Her heart rate spiked. ‘Liked?’
Two startlingly blue eyes gazed back at her. ‘Yes. Liked.’
Even as a rush of warmth ran through her she realised she was being daft. Look at him: athletic body, movie star face. He meant liked, not liked. Still, it meant she was here, and the other five candidates weren’t.
‘Well, that’s a great start. I only hope you still like me at the end of the week. Or perhaps that’s a bit optimistic. Let’s say the end of the day.’ Jeeze, she really had to stop prattling so much. He wasn’t a talker, so when he left a gap he didn’t intend her to keep on filling it. ‘My first job is to fetch you a coffee, yes? White, no sugar.’
Another flash of surprise crossed his face, though he didn’t say anything.
‘It’s okay, I haven’t got special psychic powers,’ she reassured, her mouth running away from her again. ‘I had a chat with my predecessor, who, by the way, told me I was lucky because you were a great person to work for.’ Shut up, shut up, shut up.
‘You spoke to Joanne?’
He seemed to be having trouble keeping up with her. ‘We didn’t exactly speak because she’s moved to Australia, as you know. At least I assume you do. Anyway, your HR team gave me her contact details and I emailed her because I thought it would help to find out more about you. Not in a stalkerish way,’ she added quickly, seeing his body still. ‘Just how you preferred to work, how she’d organised things for you, what you liked and hated. That sort of thing. When I checked my emails this morning she’d replied. So now I know you don’t drink tea, prefer to work with the office door open and will eat anything except asparagus, which I kind of understand so I won’t hold it against you.’
His face relaxed marginally. ‘That was very … diligent of you.’
‘Yep, that’s me. Diligent. Bet you’re glad you chose me now, eh?’
He gave her a ghost of a smile and moved to sit back at his desk. Taking it as her cue she left to find her alcove. The poor guy was probably reeling from her verbal barrage, wondering whether he’d made a huge mistake. He obviously liked quiet, yet he’d knowingly hired a chatterbox which didn’t make any sense. Finding him some caffeine would probably help. Then perhaps leaving him alone for the rest of the day.
Just as she stepped foot outside her alcove to hunt down the coffee, she heard a crash. Glancing into his office she found he’d toppled his in tray onto the floor.
‘Here, let me.’ She scooted inside and started to pick up the scattered files.
‘It’s okay, I’ve got it.’ He bent to grasp the remaining sheets, then caught his back on the corner of his desk as he straightened up. ‘Ouch.’
Abby watched in horror as small stains of blood bloomed through his white shirt. ‘Oh heavens, you’re bleeding.’
‘I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.’
If she’d been thinking properly she’d have realised he was acting even more stiffly than usual. That he was, in fact, shifting warily away from her. But her nurture instincts were in full flow. ‘Scratches can get infected. Let me take a look. I’m good at dealing with this type of thing. You should see the trouble my sisters get into sometimes.’ Without further ado, she lifted the back of his shirt and scanned the wide expanse of his back. ‘Well, look here, there’s more than one scratch. Whatever have you been doing? Crawling under blackberry bushes?’
Silence echoed around the room and slowly the pieces started to sink in. His rigid stance. The flush blooming across his cheeks. The scratch marks covering his skin not in a random fashion, but in the way she imagined a woman with long fingernails might scratch at her lover’s back.
‘Oh. Probably not blackberry bushes then.’ Immediately she let go of his shirt. ‘I’ll just, umm, go and get that coffee.’
The moment Abigail left the room, Doug staggered back to his desk. Bloody hell. This is what it must feel like to be invaded by a tornado. Just listening to her was exhausting. And, holy cow, she’d only been in the job five minutes and she was lifting the shirt off his back. Copping a stare at the scratches he knew Geraldine had gouged into his back during their latest sexual soirée.
Recalling the expression on his new PA’s face when she’d finally guessed what had caused the bleeding, he started to smile. At least it had shut her up for a few minutes. And he reckoned she wouldn’t be lifting up any more of his clothes for a while.
He was beginning to pull himself together when she appeared again, carrying two mugs. Joanne had always insisted on bringing his coffee on a silver tray complete with a cup, saucer and bowl of sugar lumps, even though she knew he never took sugar. Abigail was different to the formal, prim, matronly Joanne in every imaginable way.
‘There you go.’ She plonked the mug straight onto his desk, happily avoiding the coaster sitting expectantly next to it. ‘Is there anything you need me to do at the moment?’
Calm down? Stop talking for a few blessed minutes? ‘Not right now, no.’
‘Okay then. I’ll have a fiddle around the filing system for a bit and then go to my meetings. After that you should take me through your diary so I know what’s going on.’
‘I should, should I?’
Big brown eyes blinked back at him. ‘Oops, did I start telling you what to do? Sorry, I’ve got a bad habit of doing that. Probably because I’m so used to having to order people around at home.’
‘Are you married?’
Her face lit up with the laughter he’d already come to associate with her. ‘Heck no, though that’s really funny, you associating me bossing people around with having a husband. I like that, but actually I only have sisters. They’re bad enough.’ She took a sip of her coffee. ‘Am I allowed to ask if you’re married?’
‘No.’
‘I’m not allowed to ask?’
‘I’m not married.’
‘Ah.’ Her ready smile appeared again.
Uncomfortable with the intimacy he shifted, the scratches on his back rubbing against the back of his chair. ‘You were going to check out the files?’
His tone was rather sharp and immediately the warmth flooded from her face. ‘Yes, sorry.’
As her neat figure retreated into her alcove he kicked himself. Bubbly and chatty, surprisingly efficient, but also easily hurt. He’d have to remember that if he was going to avoid losing a second PA.
The private phone on his desk sprang into life and the sigh Doug let out came all the way from his size twelve, neatly polished shoes. There was only one person who used that line.
‘Father.’ Saying the word grated, implying a relationship that wasn’t there.
‘Is everything sorted for the meeting with Taylors?’
‘Of course.’ The lie came easily. Doug really had no clue if the meeting was organised or not. He’d have to put Abigail on the case when she came back.
‘It’s important we get what we want out of this. Don’t screw things up.’
‘Thank you.’
There was a heavy pause. ‘What for?’
‘For showing such confidence in me. It’s touching.’
Doug figured the sound of the dial tone was his father’s way of saying goodbye.
With a heavy heart he set about sifting through his emails. God he hated this job. Hated every bloody second of every minute he wasted in the place. He was managing director in name only, his father saw to that. Even worse though, he didn’t care. The company made biscuits, for pity’s sake. It was hardly earth shattering, or creative. It certainly wasn’t how Doug wanted to spend his life.
He thought wistfully of the studio back at his house. The new set of canvases waiting patiently to be filled with paint.
It was getting harder and harder to sit in this blasted office every day, pushing paper clips around his desk when his heart was in that studio. Painting in the evenings and weekends wasn’t enough. It didn’t satisfy the craving to create, a craving that grew ever stronger as his mind worked out exactly how he wanted the next canvas to look.
Suddenly an
image of his father’s sneering face flitted through his mind. The bastard would have a field day if he cocked up this meeting with Taylors. Gritting his teeth, Doug shifted through the mess of files in his in tray. The ones he’d accidentally knocked onto the floor in his shock at finding his cute Shetland pony of a PA was actually, so far at least, staggeringly efficient. Pulling out the one marked Taylors, he opened it up and started to read about the intricacies of the biscuit business.
‘Time for another drink?’
His head shot up. Abigail was standing in front of his desk clutching another mug of coffee. Joanne had always knocked on the door or coughed. Anything so she didn’t give her boss a ruddy heart attack.
‘Thanks.’ He watched as she withdrew his empty mug and placed the fresh one next to the coaster. ‘Abigail, do me a favour. Make some sort of noise before you come into the office next time. Please.’
She nodded, her hair bouncing in her ponytail. ‘In return, would you do me a favour? Call me Abby. Abigail reminds me of my headmaster.’
‘You had a headmaster called Abigail?’
She rolled her puppy eyes. ‘No. I was called Abigail when I was in trouble at school.’
He had no trouble picturing her as a rebellious schoolgirl. ‘You dislike it because it was overused when you were a child?’
‘Whatever gave you that impression?’ She ruined the whole nonchalant look by adding a laugh. ‘I wonder, is it a good thing or a bad thing to find you have me sussed already?’
Sussed? He didn’t have a flaming clue what to make of her, though he knew enough to avoid answering the question. ‘When you’re ready, I need to go through the details of a meeting with you.’
‘Okay, boss. I’ll just …’ She nodded at the wedge of files she was carrying rather precariously under her left arm.
Fearing they were about to fall he stood to help her. ‘Let me take them.’
‘No, don’t worry. I’ve got them.’ She dumped the empty mug down and tucked them more securely under her arm. ‘We don’t want you scrambling round under the desk again. Not with your … err … scratches.’
Briefly her eyes caught his. Then she blushed scarlet and picked up the mug. ‘I’ll be back in a jiffy.’
He sat down with a thump, utterly bemused, but before he could gather his thoughts she was back again, sitting opposite him, notepad at the ready. Every inch the efficient PA.
‘We’re scheduled to meet with Taylors next week,’ he told her, looking at the sparse notes he’d made. ‘They’re an established biscuit company like us, though a lot smaller. My father’s been sounding them out to buy some of our older, poorer selling brands. I’m not sure what arrangements have already been made for the meeting.’
‘Joanne booked ten rooms at …’ She glanced down at her notepad. ‘… the Langston Spa. Very fancy. She also booked a meeting room.’
‘And you know this already because?’
‘I’m diligent and super efficient. Plus Joanne left a file with all the paperwork in it.’ She grinned over at him, a schoolgirl’s smile in a woman’s body. ‘Let me guess, you want me to check who’s been invited, confirm they’re still coming, work out an agenda, prepare the slides?’
‘Well, yes.’
She leant forward, her action giving him a tantalisingly brief flash of lacy white bra. ‘Am I allowed to ask which brands you’re planning to sell?’
He should know. Of course he should bloody know, but Doug didn’t. One biscuit sounded pretty much like another to him. Frankly he didn’t even like the damn things. Flicking through the file he’d opened, he caught the names at the top of the memo. ‘Dream Delight, Crunchy Crunch and Wafer Wonders.’ Jeeze. How was he supposed to drum up the enthusiasm to sell them when even their names made him cringe?
Her jaw dropped. ‘You’re joking.’
‘Err, no.’
‘But they’re the best ones. The brands that made the company what it is today.’
‘They also sell the least.’ And why was he defending his decision to his PA? Then again, it wasn’t his decision, it was his father’s. If it were up to Doug, he’d leg it out of here as fast as he could and sell the whole flaming business, never mind three poxy biscuit brands.
‘They only sell the least because you’ve not put any effort into them recently.’ She was looking at him earnestly now, all trace of the schoolgirl vanished. ‘Instead of getting rid of the brands you should re-launch them. You know I read somewhere that young consumers enjoy the more traditional brands …’ She trailed off and though he was pretty certain he wasn’t showing what he was feeling – incredulity, with a dollop of WTF – maybe his mask wasn’t as good as he thought because she bit at her bottom lip. ‘Sorry. You don’t need a lecture from me, do you? I’m the PA, you’re the MD. I’ll sort out the meeting.’
She lunged to her feet – literally. There was no grace to the movement, nor was their any fluidity in her stride as she almost stumbled back to her desk.
And yet, he thought as she disappeared out of view, she was like that proverbial breath of fresh air. A session with her cleared his senses, made him smile. Made him think.
Chapter Four
Abby looked at the kitchen clock, shook her head and yelled up to her sister for the third time.
‘Come on, Ellie. You’ll miss the bus at this rate.’
‘I’m not waiting for her to get her bum out of bed,’ Sally remarked snottily, pouring out her cereal. ‘I don’t see why I should miss lessons because she can’t be bothered being ready on time.’
‘Nobody’s going to miss any lessons.’ Abby mentally crossed her fingers. If they missed their bus, she’d be late for work. And it was only day two.
‘Ellie wasn’t looking too great when she woke up,’ Holly remarked, sneaking the dog a handful of the disgusting cereal hoops she still insisted on having for breakfast. ‘I think she might be sick.’
Abby’s heart sank. No. She wasn’t going to miss her second day at work. ‘It’s Pat who’ll be sick if you keep feeding him those things. I’m going to check on Ellie. You two make sure you’re ready to go in ten minutes.’
She bounded up the stairs to the room Ellie shared with Holly. As usual the floor was strewn with so many clothes she could barely get through the door. I’m their sister, she reminded herself. I’m not going to nag them about keeping their room tidy. Dragging her eyes away from the mess, she focused on the small figure sitting on the bed. She was dressed apart from her socks – hallelujah – but that was the only bit of good news.
‘Hey, Ellie.’ She ran a hand across her pale forehead. Warm but not hot. ‘Are you feeling okay?’
‘No. I feel like I want to puke.’
‘Have you been sick?’
‘Not yet.’
Okay, she thought, trying to keep calm. School rules said you couldn’t go in if you’d been sick in the last twenty-four hours, but Ellie hadn’t. Feeling sick didn’t count. ‘It might just be a passing phase. Get your socks on, go downstairs and have a piece of toast. If you keep it down, you can go to school.’
Leaving Ellie to finish dressing, Abby tapped on Mandy’s door. ‘Are you awake?’
‘I am now,’ the voice grumbled from the other side of the door.
Abby pushed the door open to find Mandy lying in bed and rubbing her eyes, George fast asleep by her side. ‘What are your plans today?’
‘Well, unlike you, my day started at five when George woke up,’ she answered testily. ‘He’s only just gone back to sleep.’
‘Oh crumbs, sorry. It’s just Ellie’s not looking good and I’m only on day two of my new job. I could do without having to stay at home with her.’
‘Don’t look in my direction for help. I’ve got my assessment today.’ Mandy was doing a childcare qualification at the local college.
‘Damn. I don’t suppose you could—’
‘Rearrange it? Not on your nelly. I’ve worked bloody hard for this. What about asking Dad?’
Abby let out a r
esigned sigh. She loved her dad, they all did, but he was the archetypal chocolate teapot. Very sweet, but bloody useless, at least during working hours. The garage sucked all his time. ‘I’ll just have to put her on the bus and hope she’s okay, I guess.’
‘Is he a bit of a tyrant then, your new boss? I didn’t get a chance to quiz you yesterday.’
‘Not a tyrant, no. At least I don’t think so. Then again, I don’t want to give him cause to become one.’
‘And is he as hot as his photos?’
Despite the panic she was feeling, Abby felt her mouth curving into a smile. ‘God, yes. Hotter, I’d say.’
Mandy sat up suddenly, all grouchiness vanished. ‘Hotter how?’
For a few seconds Ellie was forgotten as Abby leant against the door frame, picturing her new boss. ‘The photographs don’t really give a sense of his height, his big, powerful frame. Or the depth of his eyes.’ Bright blue eyes that seared the recipient with their intense, watchful gaze. A gaze that would fall on her turning up late if she hung around chatting any longer. ‘I’ve got to go. See you later.’
‘Umm, Abby,’ Mandy’s voice stopped her as she turned to dash out. ‘You’re not going to fall for him, are you?’
‘God, no.’ She wasn’t that stupid.
‘Good, because the PA falling for the boss. It’s such a cliché.’
Abby ignored the jibe, knowing Mandy already thought she was a walking cliché. Yes, she’d lost her virginity to the most popular guy in school – only for him to dump her a week later. And, yes, her only other relationship had been with her first boss, Tony. Now the owner of a highly successful ad agency. It didn’t make her stupid. Just easily swayed by handsome men.
‘Are you girls ready?’ she shouted as she raced back down the stairs, throwing up a silent prayer of thanks when she found all three of them putting on their coats.
‘What if I puke?’ Ellie stared mutinously up at her and Abby felt a twinge of guilt. If their mum had been alive Ellie would have been able to stay at home, cosseted until she felt better.
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