Claiming His Cinderella Secretary

by Cathy Williams

  He couldn’t even focus on his laptop, which said something. For the first time, he felt as though he had walked, eyes wide open, into a situation the likes of which he had never dealt with before. He didn’t do personal dramas when it came to women. He had never allowed himself to fall victim to the one thing he loathed, namely the idiocy of getting so wrapped up with a woman that you ended up straying into her dilemmas, having views on problems that had nothing to do with him...

  He was discomforted by the realisation that this wasn’t his comfort zone, and he could only placate his feverish brain by reminding himself that this was a temporary break in proceedings and that normal life would resume in no time at all.

  In fact, he mused, pulling open the bedroom door and resisting the urge to take the stairs two at a time, he wouldn’t be here at all were it not for Naomi and her mischief-making. He would be in Hawaii, soaking up more sun, doing the whole work, women and song thing and catching up with his brother pre-wedding. He would be relishing some healthy distraction! He enjoyed women. Women enjoyed him. But, when he thought about enjoying the joys of anything with another woman, his mind went blank and he felt as though he was staring into a fog.

  He heard Angela’s voice through the kitchen door which was ajar, and he paused, not so much trying to hear what was being said as wondering how he should approach this situation, given Ellie would have broken the disappointing news to her mother that they were not the couple she had been led to believe. He barely recognised the alien sensation that momentarily swept through him as indecision, so accustomed was he to having complete control of whatever situation he happened to find himself in...

  He pushed aside the unfamiliar feeling and nudged open the door. The first thing he saw was Ellie smiling, smiling and smiling, as though her face might crack at any second.

  And, in that instant, he knew exactly what was going on.

  * * *

  How much deeper could this hole get? Ellie thought, wrung out at the end of a day that seemed to have stretched to infinity and beyond.

  Aside from escaping briefly just before their early six o’clock dinner, so that she could finally get to the shower and have some tormented down-time to herself, she had been on the go. Fending off questions, feeling the incisive boring of James’s eyes on her, wherever she went, trying hard not to stare down at the calamitous abyss opening up at her feet. And, of course, silently thanking her boss for not cornering her so that he could ask the one question that must surely be on the tip of his tongue...

  What the hell is going on?

  She owed him an explanation but she was dreading what she foresaw as a showdown. He’d done her a favour in returning to London to rescue her from her own inexperience in dealing with the nightmare that had landed in her lap. He owed her. That would have been his take on things. Even if they hadn’t slept together, he would have seen her as his responsibility in any kind of awkward situation that might have been generated by him, because, put simply, he was one of the good guys, however tough and uncompromising he might be in the work arena.

  Her mother retired early, at a little after eight, to read and have a bath and absorb the day’s events.

  Kitchen clean and counters wiped, Ellie finally allowed herself to be cornered. Rather, barricaded in, because James positioned himself at the door of the kitchen, arms folded, eyebrows raised, and looked at her for a few seconds in silence.

  Like her, he had escaped to have a shower earlier on, after their hearty breakfast at almost midday and tea in the garden at four. He was in a pair of faded jeans, a grey long-sleeved tee shirt that lovingly and unfairly emphasised his lean muscularity and some tan loafers that would have cost the earth.

  ‘So...’ he drawled. ‘Help me out here, Ellie. I thought, after I’d spent half an hour staring out at the great British scenery, that I would come down to the kitchen to find your mother semi-tearful but resigned, in front of a cup of tea, having received the disappointing news that there wasn’t going to be any happy-ever-after...’

  ‘I know.’ Ellie shot him a guilty look from under her lashes. She indicated one of the chairs by the table, thought better of it and then moved to the back door that led out into the garden. She needed some fresh air, even if the air was a little too fresh for what she was wearing. Leading the way, she unhooked her old mac from the door and stepped into a pair of wellies, even though it wasn’t raining.

  Her mother’s garden was small and manageable but gave the illusion of being absolutely enormous because it backed onto open fields. With just the light from the kitchen behind them, the garden was shrouded in darkness, and beyond the fields rose and fell with dark uniformity, much like the ocean at night, the very ocean they had left behind.

  Ellie didn’t look at him as she straightened one of the garden chairs and curled up into it, tucking her legs under her, covering them with the mac. She felt the brush of his arm against hers as he adopted a similar position, both of them staring out at the vast landscape.

  Her skin tingled from that accidental brush, making her shiver with that unwelcome sexual awareness that had dogged her all day.

  He’d been the perfect gentleman. He’d charmed her mother and had been unfailingly considerate towards her, and Ellie had hated every second of it, because it wasn’t what she wanted from him. Not any more. She wanted passion and fire and craving, and all that hunger that had flared in his eyes every time he’d looked at her a million years ago in Barbados...

  The wretched hopelessness of it engulfed her. She could no longer summon up any enthusiasm for the prospect of slowly weaning herself off him. All she could see was a guy who didn’t love her and anguished days spent working alongside him, watching him carry on with his life while she was cruelly rooted in the past, desperately trying to move on but condemned to become a spectator to other women taking her place in his bed.

  ‘I couldn’t do it,’ she said sadly. ‘I really tried, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it...’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘I REALISE YOU’RE probably quite annoyed...’ Livid, she mentally amended. ‘I prepared my speech. I was going to be light-hearted about it, tell Mum that it was all just a silly mistake...that that’s what happens when a vindictive ex is in the picture...’

  She sighed.

  ‘But then she rushed into telling me about how happy she was...overjoyed... How long she’d spent worrying that life was passing me by... I was hell-bent on taking care of her, and didn’t see that somewhere along the line she really just wanted me to take care of myself. Now she thinks that I’m finally happy, that I’ve found the one for me.’

  ‘I understand,’ James murmured.

  ‘She started crying, but in a quiet way. Said how lost she’d felt after Dad died, that she’d been a burden to me and that it was so wonderful to finally see me happy, and actually living life the way it should be lived. I think those were her exact words.’

  What Ellie failed to mention were the other things Angela Thompson had said. She had spotted them holding hands through the window, before she’d answered the door. She could see how much love there was between them. She’d been feeling so low, but now she felt as though she’d been given a new lease of life...

  Every smiling confidence had plunged the dagger deeper into Ellie’s heart. No longer could glib explanations gloss over what had happened, yet how on earth could she go into the detail of how she really felt about her emotionally unavailable boss? How could she make sense for her mother of the way she had meandered, eyes wide open, into an emotional quagmire, where she was now stuck loving him while he turned his back and walked away? How could she tell her mum that what had started between them had only started because she had just been so different from his glamorous ex? From all his glamorous exes? That she had been the new and different toy with which he had enjoyed playing for a while but was never going to hold on to for very long?

 
Every joyous utterance from her mother had been a cruel reminder of just how far from the truth she was. In the end, Ellie had cravenly backed away from the confession she had been intent on making.

  ‘I... She knows you won’t be staying beyond tomorrow. I told her you had urgent business to see to in London. You’ll be leaving first thing.’

  ‘You’re upset,’ James murmured, eyes shielded.

  ‘Of course I’m upset!’ Ellie burst out in angry frustration. She strode towards the bed and flung herself on it, utterly exhausted and angry with him for being so calm. But then what was at stake for him, really? After this interlude, life would return to normal quickly. She would be the one left picking up pieces. She would be the one having to deal with her mother’s bitter disappointment after he’d swanned off, having done his bit. And that didn’t even begin to cover the horror of dealing with her broken heart.

  She rested her arm over her eyes, banking down a desire to cry. She knew he had joined her on the bed when his weight depressed the mattress. She tensed, wanting him so badly that it hurt, yet refusing to yield to the fierce physical pull he had over her. She kept her arm draped over her face.

  She didn’t expect him to scoop her up, but he did, and she didn’t struggle when he enfolded her in his arms and rested her head against his shoulder.

  A kind and caring gesture, she thought as her body began to stir into heated response.

  He stroked her back and she was dimly aware of him murmuring soothing things under his breath. She began to relax. She didn’t want to make love. She knew that that was a place she no longer had a right to revisit. Yet they did, slowly and tenderly, and it felt as though everything was happening in a dream. He held her for a long time, coaxing her anxieties out of her, stroking her hair until she was melting against him, eyes closed, her breathing evening out.

  Thoughts flew out of her head as fast as her anxieties. Her mind went a complete blank and familiar sensations settled in to replace the arousal of her body, her breasts becoming tender, her nipples pinching and then hardening into tight buds as his hand slipped under her top to caress her. He knew her body so well, could strum it with the dexterity of a maestro.

  She didn’t open her eyes. She allowed herself to be seduced into trance-like pleasure, opening up to him with the hunger of someone deprived of sustenance for too long.

  Her clothes were removed. She felt the coolness of the night on her naked skin and his silent, caressing fingers on her, touching her in places she had come to love being touched and sending her body up in flames.

  Neither of them spoke and it felt as if they were both in the same place, contemplative and aware that there would be a situation to deal with when this brief interlude was over. But, for the moment, Ellie needed this, whether it made sense or not.

  He nuzzled her breasts and explored her body, gently caressing her between her legs and feeling the wetness of her arousal, and she did the same for him, pleasuring him with her hands and her mouth until he was groaning, low, husky and urgent. They were moving in slow motion, languorous and fluid. He went between her legs, tasting her with his mouth and his tongue, flicking and teasing her clitoris while she coiled her fingers into his hair, clinging like someone needing anchorage in a storm.

  He didn’t stop. He wanted her to come against his questing mouth and she wanted it as well. It felt right. She moved against him, squirming, her breathing fast and shallow, and then she came in a spasm, arching up while he continued to probe her most intimate place with his tongue. His hand rested on her belly, tugging so that the sensations were so powerful that she had to stifle the urge to cry out loud with pleasure.

  She breathed him in as he rose up to straddle her, and opened her eyes only once to see him take his manhood in his hand, circling it firmly but gently, pleasuring himself while she cupped him in her hands and rose to delicately lick the veined hardness.

  He came on her, a hot splash that she rose to greet with her mouth, savouring its saltiness while the sadness she had kept at bay began permeating back into her.

  Exhausted, she could barely utter a word when, after what felt like dreamy hours, he lay next to her. She curled against him, fighting sleep but unable to resist it, and the next time she opened her eyes a thin, grey light was seeping through the curtains into the bedroom.

  She struggled into a sitting position, disoriented for a few seconds, then registering what had happened the night before.

  Also registering that the space next to her was empty and, glancing at her phone at the side of the bed, that it was a little after six in the morning.

  Early.

  While the thoughts were still foggy in her head, the bedroom door opened and in he walked, as stealthy as a big cat, not bothering to turn on the light, instead making for the bed and perching on the side. Aside from a towel wrapped round his lower half, he was naked, and she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply as she tried to get her thoughts into some kind of order.

  ‘How long have you been awake?’ she asked, heart thundering inside her, reacting all over again to the intense pull of his masculinity.

  ‘Not long. Long enough to have a shower and do some thinking.’

  He looked at her, pink and sleepy-eyed, her hair tousled, just the slope of her narrow shoulders visible because she had pulled the duvet up to her chin, which she rested on her knees. There were instances, thoughts that flashed through his head, that made it impossible to remember her as his dutiful PA.

  None of this had gone according to plan. He had anticipated something clear cut, possibly a bit uncomfortable but largely sanitised. He had anticipated a situation he would walk away from, dusting his hands free of complications that he had told himself he could do without. They had slept together but there had been a finite time limit imposed on what they’d had, and at no point had it really occurred to him that that time limit might end up going off-piste so accustomed was he to exercising complete control over all aspects of his life.

  He’d done the right thing in returning to London once the story had hit the press and he had done the right thing in suggesting they faced her mother. He had accepted responsibility for the fact that none of this would have happened had he not dumped his ex and then turned his attentions to the one woman he should never have contemplated going anywhere near, whatever her hidden attractions.

  Had he planned to sleep with her again?

  He honestly didn’t know.

  Common sense had prevailed once, but he was honest enough to acknowledge that it had flown out of the window the minute he had returned from Barbados to find her holed up in her house, like a prisoner terrified of a firing squad positioned outside the front door. Every protective instinct he’d never known he had had kicked in with stupendous force.

  Was that what had reawakened the attraction he had been confident of putting to bed? Had the novelty of new sensations propelled him into wanting to light that fire all over again?

  Yet he had managed to hang on to his common sense, had managed to look at the bigger picture and take on board the role he knew he had to play to assuage her mother’s fears and doubts.

  He had chatted to her mother but, all the while, his eyes had strayed to Ellie, who’d been as nervous as a kitten. He had noted her interaction with her mother, had seen the concern and love there. He intuited the pain she would feel at the thought of crushing her mother’s optimistic, romantic dreams. He knew what pain felt like, how it could sear a hole right through you until you were dazed with it, and something inside him had twisted.

  Guilt? A conscience?

  Was that why he had been driven to sleep with her again? Because his conscience had been pricked? Because he had seen her tremulous fear of letting her mother down and had recognised, guiltily, that he had put her in that position?

  Or was it just a case of something started that had ended prematurely?

  James did
not underestimate the power of sexual attraction. He’d still wanted her, whatever label he chose to put on it, and she still wanted him. Their relationship had not behaved according to the rules he had laid down, but weren’t there always exceptions to rules?

  He had been adamant that things would need to stop so that normal working relations between them could resume after he returned from Max’s wedding. He’d always kept his working life very separate from his love life. However, the two had merged, and maybe this was just something they both needed to finish. It wasn’t about emotions, it was about finishing a chapter that had been started. They were both adults and she had her head screwed on. Why should it interfere with the excellent working relationship they both had?

  Her grey eyes, locked on him, were wary. He raked his fingers through his hair and noted the way she swallowed, all too aware of him just as he was all too aware of her.

  ‘Last night...’ he murmured.

  ‘I know. Shouldn’t have happened.’ Ellie looked at him defensively.

  ‘But it did,’ he said gently.

  ‘I was in a poor place. Things hadn’t worked out the way I thought they would...’ She glared at him accusingly. Why couldn’t he just leave it be? she wondered fiercely. Why did he have to drag everything out in the open for an early-morning post-mortem?

  The way she had succumbed to him, given herself to him, was a cruel reminder of just how much she loved him and how much she had so foolishly invested in him.

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘And, trust me, I can understand your dilemma.’ She failed to fill in the gaps so he continued, his voice soothing and sinfully seductive. ‘Your mother is fully invested in this business about us being an item. She’s spent the past few years despairing of you ever meeting someone.’