Buttoned-Up Secretary, British Boss

‘Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you on your first morning,’ he said, swallowing. The memory of last night’s fantasy was still vivid, and uppermost in his mind. How was he going to rid himself of it and act normally? he thought briefly. He straightened his shoulders.

‘I didn’t get to bed until very late last night—well, it was early this morning, actually,’ he added. ‘But I have to keep going until I’m satisfied that I’ve got things right, whatever the hour. Not that it worked this time, I’m afraid,’ he added.

Sabrina frowned briefly, not knowing how to respond to that remark. She moved away from him and went towards her own desk.

‘Well, sometimes a new day can bring fresh ideas?’ she suggested, cross at the way her cheeks had flushed at being alone with Alexander McDonald. She hadn’t felt this way yesterday at the interview. But that was different. Then she had employed all her clinical instincts to get what she wanted—this job. It had kept her cool, calm and rational, deflecting her thoughts from any other feelings she might experience at being in close proximity to one of the most lusted-after—and apparently elusive—men on the London scene.

But this morning realization set in. She was going to be closeted in this room with him for many hours for the foreseeable future, and once again Sabrina felt threatened and in danger of becoming emotionally affected by a member of the opposite sex. She didn’t need her professional qualifications to work that one out, yet she was quietly horrified. Hadn’t fate’s cruel hand made her decide to stick to work and to the needs of her sister from now on, for all time? She was not going to allow life ever again to bring her to the dizzy heights of supreme happiness, only to dash her to the ground and break her heart into pieces.

She should have been married to Stephen by now, but in a tragic, mad moment destiny had taken over. Stephen had lost his life in a friendly rugby-game, never regaining consciousness from a one-in-a-million chance accident on the pitch.

Sabrina had considered herself the luckiest woman in the world when he’d asked her to marry him. Not just because he was so good-looking, with the most amazing deep-gold hair with eyes to match, but because he was funny, loyal and kind. He had promised Sabrina that Melly would always have a home with them, for as long as she needed it. Life had been so good—too good to be true. How many other men would have understood the sense of responsibility towards her sister made so acute by the family background? Their father had walked out a long time ago, and their mother, Philippa, had remarried when the girls were in their teens and at their most vulnerable. She was now living in Sydney with her husband, and rarely came back to the UK, confining her interest in her daughters to somewhat irregular phone-calls. So everything that had happened had made Sabrina feel as if she really was left holding the baby—and knowing with absolute certainty that now she’d never hold one of her own. Because she’d never trust love again, never risk losing again, and she’d managed to convince herself that her need for a man, any man to share her existence, had died for ever.

Yet the burgeoning rush to her senses now told its own story. It was undeniable that Alexander McDonald was seducing her—in thought, if not in deed! It was hardly his fault, but it was the worst possible scenario for a successful business-arrangement, so she’d better get a grip and keep any wayward thoughts well under wraps, she told herself.

Alexander pushed back the chair by his desk and sat down heavily, glancing down with some distaste at the disorderly mess in front of him.

‘I should at least have washed up these mugs before I eventually went to bed,’ he said. He glanced across at Sabrina. ‘Do sit, Miss Gold.’

Sabrina didn’t sit down, returning his glance squarely. ‘I hope you’ll call me Sabrina,’ she said, thinking almost immediately that maybe Alexander McDonald preferred to be more formal with his staff.

But straight away he said, ‘Good. And I’m usually known as Alex. So at least we’ve cleared something up this morning.’

He smiled across at her briefly, his full lips parting to expose white, immaculate teeth. Desperately trying to rein in her imagination—and failing once again—Sabrina fleetingly wondered what it would feel like to have that sensuous mouth close in on hers. He was impossibly handsome, she thought, as his blue-black eyes searched her face. Yet Sabrina was aware that there was a hint of something more behind Alexander’s overtly masculine features, his obviously desirable appearance. There was something about him that both excited and intrigued her. She tried to stem the annoying tingling at the back of her neck, and as he continued scrutinizing her Sabrina had the uncomfortable feeling that he was reading her mind. She certainly hoped not. She tore her eyes from his penetrating gaze, clearing her throat.

‘Do you have any sort of set plan for me…to make a beginning?’ she said tentatively, glancing around and wondering where on earth they were going to start. She hoped she wasn’t expected to come up with any brilliant ideas for the current project he seemed to be having difficulty with. She’d never tried her hand at creative writing, though she’d always been an avid reader from as far back as she could remember. Alexander McDonald’s books were known to be serious and highly literary tomes, and from what she’d read in the book reviews his plots were strong, often dark and with no happy endings guaranteed. They were not really her own choice of reading matter at the end of a working day spent trying to unravel troubled lives and situations for her patients. She wondered briefly when she’d be able to return to her own profession.

‘Have you ever read any of my books?’ Alexander asked bluntly, desperately trying not to keep looking at her. Sabrina coloured up again; he was reading her mind! She paused for only a fraction of a second.

‘No—I haven’t,’ she said simply. ‘I have read about your books in all the reviews, and they seem…somewhat heavier material than I can cope with.’ She hesitated. ‘My normal reading time is an hour or so before I go to sleep,’ she explained. ‘And what I need then is total relaxation, a distraction. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be thinking, dreaming, worrying about all your characters, to have them on my mind all night.’

There was a moment’s silence after that and Sabrina hoped she hadn’t put a nail in her own coffin. If she wasn’t careful this could turn out to be a very short-term employment. She didn’t think Alexander McDonald appreciated criticism—or, worse, a lack of interest—especially from someone like her.

But she couldn’t have been more wrong, because she was treated once more to a brief, heart-wrenching smile as he looked at her, his eyes narrowing. The woman might have said she’d read everything he’d ever written and that she considered it all wonderful, he thought. But she’d been honest enough to say she’d never even read the first page of any of his books.

He got up and came around to stand in front of his desk, leaning casually against it and staring down at her.

‘Good. That means you’ve got no preconceived ideas. Your opinion on something that may be a sticking point for me is going to be invaluable.’ He paused. ‘Janet—my faithful secretary for the last fifteen years—was a useful contributor in this way now and again, but lately it had become a matter of her trying to please me, to tell me what she thought I wanted to hear. That’s no good.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘It was something of a relief when she decided to retire.’

Sabrina swallowed, biting her lip. By the sound of it, this job was certainly not going to be stereotypical, as he’d made clear from the start. But she’d not envisaged it including her having to offer her opinion on the esteemed writing of one of the most successful authors in the world. But then, she thought, she’d read most of the classics—read and re-read them—and was a regular visitor to the library and bookshops, keeping up with all the modern output. Maybe she’d be some use after all, in a small way. She wanted to be useful to Alexander McDonald. And it might prove to be an interesting diversion for her.

He turned around now, picking up a large diary and handing it over to Sabrina

‘This is an essential part of my life,’ he said. ‘And from now on, you’re in charge of it, Sabrina. I need you to remind me at frequent intervals what’s coming up and where I’m meant to be, and who with. I tend to be forgetful most of the time.’ He moved beside her, flicking the pages over. ‘Oh, and I would rather you always answer the telephone—just tell the caller to hold while I decide whether I want to talk or not. If I do, I’ll pick up my extension; if not, I’ll give you the thumbs down and you can think up some excuse.’

For the next hour, Sabrina listened as he explained how he liked everything done, and learned that he didn’t like things moved about unnecessarily. ‘If you tidy up too much, we’ll never remember where anything is,’ he said flatly, and Sabrina smiled inwardly. She’d been right in thinking that Maria wasn’t welcome here. She threw discretion to the winds; she did have some requests of her own.

‘Am I at least allowed to clean some dust from my desk—and from yours?’ she said. She feigned a dainty sneeze. ‘It would be advantageous for both of us,’ she added.

He shrugged, as if the matter of dust had never entered his head. ‘Feel free,’ he said casually.

Finally, she was handed an A4 note pad with pages full of scribbled writing.

‘Type this up and print it out, will you? See if you can make sense of my scrawl.’

Sabrina took a long, deep breath, feeling upbeat for a moment. She knew she could handle this job, because she wanted to, desperately. Twenty-four hours ago she hadn’t even met Alexander McDonald, but she owned up again to a feeling of warmth towards him. He seemed quite nice, as new bosses went, though it was obvious to her that he might be touchy at times. Well, she could handle touchy, she thought.

They were standing close together now, their heads bent over the script they were looking at. His tall frame made Sabrina feel tiny, insignificant and distinctly shivery as he towered above her, the titillating musk of his bronzed skin reaching her nostrils. As he turned another page, their hands touched briefly and Sabrina was painfully aware of his long, sensitive fingers.

She moved away from him slightly, trying to keep her mind from intrusive thoughts, and went across to boot up her computer, thinking that all that writing didn’t look too impossible to interpret, but it was full of alterations and crossings-out which would take time to sort. She bit her lip, feeling that the worst part of the job was the fact that she and her employer were going to be here in this room together all the time. She’d much rather have an office of her own—a decent cupboard would do—where she wouldn’t feel those eyes judging her, assessing her every move. Surely he’d go out sometimes and leave her in peace?

Reading her thoughts, as usual, he said, ‘I’m due at the gym for a couple of hours this morning. But first I’m going to make us some coffee.’

Sabrina stood up. Surely making the coffee was one of the duties of his personal assistant? ‘I’ll do it,’ she said quickly. ‘Maria showed me where the kitchen is.’

He nodded, walking towards the door and glancing back at her. ‘OK,’ he said, relieved that he was feeling more in charge of himself by this time. ‘And I might as well show you the domestic side of things straight away. We may need to make ourselves something to eat at the end of a long day.’

He led the way down the stairs and along the hall to the kitchen, Sabrina following in his wake. She remembered him saying yesterday that he would expect her to stay on after normal working hours when necessary, and she shrugged inwardly. She’d do whatever it took to keep this highly lucrative position. Her expression clouded briefly as she remembered how low Melly had been this morning when she’d looked in on her in her bedroom.

The kitchen was large, immaculate and welcoming. There was a spotless Aga, a large refectory table and chairs. Holding prime position in the centre of the room was a double oven with overhead lighting and shining granite surfaces. Goodness me, Sabrina thought, what does he need all these facilities for when he is the only occupant of the house? Perhaps he was always entertaining, she thought, though somehow that didn’t seem likely. She sighed inwardly, thinking of her own small kitchen that was badly in need of a refit.

Alexander threw open the door of one of the cupboards. ‘Everything you may need is here, or in the fridge,’ he said, looking back at her. ‘Maria does all my shopping, makes sure I don’t run out of essentials—though I do eat out rather a lot.’ He paused. ‘I’ve become adept at scrambling eggs, and that’s just about it.’

Sabrina smiled up at him briefly and went over to the sink to fill the kettle.

‘I’ll go and get changed and come back in a minute for my coffee—which I like black,’ Alexander said. ‘And feel free to help yourself to anything you want, whether I’m here or not,’ he added.

Sabrina set out the things she needed, putting coffee granules into the cafetière, and was just reaching for two mugs when the telephone rang. She frowned. It wasn’t the land line, it was a mobile, and it certainly wasn’t hers. Then she saw that Alexander had left his on one of the surfaces, and she went over to answer it. Before she could open her mouth, a woman’s rather strident tones filled her ears.

‘Alexander? You have not been returning my calls. That is extremely naughty of you!’

‘Excuse me,’ Sabrina said hastily. ‘Um, I’ll see if Mr McDonald is in.’

There was a second’s pause. ‘Is that Janet?’ the voice demanded.

‘No, I’m Mr McDonald’s new secretary,’ Sabrina said. ‘Janet does not work for him now.’

‘Really? He didn’t tell me anything about getting a new secretary,’ the voice said in a rather complaining tone. ‘Oh, well. I want to speak to him, please.’

‘I’ll see if he’s in,’ Sabrina repeated. ‘May I ask who’s calling?’

‘This is Lydia,’ the voice said, as if that should have been obvious to anyone with half a brain cell.

‘One moment,’ Sabrina said, putting the phone down carefully and leaving the room, running up the stairs two at a time. Alexander was just coming out of one of the rooms dressed in a white T-shirt and shorts, his brown, muscular thighs and calves shadowed with dark hair. He was looking so unutterably seductive that Sabrina almost forgot what she was supposed to be doing.

‘There’s a call on your mobile—which you left in the kitchen,’ she faltered.

‘Oh, I’m always mislaying the wretched thing,’ he said. ‘Who wants to speak to me?’

‘Someone called Lydia,’ Sabrina replied, turning to go back down the stairs.

He didn’t reply to that, but followed Sabrina into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

‘Good morning, Lydia,’ he said casually. Before he could utter another word, Sabrina could hear those distinctive tones sailing on uninterrupted.

‘Why haven’t you been returning my calls?’ the woman said petulantly. ‘It really is most annoying, Alexander.’

‘Yes, I know. Sorry, Lydia.’ He paused. ‘It’s just that I’ve been extremely busy, and rather distracted, because Janet has left and I’ve had to find someone else suitable.’

‘Yes, I’ve just been told about Janet,’ the woman went on. ‘Your problem is you work too hard, Alexander. Anyway, enough about all that. I hope you’re still free for Sunday week?’

As Sabrina poured the boiling water onto the coffee, she couldn’t help being riveted to the conversation going on beside her. Alexander made no effort to exclude her from listening in. Who was Lydia? Clearly an over-familiar lady friend who didn’t seem very important to Alexander, if the expression on his face was anything to go by.

‘Sunday week?’ he repeated, frowning.

‘Yes, Sunday week,’ the woman said. ‘Look, I’m not taking no for an answer this time, Alexander.’ She paused. ‘There are going to be lots of party people there you’ll know.’

‘I don’t do parties. You know that, Lydia,’ he said.

‘You always used to! Your…social reputation was very well-known at one time.’

‘That was a very long while ago, Lydia,’ Alexander replied. ‘I have, shall we say, outgrown parties.’ Especially your parties, he thought. ‘I really do not find them entertaining any more.’

‘Well, I can promise you that you’ll find this one entertaining,’ Lydia persisted. ‘Do say you’ll come?’

Alexander glanced at Sabrina, raising his eyebrows in mild exasperation.

‘Oh, well, OK. If you insist, Lydia,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Wonderful! And, by the way, Lucinda is back in England and she’ll be at the party.’ There was a long pause. ‘She particularly asked whether you were going to be there when we spoke on the phone. Mentioned something about an old score to settle.’

Alexander’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘I wonder whether Lucinda and I will recognize each other,’ he said. ‘After all this time.’

There was a girlish giggle at the other end. ‘I doubt that there will be any difficulty with that. You were very close once, weren’t you?’

‘That also was a very long time ago, Lydia,’ Alexander said, clearly irritated by now. ‘Um, look, I have to go. But thanks for the call.’

‘Don’t forget—Sunday the sixteenth. And don’t be late!’ was the parting shot.

He ended the call and Alexander turned to pick up his coffee, glancing down at Sabrina, his eyes narrowing slightly.

After a moment he said thoughtfully, ‘Could you possibly arrange to be available on the evening of the sixteenth to come to this function it seems I can’t get out of?’ He paused. ‘It might be useful to have you there.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry it’s a Sunday, when I wouldn’t normally ask you to work, but it would be helpful if you could.’

Sabrina frowned thoughtfully. She hadn’t realized how demanding this job was going to be, but if needs must she’d better do as her employer wanted. She made a mental note to bring a note pad and pen with her.

‘When I get home I’ll double check I’m free,’ she said. ‘But I think I can do as you ask.’

‘Great. Thanks.’ He finished his coffee and turned to go. ‘I very rarely see my mother these days, and sometimes I just have to fall in with her wishes.’

‘Your mother?’

‘Yes—Lydia. My mother,’ Alexander said as he left the room.

Chapter Three

BY THE middle of the following week, Sabrina felt she was beginning to get to grips with her secretarial duties, starting with the countless pieces of mail which arrived in the post each morning, and fielding all the telephone calls—most of which Alexander refused to follow up.

‘They’re always about being asked to go places, attend functions,’ he grumbled once, as she showed him the list. ‘Can’t be bothered.’

After Alexander had left to go to the gym the previous Thursday, Sabrina had concentrated on trying to decipher his terrible handwriting. Bit by bit she had managed to unravel the meaning of the subtle and sophisticated prose, all of it, naturally, in perfect English—even if his spelling didn’t quite match up. She even felt privileged to have sight of it, to be the first to read this particular new piece, to share the inner workings of his illustrious mind.

But more of those warning bells began to ring for her when, after a particularly poignant page or two, Sabrina had found herself stopping to trace the script gently with her forefinger, as if by touching the words he’d written she was touching him. Getting close. How dreadful was that? Alexander McDonald was arousing dangerous feelings in her which she thought she’d ruled out for ever.

By Friday afternoon she was able to hand him the countless pages, everything he’d asked her to type up, and he seemed genuinely pleased with the result.

‘Thanks very much,’ he said later, after scrutinizing each page carefully. ‘That even makes some sense to me now.’ He shot Sabrina a quick glance, thinking his new secretary had cottoned on to his requirements quicker than he’d dared to hope.

One thing which Sabrina was grateful for was that Alexander went to the gym on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, so she did have some time when he wasn’t sitting a few feet away from her. He’d also been away on two occasions for meetings with his agent. It was so much easier to concentrate when she was by herself—especially as several times when they’d been together she’d looked across briefly to see him watching her, one finely arched eyebrow raised thoughtfully, his perfect, sensuous lips parted slightly. Sabrina had coloured immediately, a surging tide of feeling seeping down to her groin.

Sensing her discomfiture, Alexander had said hurriedly, ‘I was admiring the speed at which you type, Sabrina. I can never manage more than one finger at a time.’

‘Well, what I do is the easy bit. I mean, where does all this come from, or start from, Alexander? I mean, Alex?’ she’d asked, feeling uncomfortable at using his Christian name. ‘How on earth do you compose such intricate and beautiful work?’

‘With the utmost difficulty, most of the time,’ he’d replied. ‘Someone once said that writing was the same as hacking lumps out of granite—and it often feels like that.’

‘Well, you’d never know it from this,’ Sabrina had said, meaning it. ‘All these words which I’ve typed seem to just spill off the paper, like oil running from a spoon.’

He had seemed pleasantly surprised at that. ‘Does that mean you might even read one of my books one day?’ he’d said, only half-teasing. She’d looked up at him, hoping she hadn’t said the wrong thing or been over-familiar with her boss.

But Sabrina readily admitted that in the short time she’d known him he’d appeared far less demanding than she might have expected. There’d certainly been no evidence of the moodiness he’d hinted at during the interview. But it was early days. Perhaps this was the calm before the storm.

The thing which she was dreading was Sunday evening being spent with Lydia, and it seemed a host of other people as well, none of whom Sabrina would know. To hang around for hours with a load of complete strangers, not to mention her very new boss, wasn’t exactly an enticing thought. Why had Alexander asked her to go with him, anyway? Surely he’d find her a hindrance? What would be expected of her? Thinking about it again, she shrugged inwardly. However boring she found it, it could only last a few hours, and the almost outrageous rate which Alexander was paying her to do his every bidding should be compensation enough.

Now, with the end of her first full week in sight, Sabrina looked across at Alexander as he sat bent over the desk with his head in one hand and scribbling furiously with the other. Her heart missed a beat or two as she watched him silently, unable to resist her body’s reaction to the powerful sexuality he exuded. It wasn’t just his achingly seductive appearance, it was something far deeper and totally indefinable.

Alexander McDonald should wear a warning notice around his neck, Sabrina thought: to all females everywhere: danger. Keep away. Clearly, he had no wish to be tied down to any female, otherwise he should surely be committed to someone by now. But his single status was a well-known phenomenon, and was an occasional topic in the gossip magazines. As she continued studying him thoughtfully, Sabrina felt she was beginning to understand him a bit. He was obviously married to his work, she thought, and living his life through his characters. That was what steered him through. And it was enough.

‘Are you going to make some tea?’ he asked suddenly without looking up. With a rush of self-consciousness, Sabrina wondered if he’d known she’d been gazing across at him.

‘Yes. I was just going to do that,’ she said, getting up and leaving the room.