The Secretary's Secret

Kit glanced behind him. ‘Ooh, no hole!’ She pointed and moved towards it.

‘Don’t touch. It’s stil wet.’ He’d only just finished plastering it. He glanced back at her, tried to keep his eyes above neck level. ‘How’s your work coming along?’

Her lips turned down and he could’ve kicked himself for asking. He didn’t want her thinking he was checking up on her or anything.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Slow.’

She thrust out one hip and surveyed him. Her legs went…al the way up. He gulped. She hadn’t been wearing that dress at lunchtime. Just as wel too.

With the memory of that much bare skin on display he’d have made a mess of the wal .

‘Wanna go fishing?’

That jerked his eyes back to her face. The beginnings of a smile played around the corners of her mouth. He’d do a lot to turn it into a ful -blown smile.

‘Fishing?’

She shrugged as if it was no skin off her nose whether he said yes or no, but that smile no longer threatened to come out and play.

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and then back again. He should stay as far away from this woman as he could. ‘I’ve never been fishing.’

She rol ed her eyes. ‘That’s not what I asked.

Would you like to give it a go?’

Did he? He didn’t know. The thought of spending the rest of the afternoon skiving off with Kit sounded great. Too great if the truth be told. He should resist it, wrestle her house into shape and then get the hel out of here. ‘Where?’

‘On the breakwater.’

He stared at her blankly. Her hands flew to her hips. ‘Alex Hal am, haven’t you explored even the tiniest bit since you’ve been here? Haven’t you had a look at the beaches or the lake or anything?’

He knew where the hardware store and the supermarket were. He didn’t need to know anything else. Besides, he’d had too many other things on his mind—like Kit’s pregnancy—to play tourist.

Garbage! All you’ve done is avoid thinking about Kit’s pregnancy. In fact, he suspected he’d rather staple gun his hand to the wal than talk about pregnancy and babies.

So he’d concentrated al his efforts on her house instead.

Not on the fact that he was going to become a father.

And not on playing tourist.

In case Kit hadn’t noticed, he wasn’t precisely in holiday-maker mode.

She shook her head, almost in pity. ‘C’mon, al work and no play is making Jil a very dul girl.’

She eyed him up and down. It made his skin go tight and hot. Her eyes skittered away and he watched as she swal owed once, twice. ‘What you’re wearing wil do fine, unless you’d rather change into a pair of board shorts.’

He shook his head. She’d said fishing. Not He shook his head. She’d said fishing. Not swimming.

‘Put that down.’ She pointed to the sander. ‘You can come and help me haul the fishing rods out of the garden shed. Chop-chop.’

He kicked himself into action. It was only one afternoon.

Alex parked his car and spent a moment just drinking in the view. Final y he turned to Kit. ‘I had no idea it would be so beautiful.’

The grin she sent him warmed him as effectively as the sun on the bare flesh of his arms. She settled a floppy canvas hat on her head and gestured in the direction of the breakwater. ‘C’mon.’

She insisted on carrying one of the fishing rods—

the lightest one—and Alex carried the other rod, the tackle box, a bucket and the net. He couldn’t explain the primal urge to take her rod, though, and add it to his load.

Perhaps it was just good manners?

Yeah, right! If he had any manners whatsoever he wouldn’t be trying to catch as big an eyeful of those golden legs of hers as he could.

She pointed to their right. ‘This is cal ed the Rock Pool. It’s where al the local kids learn to swim. It’s where I learned to swim.’

A sweep of golden sand and clear water stretched out from the breakwater to a smal er bank of rocks bordering the channel. Kit told him the channel led into Wal is Lake. The breakwater provided a wave trap and this little bay had been roped off to provide a safe place to swim. Tiny waves lapped at the shore in rhythmic whooshes and the water was so clear he could see the sandy bottom, free from rocks and seaweed. He couldn’t think of a prettier place to learn to swim.

To their left, though, stretched mile upon mile of golden sand and the foaming, rol ing breakers of a surf beach. The salt in the air and the sound of the breakers intensified the further they walked out on the breakwater. The firmness of the path beneath his feet, the warmth of the spring sun and the sound of seagul s on the breeze eased tension out of his shoulders he hadn’t even known was there.