by Lucy Keane
‘It doesn’t look like it,’ he was saying. ‘The last time we had some, Fiona put them away.’
And that remark was like a bucket of cold water thrown over her. It spoke of the casual intimacy of their lives together, and the reminder of the woman who was his fiancée actually hurt. She was an outsider again. His cook for the evening. The ‘friendship’ was an illusion and would have vanished by tomorrow morning. There would be the office gossip going on around her; he would be on one side of the fence as the boss—and, as one of his secretaries, she would be on the other.
‘We’ve got some in the van. I’ll go and get them.’ That ‘we’ was her and Jess, their professional status opposed to the partnership of Julius and Fiona. It was her private defence against the very inconvenient feelings her continued association with Julius seemed to be creating in her.
He must have heard something of it in her tone, and turned his head sharply in surprise.
‘What’s the matter?’
She watched him straighten up. His perception surprised her. ‘Nothing,’ she said, her eyes deliberately blank.
‘If you give me the keys again, I’ll get them. You’re not ideally dressed for a cold night in November, are you?’
‘Neither are you.’
He gave her a wry smile that eased just a little the unexpected tension building between them.
‘Don’t argue with me, woman. I’ve had enough of that for one night.’
Despite her complex reactions to Julius himself, she was far too full of curiosity about his friends to be daunted by the prospect of dinner with them.
Chris was tall and bearded, with the haphazardly ugly looks that were attractive in themselves; next to the slighter, more athletic Julius he looked like a large, friendly troll. Maxine was small and vivacious, her blonde hair cut in a boyish bob. Amy liked both of the immediately.
The introductions were informal and friendly. Julius said nothing about Amy working for him—in any capacity. As far as the others were concerned she was just a friend doing him a favour for the evening because Fiona couldn’t be there.
She and Julius worked well together as a team. Without making it obvious, he was there to help when she needed it, quite willing to take instructions from her as though their normal roles had been reversed. She also found that she could slip in and out of the conversation at the table with ease, and all three of them treated her as the friend Julius had claimed her to be.
Later Maxine followed her into the kitchen to help her make coffee.
‘That was a super dinner,’ she complimented her enthusiastically. ‘I bet Julius is always asking you to cook for him when Fiona’s not around. I gather she’s the proverbial can’t-even-boil-an-egg girl.’
Amy smiled, but the topic of Fiona wasn’t a welcome one, and she was glad that Julius’s absent fiancée had scarcely been mentioned all evening.
She learned from Maxine that the two men had been friends since university days, subsequently travelling the world together collecting a year’s worth of hair-raising escapades. When Maxine in turn showed some curiosity about the discussion going on in the living-room between her husband and his friend—the Spanish deal hadn’t featured in the conversation over dinner—Amy pretended ignorance of it. Her office knowledge was privileged information.
‘Well, all I can say is I hope Chris agrees to whatever it is. Julius has a real Midas touch. The idea of getting very rich quick definitely appeals!’
Amy gave a cautious smile. ‘You make it sound as though it’s all a bit shady.’
‘Good heavens, no! Julius is absolutely straight. He’s one of the most honest men I’ve ever met, and for someone with his range of business interests that’s saying a lot.’ Then she added, ‘He’s also one of the kindest.’ Amy saved up that remark to think about later. It undermined quite a lot of the assumptions she’d made about him during their past encounters.
Then Maxine gave her further food for thought.
‘We were really quite worried about Julius,’ she confided. ‘Chris thought he was beginning to organise every aspect of his life like his business. He even suspected he might have run Fiona through a computer program— you know, a sort of checklist of requirements for the ideal young company director’s wife! Do you know her well?’
But Amy didn’t rise to that one. She was very relieved that she could honestly say that Fiona was the merest acquaintance.
It was late when Chris and Maxine finally left—Julius and Chris having got into another vital discussion at the front door. That had given Amy a chance to start clearing in the kitchen, and by the time Julius came to find her she had packed up anything she was taking home, and loaded the dishwasher.
‘Leave that,’ he said. ‘You deserve a drink. You hardly drank anything all evening.’
Now that the guests had gone, she felt suddenly very nervous at the idea of being alone with Julius. She laughed a little awkwardly. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I wasn’t here to enjoy myself, you know!’
The dark brows creased in a slight frown. ‘Does that mean you didn’t enjoy it?’
‘Oh, yes, I did—very much.’ She hadn’t meant to sound critical. ‘It’s just that cooks have to keep their wits about them.’
She wasn’t sure she had her wits about her now: there was something in the way he was looking at her that was making her very aware of him in a way she knew she shouldn’t be. Not when he was engaged to Fiona.
She agreed, in the end, to accept a very small glass of brandy with a cup of coffee. They went back into the sitting-room, now lit only by one lamp, and she perched uncomfortably on the edge of a chair. Then she watched him as he picked up a heavy cut-glass decanter from the sideboard. The lamplight reflected golden from the surface of the glass, and she found herself looking at the long, lean fingers that held it. She glanced at his face—he was turned a little away from her, and she studied the clean-cut profile, with its straight nose and firm chin, and the line of his mouth… and she knew it was a mistake to have accepted the drink.
He sat at a little distance from her on the sofa, leaning back in a relaxed way that made her feel very stiff and formal. He started to talk casually about the Spanish deal, telling her more of the background to the venture while she wondered how soon she could decently drink her coffee and leave.
After a while she glanced very obviously at her watch. ‘Julius, it’s very late—I have to go.’
She didn’t have to go, and she didn’t want to. Charlie was staying the night at Celia’s. She could have stayed and talked to Julius until dawn if he’d wanted her to. She got up, but before she could move away he was on his feet, standing in front of her. He put his hands on her arms.
‘Amy, I really am grateful for what you did tonight.’ His touch was sending signals all over her body. It was vital she get away before she made an idiot of herself.
This is stupid, she kept telling herself. I’ll be behaving just like Zoe in a minute. She guessed what he was going to do. She didn’t know whether to pull away, or just to let him kiss her and pretend it meant nothing—and that fractional indecision had consequences she could never have foreseen.
She didn’t know what kind of kiss she was expecting—probably something that was not much more than a vague affectionate impulse on Julius’s part. Maybe that was what had prompted him—she didn’t know— but as soon as his lips touched hers, and he pulled her gently into his arms, something seemed to happen to her, despite all her wariness. His mouth on hers was soft at first, almost experimental, but a delicious feeling of warmth flooded through her, and without being fully conscious of what she was doing she put her arms round his neck.
His own arms tightened in response, and she instinctively pressed closer, moulding her body to the contours of his, letting her slim fingers slide up into that thick, short, silky hair she’d been longing to touch, encouraged by the reluctant groan that was torn from him. And then, at that precise moment, she realised just what all that confused antago
nism she’d felt towards him had been about—since the very beginning. She must have been mad not to see it before—perhaps what she’d learned of him from Maxine had changed her perspective suddenly, but she knew now that all the unworthy motives she’d ascribed to him had just been a blind for herself, so that she wouldn’t have to face an impossible truth.
And it was impossible, because it was sheer stupidity to let herself fall in love with a man who was already engaged to someone else.
That thought stabbed her with guilt—she must stop this—it was her fault because she was encouraging it… But she didn’t want him to stop.
The kiss became more intense, his tongue exploring her mouth deeply as his lips moved on hers. It was as though that strange dream she’d had was suddenly becoming real—but so much more insistent and demanding than anything she could have imagined. She could feel his heartbeats quickening against her own. Then he broke off, releasing her to take her face in his hands.
‘Amy… Amy…’ he said her name unsteadily, his voice unexpectedly rough. She didn’t know what he was trying to tell her—that he found her attractive, or that he didn’t mean to let her get involved. But then he smiled, the corners of his mouth creasing in a way that made her want to kiss him again. ‘Did you know you had freckles on your neck?’ And his thumb caressed the edge of her jawline. ‘I’ve been fascinated by them all evening.’
She ought to have pulled away from him then, and they could both have got out of it fairly gracefully, with no harm done to either of them. But perhaps, already, it was too late. For her, the harm had been making itself from that first day she had walked into his office.
He began to kiss her once more, his lips skimming down the side of her face to nuzzle the lobe of her ear. She could feel the sensuous glide of his tongue over her skin and she shivered while a heady kind of excitement flared within her. That this was she, Amy, who was too thin and who didn’t eat enough and who got into trouble in the office for being inept… but for now he wasn’t her boss, and she knew instinctively that she was the one with the power—the power of a woman’s body over a man’s, and against all common sense she let that sweet crazy exultation take her over just for a few intoxicating moments as she gave in to her desire to please him, to increase his desire for her, and to express, if only for this once, some of the secret attraction that had been there, even if she hadn’t recognised it, from the first.
She was aware of his hand at the back of her waist, unfastening Fiona’s belt, and that by slow steps he was walking her backwards. Then the belt came free, and was discarded, and as his hand slipped up over her bare skin underneath the tight black jersey top the back of her legs came into contact with the sofa and the slow reverse across the floor came to an abrupt halt. Then he was pulling her down with him, while the kiss renewed itself with greater intensity.
His weight on her, the hardness of his body pressed into her own was at once a surprising new reality and a further stimulus to desire. She was intensely aware of the heat of those muscled limbs under the light barrier of his clothing, and a delirious, almost frightening weakness began to pour through her, tingling through her limbs, softening, melting all resistance to him. One hand was under her back, but the other caressed the side of her slim waist, stroking, stealing up over her ribs, under the light stretchy lace of her bra, until involuntarily she arched against him with a quick indrawn breath. He shifted slightly, one thigh now lying between hers, and the hand that had been trapped under her now travelled quickly, in a light, tantalising caress, up one long leg, smoothing, exploring the contours of her thigh and hip with increasing intimacy.
They must stop now—they must!—or it would be too late.
She tried to tear her mouth from his, gasping, turning her face aside so that his lips were on her cheek, and then the line of her jaw.
‘Julius—stop! Please—’ Her voice was husky, almost hoarse, but her body seemed to be screaming its need of him. She didn’t want him to stop—she wanted him to go on and on, to ease that ache that was beginning to build inside her—but her mind still insisted that nothing would be worth the regret they would both feel afterwards. ‘We shouldn’t be doing this—what about Fiona?’
He was very still suddenly. Then he shifted his weight a little from her, pushing himself up on one elbow to turn her face towards him with ungentle fingers.
‘What about Charlie?’ His voice sounded surprisingly harsh.
A little frown creased her brows, and she looked up into his eyes to find them unexpectedly hostile. ‘What about Charlie?’ she repeated dazedly.
‘Charlie doesn’t count but Fiona does, is that it?’ He sounded angry—and in that instant she realised what that harmless little deception about Charlie had led to: with her live-in lover at home to go back to, in Julius’s eyes she still wasn’t averse to a bit of fun with the boss if he felt like it after a row with his girlfriend.
Seeing herself suddenly from his angle, she was appalled. She stared up into his eyes, her own an intense blue.
‘No, Charlie doesn’t count!’ she said defiantly. ‘Charlie is my fourteen-year-old brother!’
For a moment he looked completely taken aback. She tried to twist out from under him, but he wasn’t prepared to let her go yet.
‘So why did I believe he was your boyfriend?’ he demanded. ‘Look at me, Amy!’
She met his furious glare. ‘You jumped to that conclusion! I never said anything about him!’
‘You let me believe it,’ he argued. ‘Why?’
She felt helplessly angry now. It was true, she couldn’t deny it, but it was also true that she hadn’t lied to him.
‘Maybe I didn’t care what you believed!’ she flashed at him. ‘My private life has nothing to do with you!’
There was another silence.
She felt him shift his weight, and then he was getting to his feet. She sat up quickly, pulling down her top and skirt.
‘Since we’re on the subject,’ he said coldly, ‘neither has my private life anything to do with your little mothers’ meetings at the office. I’d be grateful if you didn’t see fit to entertain the others with gossip about tonight.’
He must have a humiliatingly low opinion of her, and that hurt more than anything else. But if he could be cold, she was more than capable now of meeting ice with ice.
‘That was unnecessary,’ she said frigidly. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s not of sufficient interest to me.’
She left soon after that. In silence, Julius helped her pack the boxes back into the car, and she collected her jeans and sweater from his bedroom.
How she managed to drive home safely she was never quite sure—tears of anger and humiliation blurred her vision far too often, as she thought of the way a successful evening had turned into a disastrous one.
She was very grateful that she had two whole days to herself before she had to face Julius again at the office.
CHAPTER FIVE
Amy wasted a lot of time over the weekend trying, unsuccessfully, to sort out her feelings. Once she’d got over her humiliation at the way Julius must have thought of her, she began to despise him for being a callous opportunist enjoying himself behind Fiona’s back. Then she was forced to admit that her limited interpretation of events didn’t fit all the evidence as neatly as she would have liked. Which was a pity; it would have been easier to go on resenting him.
She couldn’t blame Julius, although she wanted to. Honesty forced her to admit that what had happened between them seemed to have taken him by surprise just as much as it had her. Maybe he had genuinely forgotten Fiona in those moments, or maybe he had never expected a harmless kiss to go so far, but either way he must have been surprised by her own response. Then, to be fair, when she had accused him of behaving badly towards Fiona, he had been quite justified—because of the way she had misled him over Charlie—in condemning her for a similar deception.
But she was still shattered by the way in which her own most primitive feelings
had overwhelmed her with such unfamiliar intensity. Perhaps it was the fact that her life was so difficult at present that made her vulnerable to Julius’s particular brand of charm, and concern, but she knew that if he had wanted her she’d have given herself to him, despite Fiona—despite everything. She despised herself for it, and couldn’t make up her mind how much of her resentment against Julius was really anger with herself for her own weakness. She regretted now the way they had parted. She had provoked a childish row when, if she’d stopped to think about the way the misunderstanding over Charlie had caused Julius to react, she could perhaps have defused the situation, and they could have parted friends. Even if the kiss had been a mistake.
The office would be no place to make up a row like that. She would just have to be very cool on Monday, and as one-hundred-percent efficient as effort could make her. Then a rather chilling thought struck her— was he unscrupulous enough to sack her? She was still on trial at Prior Harding’s. After what he would see as such an embarrassing little episode, he might easily look for the first excuse to get rid of her. And she was far from the ideal secretary!
