At His Service: His 9-5 Secretary: The Billionaire Boss's Secretary Bride / The Secretary's Secret / Memo: Marry Me?

In the meantime Gina had wandered into the kitchen and found a couple of saucers, one of which she filled with water and one with pulped dog-food. The minute she came back and put them down, the puppies were on them.

They stood for a good few minutes, watching them feed and explore their new surroundings, laughing at their antics.

They really were four little clowns, Harry thought as he watched the smallest puppy hanging onto the biggest one’s tail by its teeth, before she was bowled over by one of the others. He’d grown up with dogs, but his parents had always chosen ones on the large side—Labradors and German Shepherds. These little mites were quite different, but seemed full of personality.

A stifled yawn at the side of him brought him back to the realisation it was very late. He glanced at his watch and was amazed to see it was after one o’clock. ‘Why don’t you stay the night?’ he said suddenly.

‘What?’

Gina looked as startled as he felt, he told himself with dark humour. Where on earth had that invitation come from?

‘Stay the night,’ he repeated quietly. ‘It’s very late, and you’re obviously dead beat. It seems sensible to stay here.’

He saw her mouth open and close. Something in the blue eyes made him sure she was going to refuse, and he added quickly, ‘Mrs Rothman always keeps the guest-room bed aired and made up.’

He saw her swallow. ‘I couldn’t.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ She appeared lost for words for a moment. ‘Because I’ve loads to do in the morning.’

That wasn’t the true story. His mouth dried. He’d bet his bottom dollar she’d arranged to see Lover Boy in the morning. Perhaps before this guy went into work. Damn it, couldn’t she see this man was just using her? Perhaps he even expected a bon-voyage quickie. Without a shred of remorse for the crudity, he said carefully, ‘You’ll be home first thing—I’ve got to go to work, don’t forget. Perhaps we could even drop the puppies off at this sanctuary on the way. That’d be a great help to me. In fact, I don’t know how I’m going to manage it without you.’

She stared at him, her blue eyes dark with some emotion he couldn’t fathom. She was probably weighing up the pain and pleasure of seeing Lover Boy compared to lending him a hand. Feeling he needed to press his cause, he said gently, ‘Like you said, they’re just little babies without their mum. I’d hate for things to be more difficult than they need to be in the morning, and handling the four of them might prove a problem.’ Deciding the end justified the means, he lied through his teeth as he added, ‘You’re used to dogs. I’m not.’

He saw her eyes narrow and realised he’d overdone it when she said, ‘I thought you once told me your parents have always had dogs?’

They had had too many long chats over coffee breaks. Recovering quickly, he smiled. ‘That’s true, but I left home well over a decade ago, besides which these little things bear no resemblance to the sort of dogs I grew up with.’

‘Mrs Rothman thought they were Jack Russell crossed with fox terriers, something like that. They’re not exactly going to be tiny dogs.’

‘But they’re tiny now. And wriggly.’ He wondered how far he could push the helpless-male scenario.

Gina glanced from him to the puppies, who were now quiet again, curled up together and looking pathetically helpless on their bed of towelling. Knowing her soft heart, he murmured, ‘I’d hate to drop one of them.’

He saw her shut her eyes for an infinitesimal second. Whether it was with despair at his feebleness, or irritation at her predicament, he wasn’t sure.

‘All right,’ she said ungraciously. ‘I’ll stay. But I need to be away first thing.’

Definitely expecting a visit from the rat. ‘Sure thing. I don’t want to be late. Busy day in front of me tomorrow, and Susan’s not clued up on things like you are, although she’s doing great.’

‘Isn’t she?’ Gina said.

He could tell she was still mad at being trapped here, because there was an edge to her voice. ‘Want a cup of coffee or anything before we turn in?’

‘Do you have any cocoa?’

‘Cocoa?’ he asked in surprise.

She flushed. ‘I usually have a mug of milky cocoa in bed,’ she said a trifle defensively.

Dampening down a mental image of Gina sitting up in bed stark-naked, her hair about her shoulders while her pink tongue licked at the froth on top of a mug of cocoa, Harry cleared his throat. His voice husky, he said, ‘Sorry, no cocoa, but there’s plenty of milk. How about a mug of hot milk instead—will that do?’

Gina nodded. He thought she looked very unhappy, and a mixture of anger and resentment slashed through him. Anger at this no-good character she was mixed up with. Resentment that someone he had thought so sensible and discriminating could allow themselves to be treated this way. The sooner she was well away from Yorkshire, the better. And yet he didn’t want her to go. How much he didn’t want her to go he hadn’t realised until just this very moment.

Feeling confused, he led the way into the kitchen. Gina perched on a stool and watched him as he placed two mugs on the breakfast bar, and then poured a pint of milk into a saucepan. ‘I’ll join you in the milk,’ he said obsequiously, aiming to get into her good books.

She nodded but didn’t comment.

‘And I appreciate you staying and helping with the puppies in the morning.’

His tone had been light, and he saw her rouse herself and stitch a smile on her face. ‘I couldn’t leave a mere male to cope with four offspring, now, could I?’

‘True.’ He’d never noticed just how superb her legs were before, but with her sitting on that stool he was probably seeing more of them than usual. Ignoring the stirring in his body, he said cheerfully, ‘At least babies of the animal variety don’t necessitate the use of nappies.’

‘Nappies are no problem these days, even to the most incompetent man. There’s no pins or folding them over in a certain way. It’s all done for you. You just stick two tabs together, and job’s a good ‘un.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he said drily.

‘Don’t tell me—you believe nappy changing and the rest of it is women’s work.’

‘Actually, I don’t,’ he said mildly.

‘No?’ Her lifted eyebrows expressed her disbelief.

‘No. If a couple decide to take on the enormous responsibility of bringing a new life into the world, then it’s a joint decision all the way, or should be. Taking it as read that certain functions can only be performed by a mother—breastfeeding, for example … I think parenthood should be a fifty-fifty undertaking.’ He poured the milk into the mugs.

‘Oh.’

‘You don’t believe me?’ he asked, turning to look at her.

‘I didn’t say that,’ she protested quietly.

‘You didn’t have to. You had a funny look on your face.’

Her face cleared of all expression. ‘I can’t help my face,’ she said with a weak smile. ‘So you’re a new-age man, then?’

‘Ah, now that’s a different question. I only said having a child should be a mutual undertaking, not that I’d consider it for myself.’

She nodded. ‘No, of course not. You’re strictly autonomous. You take what you want when you want, and then move on.’

He’d been in the process of handing a mug of milk to her, and for a moment his body stilled before carrying on. ‘Is that how you see me?’ he asked very quietly, a surge of emotion warning him he needed to control his temper.

She stared at him, her eyes unreadable. ‘That’s the picture you’ve presented to me.’

‘I don’t think so.’

Shrugging, she said, ‘Perhaps you should listen to yourself some time, Harry.’

‘I don’t need to, damn it. I know what I am and how I think.’ Or he had, up till this evening. Glaring at her, he growled, ‘I’m not some sort of conscienceless stud, Gina.’

‘That’s fine, then,’ she said flatly, her expression inscrutable.

He didn’t know if he wanted to shake her or kiss her, he thought rawly, fighting down an anger he would never have acknowledged had its roots in hurt. ‘We’ve known each other for twelve months, and for most of that time we’ve met every working day. We’ve talked and laughed and shared about our lives, and you can honestly say you see me like that?’ he asked intensely.

She hesitated, putting down her mug and letting her eyelashes sweep down over her eyes for some moments, before she looked at him again. Her voice soft, she said, ‘I don’t want to make you angry, Harry, but I think most of the sharing—at least regarding past history—came from me. And that’s fine, I wouldn’t want to force a confidence from anyone, but you didn’t really give anything of yourself. And before you fire off at me, think about it.’

He sat back on his stool, genuinely amazed.

‘You’re a very private man, and after what you told me about Anna and everything I can understand why you don’t want to be involved with anyone. But …’ She cleared her throat. ‘Sex doesn’t equate to much the way you view it. Fact.’

He stated the obvious. ‘The women I take to bed know the score.’

‘Yes, I know. You’ve already explained that.’

Silence hung between them like a pulsing entity. He was aware his body was taut with the effort to appear relaxed and unconcerned, and suddenly he threw pretense to one side and said simply, ‘I don’t like the way you see me, Gina.’

Something in her face changed, and her voice was throaty when she murmured, ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that. Your life is your own, and I’ve got no right to criticise one way or the other.’

Was she thinking of this man and the mess she’d made of her own life? So swiftly that it surprised him, his anger was gone, replaced with a desire to comfort her. ‘You’re probably closer to me than anyone else on earth,’ he said quietly. ‘So of course you have the right to state your opinion.’

He saw her face contract as though with pain, and felt a growing fury towards the unknown man who had broken her heart, and a surge of protectiveness. ‘You’re too good for him, you know that, don’t you?’

‘What?’

Her eyes widened in confusion, and he saw she hadn’t followed him. Slightly embarrassed, he said gently, ‘You’ll meet someone, Gina, and all this will be like a bad dream.’

Her pent-up breath escaped in a little sigh. Shaking her head, she whispered, ‘I’m not banking on it. You didn’t meet someone else. And anyway, we were talking about you, not me.’ She drained the last of her milk and slid off the stool, wisps of hair about her cheeks, and smudges of tiredness staining the pale skin beneath the dark pools of her eyes. ‘Could you show me my room?’

A shiver of desire flickered through his blood. He wanted her. More badly than he had wanted any woman. Possibly because he had waited longer for her than anyone else. But, no, it wasn’t just that. If it had been just that it would have been easily dealt with. But this was Gina. He not only wanted her but he—His mind came to an abrupt stop, a door slamming shut. He liked her, he finished silently. As a friend. And you didn’t take friends to bed.

He stood up, managing a creditable smile. ‘Sure.’

When they reached the stairs Harry stood aside for her to precede him, his eyes on her very nicely rounded bottom as he followed her to the landing. By the time they reached her room, he was deep in the grip of an erotic fantasy that was causing problems with a certain part of his anatomy.

‘It’s lovely.’ Gina glanced round the room after he had opened the door and waved her through. She turned, smiling politely. ‘Goodnight, then.’

Struggling with his self-induced state of arousal, Harry said thickly, ‘Goodnight, Gina. You’ll find towels and toiletries and so on in the en suite; Mrs Rothman likes to keep everything ready just in case. I’ll give you a knock twenty minutes or so before breakfast, OK?’

‘Thank you.’ She hesitated, and then said in a rush, ‘And thank you for offering me a bed for the night. I didn’t sound very grateful down there, did I?’

‘Why should you? It’s you doing me the favour, not the other way round.’ Actually he was doing her a massive favour in keeping her from the love rat, but she’d never see it even if he came clean. He watched her rub her small, cute nose, something she did when she was uncertain or wary. He realised there were lots of little things he knew about her.

‘Well, thanks anyway,’ she repeated.

She was clearly waiting for him to go, so why did he feel glued to the spot? Softly, he said, ‘Sleep well, Gina.’ And, even knowing it was a mistake, he bent forward and brushed her lips with his.

As kisses went it was fleeting, but the scent of her, the softness of her half-parted lips, produced a reaction that rocked him to his core. Desire, primitive and raw, shot through him and it took all of his control to turn away and walk towards the stairs. He heard the door close as he reached them, and stopped, closing his eyes and resting one hand on the banister as he drew in a hard, shaky breath.

Crazy. Everything about tonight was crazy. Crazy conversations. Crazy feelings. Crazy situation.

It would be different in the morning, in the cold, bright light of day. He opened his eyes, his face hardening. It would have to be.

CHAPTER FIVE

GINA didn’t know when she became aware that the sound in her dream was actually real. She lay in a state of muzzy half-awareness for a while, unable to come round fully, and then sat up in bed as reality hit. She was in Harry’s home, in his bed. Well, not in his bed, but in one of his beds.

Switching on the bedside lamp, she reached for her watch which she’d placed on the little cabinet earlier. Half-past three. And she knew she’d still been awake at three o’clock. She’d probably only had twenty minutes of sleep; no wonder she felt so out of it.

It was the puppies. The sound that had woken her was still there, a distant whining and yelping, and now she tiredly brushed the hair out of her eyes and reached for the towelling robe she’d found on the back of the en suite door. She’d have to go and see what was the matter. Harry was probably a typical man; once he was asleep nothing short of an earthquake would stir him. Her father could sleep through anything.

She sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments once she’d pulled the robe on, feeling distinctly light-headed. Probably due to the storm of weeping that had ensued once she’d been by herself earlier, she thought dismally. And crying while trying not to make a sound had given her a headache. She’d hunt about for some aspirin while she was downstairs, but first she’d better see what was what in the utility room.

Considering she’d been a stranger to them a few short hours ago, the puppies gave her a rapturous welcome when she padded into the utility room, tumbling over each other in an effort to reach her. Laughing despite her tiredness, she changed the top layer of newspaper, where they’d obligingly done their duties, and then prepared some more food which they polished off in record time.

‘You were hungry.’ She looked down at them as they moved round the now-empty saucer, small pink tongues still licking for traces of food.

The smallest puppy made her way over to her, beginning to nibble at her toes as the others scrabbled round for attention. ‘You want some fuss, is that it?’ Curling up on the wad of towelling Harry had put down, Gina allowed the four little warm bodies to make their way on to her lap. ‘Missing Mum and home, I suppose,’ she murmured as she stroked their furry heads. ‘Although, if you did but know it, you’re far better off here. Who knows what would have happened to you if Harry hadn’t noticed that box?’

‘It’s ten to four.’

Harry’s voice from the doorway brought her head jerking up so fast, she heard her neck crack. He was standing leaning against the wall; she didn’t know how long he’d been watching her.

‘I know.’ Her mouth had gone dry. He was dressed in dark pyjama-bottoms and a black-cotton robe which was hanging loose. His thickly muscled chest was black with body hair, and his hair was tousled and falling over his brow. He looked … magnificent. ‘It was the puppies,’ she mumbled feverishly. ‘They were crying. They were hungry.’

‘You should have ignored them.’

‘I couldn’t.’ The virile masculinity just feet away reminded her she was stark naked under her robe. She wanted to tighten the belt, but with her arms full of puppies she couldn’t. ‘Anyway, you came down too, I wasn’t the only one.’

‘True.’

He didn’t elaborate as to whether she had disturbed him or he’d been awake anyway. She was aware he was looking at her with unconcealed scrutiny, and she wished she’d taken the time to at least brush her hair. She’d scrubbed at her face before she had gone to sleep in an effort to remove the last of the make-up her tears hadn’t washed away; she bet her nose was shining like Rudolph’s. When the smallest puppy made a valiant attempt to bury herself inside the top of her robe, thereby causing it to gape a little, Gina hastily tipped the four of them off her lap and pulled the belt tight.

Carefully rising to her feet, she said nervously, ‘I’m sorry if I woke you.’

‘You didn’t.’

She expected him to move from the doorway as she approached, and when he didn’t she stopped a foot or so away, praying the trembling deep inside wasn’t visible.

‘You’ve washed your face,’ he said slowly.

‘Yes.’ She didn’t need to be reminded of what she must look like.

‘I can see your freckles better,’ he observed, as though that had been the whole point of the exercise.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t remind me.’

‘I like freckles, especially with blue eyes and reddish-gold hair.’

‘Titian,’ she corrected automatically, glad he hadn’t said ‘ginger’.

‘Titian,’ he repeated softly. ‘But your eyelashes are dark brown. And thick.’

She’d always been glad about that. It was one of the few things about herself she liked. She tried to think of something to say, something witty and light, and failed utterly. It was the look on his face. He was staring at her as though she was a woman. Which she was, of course. It was just that he had never noticed before.

But this was Harry. The warning screamed through her head. Harry, the self-determining. Harry, the mother and father of non-involvement. Harry, who didn’t want a woman in his life other than to take care of his sexual needs. And that was what was happening right now, or would happen if she let it. She loved him too much to become just another notch on his bedpost. She wouldn’t be able to stand it when he dropped her off later in the morning with a cheery wave and a casual goodbye. Because that’s what he’d do.

Lowering her head, she tightened the belt of her robe still more. ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ she said, hearing herself with a touch of hysteria. Tea. Tea?

There was a brief pause, and then his voice came cool and easy. ‘If there’s toast to go with it. I’m starving.’

So was she, but not for tea and toast. But she’d had her chance and blown it, she thought with burning regret.

The puppies had settled down again, all but the smallest, who now had her two front paws scrabbling at the wood barrier as she whimpered pitifully. Glad of the diversion, Gina retraced her footsteps and lifted the little scrap into her arms, whereupon the puppy immediately snuggled against her and shut its eyes.

‘What?’ she challenged as she caught Harry’s eyes. ‘The poor little thing’s due some cuddles after all she’s been through.’ She was also a welcome third-party if they were going to indulge in tea and toast.

‘Will you spoil your children, too?’ he murmured smokily, amusement colouring his voice.

‘With cuddles, if they’re frightened or upset?’ she said tartly, ignoring the pang her heart gave. She would never have children because they couldn’t be Harry’s. ‘Absolutely.’

Once in the kitchen with the puppy cradled against her chest, she didn’t try to clamber onto a stool, but stood and watched him as he filled the kettle and then placed two slices of bread in the toaster. ‘Mind if I go through to the sitting room?’ she asked as casually as she could. ‘My feet are cold on these tiles.’

‘Be my guest. I’ll bring the tray through in a minute or two.’

There was a dark stubble on his chin. He was as unlike the perfectly groomed, smooth operator of daylight hours as the man in the moon. And a hundred times more dangerous.

Tingling with something she didn’t want to put a name to, Gina made her way to the sitting room and chose a big, plumpy chair to curl up in, carefully positioning her feet under her and making sure the robe was discreetly in place. The puppy stirred briefly and then settled itself again as Gina gently stroked the plump little body. She gazed down at the sleeping animal, a sense of surrealism taking hold.

How on earth had she come to be in this position? Practically naked—apart from one piece of cloth—in Harry’s house at four o’clock in the morning, with him equally partially clothed making tea and toast in the kitchen? Worse, with her hair probably resembling a bird’s nest, and her face all shiny and devoid of even the tiniest touch of make-up. Even in her wildest dreams—and there had been more than a few where Harry was concerned—she wouldn’t have been able to come up with this scenario.

She’d had fantasies, more than she could remember, but they had all featured her perfectly made up and looking ravishing, and Harry suddenly realizing the error of his ways and falling at her feet in adoration before whisking her off to bed. After that, it had been roses round the door and a ring the size of a golf ball.

She sighed. Impossible dreams. Impossible happy-ever-after. Impossible man. Still, at least the ‘roses round the door’ bit was in place. She smiled ruefully. And this was one hundred per cent the sort of house made for a family—babies, children. Harry’s babies. She shut her eyes, her heart actually paining her.

Harry had made it clear he would never consider matrimony again, let alone becoming a father. He was now a ruthless bachelor, married to freedom, and only dating women who were happy to embrace their temporary place in his life gracefully. A wife and babies didn’t come into the equation anywhere. Perhaps it was a blessing she wasn’t his type. If he had fancied her she wouldn’t have been able to resist for long, and a brief affair would have left her in a worse emotional mess than she was now.

Hearing his footsteps, she arranged her face into an acceptable expression, even managing a smile as her eyes met his. He was carrying a tray on which reposed two mugs of tea and a large plateful of buttered toast, along with several preserves. ‘You have been busy,’ she said lightly, thinking how unfair it was that men could look drop-dead gorgeous when they were at their most dishevelled, whereas women merely looked bedraggled. At least, Harry could. She didn’t know about other men, never having spent the night with one.

‘Dinner seems a long time ago.’ He grinned at her, putting the tray down and gesturing towards the puppy in her lap. ‘She’s adopted you. Sensible puppy.’

Gina grew hot. It was absolutely stupid to be so affected by the soft warmth in his voice, but she couldn’t help it, in spite of knowing this was Harry in flirt mode. It didn’t mean anything, not to him at least.

Drawing on the iron self-control that had got her through the last months since that Christmas kiss, she said flatly, ‘Hardly sensible. I’m leaving at the weekend for good, and a puppy definitely doesn’t feature on my agenda.’

He handed her her tea and offered the plate of toast. She took a triangle, not because she really wanted it, but more to give herself something to do. She had never felt so vulnerable and exposed in all her life.

‘You’re sure you want to go?’ he said after a moment or two had ticked by.

Want to go? She had never wanted anything less. ‘Absolutely,’ she said firmly. To add weight to her words, she looked him straight in the eye, steeling herself to show no emotion as she said, ‘And we had this conversation during dinner.’