The Billionaire Boss's Secretary Bride

‘I like to think so, but in this case I am speaking the truth.’ He leant forward slightly, not hiding his curiosity as he said, ‘You don’t rate yourself much, do you, Gina? Why is that—or is that too personal a question?’

He liked it that she could blush. He’d thought it a lost art before he had met her.

She shrugged. ‘Legacy of being the ugly duckling of the family, I suppose,’ she said quietly. ‘My two older sisters inherited the red hair, but theirs is true chestnut, and they don’t have freckles. Added to which it was me who had to have the brace on my teeth and see a doctor about acne.’

His eyes wandered over the flawlessly creamy skin, flawless except for the freckles, but he liked those. And her teeth were small, white and even. ‘Your dentist and doctor are to be congratulated on their part in assisting the swan to emerge. You’re a very lovely woman, even if you don’t realise it.’

The blush grew deeper. He watched it with fascination. When she looked ready to explode, he said, ‘I seem to remember both your sisters are married, aren’t they?’ It was more to change the subject and alleviate her distress than because he cared two hoots about them.

She nodded, and her hair reflected a hundred different shades of gold and copper as she moved. ‘Bryony has a little boy of three, and Margaret two girls of five and eight, so I’m an aunt three times over. They’re all great kids.’

Something in her voice prompted him to say, ‘You obviously are very fond of them.’

‘Of course.’

There was no ‘of course’ about it. He knew several women who couldn’t seem to stand their own children, let alone anyone else’s. ‘Do you see yourself settling down and having a family one day?’

A shadow passed over her face. ‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe?’

She smiled, but he could see it was a little shaky. Her mouth was soft, vulnerable. Muscles knotted in his stomach.

‘Settling down and having a family does carry the prerequisite of meeting the right man,’ she said, taking a sip of her wine.

‘You’re bound to meet someone in London.’

‘Why “bound to”?’

Her voice was sharper than he’d heard it before, and his eyes widened momentarily. He’d clearly said the wrong thing, although he couldn’t think how.

And then she said quickly, ‘Not everyone meets the right one, as I’m sure you’d agree, and personally I’d rather remain single than marry just to be with someone. I’m going to London with a view to furthering my career, and perhaps travelling a little, things like that.’

He stared at her. That wasn’t all of it. Had she had a love affair go wrong? Was she moving away because someone had hurt her, broken her heart? But she hadn’t said anything to him about a man in her life.

He caught at the feeling of anger, the sense that she had let him down in some way. Drawing on his considerable self-control, he said coolly, ‘I hadn’t got you down as a career woman, Gina?’

‘No?’ She glanced up from her wine glass and looked him full in the face, but he could read nothing from her expression when she said, ‘But then you don’t really know me, do you?’

He felt as though she had just slapped him round the face, even though her voice had been pleasant and calm. He thought he knew her. She had always been quite free in talking about herself, her family, her friends, although…His eyes narrowed. Come to think of it, she had never discussed her love life at all. He’d just assumed she didn’t have one, he supposed.

He felt a dart of self-disgust, and realised how much he had assumed. Trying to justify himself, he argued silently, no, it wasn’t altogether that. Because he didn’t like to talk about that side of his life, he hadn’t pressed her in that direction, that was all.

And the long hours she had put in ever since he had arrived? The devotion to the job, and to him and his father? Her readiness to be prepared to work overtime at the drop of a hat? The way—even when her workload had been huge and she’d been working flat out—she’d spare time to talk him through a procedure he wasn’t familiar with? He had taken it all for granted, looking back, in his arrogance having imagined Breedon & Son was all of her life. But why would it be? Looking like Gina did, why wouldn’t there have been a man in the background somewhere?

Collecting his racing thoughts, he said, ‘So, what’s your ultimate goal? Do you intend to stay in the capital for good, now you’ve made the break?’

She paused to think. He saw her tongue stroke her bottom lip for a moment, and his body responded, stirring to life. ‘I’m not sure.’ She raised her eyes. ‘Possibly. Like I said, I’d like to travel, and perhaps that could be incorporated into a job. That would be perfect.’

This was a new side to her. Disturbing. He’d been more than a little taken aback when she had announced her intention to leave shortly after the New Year; it hadn’t fitted into his overall picture of her. She was level-headed, reliable, a calm, balanced woman with both feet firmly on the ground. The very last person to suddenly announce they were leaving their home, job and friends to hightail it to the big city, in fact.

‘I see.’ He tried for nonchalance when he said, ‘You’re full of surprises, Gina Leighton. I had you down as more of a homebody, I guess. Someone who wouldn’t be happy if they were far away from where they were born.’

‘London isn’t exactly the ends of the earth.’

She lifted her chin as she spoke, and he said quickly, ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. That wasn’t a criticism.’

‘Good.’ She sipped at her wine.

‘If anyone can understand the urge to travel, I can. It’s just that I saw you differently, more…’

‘Boring?’

‘Boring?’ He stared at her in genuine amazement. ‘Of course I never thought you were boring. How can you say that? I was going to say contented with what you had, where you were in life.’

‘You can be all that and still fancy a change,’ she said flatly, just as the waitress came with their warm-bread salads.

Once she’d gone, he reached across the table and touched Gina’s hand for one brief moment. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you,’ he said softly. ‘And I swear I’ve never thought of you as boring.’ Disconcerting, maybe. Definitely unsettling on occasion, like when he’d stolen a swift kiss at the Christmas party and the scent of her had stayed with him all evening. And, on the couple of instances she’d worn her hair down for work, he’d had to stuff his hands in his pockets all day to avoid the temptation to take a handful of the shining, silky mass and nuzzle his face into it. But boring? Never.

Gina shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter one way or the other.’

She had moved her fingers out from under his almost as soon as they had rested on her hand, and it suggested she was still annoyed.

‘It does.’ Irritated, his voice hardened. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’

‘We are—we were—work colleagues, first and foremost,’ came the dampening answer. ‘We were friendly, but that’s not the same as being friends.’

He stared at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, and he couldn’t read a thing in her closed expression. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt out of his depth when speaking to a woman, but it was happening now. Raking back a lock of hair from his forehead, he leant back in his seat, surveying her broodingly. ‘So, what’s your definition of friends?’

She ate a morsel of bread and pronounced it delicious, before she said, ‘Friends are there for you, right or wrong. You can have fun with them or cry with them. They know plenty about you, but stick in there with you nonetheless. They’re part of your life.’

He became aware he was frowning, and straightened his face. He felt monumentally insulted. ‘And none of that applies to us, apparently? Is that what you’re saying?’ he said evenly.

‘Well, does it?’ she asked matter-of-factly.

‘I think so.’

‘Harry, we’ve never met out of work, and know very little about each other.’

He shook his head stubbornly. ‘Don’t be silly, we know plenty about each other,’ he said firmly, his annoyance rising when she narrowed her eyes cynically. He was possessed by the very irrational desire to do or say something remarkable to shock her out of her complacency, something that hadn’t happened since he had been a thirteen-year-old schoolboy trying to impress the school beauty. But Delia Sherwood had been a walkover compared to the self-contained, quiet young woman watching him with disbelieving eyes. And this was a crazy conversation. He wasn’t even sure how it had come about. Why did Gina’s opinion about their relationship matter so much, anyway? ‘I know you have two sisters, a best friend called Erica, and that you walk your parents’ dog to keep fit, for instance. OK?’ Even to himself he sounded petulant.

‘Those are head facts. Not heart facts.’

‘I’m sorry?’ he said, his temper rising.

She gave what sounded like a weary sigh and ate another mouthful of food. ‘Think about it,’ was all she said.

He ate his warm-bread salad without tasting it. There had been undercurrents in their friendship from day one—and it was a friendship, whatever she said—but there she was, as cool as a cucumber, stating they were merely work colleagues. Damn it, he knew there was a spark there, even if neither of them had done anything about it. And the reason he’d held his hand had been for her sake. An act of consideration on his part.