‘Where’s Jenna?’
‘She said something about going to lunch. I did suggest that she check with you first, but…’ Katrin tailed off and shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of resignation. ‘Oh, dear, Alex. Not another useless temp?’
‘We’ll see,’ Alex murmured in a non-committal voice as he glanced through the pile of correspondence Jenna had left for him to sign.
There was no problem with her diligence, he mused. His eyes had strayed with irritating monotony to the figure working in the outer office, but she hadn’t glanced up from her work, and his earlier reservations were subsiding. The problem was him, he acknowledged grimly. It had taken sheer determination to stop himself from strolling out to talk to her, and he had invented several reasons for doing just that, discarding them with derision—he would appear too obvious or, worse, desperate.
She wasn’t even his type. His usual girlfriends were tall and elegant, and, having been blessed with wealth, looks and an innate charm, he could choose from the cream of London’s socialites. So why had he spent the morning planning on taking his temporary secretary to lunch? Even worse, having missed his chance, how was he going to glean from the frighteningly efficient Katrin where Jenna had gone?
In the event it was the receptionist on the front desk who told him Jenna had asked for directions to the nearest park, and as he stepped out into the damp autumn air he was still arguing with himself over his reasons for seeking her out.
The park was a small oasis of tranquillity amidst the hubbub of the city, and as Jenna stared up through the trees she felt her tension ease. As first days went it had been a disaster, she thought dismally, although hopefully the quality of her work would meet Alex Morrell’s high standards and he wouldn’t dismiss her at the end of day one. She was still indignant that he hadn’t believed her reason for being late, and was half tempted to tell him to stick his job, but her hot temper had always been her Achilles’ heel, and at twenty-four it was time she learned to control it.
So much depended on her keeping this job; without its high salary she was in danger of losing the house, of having to uproot Maisie and move away from everything that was familiar to the little girl. At her interview Margaret had hinted that Pippa, the secretary on maternity leave, might possibly decide not to return to work at all, in which case the post of secretarial assistant would become permanent. Not that she could keep Maisie a secret for ever, Jenna fretted, but if she could prove to Alex that she had foolproof childcare arrangements then perhaps the fact that she had a daughter would no longer be an issue.
Did he dislike children? she wondered. Or was it simply that he had little sympathy for working mothers? Neither reason endeared him to her, so why had she been unable to dismiss his handsome face from her mind all morning? He was sex on legs, she acknowledged with a rueful smile, and it had taken sheer will-power to prevent her eyes from straying towards the dark tinted glass that separated her office from his.
‘So, you decided on lunch al fresco?’ A voice as cool and clear as a mountain stream trickled over her and she was unable to repress a shiver, felt goosebumps prickle her skin as she turned her head. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’
He had already sat down on the bench and her tension returned with a vengeance. She wished he would go, and at the same time wanted him to stay. She needed to look at him again, although one peep was enough to send her pulse racing, and with a determined effort she dragged her eyes away and stared at the ducks on the pond.
‘Help yourself,’ she answered, striving to sound cool and composed, but aware that her voice was starting to sound breathless.
‘I had planned on taking you to lunch, to give us a chance to get to know one another properly.’
Jenna swung round, her eyes colliding with his sapphire gaze, and she swallowed, her nerves jangling when she discovered how close he was. His hair was the colour of jet, cropped uncompromisingly short so that she noted the hard planes of his face, the classically sculpted cheekbones and square jaw. There were laughter lines around his eyes and she longed to see him smile, for his eyes to glint with warmth when he looked at her.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. Do you do that with all your new staff? Take them to lunch, I mean?’ she added, disconcerted by his intense appraisal.
‘No,’ he replied, and reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek.
The gesture was so intimate that she felt herself blush. He was too close for comfort. She was aware of the tantalising musk of his aftershave, the warmth of his breath on her skin.
‘We didn’t get off on the best of footings this morning,’ he continued quietly, and she knew he was referring to her lateness and the unbelievable reason for it. He still considered that she had lied, she realised; she opened her mouth to protest her innocence, looked into his eyes and lost the ability to think.
‘Would you like a sandwich?’ she offered, frantically searching for something to say to break the silence that thrummed with electricity.
‘What’s in them?’ he queried, glancing at the unappealing squares of white bread on her knee.
‘Jam.’
His expression was faintly disbelieving as he held up his hand. ‘I’ll pass, thanks. I haven’t eaten jam since I was a child.’
She wasn’t lunching on jam sandwiches out of choice either, Jenna thought, irritated by his amusement. What had he expected? Smoked salmon? Although in fairness that was probably the sort of lunch he was used to, and she certainly couldn’t reveal that she had saved the last slices of cheese for Maisie’s lunch.
‘I need to go shopping,’ she admitted as she picked up a sandwich, but her appetite seemed to have vanished along with her peace of mind.
‘There’s a little bistro at the edge of the park that serves lovely food and the best lemon meringue pie,’ Alex added, with another glance at her pathetic lunch. ‘Shall we start afresh over something to eat? I watched you working like a demon this morning; you must be hungry.’
‘You watched me?’ For a second Jenna envisaged him snooping on her through some sort of spyhole, her dismay written all over her face, and he could not prevent his smile.
‘The glass walls between our offices are tinted, but I can see out quite well. I hope you don’t find that unsettling?’
She did, hugely, but could hardly admit it. Thank God she hadn’t drifted off into one of her daydreams, where she lost all concept of time and filled several sheets of paper with sketches. She didn’t think he would be quite so friendly if he deemed her a time waster, and once again she realised that the job at Morrell and Partners was light years away from her comfortable existence at Philips and Co.
‘Do you know those little gold freckles across your nose are really beautiful?’
Alex Morrell had little in common with the fatherly Mr Philips either, Jenna acknowledged, sheer panic sending her jumping to her feet. Faced with the full force of his charm she quailed.
‘You must be a mind reader. I love lemon meringue pie. And I hate my freckles,’ she added on an afterthought. ‘I’ve got them everywhere.’
‘Really?’ She steadfastly ignored the wicked glint in his eyes, and to her relief he said no more on the subject of freckles or their whereabouts and led the way across the park to the bistro.
Alex Morrell was something else, Jenna mused as she stirred her coffee and contemplated the best lunch she had eaten in months. As if stunning good looks were not enough, he was witty, charming and fiercely intelligent, and he had entertained her with tales of past court cases and amusing incidents from his life as a barrister. All through lunch she had listened and laughed, utterly captivated, so that she’d relaxed and unknowingly lowered the barriers she had erected against him.
He had been too hard on her this morning, Alex chided himself as he watched the way she licked the last morsel of meringue from her spoon, the tip of her pink tongue a tantalising distraction from which he had difficulty dragging his gaze. She was unknowingly sexy—or perhaps know
ingly, he thought with a frown. The sexuality she exuded was not lost on him, as the ache in his loins could verify, but there was an air of innocence about her that tugged at his protective streak even as he derided himself for his gullibility.
In his opinion women were by far the stronger sex, and in court they had never ceased to amaze him with their ability to lie in order to save their own skins. The jury was still out on Jenna Deane, and he could not pigeonhole her yet, but getting to know her was proving to be an interesting experience.
The autumn sunshine had disappeared when they walked back across the park, and the sudden downpour was as violent as it was unexpected.
‘Tomorrow I’m going to bring an umbrella,’ Jenna vowed as raindrops the size of pennies spattered her skirt for the second time that day.
‘Over here—come on!’ With the shower showing no sign of abating Alex caught hold of her arm, and together they scrambled for the protection of one of the few trees that still retained its leaves.
As they ran, Jenna skidded on the wet leaves underfoot and fell bodily against Alex, who braced himself against the tree trunk, taking her weight on his chest.
‘I’m sorry.’ Her hair had come loose again, and she stared up at him through a tangle of amber silk, the laughter dying in her throat as she caught the unguarded look in his eyes.
‘This is becoming a habit,’ he murmured, stroking her hair back from her face. ‘A very pleasant habit, I might add.’
Was he was going to kiss her? she wondered, with the tiny part of her brain still capable of thought. His dark head lowered, seemingly in slow motion, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek, could see the fine laughter lines that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Already that sensual mouth was hovering millimetres from hers, and she couldn’t deny the heady excitement that swept over her. She was desperate to feel him, skin on skin.
Was it some kind of test? she wondered numbly. Margaret had said that one of the previous secretaries had been deemed unsuitable because she’d made her attraction to Alex obvious. Standing in his arms, virtually begging for him to kiss her, was being more than just obvious, but she seemed to have no control over her body. She was stunned by her reaction to him; common sense seemed to have deserted her.
Without conscious thought her lips parted, but instead of accepting her offer he drew back, his low murmur bringing her back to earth with a bump. Of course he wasn’t going to kiss her! He had drawn her into his arms simply to prevent her from slipping on the leaves, and was no doubt horrified to find himself pinioned to the tree. Shame scalded her, and she jerked away from him, her cheeks on fire, unable to meet his gaze, which she was certain would reflect his sardonic amusement.
‘We should head back. We’ve a busy afternoon ahead.’
Alex’s voice cut through her mental self-flagellation and she nodded wordlessly, wondering how he could sound so calm and in control. But then he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself, she reasoned miserably. If he had been setting her some sort of test she had failed spectacularly, but the idea that she might not have a job by the end of the day was almost a relief. She didn’t think she could cope with Alex Morrell on a long-term basis.
She trudged beside him on the walk back through the park, determined not to look at him or speak to him unless absolutely necessary, but he too seemed lost in his thoughts and disappeared into his inner sanctum as soon as they reached the office.
Jenna was tired and emotionally drained. Her shoulder, which had ached dully all morning, was now throbbing, but she ploughed on with her work, struggling to get to grips with an unfamiliar program on her computer. Twenty futile minutes later she conceded that she would have to ask for help, and spent another ten practising the right amount of cool uninterest in her tone.
Alex wasn’t working, as she’d assumed when she entered his office, but staring out over the magnificent view of London, and she wondered if he too had a penchant for daydreaming. Although from his stern expression it was not a pleasant dream. At her hesitant request for assistance he insisted on coming out to view her screen and she was achingly aware of his lean, hard body and the enticing scent of his aftershave as he leaned across her.
His instructions were concise, and when he had finished he eased back and rested a hand on her shoulder.
‘Ow!’ She could not prevent her cry of pain and he raised his eyebrows quizzically.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Nothing. It’s just my shoulder. I think it must be bruised from this morning…’ She tailed to a halt under his intent stare and flushed. Did he still think she was lying? Her shoulder was in agony and she certainly wasn’t making it up.
‘You were injured this morning? Yet you didn’t think to mention it? As I remember, I asked you specifically if you’d been hurt.’
‘You didn’t even believe I’d been involved in an attack. As I remember you were being sarcastic, and I didn’t want to make a fuss—not after arriving an hour late.’
‘I would happily have believed you, had you shown any sign of distress,’ he bit out, fury with himself making his tone sharp. He prided himself on his sense of justice and fair play, and all day it had niggled him that he had written her off as unreliable when she had proved patently that she was not.
This close he could see the faint shadows beneath her eyes, her skin so translucent he could trace the fine blue veins beneath the surface. She was exquisitely beautiful, as delicate as a porcelain figurine, and he had to tear his gaze from her face before he gave in to the temptation to kiss her, as he had so nearly done in the park.
‘If your shoulder is still hurting five hours after the…’ he hesitated fractionally ‘…incident, then it must need medical attention. Undo your blouse so that I can take a look.’
Jenna blinked at him indignantly. ‘I’m not stripping off in the middle of the office!’
‘I’m merely suggesting that you unfasten the top couple of buttons.’ He gave her a withering look. ‘I have seen a woman’s naked shoulder before, and I promise I won’t be overcome with lust.’
Was that a deliberate taunt? she wondered. A reminder that he was aware of just how much she wanted him? His face was impassive, giving no clues to his thoughts, but he was a master of disguising his emotions and his features were set in the aloof expression he usually reserved for cross-questioning.
He was so arrogant, Jenna thought furiously, her temper suddenly white-hot. ‘Hold on a minute,’ she snapped. ‘This morning you didn’t believe a word about the “incident”—your word, not mine, and now suddenly you’re Dr Kildare! My shoulder’s bruised; I can move it quite well, so it’s not broken, and I’ll see to it when I get home.’
‘Fine. Get your jacket, we’ll go to Casualty.’
‘No!’ Her arms were folded across her chest; he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had stamped her foot in fury, and despite everything his lips twitched.
‘It’s your choice,’ he said equably. ‘Either I look at it or a doctor does. Take your pick.’
Her answer was to stalk into his office, her back rigid with outrage as she ripped apart the top buttons of her blouse and shrugged the material over her injured shoulder.
Already feeling bad, the sight of the huge purple bruise that covered her shoulder filled him with remorse. ‘What happened, exactly? Did someone hit you?’
Jenna shook her head. ‘He didn’t attack me at all. As I was walking along a cyclist suddenly rode onto the pavement and snatched the handbag from the woman in front of me. I ran to help and he pushed me against a concrete bollard. But I managed to save the bag,’ she added brightly.
‘You bloody idiot; he might have had a weapon. What would you have done if he’d pulled out a knife? What are you, anyway? All of five feet nothing and you think you’re a one-woman army!’
‘I didn’t think. I saw the attack and I lost my temper, okay?’ In her frustration Jenna swung round to face him, remembering belatedly her open blouse and the expanse of lilac lac
e bra on display.
Since her parents and her brother had emigrated to New Zealand, to be near her sister, birthday and Christmas presents had been defined by their ease of packing—and she owned drawers full of pretty lingerie. This lilac bra was of such sheer lace it was almost transparent, and to her horror she felt her nipples harden, the dark peaks plainly visible through the material.
With a yelp she swung back and scrabbled with the buttons. ‘Why should you care anyway?’ she threw at him, and he stilled, his gaze intent as he turned her back to face him.
‘You’ve fastened the buttons wrong,’ he murmured, his fingers feather-light against the swell of her breasts as he corrected them. ‘I think that hot temper of yours might lead you into real trouble some day, Jenna Deane. You seem to be a cauldron of wild emotions just waiting to boil over.’
His voice was suddenly as deep and soft as crushed velvet, and she felt a burning sensation behind her eyelids. He towered over her, so big, yet suddenly so gentle, and she fought the urge to throw herself against his chest and burst into tears.
‘Hello, I’m back at last.’ Margaret Rivers popped her head round the door of the office, patently unaware of the crackling tension between its occupants, and beamed as she spied Jenna. ‘Mrs Deane—Jenna—I knew you wouldn’t let us down. How’s your first day been?’
She disappeared for a second, long enough for Alex’s eyebrows to shoot upwards, his puzzlement obvious.
‘Mrs Deane?’ he queried, but Margaret was back, waving Jenna’s handbag.
‘Your mobile has rung several times, dear. Perhaps it’s important.’
Jenna stared at the older woman blankly and then scrabbled in her bag for her phone. She recognised the number of the caller and her expression softened. Her younger brother Chris was travelling from New Zealand and had been backpacking through Europe, he must have arrived in England sooner than planned. Suddenly everything faded into insignificance; she hadn’t seen her brother for two years and had missed him and the rest of her family desperately since they had emigrated.
His Secretary Mistress Page 3
