His Very Personal Assistant

She gave a weary yawn. ‘I’m feeling rather tired. Would you mind if I had a short nap before we arrive?’ Not waiting for his reply, she settled herself down in her seat and closed her eyes.

Shutting out his image along with it.

But not her full awareness of him. Of the lean strength of his hands as he drove with such easy assurance. Or, the sprinkling of dark hair that ran the length of his arms. And further. The determination of his jaw. The full sensuality of his lips. The dark blue of his eyes. The way those eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled or laughed. The potent, slightly elusive smell of his aftershave.

Face it, Kit, she told herself derisively; you stand about as much chance of relaxing around Marcus Maitland, of really going to sleep, as you do sitting next to a tiger poised to spring!

But that didn’t stop her giving every appearance of dozing during the rest of the journey, only making a pretence of waking as Marcus touched her arm lightly and told her that they had arrived.

‘You had a good nap,’ he told her admiringly as he brought the Jaguar to a stop on the gravel driveway in front of what looked like once having been a stately home. Huge pillars supported its entranceway, the stonework old and mellowed. Noise seemed to flow from every open window as the two of them stepped out onto the gravel driveway, where there were a dozen or so other cars already parked outside.

‘“Come and spend a peaceful weekend in the country” was how Desmond described it to me!’ Marcus gave a hint of his distaste for the loud music and chatter as he moved to get their bags from the boot of the car.

Although not normally one for crowds of people on a superficial basis, Kit found herself smiling, quite happy to make this weekend the exception; the more people there were around them, the less likely she was to be so aware of Marcus. Or to spend too much time alone with him.

‘It sounds like fun,’ she responded lightly.

Marcus gave a disgusted snort, leading the way up the stone steps that fronted the house. Its massive front door was thrown open and the large entrance hall inside was filled with what looked like dozens of people.

‘Are you sure you have the right weekend?’ Kit questioned of Marcus.

‘I’m sure,’ he replied grimly. ‘You—’

‘Kit? Hey, Kit, is that really you?’ called out a familiar voice.

A voice that made her freeze in her tracks and caused the smile to fade from her lips as she looked frantically around the entrance hall for its source.

And then she saw him, making his way purposefully towards her, a smile of amused recognition on his overconfident, too-handsome face.

Mike Reynolds.

Her ex-boss from hell.

But he wasn’t the sole reason her cheeks paled and her breathing seemed to stop. There was also another person whom she could see standing a short distance behind Mike Reynolds. Someone Kit wanted to see even less than she did Mike!

Catherine Grainger…

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