Buttoned-Up Secretary, British Boss. Susanne James
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