Oh-So-Sensible Secretary

the last few days. He had taken to dropping by the office on the slimmest of pretexts, and telling me how nice I looked if we met by the lifts.

It was all very confusing. Everything was changing so quickly I didn’t know what to think any more.

I should be excited. I knew that. In a few months’ time I could be back with Jonathan and working with the Chief Executive-and Phin…Well, this had only ever been meant as a temporary exercise anyway. Phin would move on. He’d go back to making television programmes and I wouldn’t see him any more. There would be no more jitteriness, no more exasperation, no more teasing. No more doughnuts. And that would be fine, I told myself. It would all work out perfectly.

But there was a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach all the same.

‘What’s up?’ said Phin, when I took in his coffee. It was uncanny the way he always knew if something had happened, no matter how smooth I made my expression.

So I told him what Monique had said. ‘Typical Lex,’ was his comment, when he heard about his brother’s response to the news that his PA was having a much longed for baby. ‘He’s got no idea. You’d think he could be happy for her before he thought about how her pregnancy will affect Gibson & Grieve!’

‘Monique doesn’t really mind,’ I said, a little uncomfortably. ‘She knows what he’s like. The normal rules don’t apply to someone like Lex.’

‘Well, they should,’ said Phin. He was leaning back, twirling a pen between his fingers. ‘So what about you?’ he asked, blue eyes suddenly intent. ‘Do you really want to work for a man who wouldn’t know what a doughnut was, let alone think about buying you one?’

‘It would be a good career opportunity for me.’ Unable to bear it any longer, I held out my hand for the pen, and after a stubborn moment he surrendered it, dropping it into my open palm.

‘At least I wouldn’t have to put up with your endless fiddling any longer,’ I said, putting the pen back into its holder. ‘And it might be easier when our supposed romance falls through,’ I added. ‘It would look a bit odd if we carried on working together perfectly happily when…if…’

‘When you’re back with Jonathan?’ Phin finished for me.

There was an unusual note in his voice that made me look sharply at him.

‘Even if that doesn’t happen, we can’t carry on like this indefinitely,’ I pointed out.

‘Then we’ll have to make sure it does happen,’ he said, swinging his feet off the desk abruptly. ‘Maybe it’s time to intensify our campaign. When’s the launch party for the Charmless Chef?’

The Charmless Chef was Phin’s own title for a series of TV food programmes that Gibson & Grieve were sponsoring that spring. It was actually called Hodge Hits, after the presenter, celebrity chef Stephen Hodge. Hodge was famously rude, and prone to the most appalling temper tantrums. Very early in his career he had discovered that the worse he behaved, the more audiences would want to watch him and the more he would be paid.

This meant Gibson & Grieve would get even more publicity from their sponsorship of the programme, and a fabulous party had been planned to mark the launch and appease his monstrous ego. All senior staff were on a three line whip to turn up and do whatever it took to keep Stephen Hodge happy. Except Lex, of course. He hated socialising, and only went out when absolutely necessary. On this occasion Phin was lined up to represent him and make a speech.

‘It’s on Friday,’ I said.

‘Jonathan will be there, won’t he?’

‘Of course. He negotiated the deal with Stephen Hodge,’ I reminded Phin.

‘In that case you’ll have to pull out all the stops. You always look smart, but on Friday you’ve got to look stunning. Take tomorrow off and buy a special dress if you have to, but wear something that will knock Jonathan’s socks off.’

‘He’ll be too busy with Stephen Hodge to notice me,’ I protested, but Phin refused to listen to any objections.

‘If you get the right dress he’ll notice you, all right,’ he said. ‘Besides, I have a cunning plan up my sleeve to relax you.’

‘What sort of plan?’ I asked suspiciously. I had tried to loosen up whenever we’d been out together, but it was almost impossible when every cell in my body jolted if Phin so much as grazed me with his touch.

‘I’ll explain on Friday,’ he said. ‘The launch is at seven, isn’t it? We might as well go straight from here.’

Which is how I ended up changing in the directors’ bathroom that Friday evening. I’d brought my dress in on a hanger, and carried shoes and make-up in a separate bag.

I had put the need to look stunning to Anne, who had borne me off late-night shopping the night before, and bullied me into buying the most expensive dress I’d ever owned. Even though I felt faintly sick whenever I thought about my credit card bill, I couldn’t regret it. It was so beautiful.

I don’t really know how to begin to describe it. It was red, but not that hard pillarbox red that’s so hard to wear. This was a softer, deeper, warmer red-a simple sleeveless sheath, with a layer of chiffon that floated and swirled as I walked. I wasn’t used to such a plunging neckline, and with bare shoulders and a bare back I felt a lot more exposed than usual, but it was the kind of dress you couldn’t help but feel good in.

I’d painted my toenails a lovely deep red-Ruby, Ruby-to match my fingers, and slipped my feet into beautiful jewelled sandals. My hair was swept up into a clip, and I thought it looked elegant like that, but I hesitated as I studied my reflection, remembering Phin’s librarian comment. On an impulse I pulled the clip out and shook my hair free, and then I walked back into the office before I could change my mind.

Phin was there, adjusting his bow tie, but his fingers froze when he saw me. There was a moment of stunned silence. ‘Dear God,’ he said blankly.

My confidence promptly evaporated. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ I asked, looking down at my lovely dress. I’d been so sure he would like it.

‘Nothing’s wrong.’ Phin cleared his throat. ‘Nothing at all. You look…incredible.’

He sounded a bit odd, I thought, but he had said I looked incredible. ‘Shall I order a taxi?’ I asked after a moment.

‘No, it’s all sorted,’ he said, still distracted. ‘A car’s waiting downstairs.’

‘Oh. Well, shall we go, then?’

Phin seemed to pull himself together. ‘Not quite yet, CP,’ he said, making a good recovery. ‘We need to put my cunning plan into action first.’

‘CP?’ I echoed blankly.

‘Cream…’ He waited expectantly for me to supply the rest.

Puff, in fact. I sighed.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ I said crossly. ‘Will you stop with the silly names? Now, what is this plan of yours?’

‘It’s really quite simple,’ said Phin, coming towards me. ‘I’m going to kiss you.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘KISS me?’ The world titled disconcertingly beneath my feet, and it took me a moment to realise that the air was leaking out of my lungs. I drew in a hissing breath, glad of the steadying effect of the oxygen. We had been through this before, I remembered. ‘What kind of plan is that?’

‘A good one,’ said Phin.

‘We agreed that you would only kiss me again if it was necessary,’ I reminded him, backing away. My voice was embarrassingly croaky, but under the circumstances-i.e. pounding heart, racing pulse, entrails squeezed with nerves or, more worryingly, anticipation-I didn’t think I did too badly.

‘I think it is necessary,’ he said.

I had ended up against the desk, the wood digging into the back of my thighs. ‘There’s no one else here,’ I pointed out bravely. ‘How can it be necessary?’

Phin kept coming until he was right in front of me. ‘That’s the whole point,’ he said.

‘I’ve been thinking about it. If we kiss before we go out every time you’ll get used to it. It’ll just seem part of