman began, and then paused, aware of the anxiety in Jenna’s eyes. ‘But of course you must do as you think best. Thank you for your help. Write down your name and where you work, should the police want to talk to you—although I don’t suppose they’ll bother. It’s not as if anyone has been killed.’
‘More through luck than judgement,’ the older man commented dourly.
But Jenna was already hurrying on, and reaction would not set in until later.
The office block was an imposing building, the huge sheets of tinted windows glinting like copper in the autumn sunshine. The interior was a picture of discreet elegance, only the most flourishing businesses could afford to rent offices here, and Jenna was horribly aware of her laddered tights and damp skirt as she crossed the marble foyer.
As the lift carried her up to the top floor she was beset with nerves, not aided by the fact that she was now almost an hour late. She could do this, she told herself. She had excellent secretarial skills, and additional studying at college had given her the necessary qualifications for a legal secretary. Her part-time job with a small firm of solicitors had been a good learning curve, and she was more than capable of facing this new challenge head on.
Even so, her palms felt damp, her mouth dry when she introduced herself to the impeccably dressed receptionist, and was directed along the passage, a hasty glance at her watch revealing that she really had no time to pop into the cloakroom and change her tights.
Margaret Rivers was not at her desk when Jenna pushed open the door to a large open-plan office that commanded breathtaking views across the city.
‘Hello, I’m Jenna Deane, from Bale’s employment agency.’
At her interview she had briefly met the woman sitting at a desk at the furthest end of the room, and Katrin Jefferstone had not struck her as particularly friendly. She was tall, and whippet thin, her slenderness emphasised by the stark elegance of her black suit. Her black hair was cut into a severe bob that showed off razor-sharp cheekbones, her crisp, white shirt and scarlet lipstick the ultimate in chic sophistication.
‘Goodness, you’ve finally arrived.’ Finely plucked eyebrows disappeared beneath her fringe as the woman surveyed Jenna with barely concealed contempt, and Jenna felt her confidence trickle down to her toes. ‘You’d better go straight in. We’ve been expecting you for the past hour.’
Taking a deep breath, Jenna pushed open the door to the inner office. ‘Good morning, Mr Morrell. I’m Jenna Deane from the…’ She tailed to a confused halt as the figure with his back to the door swung round on his chair.
It was a morning like no other, Jenna decided, instantly recognising the man she had met in the coffee shop doorway. He had discarded his overcoat, and his navy shirt echoed the colour of his eyes, the fine silk skimming his broad chest so that she was made aware of impressive muscle definition.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said huskily, as realisation slowly dawned. This man, this virile, sexy man, was Alexander Morrell. He was definitely not the middle-aged, balding lawyer she had imagined her new boss to be.
‘Out of interest,’ Alex drawled, ‘we parted company over half an hour ago, and it took me less than five minutes to reach the office. Where did you go for a new pair of tights? Scotland?’
Jenna felt the first stirrings of temper at his sarcasm, the shock of the attack, coupled with her surprise at the identity of her new boss, making her feel sick and shaky. ‘I was mugged,’ she said slowly. ‘At least I wasn’t—a woman on the pavement in front of me had her handbag snatched by a cyclist. He was wearing a balaclava,’ she added, as if the information would explain everything. ‘I couldn’t see his face.’
‘Perhaps he was working undercover?’ Alex suggested dryly, his tone plainly skeptical, and Jenna felt hot colour flood her cheeks.
‘You don’t believe me?’ Suddenly she was at boiling point. The cyclist had been the lowest of the low, but this man, with his sardonic smile and barely concealed cynicism, was the bitter end. The fact that he looked utterly gorgeous and made her feel like a self-conscious teenager only added fuel to her anger. ‘I’m not in the habit of lying, Mr Morrell, but obviously I’m wasting my time here. I’ll inform the employment agency that you decided I was unsuitable.’
‘I may well decide that you’re unsuitable, but I’ll do it in my own time—which, I might add, is extremely valuable.’
Gone was the urbane charmer from the coffee shop, in his place a hard-faced criminal lawyer whose ruthlessness in the courts was legendary. His arrogance set her teeth on edge.
‘I’ve already wasted an hour this morning, and I don’t have time to run through the niceties of office politics with you now. There’s a notepad on the desk. I assume you can take notes in shorthand?’
Jenna bit back a retort and seethed silently. She needed this job, she reminded herself. This was her way out of the mountain of debts that had hung over her since Lee had left; her chance to forge a better life. Before she had known his true identity, she had told Alex Morrell that she would work for the devil for the right price; it seemed as though her flippant remark was about to come true.
‘Were you injured by this mystery mugger?’ Alex could not quite hide his incredulity.
In all honesty he didn’t know what to believe, but a career spent weeding out the truth from a web of lies had taught him that people were prepared to invent the most fantastic stories to defend themselves. He would have respected Jenna Deane more if she had simply explained that she had got lost, which was a far more likely reason for her lateness; she had admitted that she had a terrible sense of direction. He was fortunate enough not to need the services of public transport, but he was a fair man, and he could sympathise with anyone who was dependent on the notoriously unreliable train network. Miss Deane appeared windswept, but had no injuries as far as he could see, and her tale of having witnessed a mugging seemed fantastical to say the least. However, the law decreed that everyone was presumed innocent until found guilty, and he glanced at her enquiringly, prepared to be convinced.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Jenna snapped, throwing him a look of acute dislike. And to think she
had thought this man fanciable! In all honesty that air of raw sexiness seemed even more intense in the confines of the office, but there was no way she would let him see that he captivated her.
‘Take five minutes to tidy yourself up,’ Alex advised coolly, unfazed by the storm he could see brewing in her grey eyes.
She suddenly looked very fragile, a small, forlorn figure in her rumpled suit, her red-gold hair falling in a tangle around her face. He had been unable to banish her from his mind, could hardly credit that he had been prepared to throw his tight schedule into disarray simply so that he could buy her coffee, and he could not shake off the faint disappointment that she had refused his offer.
So this was Margaret’s choice, he mused. Jenna Deane would be his secretarial assistant while Pippa took six months’ maternity leave. And as he flipped open the case notes on his desk he could not dispel a frisson of anticipation.
Jenna felt like a recalcitrant child, sent to the cloakroom to tidy herself up, as Alex had so tactfully put it, but one glance in the mirror brought a gasp of dismay as she discovered just what a mess she looked. Her skirt and jacket were inexpensive, and looked decidedly limp after a soaking in the rain, but at least she was able to change out of her laddered tights.
Her hair had been cut into a shoulder-length bob, so fine and silky that it was difficult to put up, but she jammed a handful of pins into her chignon and prayed that it would stay intact. With a dash of pale lipgloss she was ready to face Alex Morrell once more and she determined that she would not allow him to intimidate her, holding her head high as she pushed open the door to his office. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee assailed her, and as she walked across the room Alex placed a mug on the desk.
‘Help yourself to cream and sugar,’ he offered, adding neither to his own mug, and she sank into the chair opposite him with a grateful sigh. The caffeine was a welcome boost, and it was only then that she acknowledged how frightening the scene on the street had been.
Her shoulder throbbed, the pain running up her neck so that it was difficult to turn her head, but Alex was studying her with quiet intensity, as if summing her up, and she refused to make a fuss about an incident he didn’t even believe had occurred. It was galling that he should think she had been lying. She prided herself on being reliable and trustworthy, and as she picked up the notepad she flashed him a glance.
‘There is just one thing,’ she murmured, and his brows rose enquiringly.
‘What?’
‘Well, when we were sheltering from the rain and I told you that I was late, you were late too.’
Alex sat back in his chair and surveyed her in silence for several minutes, until she was squirming and wishing she’d kept quiet. He was not used to his actions being questioned, but she had sounded so indignant that he had struggled to prevent his lips from twitching.
‘I’d been up since six and already put in a couple of hours’ work on the computer before I left home. Being the boss does give me certain privileges. You were just late.’
His tone was amiable, but she sensed that he did not expect to argue the point any further and she bit her lip in impotent annoyance. She had also been up at dawn, had made breakfast, packed her small daughter’s bag ready for day nursery, put the washing on, fed the cat, and panicked over the fact that there were only some very tired-looking sausages in the fridge for dinner that night. It was a miracle she had made it to the station on time, and the unjustness of her train being cancelled still rankled. As to the mugging, she had to admit that it did sound far-fetched, but she hated to be labelled a liar—especially, for some reason, by this man.
‘If you’re ready, we’ll start.’ Alex’s voice broke into her thoughts and she held her pencil poised, ignoring the sharp pain that shot down her arm as he started to dictate.
He was testing her, she decided, when at last he stopped talking and she was able to rest her aching wrist. It was impossible to believe that he covered such a huge volume of work ordinarily, or dictated so fast. Her pencil had literally flown over the paper, and she was thankful for her excellent shorthand skills. If his intention had been to prove that she was unsuitable for the job he would be disappointed, she thought smugly, and she smiled at him as professionally as she could across the desk.
‘Will that be all, Mr Morrell?’
‘For now. And make it Alex. I prefer informality in my office. I’d like those letters ready before lunch, they need to catch the afternoon post. Thank you.’
He barely lifted his gaze from his computer screen and, realising that she had been dismissed, Jenna returned to the central office, wondering what had happened to Margaret Rivers. She could do with an ally, she thought wryly as she smiled tentatively at Katrin and received a cool stare in response. She had taken an instant liking to Margaret, who had interviewed her with the explanation that the senior partner of the law firm, Alex Morrell, was busy in court.
‘The two previous secretaries the agency sent proved to be unsuitable,’ Margaret had told her, and Jenna had been unable to hide her surprise. Bale’s employment agency specialised in supplying first-class secretarial staff—she had been lucky that they had deemed her suitable for their books—and if the other secretaries had not been good enough for Morrell and Partners, there seemed little hope for her.
‘Can I ask what was wrong with them?’ she had queried tentatively, and Margaret had smiled warmly at her.
‘The first one made it plain that she was more interested in Alex Morrell than work,’ she said. ‘Really it was quite embarrassing; she was all over him—blatant as anything. It happens, of course. Alex is a very wealthy and successful man, but he likes to keep work and play separate, and Lydia made no secret that she wanted to play. The second girl was nice, and she had excellent qualifications, but she had childcare problems. Apparently her nanny had walked out and she forever had to dash off early or arrived late. Alex is a stickler for punctuality,’ Margaret had confided. ‘Poor Karen. I felt sorry for her, but once she even brought the baby into the office. Alex was not impressed.’
There had been an awkward pause; Margaret had obviously felt uncomfortable as she continued, ‘The position of secretarial assistant is quite demanding. My husband is unwell, and although I am Alex’s personal assistant, I can’t work late or travel to meetings like I used to. Alex needs someone who doesn’t have too many other commitments, like children.’ Margaret’s embarrassment had been tangible, and she had grimaced before adding, ‘Of course it’s not politically correct to mention it, but children and pregnancy can be rather awkward for a busy firm like Morrell and Partners, as Pippa’s unexpectedly early maternity leave proves. Alex was hugely sympathetic, and fortunately Pippa’s tiny baby is thriving, but it has all been quite difficult. Would you find that level of commitment a problem?’ Margaret had queried, her gaze straying to Jenna’s midriff, and Jenna had laughed and assured the older woman that she had no intention of having a baby.
She had neatly sidestepped the issue of any existing children, but all the way home she had worried about Maisie. She was committed to the hilt, she had brooded. Her daughter would be four in a couple of months; old enough to settle happily at the day nursery, the supervisor had assured her. But in Jenna’s eyes Maisie was just a baby, and the thought of leaving her all day tore at her heart. She was lucky that she could rely on her wonderful neighbours, who had promised to care for Maisie whenever necessary. Nora and Charlie adored Maisie, and had adopted her as their surrogate grandchild, filling the void left by their own childlessness. Without them she could not have even contemplated the job with Morrell and Partners, Jenna had conceded. But it did little to assuage the guilt that she was somehow abandoning her daughter.
She was here now, Jenna thought as she switched on her computer and began to transcribe the morning’s work. She had entered the lion’s den and made such a bad first impression she would almost certainly be deemed as unsuitable as her predecessors.
For Maisie’s sake she needed this job. The
salary offered was better than any other job she had seen advertised, and if Alex Morrell had an aversion to working mothers then keeping quiet about her little daughter was a necessity—at least until she had proved her worth.
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS one o’clock before Jenna looked up from her computer screen, her aching shoulder vying for attention with her rumbling stomach. She had never worked so hard in her life, had dealt with numerous phone calls in between typing, and felt a certain satisfaction that she had finished all that Alex had requested on time. Of the man himself she had seen no sign, her conversations with him brief and to the point as she put through calls or relayed messages.
Now, as she stretched and glanced around the large open-plan office, she felt a pang of longing for the homely office of Philips and Co, the small firm of solicitors where she had previously worked. Gone were the days of a mid-morning cup of tea and a cake, lunch with her friend Claire, and the chance to pop into the supermarket or windowshop. The Morrell and Partners offices were in the heart of the city and no way did she have the clothes or the money to have lunch in one of the exclusive wine bars. It was lucky she had brought her lunch with her, she thought; she was so hungry that even the limp sandwich in the bottom of her bag would be welcome.
At the far end of the room was a door leading to the office of the other senior partner, Charles Metcalf, and Jenna turned away from the view of London to speak to Charles’s secretary—Katrin Jefferstone. ‘Do you think it’s okay if I go to lunch?’ she queried. ‘Alex is on the phone and asked not to be disturbed.’
‘Go when you want,’ Katrin answered in a bored tone, her gaze flicking over Jenna’s cheap suit with scathing dismissal. ‘I’ll let Alex know.’
With a thankful sigh Jenna made her escape, unaware that Alex had been watching her for much of the morning through the tinted glass that separated the offices. Minutes later he cut his call and strolled into the central office.
His Secretary Mistress Page 2