The Secretary's Scandalous Secret

by Cathy Williams

  ‘That’s a rather open-ended question. What did you have in mind?’ He enjoyed the way she went bright red at that. His sharp eyes took in the way she stuck her hands behind her back, as though scared that they might somehow betray her, the way her pupils dilated and the way her breathing quickened. Under the polished veneer, she was still as much a prisoner to that one explosive night as he was.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he drawled, leaving her with a backward wave of his hand.

  Agatha breathed a sigh of heartfelt relief as the door closed behind him. What had he been playing at with those references to sex? Had he found it entertaining to confuse her?

  With a burst of sudden determination, and a few surreptitious glances around her just in case the walls really did have eyes, she spent the next fifteen minutes surfing the Internet in search of online dating sites. It was not something she enjoyed doing but this, apparently, was the way things got done if you didn’t have the sort of extensive social life that promoted lots of face-to-face meetings with exciting, eligible guys. And what harm could there be in it? She didn’t really hold out much hope for finding the man of her dreams, but she might meet some interesting people. Having come to the decision that she would not return to rural Yorkshire, but instead stay where she was and try her best to hunt down another job, a few new faces might be just the thing.

  She would not become her own worst enemy by allowing the debacle with Stewart to push her into self-defensive, wary reclusivity from which she would have all the time in the world to devote her thoughts to her one-night stand with Luc. She positively needed the distraction of another guy.

  She registered at the biggest site. Then, in an upbeat mood, she went to the company restaurant for lunch, ignoring the limp sandwiches in her desk in favour of a more celebratory meal of spaghetti Bolognese, followed by fudge cake and lots of interesting chats with the friends she had left several floors below. It was funny to think that Luc was actually wary about her spilling the beans on their one-night affair. To become a prime target for gossip was probably the last thing in the world Agatha would ever have wanted.

  Four hours later, she was leaving the impressive glass building when Luc stepped in front of her, blocking her path. She hadn’t seen him, hadn’t heard him. He was as light as a panther on his feet. And he didn’t look in the best of moods.

  ‘I did what you asked. I finished the due-diligence report. It’s on your desk.’

  ‘Fun lunch? ‘

  ‘Sorry? ‘ She stopped and looked at him cautiously.

  ‘How are you getting back to your bedsit?’

  ‘Tube,’ Agatha said faintly. ‘Then bus.’

  Luc didn’t answer. He stretched out one hand and miraculously a black cab appeared.

  ‘I can’t afford to take a cab to—’

  ‘Get in the taxi, Agatha.’

  ‘Are you all right? You don’t look too good. Are you feeling all right?’

  Luc didn’t trust himself to say anything and that was a new experience for him. He waited until she was inside the taxi, then he lowered himself next to her, breaking his silence only to give the taxi driver directions to her house.

  Agatha glanced across at his exquisite profile and stuttered into nervous speech, relaying calls he had received during his absence and progress she had made with a midsized publishing company in which Luc was interested. The company had fired Agatha’s interest because it specialised in gardening books. Anxiously aware that her babbling seemed to be falling on deaf ears, but unwilling to spend the rest of the car drive in complete silence stewing in her own confusion and alarm, she instead chose to chatter on about ideas she had for rejuvenating the company.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked eventually. ‘I mean, why are you coming back with me to my flat? I’m perfectly capable of getting there on my own. I don’t need you to babysit me. I thought we’d talked this through.’

  ‘I’m not sure we’ve talked it through enough.’ Luc turned in his seat and looked at her with blazing intensity. ‘Tell me how else you occupied yourself today. Feel free to skip the riveting conversations with clients.’

  Agatha broke out in clammy, nervous perspiration. Not even the taxi pulling up outside her flat could save her from the necessity of answering because it quickly became apparent that he intended to escort her into her bedsit. She was like someone under house arrest.

  ‘Well, what do you want to hear?’ She turned on him the second they were inside her little sitting area, hands on her hips, her blue eyes bright with anger. It wasn’t fair that he should be here, crowding her space when all she wanted to do was recover from the effects of him.

  ‘Okay, so I didn’t have those sandwiches at my desk. I went to the canteen because I fancied a bit of company. And, before you accuse me of gossiping, I didn’t say a word about…anything.’

  ‘I returned to the office shortly after I left. I’d forgotten some reports.’

  Agatha looked at him blankly.

  ‘The reports were on your desk. You were at lunch.’

  He strolled to the window, not for the first time thinking that her landlord should be shot. When he slowly turned round to look at her, it was to find that she had not moved from her hesitant position by the door, although she had removed her coat and placed it on the arm of the sofa.

  ‘I don’t see why I should feel guilty because I went to the office canteen for lunch,’ Agatha muttered in a moment of rebellion. ‘You can’t keep an eye on me a hundred percent of the time, and if you’ve come here to haul me over the coals for nothing then please just go. I’m really tired.’ She took a couple of steps and flopped wearily down onto the sofa, briefly closing her eyes and allowing the weight of everything to settle on her shoulders.

  ‘You left your computer running when you went to lunch.’ Luc walked towards her and remained towering over her until she opened reluctant eyes to look at him.

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘You should really close all tabs when you’re on the Internet browsing through dating sites.’

  It took a few seconds for the significance of his words to sink in, then she sat bolt-upright and clenched her fists at her sides.

  ‘You were snooping around on my computer?’

  Luc had the grace to flush but an apology couldn’t have been further from his mind. ‘I wanted to check and make sure that all the relevant documents had been downloaded before I wasted another journey. Checking them on your computer saved me the effort of going into my office. I use the word your with reservations—let’s not forget that the computer actually belongs to the company, and by extension to me.’

  Agatha sighed with a growing sense of defeat. ‘Okay. Now you know and it’s no big deal. It’s the modern way of meeting people.’

  ‘It’s the modern way of getting into trouble.’ He could have kicked himself for waiting for her to come to him. While he had been playing the waiting game, she had been scouring the Internet to find men. He should damn well have obeyed his finely tuned hunting instincts. They had always worked for him in the past.

  This woman challenged every ounce of control he had ever mistakenly assumed he had, and it all came down to one thing: lust. If he had suspected her of playing games with him, he would have had no trouble in walking away. If—unlikely though it might be—she genuinely didn’t fancy him, then he would likewise have shrugged his shoulders and put it down to one of life’s little experiences. But, against all odds, Agatha both wanted to walk away and fancied him

  like mad. The combination was driving him crazy, but not as crazy as he had been when he had innocently come upon that website listing so-called eligible men.

  Privately, Agatha agreed that Internet dating probably wasn’t for her. In fact, as the afternoon had progressed, her optimistic thoughts about meeting interesting people via a dating site had begun to lose its appeal. By the time Luc had blocked her path outside the office, she had already come to the conclusion that she must have been suffering from tempora
ry insanity to have cooked up the idea in the first place.

  Not that she intended to admit that.

  ‘I think you’ll find that some dating agencies have an excellent record in successful partnerships.’

  ‘Really? Is that what you were hoping for? A successful partnership?’

  Agatha was busy reading the cynicism behind that pithy little question and wasn’t liking it. Did he think that she was incapable of finding a lifelong partner, even on a dating site?

  ‘These things do happen!’ she snapped, red-faced and flustered. ‘Although,’ she admitted with wrenching honesty, ‘I did think that it would be nice to meet a few new faces before I start looking around for another job.’

  Some nice, new, shiny, bright young men who might make me forget you. She couldn’t look at him. The silence grew and grew, and she really didn’t know what to do with it, because her head was in a whirl and self-pity was beginning to gnaw away at her insides.

  ‘I don’t like the thought of you meeting new faces,’ Luc intoned bluntly.

  That brought Agatha’s head snapping up and she stared at him in open-mouthed surprise. ‘You don’t like the thought of me meeting guys? Are you jealous?’ She couldn’t believe how quickly the empty feeling inside her was replaced by a soaring sensation of delight—which was short-lived, as Luc granted her a look of harsh incredulity.

  ‘Jealous? ‘ He gave a bark of laughter. ‘I have never been jealous in my life!’ But thinking of her even casting her eyes in another direction did subject him to a tide of blinding rage.

  He had no problem accepting this fact, because he was a possessive man, and there was nothing wrong with that. But jealous? No way.

  ‘No, you’re not.’ Agatha dully corrected her over-optimistic interpretation. ‘You still think that you need to look out for me, because if I could get taken in by a creep like Stewart Dexter then who knows how many other creeps lurking on the Internet can pull the wool over my eyes? ‘

  Luc, still standing and commanding every ounce of her unwilling attention, finally lowered his stunning eyes and drawled in that low, lazy voice that could send her into reckless free fall, ‘No new men, Agatha. You and I—we have unfinished business. We’re not putting it behind us and pretending it never happened. It happened and it’s going to happen again. Because it’s what we both want.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  AGATHA was mesmerised by the rich, velvety conviction of his voice.

  ‘No, you’re wrong,’ she protested weakly.

  ‘But when I make love to you, I want to do it in comfort. This bedsit is not comfortable.’ Luc overrode her feeble denial with ease. ‘We’ll go back to my place.’

  ‘That’s crazy!’

  ‘Nice king-sized bed.’ He strode towards her bedroom, literally a matter of a few steps, and began hunting around for some kind of overnight bag. ‘Bathroom with every modern convenience known to man.’ He flung some random clothes on the bed, while Agatha looked at him, stupefied and lulled into immobility. Vague, nebulous thoughts of her optimistic ‘moving on’ process tried and failed to take shape.

  ‘The finest rugs, a kitchen with a fridge that actually works, plasma TV—although I don’t plan on either of us sitting in front of it.’ More clothes joined the ones piling up in disarray.

  ‘What are you doing?’ She leapt off the sofa and watched as he opened and closed drawers.

  ‘I’m taking control.’

  ‘Shut that drawer! ‘

  He reached inside and pulled out an assortment of oversized tee-shirts, holding them up for inspection before tossing them right back into the drawer. ‘Sleepwear? Never mind. You won’t be needing those.’

  ‘We can’t do this!’ she screeched in an agonised voice.

  ‘Why not?’ His eyes clashed with her, vibrant and simmering. ‘Are you going to tell me that you don’t want me to make love to you? For hours? Touch you where I know you like to be touched? Lick you in places that make you squirm and beg for more? ‘

  Agatha was squirming now, imagining all those things she had tried to firmly shut the door on. ‘No. Maybe…I don’t know!’

  ‘That’s okay because I know for the both of us. Feel free to stop agonising.’ He walked towards her and cupped her upturned face in one hand, then he slowly lowered his head. He met with no resistance. Instead of listening to his pride and stepping back, maybe this was what he should have done all along—forced the issue caveman-style. Lord, but it felt good.

  Agatha felt his mouth claim hers and she surrendered with a shameful lack of restraint, her arms reaching up to link behind his neck as though he might disappear in a puff of smoke if she didn’t hold on hard to him.

  Everything he had said was true. He was her irresistible passion. If he was only in it for the sex, then why shouldn’t she at least take what was on offer and enjoy it while it lasted instead of making a martyr out of herself? Self-sacrifice might be noble and worthy but since when did it make a good bed companion?

  Travelling back to his house with her overnight bag was unbearably exciting. Even the composed tenor of his conversation in the back seat of the black taxi fanned the flames, because underneath the light banter she could smell the hunger inside him, and it matched hers.

  When they finally made it to his penthouse suite, she was ready to explode.

  She was aware of very modern, neutral surroundings. Pale wooden floors covered an expanse that was vast by London standards and, sure enough, she glimpsed those magnificent rugs he had mentioned, and also huge statement-piece abstract paintings which he hadn’t mentioned.

  But then, after those initial moments of sanity, she was swept away on a tide of passion. At some point she knew that her clothes were off and she was on a huge bed, watching as he undressed and closed the curtains. She was so aroused by the sight of him that she had to lightly touch herself, and when he moved to stand naked in front of her, looking down and smiling, she whimpered and allowed him to complete what she had begun.

  Entangled between sheets that felt like satin, and which ended up half off the bed, Agatha opened herself up to the joy of being touched by his hands, his fingers, his mouth. It all felt so right.

  For the first time, she confronted her emotions with honesty and realised that her feelings for Luc weren’t just lust. Yes, maybe they once were, but gradually she had fallen in love with the man as opposed to having fallen in lust with the one-dimensional cut-out.

  When she curled her fingers into his springy black hair, and watched through half-opened eyes as he feasted on her breasts, she allowed herself the luxury of letting her love show, because he couldn’t see it.

  To let him witness how she really felt about him would be a sure-fire way of making him disappear as fast as he could over the horizon.

  But still… She could dream, couldn’t she?

  When later, she was lying tucked against him, he told her that that was the best sex he had ever had, she smiled and filed the compliment away. When later still, after they had made love again, he turned to face her and said seriously that she should reconsider handing in her notice, she filed that away too under the optimistic heading of ‘he can’t bear the thought of being too far away from me.’

  ‘The situation has changed,’ Luc murmured, surprising himself, because having his lover working for him was far from ideal. In fact, it was downright awkward, but the thought of her finding a job in another company made his blood run cold. How long before some office lothario decided that she was fair game? The woman was sexy as hell, and she was bright too. There would be no back room for her in which to hide away from men with their eyes popping out of their heads.

  Luc conceded to himself that he might possibly be jealous.

  ‘I know.’ Agatha trailed her fingers across his broad shoulders, then rested her hand on his arm and arched her body up so that she was looking at him. ‘It’s worse.’

  ‘Don’t tell me that you’re going to start spouting all that nonsense about mistakes.’ As her
full breasts pushed against his chest, Luc felt himself harden. He settled his hand on her juicy derrière and pulled her towards him so that their bodies were now so closely joined that a piece of paper couldn’t have been slotted between them.

  ‘I can’t think straight when you’re doing that.’ Agatha expelled a long, shaky breath and her eyes fluttered. She slowly moved against his hard arousal. She couldn’t get enough of him. Very lightly she touched his impressive erection and felt a heady sense of power as his big body shuddered against her.

  ‘Ditto, you little witch.’ Luc parted her legs with his hand and felt the slick moisture between them.

  ‘Stop! We…we’re having a conversation,’ she panted, ending on a moan of pure bliss as his questing finger found her sensitive spot and began gently teasing it.

  When he slid into her and began grinding with beautiful, rhythmic movements, she lost complete track of their conversation, only dimly recalling it when he said with a sexy growl, ‘I was going to say that, just in case you get it into your head to put this down to another oversight on both our parts, I’m just going to prove to you what we’ve got here is so damned good.’ He flipped her so that she was on top of him, her luscious breasts dangling within reach of his mouth. He simultaneously suckled on one engorged nipple while she moved against him, building up to a tempo that had him struggling not to let go until she had reached her own splintering orgasm.

  ‘So…’ he murmured when she had finally surfaced. ‘You were saying? ‘ He kissed the tip of her nose and brushed her curly hair away from her face. She felt as though she was glued to him by a fine film of perspiration, and he liked that.

  ‘I thought you were afraid that I might not be able to keep this…you know…? Under wraps,’ Agatha ventured.

  ‘It’s a chance I’m willing to take.’ Which was the closest he planned on getting to telling her that he trusted her—on that score, at least. She wasn’t a gossip. Nor was he going to let her in on the weird, sick feeling he got when he thought of her doing something perfectly innocuous, like standing by a photocopier or bending over to stick some filing in a cabinet, while lecherous and quite probably married men sneaked covert glances at her fulsome assets.