Powerful Boss, Prim Miss Jones

‘Not a very nice trait?’ Andreas paused on his way out to repeat her frankly spoken remark with incredulity. He had long decided that diplomacy was not one of her more prominent characteristics, but the softly spoken put-down still managed to get under his skin.

‘Some people may think it’s okay,’ Elizabeth told him hurriedly and he raised his eyes skywards with a long-suffering expression.

‘I’ll expect you in the office in fifteen minutes,’ he told her abruptly, not giving her any ghost of an opportunity to latch onto some other random topic which might ambush him into one of those dizzying side roads that her brain seemed to love. He had never met a woman like her. Not only was ‘coy’ an alien word to her vocabulary, but she could divert him from whatever he happened to be saying with an ease that would have had members of his board gasping with envy.

The last time he had come home, he had casually mentioned over dinner that a dog had almost ended up under the wheels of his Ferrari, only to find himself treated to a disingenuous diatribe on fast cars—which were a threat to other road users, and totally unnecessary, given that a much slower car could easily get a person from A to B without running over poor, innocent animals en route. All counter arguments had fallen on deaf ears, and much to his godfather’s vast amusement, he had found himself back on the road, doing thirty miles per hour, searching the roadside to make sure that the dog had in fact escaped an early death.

On certain issues, the shy, blushing maiden was not at all backward in coming forward, he had found.

And yet she continued to be patently awkward in his presence. It was a conundrum which played on his mind a lot more than he cared for.

He would not have been struck dumb with surprise if she had dawdled in her room, against his express instructions, but in fact he heard her timid knock on the door precisely fifteen minutes after he had poured himself a cup of coffee and settled behind the desk in James’s grand office.

She had changed into one of her seemingly never-ending supply of nondescript flowered dresses, which were perfect for the long, warm summer days but incredibly unflattering. This one was shapeless, and over it she wore a very thin cardigan that reached practically down to the tops of her thighs.

‘I’ve printed off your report,’ she said, walking hesitantly towards the desk and proferring him two sheets of paper.

‘Why would I want to read what you’re perfectly capable of telling me yourself face to face?’ He gestured to the chair in front of him and then folded his hands lightly on the desk.

‘Right. Okay; yesterday James and I went into town. I thought it’d be nice for him. There’s a lovely tea shop down one of the side roads, although naturally I made sure that he didn’t stray from his diet.’ She waited for some interruption from him, perhaps reiterating the importance of obeying doctor’s orders when it came to James’s food intake, but he carried on watching her in complete silence—which was really, really offputting. ‘He…he’s thinking of joining a bridge club, in fact. One of his friends, a lovely gentleman by the name of—’

‘We were going to talk about you,’ Andreas smoothly cut in. ‘How you’re enjoying working for my godfather. You two seem to have clicked. In fact, I hear from him regularly, and it seems that you can’t put a foot wrong.’

Elizabeth smiled with real pleasure, and for a few seconds Andreas was distracted into thinking how much that smile lit up her face and transformed her from average to…He frowned and focused.

‘It’s been absolutely, well, brilliant meeting Mr Greystone—James. He’s an incredible man. So, if you’re asking me how I’m enjoying working here, then I can tell you with my hand on my heart that I’m loving it.’

Andreas held up one imperious hand. ‘I get the picture.’ He steepled his fingers together and looked at her thoughtfully, his expression shuttered. ‘I’ll be perfectly honest with you, I didn’t think you’d last the month. James is ferociously intelligent and he can be very wilful if he puts his mind to it. He has almost no tolerance for anyone who can’t keep up with him, and the fact that he’s physically constrained now against his will, the fact that he’s in a position of dependency, has made him unbearably short-tempered. I thought you would have been screaming and waving the white flag before you had time to fully unpack.’

‘It’s worked out very well.’ Something about this conversation was making her feel a bit uneasy. He had barely listened to what she had to say about James’s recent progress, and yet she found it difficult to imagine that he had made this trip especially to enquire about her. He had had plenty of opportunities to enquire about her, so why start asking probing questions now?

‘Yes, I’m very pleased for you. As is Donald Riggs. Remember him? The teddy-bear guy you used to work for once upon a time in west London?’ Andreas sat back and watched her carefully, noting the way her eyes flickered past him, then lowered to gaze in apparent fascination at her hands.

‘Of course I remember him. I don’t understand, though. Why would you have spoken to Mr Riggs? You asked me to provide you with a reference and I made absolutely sure that one was written and posted to you.’

‘Yes, and it was all above board. Positively glowing. In fact, I’m surprised they’re managing to survive without your fantastic interpersonal skills and great sense of initiative.’ He picked up a piece of paper from the desk, which Elizabeth now realised was the requested reference, and read a few sentences that did indeed make her sound like a paragon of efficiency, and all in all an indispensable member of their team.

‘Funny thing is, I barely glanced at this reference when it arrived on my desk a month ago. You had already settled in, James liked you; the reference to all intents and purposes was a formality.’ He picked it up and scanned it then handed it to her in silence.

‘Go on. Read it and then tell me what you think.’

‘I’m very grateful to Mr Riggs for being so kind about me,’ she said eventually, having dutifully read and re-read it three times, frowning as she tried to work out what the undercurrent between them was all about.

‘Is that all?’

‘What else do you want me to say?’ Elizabeth asked in confusion. ‘Why do you have to play cat-and-mouse games like this? Why can’t you just come right out and tell me what you want to say? I know you don’t like me, but there’s no need to behave like a bully.’

Several things in that statement threatened to send Andreas’s blood pressure into orbit, but he wasn’t about to be distracted either by what she said or by her enormous, accusing green eyes.

‘Reading this,’ he said instead, ‘Several times over, I got the distinct impression that teddy-bear Riggs assumed you were seeking employment with me. Typing speeds, willingness to assume responsibility with important case files, liaising with clients—etc, etc, etc. See where I’m going?’

‘Those are the things I used to do in the company. What would you have had him say?’

‘Less about the typing speeds, for starters, and a little bit more on the interpersonal skills. In fact, I was surprised typing speeds were mentioned at all, considering you would have asked him for a reference in connection with working for James in the capacity of carer. Hmm. Almost as though teddy-bear Riggs had no real idea about the position for which you were applying. Odd, don’t you agree?’

‘I’m reliable and efficient. Aren’t those the sort of skills you were looking for?’

Andreas ignored that minor interruption. His question had been more of a rhetorical one in nature, not requiring a response. ‘Anyway, I thought it might be an idea to get on the phone and have a little chat with the Riggs character.’

Elizabeth didn’t say anything. As always with Andreas, what had commenced as a seemingly straightforward question-and-answer session was usually unveiled as a conversational road rife with hidden agendas and cunning traps.

‘You’re not saying anything. Aren’t you interested to hear what he had to say?’

‘I know you’re going to tell me anyway.’

‘True,’ Andreas admitted without a hint of apology. ‘Now, here’s the thing. Your ex-boss had no idea that you were job hunting in beautiful Somerset. You took some leave following your mother’s death because you needed to get out of London and there was something you had to do in Somerset. He didn’t quite specify what this something was, but he certainly wasn’t under the impression that it involved work. In fact, he was under the impression that it involved someone, as opposed to a something.’

Now was the time to spill the beans. Now was the time to come clean, to tell Andreas that, yes, she had come to find her father, that she had found him, that the opportunity to get to know him as herself rather than as an estranged daughter had been irresistible. It would be good, wouldn’t it, to confess everything?

In her mind’s eye, she pictured Andreas and his reaction. He was not a man given to half measures nor, for that matter, seeing things in shades of grey. Life was a black-and-white business for him. Avoidance of truth would not be construed as a sensitive approach to a delicate situation; it would be seen as an ungovernable lie fit for the most severe of punishments. And would he see fit to tell James the truth? Or would he, like her, not want to risk his health by being the harbinger of such shocking news? Would he just chuck her out? Maybe tell her to wait until James was fully recovered? If he did, then how long would she have to wait?

Elizabeth would never have thought it possible that she could build such a strong connection with the man whose presence in her life had always been in her imagination. She could never have hoped that their personalities would have clicked so smoothly. Having found that they did, her desperation to hang on was overwhelming.

Into the breach of her silence, as she wrestled with the sudden onslaught of conflicting consequences, Andreas said in a deadly smooth voice, ‘How on earth would you have heard about this placement in London—and, if you had, then why the secrecy? Why not just tell teddy-bear Riggs that you needed a change of scenery, that you wanted to pursue a different career?’

‘I…You’re confusing me.’

‘Then spill the beans. Tell me what you’re doing here. Really.’

‘I…I…’ Elizabeth pressed the palms of her hands against her face and took a deep breath. ‘I did want a change of scenery—from everything—and, yes, I came here on the off chance of meeting your godfather because…Because you’re wrong—I had heard of him.’ Strictly speaking, none of that was untrue, but still she felt horrible at having to fiddle with the truth and pull it to bits and pieces so that she could pick and choose which bits she wanted and which bits she didn’t.

‘I didn’t want to tell Donald, Mr Riggs, anything because I wasn’t sure whether I would need to go back to my old job or not. I had to keep my options open. When I asked him to supply a reference, I guess I didn’t mention details of the job. In fact, I didn’t actually speak to Donald at all. He was in a meeting, and I spoke to Caroline. I don’t know her very well, because she joined a month before I left, so I just told her the basics—that I had found employment down here. I gave the address you gave me and asked her to pass the message on that you needed a reference from Donald.’

‘Why do I get the feeling that there’s something important missing from this narrative?’

‘Because you’re suspicious by nature. Because you’re never, ever willing to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.’ Her heart was beating so hard that she wanted to put her hand to her chest to steady it. Instead, she clasped her fingers together on her lap and waited for the axe to fall. The prospect of being flung out on her ear without explanation—or the chance to explain everything to James and then being prepared to take the consequences, whatever they might be—was just too much. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and chewed on her lip, willing herself not to be a weakling and cry. Andreas would detest weaklings. He would probably chuck her out just for showing emotion.

Unfortunately, her head was in no mood to listen to reason, and the trickle of tears felt cool against her hot, flushed skin.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled thickly.

Andreas watched this display of emotion with a censorious frown, at a loss as to what to make of it. On the one hand, he was a gut believer in his own instincts, which were positively screaming that something in the picture wasn’t right. On the other hand, he was capable of recognising genuine feeling when he saw it, and there was nothing staged about this bout of waterworks—and he had seen a fair amount of female waterworks in his time. The tap, he had long recognised, could be switched off at the drop of a hat. This tap, however, looked as though it might continue leaking indefinitely. He stood up and circled the desk so that he could hand her his handkerchief, which she took without looking at him, although he thought he heard a muffled, ‘Sorry.’ He perched on the desk, staring at her down-bent head with a perplexed frown, until she had gathered herself.

‘I’m not a monster. I do sometimes give people the benefit of the doubt.’ He tried to think of the last time he had done so and couldn’t.

Elizabeth raised hopeful eyes to his and said, with earnest urgency, ‘I would never do anything to hurt James. I’m not here to take advantage of an old man. I know that’s what’s going through your head.’

‘You have no idea what’s going through my head.’

‘I know it won’t be good.’

‘You’re being ridiculous.’

‘I’m just asking you to trust me when I tell you that I’m not a gold-digger. I don’t care about money.’

‘Even though you’ve never had any?’

‘I know it’s a cliché, but money doesn’t buy happiness.’

‘I have no idea how we managed to get into this conversation.’ Andreas stood up abruptly because those wide, green eyes were threatening to do something to his legendary cool. ‘I’m prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt in this instance because dispatching you might do more damage to my godfather than keeping you on. He’s taken to you, and this is a challenging time in his life. I don’t know what might happen if we have to go through the nuisance of trying to find a substitute, especially if no real explanation’s given for the vanishing act.’

Elizabeth smiled tremulously and reached out to take hold of his hand, releasing it when he glanced down with a look of mingled surprise and displeasure. ‘You won’t regret it.’

‘You bet I won’t, and here’s why.’ He had given this a great deal of thought. Had she confessed to some sinister, ulterior motives, he would have had no option but to sack her on the spot, but he knew that that had been an unlikely possibility. In which case, hustling her through the back door and then trying to fabricate a plausible explanation for his godfather would be nigh on impossible. Which left him no option but to be in a position from which he could seriously keep an eye on her. Emails and phone calls, whilst helpful, could not even be loosely categorised as seriously keeping an eye on her. She could be using her free time to rummage through bankaccount details, for all he knew!

He very firmly neutered the little voice in his head telling him that that was a preposterous suggestion. Since when was he the sort of guy who fell for a woman’s tricks? Or anyone else’s, for that matter? Life at the very summit of the food chain had opened his eyes to the folly of taking people at face value.

He circled her and then paused to look down at her very carefully, taking in the anxious, heart-shaped face, the softly parted lips, the big, innocent eyes still glistening from her crying jag.

‘I’m coming back home.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘COMING back home?’ Elizabeth was utterly bewildered. Didn’t he live in London? ‘Don’t you live in London?’

‘Keep up here, Elizabeth. I’m moving back down to Somerset.’ He had resumed his seat at the desk and was tilting back in it, hands folded behind his head, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. The whole upheaval should have been a major source of dissatisfaction for him. His office was the throbbing soul of his operations, and the thought of being plucked out of it for reasons not of his choosing should have set his teeth on edge, but he felt strangely content with the decision.

‘You’re moving back down to Somerset.’ She could scarcely believe her ears.

‘You seem to be in a state of shock.’

‘You’re moving back down to Somerset so that you can watch my every move. You said that you were going to give me the benefit of the doubt.’

‘And I have. Which is why you’re still in gainful employment!’

Elizabeth looked at him reprovingly and fumbled with the handkerchief which she was still clutching. ‘You would jeopardise your whole working life just because you think that I’m here to do I don’t know what?’

‘I’m not jeopardising anything,’ Andreas refuted smoothly. ‘I worked here perfectly fine when James returned from hospital. It’s a big house and, convenient though it is to be in an office environment where everyone is on hand, keeping in touch is really only the press of a button. The joys of the World Wide Web! Some of my employees actually design their own working hours to incorporate working from home. I’m a very progressive employer.’

Elizabeth was lost in her own tangled thoughts. How on earth was she going to avoid him when he planned on being around all the time, watching her every move? Would he follow her into town when she went to do the shopping? Lurk outside her bedroom with his ear pressed to a glass against the door to find out what she was up to? She imagined bumping into him at unexpected moments, or turning corners to find him lying in wait like a big-game hunter waiting to pounce. She shuddered and realised that he had been saying something.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘That’s going to have to change, for a start.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m talking about your habit of not listening to me when I speak to you.’ Or else responding with the briefest of answers and with the general demeanour of someone who would prefer to be anywhere in the universe except in his company. Both traits irritated the hell out of him.

Elizabeth blinked, but, really, how surprised should she be? Andreas resided in a different hemisphere from most other people. In his rarefied world, he snapped his fingers and everyone saluted and jumped to immediate attention.

‘I do listen,’ she told him. ‘I was just thinking about how awkward it’s going to be if you’re following me around every second of the day…’

‘Why would I be following you around every second of the day?’ Andreas asked, his darkly handsome face incredulous at the suggestion. ‘I may be prepared to transfer operations down here for the foreseeable future, but I don’t intend to abandon work completely so that I can stalk your every movement.’

Foreseeable future?

‘You can’t migrate here for the foreseeable future,’ she said in a staggered voice. ‘Don’t you have to run your empire?’

‘We’re not talking about a pirate ship here,’ Andreas told her drily. ‘There won’t be mutiny if I’m not clocking in on a daily basis.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘Apologies for pointing out the obvious, but that look of horror on your face isn’t doing your “give me the benefit of the doubt” cause any good.’

‘I’m horrified at the thought of you being around all the time!’ Elizabeth blurted out with brutal truthfulness. ‘I don’t like you. You make me nervous. Of course I’m not going to look forward to you moving in.’

Andreas gritted his teeth in the face of this level of blunt honesty. ‘Liking me isn’t a requirement,’ he imparted grimly. ‘In fact, not liking me would work very well for the situation I have in mind. However, reacting like a cat on a hot tin roof every time I talk to you isn’t going to do.’

Elizabeth couldn’t really imagine why someone would not want to be liked; it seemed the most basic and natural of human desires. But then Andreas wasn’t like everyone else, was he? ‘For the situation you have in mind?’ She looked at him blankly and waited for whatever new and disturbing revelation he had to relay.

‘I wondered when you would clock on to what I just said.’ He sighed elaborately, picked up James’s fountain pen which was lying on the desk and twirled it ruminatively between his fingers before transferring his gaze to her expectant face.

‘The wonders of Internet access only really go so far,’ he explained ruefully. ‘Nothing really replaces the good, old-fashioned secretary. Someone to file reports, fend unwanted phone calls, take notes, bring those essential cups of coffee…’ He paused, allowing that lazy observation to sink in and take root. ‘Which is where you come in.’

‘No.’

‘Oh, but yes.’ He dropped the pen and angled her a brooding, speculative look. There was so much that had his antennae on red alert, from that phone call to her ex-boss, to her evident alarm at the thought of him being around. Yet, if she did have something to hide, wouldn’t she be acting a little less distracted? If, as he had gleaned from reading between the lines, she had headed to Somerset with the express intention of meeting James, of edging her foot through the door and then hunting down the family jewels, wouldn’t she be playing it cool?

Gold-diggers came in all shapes and sizes, admittedly, but they were universally manipulative, cunning and opportunistic. They didn’t spend hours browsing through junk shops with a cantankerous seventy-something, as he had gathered she had been doing from the various communications with his godfather over the weeks. They didn’t reject their host’s offers of having every meal catered to the highest standard in favour of trying out home-cooked food from the antiquated recipebooks James had stored in various cupboards in the kitchen. Nor did they spend their leisure time with the head gardener chatting about plants or else sitting in the walled garden with a book. That took cunning to an altogether new level, and one that Andreas had difficulty getting his head around.

Which was not to say that he didn’t feel compelled to oversee the situation. It never paid to take anything in life for granted, and that included the rest of the human race.

‘I can’t work for you. I work for Mr Greystone. I know you insisted that I answer to you, but at the end of the day…’

‘Let’s think out of the box for a minute. Yes, you do work for James, and from what I gather you’re the perfect companion—by which, I take it, you have inordinate reserves of patience. Apparently there was a fracas at the tea shop because the scones advertised had sold out?’

Elizabeth momentarily forgot her stress and gave him one of those radiant, transforming smiles. ‘Oh, did he mention that to you?’

‘Apparently he spent so long arguing with the manager about their policy of leaving the board up when the scones were no longer available that he’s been given a voucher for free teas there for the next fortnight.’

‘He did huff and puff about never darkening their doors again, but of course he will. He says they do the best creamteas in the county—even if he can’t have the cream—and, besides, I think he likes Dot Evans. She told him to stop spluttering because it wasn’t good for his blood pressure, and that if he kicked up a scene in her shop again she would drag him out to the kitchen and force him to do the dishes.’

Andreas was temporarily derailed by the first part of her remark. ‘Likes Dot Evans? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s known the woman for the past ten years! Don’t you think I would have known about it by now?’

‘I guess so,’ Elizabeth backtracked vaguely, shifting her gaze away and waiting in silence for him to return to the thorny subject of her impending doom.