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

Independent to the last. Nothing had changed, not really. He might have decided to establish some kind of base in his life but he was still a free spirit, not willing to be answerable to anyone, even in his work life.

Smothering her anguish with difficulty, Gina nodded. ‘Lucky you,’ she said as nonchalantly as she could manage. ‘It sounds the perfect scenario.’

‘I think so,’ he agreed. Taking another large bite of the flan, he chewed and swallowed before saying, ‘What do you think of my cooking expertise, then?’

Surmising he’d had enough intense conversation for one day, she tried to match his lightness. ‘Marks out of ten?’ She tilted her head, as though considering. ‘Eight, nine, perhaps.’

‘Not the full quota?’ he asked in mock disappointment. ‘I can see you’re a very hard lady to impress.’

‘Absolutely.’ A shaft of sunlight was touching the ebony hair, slanting across the hard, tanned face and picking out the blue-and-red pattern on the plates. She wondered how you could love someone so much you ached and trembled with it and yet it didn’t show. ‘But you’ve won regarding the pooches. I’ll help this afternoon. For their sake, though,’ she added with what she thought was admirable casualness. ‘Not yours.’

She’d expected some laughing words of thanks, or a teasing remark, along the lines that he knew she wouldn’t hold out against him and the puppies. Instead, his eyes stroking over her face, he said gently, ‘Thank you, Gina. You’re a very special lady.’

Don’t. Don’t do tender. She could cope with almost anything else but that. The lump in her throat prevented speech, and she wasn’t going to risk her luck by trying to force the words past it. Instead she compromised with a bright smile.

It seemed to satisfy him, if the warmth in his eyes was anything to go by. Feeling as though she was swimming against the tide and liable to drown at any moment, she applied herself to the food on her plate, even though each mouthful could have been sawdust for all the impact it made on her taste buds.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHEN Gina and Harry left the house a couple of hours later the puppies were contained in a large robust pet-carrier Mrs Rothman had popped round just as they’d been finishing lunch. Snuggled on one of Harry’s jumpers on top of a layer of newspapers, they seemed perfectly happy gazing out of the wire front as they travelled to the veterinary surgery, apparently suffering no bad memories of their fateful car trip the day before.

After a thorough examination the vet pronounced them fit and well, but declined to start their inoculation process for another two weeks. He also wryly wished Harry good luck.

Gina and Harry came back armed with a mountain of feeding and drinking bowls, pet beds, rubber toys, puppy collars, leads, brushes, combs and special puppy-feed, and once home the utility room quickly resembled a pet shop. Gina stood, gazing around at all the paraphernalia, unaware her thoughts were mirrored on her face until Harry said drily, ‘No, I haven’t taken on more than I can handle.’

‘I didn’t say a word.’

‘You didn’t have to.’ He smiled. ‘I’m a big boy, Gina, or hadn’t you noticed?’

She’d noticed all right. If anyone had noticed, she had.

‘And I’m more than capable of taking care of this little lot. I shall build a temporary pen in the garden for when they’re outdoors, like the vet suggested, and put some strategies in place, OK?’ He gestured at the book the vet had recommended—Your Dog from Puppyhood To Old Age—and which they had bought on the way home. ‘And I’ll read that from cover to cover tonight.’

His enthusiasm melted her. Realising it was imperative she maintained her cool facade, she nodded. ‘Good, you’ll have to. And I hope Mrs Rothman’s pay rise is going to be a huge one.’

He grinned. ‘Massive. Now, what are we going to call them?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Call them?’ We?

‘You had as much to do with their rescue as I did. I’d like you to choose their names.’

‘I couldn’t.’ How could something so simple cause such pain? ‘They’re your dogs, Harry.’

‘And I’d like you to name them. Women are so much better at these sorts of things than men. I’m getting into the mental habit of referring to them as One, Two, Three and Four, and that’s no good. Don’t worry—I shan’t turn up in London with them in my arms, demanding you make an honest man out of me for the sake of the babies,’ he added, his grin widening. ‘You’re only naming them.’

Not funny. She laughed obligingly, hating him and loving him in equal measure. He could talk about her being so far away with total unconcern now, apparently. Bully for him. Well, she could show she didn’t give a hoot either. ‘Well, it’s spring,’ she said slowly. ‘How about flower names? Daisy for the little one, Rosie for the biggest, and perhaps Poppy and Pansy for the middle two.’

Harry eyed her in horror. ‘If you think I’m standing in the middle of a field shouting Pansy you’ve got another think coming,’ he said bluntly.

‘OK, perhaps not Pansy, then. How about Petunia?’

‘I don’t think so, for the same reason.’

‘Primrose?’

‘You’ve already got Rosie.’

‘Iris?’

‘The name of my mother’s best friend. She might take it personally.’

‘Violet?’ Gina was getting desperate.

‘Mrs Rothman’s christian name. I’d rather keep her on side, if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She glared at him. ‘I’ve named three out of the four, the last one you’ll have to think of.’

‘OK.’ He stood leaning against the wall, watching her with unfathomable grey eyes.

His hair had been slightly ruffled by the spring breeze outside, and his black-leather jacket was slung over his shoulder. He looked good enough to eat.

‘I’ll take you home now, if you’re ready,’ he said calmly.

It felt like a slap in the face. Somehow, and she wasn’t sure from where, Gina found the strength to nod casually and smile.

She said goodbye to the puppies—who were curled up fast asleep in a heap in the corner, worn out by their afternoon excursion—as though her heart wasn’t breaking, and then fetched her handbag and jacket. It felt like the end of the world as they walked out to the car, and she was vitally aware of Harry whistling under his breath. Silently calling him every name she could think of, she smiled her thanks and slid gracefully into the car when he opened the passenger door.

The late afternoon was one of bright, crisp sunlight and bird song, but already the shadows of evening were beginning to encroach across the garden. She’d get nothing done today, Gina thought as she watched Harry. Not that that mattered. Nothing mattered. This was the last time she was going to see him, and the swine didn’t give a damn. He was whistling. He was actually whistling.

Harry didn’t say much on the drive back, and for this Gina was thankful. She would have found it terribly difficult to make polite conversation the way she was feeling.

When they drew up outside the house in which her flat was situated, she was out of the car before he had even left his seat, saying, ‘No, please don’t get out,’ when he opened the driver’s door. ‘You need to get back to the puppies.’

‘A minute or two will make no difference.’ He walked round the bonnet, handing her the satellite-navigation system the folk had bought her as he said, ‘You’ll need this, won’t you?’

Forcing a smile, she took the box. ‘Definitely. Well, I’d better get cracking on cleaning the flat. Goodbye, Harry.’

His eyes narrowed, glittering in the gathering twilight. ‘I thought you were going to let me have your new address.’

As if you really care. Hurt causing a constriction in her chest that made it difficult to breathe, Gina nodded. ‘Of course,’ she lied flatly. ‘I’ll phone it through tomorrow, if that’s all right? I’ve got your mobile number.’

‘Thanks for all you’ve done over the last twenty-four hours,’ he said very softly. ‘I appreciate it.’

Of course you do. I fell in with what you asked me to do, like the weak fool I am where you’re concerned. What’s not to appreciate? ‘It was nothing. Glad to help.’ Please go. Go before I break down completely or grab hold of you and can’t let go. Something that was becoming more likely with each moment.

He still didn’t move. ‘I’ll let you know how the puppies get on,’ he said pleasantly.

‘Thank you.’

‘You must come and see them when you’re next up visiting your parents.’

‘Yes.’

‘By then I’ll have sorted out a name worthy of her sisters for Number Four.’

Gina nodded.

Whether her lack of enthusiasm got through to him she didn’t know, but he studied her face for a long moment as she stood perfectly still and tense. ‘I must let you go, I’ve delayed you long enough.’

You could delay me for ever if I thought I had the slightest chance of meaning anything to you. She knew she ought to say something light and casual, something which meant they would part on easy, friendly terms, but words were beyond her. The ache inside overpowering, she made to turn away just as he bent and lowered his mouth to hers.

She froze. His lips were warm and firm, and it was no brief peck but more a caressing exploration that deepened moment by moment. Utterly captivated, she couldn’t have moved away if her life had depended on it, but she fought responding to his kiss with every fibre of her being, knowing once she did she would be lost. He thought she was in love with someone else, but if she kissed him back in the way she wanted to it might set that intimidatingly intelligent mind thinking.

Grasping the box in her hands so tight her knuckles were shiny white, she told herself over and over again to remain absolutely impassive, but it was no good. This was Harry and he was kissing her. As her mouth began to open beneath his, she told herself she didn’t want to think or reason, she wanted to feel. In thirty-six hours she would be gone for good, and this would have to last her a lifetime. What did self-respect and dignity matter compared to that?

It was the box in her hands that saved her, preventing her from throwing her arms round his neck and pressing against him as she wanted to. As it made its presence felt by digging into her chest, he became aware of it too, straightening and smiling a faintly rueful smile as he said, ‘Sorry.’

The blood thundering in her ears, she couldn’t match his cool aplomb. Hoping the trembling inside wasn’t visible to those intent grey eyes, she lowered her flushed face, her voice a murmur as she said, ‘I have to go, Harry.’

‘I know.’ A moment passed, then another. ‘Goodbye, Gina.’

‘Goodbye.’ This time she did turn from him, walking towards the front of the house by instinct rather than sight, her eyes dry but unseeing.

It took enormous self-will to turn after she had opened the front door to the house and wave, but somehow she did it. She was aware of his arm lifting in response, and then she almost fell into the hall, shutting the front door and leaning against it as her heart beat a violent tattoo.

How long she stood there after she heard his car start and then draw away she didn’t know, a mixture of crushing regret and sheer undiluted dread at never seeing him again turning her into a frozen statue. He had gone. Nothing she had experienced in her life thus far had prepared her for this moment, for desolation so consuming she could taste it.

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