His Girl Monday to Friday Read online

  ‘Does that mean I can kiss you goodnight after all?’ His eyes gleamed. ‘I can hardly wait.’

  Her eyes fell involuntarily. ‘If we’re going to this restaurant, let’s go,’ she said brusquely. ‘I have a lot to do.’

  Half an hour later they sat in a small alcove, sheltered by orchids and a Madagascar palm, in a restaurant so expensive there were no prices on the menu.

  ‘I should make you go halves,’ Charles said, grinning, taking in Barbara’s appalled look at the menu. ‘Considering what I’m paying you. But I’ll be nice. You’re about to tear a strip out of me, aren’t you, for driving people too hard? Just remember I’m not always a complete tyrant.’

  For the first time Barbara forgot to be self-conscious. ‘It has nothing to do with that,’ she said. ‘You set this example of being a kind of superman and everybody thinks they have to be, too. You tell people to do impossible things and they think they have to do them or be complete failures.’

  Charles shrugged. ‘You have to stretch people to get results.’

  Barbara placed her order without even thinking of the price. ‘You stretch them too far,’ she said. ‘They’re all tired. When people are tired they make stupid mistakes. They can’t think far ahead because they’re always struggling just to do the latest impossible thing.’

  ‘It seems to have worked so far,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Seems,’ said Barbara. She took a sip of wine. The candlelight gleamed on the copper of her hair.

  ‘You forget we’re working to a tight schedule,’ said Charles. ‘We don’t have a lot of time to get this up and nmning. We’ve got to work fast.’

  The candlelight threw his hawk-like features into sharp relief. Barbara forced herself to talk on, explaining all the things she’d noticed since her arrival. Charles listened more patiently than she’d expected, but she couldn’t persuade herself he was doing more than humouring her.

  At last, halfway through the meal, he smiled. ‘Well, you may have a point, but we do have a deal to swing. People are going to have to go on doing the impossible for a good while yet.’

  ‘Speaking of which,’ said Barbara, ‘I’ve got a fair amount left to do on the Barrett presentation. Do you really need me to come with you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Charles. ‘You’re just doing some formatting, aren’t you? Leave whatever you’ve got on my desk in the morning. I’ll have a quick look at it before we go, then I’ll hand it over to Mike to finalist.’

  Barbara’s heart sank. Could she really get the presentation ready in time? She had been pretty happy with it, but at the thought of Charles casting a cold eye over something that was essentially all her work she suddenly thought of all its weak points.

  Still, there was nothing she could do. ‘All right,’ she said reluctantly.

  Charles took a sip of wine, surveying her thoughtfully over the rim of the glass. ‘You really are beautiful, you know.’

  Barbara looked at him coolly. ‘First rule of the game—don’t say what you really think,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Who said I was playing the game?’ he said softly. There was a little quirk to his mouth which dared her to go on.

  ‘You’re always playing some game or other,’ Barbara said.

  Charles laughed. ‘True enough,’ he admitted disconcertingly. He grinned at her. ‘You know, the funny thing is, I can’t imagine your boyfriends at all. What type of man do you go for?’

  For a moment Barbara was struck dumb. She stared at the emerald-green eyes, the quirking smile, as if her mouth might let the truth out against her will. At last she said, with an effort, ‘Oh, I don’t have a particular type.’

  ‘Play the field, do you?’ His eyes mocked her. ‘Are you any better than I am at letting them down lightly?’

  ‘I could hardly be worse,’ Barbara said tartly.

  Charles gave a shout of laughter. He realised, with a faint sense of shock, that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a dinner so much. Enjoyed—that was the wrong word. He’d complained about her habit of disagreeing with everything he said, but the fact was that he felt alive in a way that he never did with his usual dates. Julia would have agreed with everything he said, and he’d have known all along that she was his for the asking. Whereas Barbara… He remembered the way she’d slapped him across the face with the full force of her arm and laughed again.

  Barbara tried to bring the conversation back to the company, but each time Charles headed her off. At last she said, ‘Well, if you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to. I’d better get back to the office.’

  Charles shook his head. ‘I mustn’t drive you too hard,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you home.’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ said Barbara. ‘If you do I’ll just have to come in early tomorrow morning. It’s easier to stay up late.’

  ‘Fair enough. Well, maybe I’ll come in too. This thing from Prague blew up rather suddenly; there are some things I might as well deal with.’

  Barbara couldn’t think of any way to argue him out of this. Well, with any luck he wouldn’t look at what she was doing.

  Charles drove back to the office, parked in the underground car park and turned off the engine.

  He glanced at Barbara. ‘You know, it’s probably just as well we came back,’ he said. ‘If I’d dropped you off at home I might have forgotten you were my secretary and asked to come in.’

  ‘I’m not just a secretary, I’m a shareholder,’ Barbara said pertly. ‘And there’s no rule against sleeping with shareholders. On the other hand, I am only a five per cent shareholder, and I do so much overtime I must be a hundred and fifty per cent secretary, so maybe we’d better not go all the way.’

  It was almost dark in the car. If she’d been able to see him she probably wouldn’t have said it.

  There was a moment of silence. Then he said, ‘Barbara, darling, if anyone else had said that to me I’d know how to take it, but with you I’m not so sure.’ There was a laugh in his voice. ‘If I’m reading this wrong, though, could you just remember you’ve already slapped me once tonight?’

  His head bent towards her, and then his mouth was on hers.

  Barbara melted against him with a little sigh. She would probably regret this tomorrow. She would probably regret it as soon as it was over. Because as soon as it was over it would be over, and Charles would immediately start treating her like all his other conquests—in other words, like dirt.

  But it wasn’t over yet, and it was wonderful. Whatever happened, at least he had kissed her once outside her dreams, and it was even better than all the times she’d dreamed it. Maybe, knowing what it was like, she could at least dream it better. It was just the way she’d expected—like an Irish coffee with the coffee three times too strong, four times the whisky and lashings and lashings of sugar—something smooth and sweet, with a kick like a mule. She opened her mouth wider to taste him better, hoping he wouldn’t stop kissing and start despising her too soon.

  He had kissed her quite lightly at first, so maybe he really hadn’t been sure what she’d meant, but as soon as she responded he began kissing her more passionately. It seemed to her that he was actually showing a lot more enthusiasm than he had for the woman in his office two nights before—well, of course, the woman had had a file to compete with. Barbara put one hand behind his head, her fingers through his close-cropped hair. Now all her life she would know what it felt like to run her fingers through his hair.

  He laughed deep in his throat, raising his head. ‘Just how far can you go with a five per cent shareholder, Barbara?’ he murmured beside her ear.

  She turned her head so that her mouth found his again. Any minute now he was going to decide it was over and he’d gone off her, insofar as you could talk of going off when there’d never been anything really on. His mouth was so soft, yet so firm. Oh, and he must have shaved again before going to dinner, because his skin was so lovely and silky smooth. She put the palm of her hand up to feel it, and now
all her life she would know what it felt like to stroke his cheek.

  The tip of his tongue grazed the inside of her lips. She put the tip of her own tongue up to meet it, teasing it He laughed again in his throat. ‘Barbara,’ he said against her mouth, his lips pressing against hers on the ‘B’, his breath mingling with hers on the ‘r’. She had one hand on the back of his head, the other on his cheek; she could hold him against her mouth and never let him go…

  His tongue thrust deeper into her mouth, and a jolt like an electric shock ran through her. This was a lot further than she’d ever gone with any of the men who’d tried to kiss her, only to be told she didn’t feel that way about them. They hadn’t, of course, been told that she felt that way about a selfish, arrogant egotist next to whom they had all the sex appeal of a wet sock.

  What was she supposed to do? she wondered. If she just sat there, doing nothing, he would think she was completely inexperienced and be even more conceited and selfsatisfied than he was anyway. Too bad she’d closed her eyes so soon the other night—maybe she could have picked up some ideas. Everyone always said ice-cream ads were full of sexual innuendo—maybe she should have paid closer attention to the ice-cream ads.

  Suddenly the door beside her was thrown open. Charles pulled his head away and threw open the door on his own side. He got out of the car and slammed the door.

  Barbara stared after him, dazed. What on earth had she done wrong?

  Charles was standing by her door. He was breathing hard. ‘Come on, Five Per Cent,’ he said softly. ‘I can’t kiss you properly with a gearshift in the way.’ He took her hand and pulled her roughly to her feet, closing the door behind her.

  Barbara leaned back against the car. Now that they were out of the car she could see him better—see the green eyes, glittering under the black slash of brow, the mouth still moist with her kisses, the hair rumpled where she’d run her fingers through it. The only thing she could think was that at least it wasn’t over. She stared up at him, her eyes enormous dark blue pools.

  He bent his head, and suddenly their mouths were locked together again. She put her arms around his neck; his tongue was in her mouth again, his hips hard up against hers. Her body melted against his; she couldn’t think any more about what she should do—mere was nothing in the world except his devouring mouth, his hard, muscular body and the sound of her pulse, beating in her ears. He was straddling her, making his desire for her aggressively clear, and that was exhilarating, too. Even if he didn’t love her, at the physical level—at least at this moment—he wanted her as much as she wanted him. When sanity returned she knew she’d remember that Charles had never been exactly choosy—but she didn’t have to be sane just yet.

  Barbara completely lost track of time. It could have been five minutes or five hours later that he lifted his head. ‘Bloody hell,’ said Charles.

  ‘What?’ said Barbara in a ragged voice. Her heart was pounding like a sledgehammer.

  ‘You know damned well what.’ A muscle twitched in his cheek.

  He ran one hand lightly over the glossy dark copper hair. ‘Fire beneath the fire,’ he said softly. ‘But of all the times to find out…’

  Barbara stared up at him. His eyes were a green so intense they seemed to glow in the dark, and that glowing intensity had been ignited by her.

  ‘I can’t even say “Where have you been all my life?”’ he said. He closed his eyes for a moment, then forced himself to stand back. The eyes opened on a look of brilliant mockery. ‘You’ve been buzzing around like a gadfly all my life.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been telling me what a selfish, arrogant swine I am every time you got the chance. If you were going to fraternise with the enemy, Barbara, did you have to pick this of all damnable times?’

  ‘I didn’t pick the time,’ Barbara said breathlessly. ‘You never said you wanted to kiss me before.’

  ‘Even my arrogance has limits, Barbara,’ he said drily. She could see his chest rising and falling; his breath must be coming quickly still, just as hers was. ‘Does that mean you’d have let me if I had?’

  Barbara swallowed. ‘I might have,’ she said, with a desperate attempt at nonchalance. ‘Just to see what all the fuss was about.’

  ‘And what’s the verdict?’ There was lazy mockery in his eyes.

  She would have liked to say something dismissive, but what was the point? He could see for himself that she hadn’t thought it was overrated.

  ‘It was lovely,’ she said simply. Her eyes dropped to his mouth with frank appreciation.

  Charles swore softly under his breath.

  Then he laughed. ‘For someone who doesn’t like the first rule of the game, you don’t seem to do too badly for yourself,’ he said. ‘Come on, Five Per Cent, let’s get back upstairs. We’ve got work to do.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHARLES returned to his office, leaving Barbara at her word processor. There were at least five things to do that had top priority, but for a moment he sat in the leather chair and swung round to face out into the dark. His own face stared sardonically back at him, reflected in the glass. His pulse was still racing. He’d been every kind of fool to let it go so far—if the Perfect Secretary had belted him one and then resigned and gone off to Sardinia he’d have had only himself to blame—but he was only flesh and blood after all.

  He remembered the softness of her mouth under his, the unexpected ferocity of her response—he’d have to have been a plaster saint not to go on. In fact, thinking back, he was amazed by his restraint. He gritted his teeth, trying not to think back. Work, he thought. I’ve got to work. There’s work to be done.

  He swung the chair back to face the desk, pulled a few papers out of his briefcase and glared at them.

  For some reason Barbara had assumed it would be like working there during the day, when Charles was constantly throwing jobs at her. To her surprise he left her alone and got through work of his own. The morning deadline gave a new impetus to her attack on the Barrett presentation; she worked feverishly on the sections, tightening them and ironing out inconsistencies. She knew it was just supposed to be a rough draft, but knowing Charles would be looking at it made her nervous of every shortcoming.

  She printed the document out at three in the morning, put it in a binder and took it through to Charles’s in-tray.

  He was looking through a file, but he glanced up as she came in. “That’s your Barrettised Barrett presentation? Terrific. I’ll have a quick glance through it first thing in the morning. We don’t have to leave for the airport till ten so it gives us a little time.’

  Barbara had been dreading his first response, but she couldn’t help feeling a little miffed that he didn’t want to look at it instantly. Still, it was his decision.

  Charles stood up. ‘Well, if that’s all you’ve got, I’d better take you home,’ he said.

  ‘There’s the typing you gave me just before we went. out to dinner,’ Barbara reminded him.

  ‘There wasn’t that much on the tapes—you can do it tomorrow before we leave.’ He flicked up an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t want me to take you home, Five Per Cent. I’ve been looking forward to it all night.’

  Barbara could feel herself turning hot then cold at the look in his eyes.

  ‘Well, I’m certainly not standing around waiting for a night bus,’ she said tartly.

  ‘No, I can’t let you do that,’ he agreed, a smile tugging at his mouth, ‘so I’ll see you safe home.’

  He was silent for the whole drive home. Without any clue to his thoughts, Barbara was left to the turmoil of her own. Surely he wouldn’t just drop her off after all that? Or would he? Would he assume she was expecting him to kiss her? Would he want to come in?

  He pulled up in front of her house and turned off the engine. Barbara opened the door on her side.

  ‘Thank you for the lift,’ she said politely.

  ‘I’ll see you to your door,’ Charles said blandly.

  He got out of the car, cam
e round to her side, and escorted her courteously to the house.

  Barbara didn’t want to look as though she was expecting anything to happen; it would be so embarrassing if it didn’t. She opened her bag and began rummaging nervously through it for her keys.

  ‘Barbara,’ Charles said softly, the ghost of laughter in his voice, ‘what are you doing?’

  Barbara gave a nervous start. The bag slipped from her hand, doing a somersault through the air, spilling its contents in a graceful arc before collapsing face down on the ground.

  She knelt down to retrieve her possessions, but Charles was ahead of her. He’d dropped to one knee, upturned the errant bag, and was now methodically replacing its contents. At last the only item left on the ground was the elusive set of keys.

  Charles handed her the bag, picked up the keys and stood up. Barbara stood up beside him.

  ‘Well, I really can’t stay long,’ he said, inserting a key in the door and turning the lock, ‘but since you insist I’ll come in for just a minute.’

  Barbara fought down a nervous giggle.

  He held the door open for her, followed her inside and shut it behind him.

  For a moment she stood beside him in the dark. She should turn on the light, but she couldn’t move. It was as if there were a force field between them, something that would draw them irresistibly together the instant she stopped fighting it. Later she never knew whether she’d made a movement towards him. It just seemed that she stopped fighting it, and suddenly his arms were around her and he was kissing her ferociously.

  Her body seemed to melt into his. She felt as though her bones had turned to water. If he hadn’t been holding her she would have fallen to the ground. She put her arms around his neck, anchoring herself to the one solid thing in the world.

  Much later his mouth left hers, and she heard his voice by her ear. ‘I should go,’ he said, his breath warm on her cheek.

  ‘Yes, you should,’ said Barbara.

  ‘But I’m not going to,’ he said, still with that ghost of a laugh in his voice. ‘Come on, Barbara, show me how the other five per cent lives.’