At His Service: His 9-5 Secretary: The Billionaire Boss's Secretary Bride / The Secretary's Secret / Memo: Marry Me?

Her eyes met his. Touché, she thought with a mixture of irritation and gratification. Irritation that he always had an answer for everything, and gratification that her words had obviously registered. ‘I wasn’t recommending that you fill it with a pack of dogs.’

‘And I probably wouldn’t have considered it myself right at this moment in time, but for fate taking a hand,’ he admitted. ‘But the grounds are extensive, they say dogs are the best burglar deterrent there is, and I rather like the idea of keeping the four of them together after all that’s happened. I’ll give Mrs Rothman a hefty pay rise for the extra work they’ll involve until they’re house-trained and so on, and with her ever-increasing brood of grandchildren the money will come in handy.’

Gina bit her lip. This was ridiculous. ‘Keep one or perhaps two, if you must,’ she said slowly, unable to believe he could have had such a radical change of heart regarding the future and his plans to travel. ‘But not all of them.’

‘Why not?’

She couldn’t very well say she didn’t believe him when he’d spoken of staying put. ‘Four times the amount of mess and trouble?’ she prevaricated.

‘Four times the amount of fun and pleasure.’

She frowned. ‘Four times the amount of squabbling and barking?’

‘Four times the amount of canine love.’

He waited for her to continue, one dark brow raised. Gina mentally conceded defeat. It was true the dogs would have a wonderful life here, with the huge garden and each other—doggy paradise—but … ‘Dogs shouldn’t be left alone all day.’

‘I thought I’d explained, they won’t be,’ he said with elaborate patience. ‘Weekends I’m home, I might even arrange things so I work from home some mornings, and Mrs Rothman will be around for most of the time I’m out.’ He seemed amused. ‘I thought you’d congratulate me for taking some responsibility after your scathing words yesterday.’

‘They weren’t scathing.’ She averted her gaze to the hyacinths. She supposed they had been.

‘No? I’d hate to be in the firing line if you really get the bit between your teeth, then.’

She should never have agreed to stay the night, Gina told herself miserably, every nerve in her body as tight as piano wire at the closeness of him. ‘Harry, you must do as you please,’ she said quietly after a few moments had ticked by. ‘This is nothing to do with me.’

‘I guess not,’ Harry said levelly. ‘It’s just that I’ve an appointment with the local vet this afternoon. I want him to look the puppies over and start their inoculations, if he thinks they’re old enough. I was going to ask you to stay long enough to help me with them. I thought you might help me choose some bedding, leads, collars, that sort of thing, and of course I need to pick up some food and so on.’

She stared at him, feeling slightly hysterical. Today was supposed to have been spent clearing out the flat of the last bits and pieces, ready to spring-clean it from top to bottom before the new occupants took over on Saturday. She’d arranged to leave work on Wednesday evening so she had two clear days to sort everything out. Now that was already severely curtailed, and he was asking her for more of her time. This was utterly unreasonable and the whole situation was surreal. Harry didn’t do permanence, dependability and personal responsibility, not where other people—or, rather, females—were concerned. But then these weren’t people, they were dogs.

‘Eat your food.’ His voice came quiet and steady. ‘I’ll take you home after lunch. I shouldn’t have asked.’

No, he shouldn’t. And she shouldn’t be considering his request for one second. She swallowed, her tongue stumbling over her words as she said, ‘Are you absolutely sure you want to keep them? Have you really considered what you’re taking on? It’ll mean twelve, thirteen years of commitment, maybe longer. Have you really changed your mind so completely from yesterday, Harry? I … I need to know.’

He looked back at her, and she was aware that a tiny detached part of her mind was thinking that the hard angles of his chiselled face and body made him look older than his thirty-three years. But then he had the sort of bone structure that was ageless; at fifty, sixty, he’d still probably give the impression of being in his forties.

He reached across and took her hand as though he had the perfect right to touch her, and she had to remind herself the gesture was an expression of the easy friendship he felt for her as a sharp tingle shot up her arm with the power of an electric shock. ‘I can understand your scepticism,’ he said softly, ‘But I mean every word, Gina. Perhaps there’s been a part of me hankering for a more settled existence for some time, I’m not sure, but our conversation yesterday, finding the puppies …’ He shrugged. ‘Something gelled over the last twenty-four hours. They’ll be company.’

She wondered how she could retrieve her hand without it being a big deal, and decided she couldn’t. The trouble was, loving Harry as she did, wanting him, made any physical contact acutely painful in an exhilarating, pulsing kind of way. Stiffening her spine, she aimed to look at him levelly, face expressionless. ‘So you’re saying you intend to be around for some good time?’ Even more reason for her to get away, then. ‘Have you had a change of heart about taking over the firm too, when the time comes? Your father would like that.’

‘Whoa, there.’ He smiled, leaning back and letting go of her hand. She felt the loss in every pore. ‘I didn’t say that. To be truthful, I don’t see myself in Dad’s role, I never have. We’re two very different people. I’d like to steer towards business consultancy, something which will enable me to decide where and when I work. That way, if I want a few weeks off at any time, it’s no big deal. I pick and choose.’

Gina stared at him doubtfully. ‘Could you afford to do that? And would enough people want you?’

His eyes were deep pools of laughter. ‘If I had a problem with the size of my ego you’d be the perfect antidote. But, in answer to your question, I have enough contacts to succeed.’

Independent to the last. Nothing had changed, not really. He might have decided to establish some kind of base in his life but he was still a free spirit, not willing to be answerable to anyone, even in his work life.

Smothering her anguish with difficulty, Gina nodded. ‘Lucky you,’ she said as nonchalantly as she could manage. ‘It sounds the perfect scenario.’

‘I think so,’ he agreed. Taking another large bite of the flan, he chewed and swallowed before saying, ‘What do you think of my cooking expertise, then?’

Surmising he’d had enough intense conversation for one day, she tried to match his lightness. ‘Marks out of ten?’ She tilted her head, as though considering. ‘Eight, nine, perhaps.’

‘Not the full quota?’ he asked in mock disappointment. ‘I can see you’re a very hard lady to impress.’

‘Absolutely.’ A shaft of sunlight was touching the ebony hair, slanting across the hard, tanned face and picking out the blue-and-red pattern on the plates. She wondered how you could love someone so much you ached and trembled with it and yet it didn’t show. ‘But you’ve won regarding the pooches. I’ll help this afternoon. For their sake, though,’ she added with what she thought was admirable casualness. ‘Not yours.’

She’d expected some laughing words of thanks, or a teasing remark, along the lines that he knew she wouldn’t hold out against him and the puppies. Instead, his eyes stroking over her face, he said gently, ‘Thank you, Gina. You’re a very special lady.’

Don’t. Don’t do tender. She could cope with almost anything else but that. The lump in her throat prevented speech, and she wasn’t going to risk her luck by trying to force the words past it. Instead she compromised with a bright smile.

It seemed to satisfy him, if the warmth in his eyes was anything to go by. Feeling as though she was swimming against the tide and liable to drown at any moment, she applied herself to the food on her plate, even though each mouthful could have been sawdust for all the impact it made on her taste buds.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHEN Gina and Harry left the house a couple of hours later the puppies were contained in a large robust pet-carrier Mrs Rothman had popped round just as they’d been finishing lunch. Snuggled on one of Harry’s jumpers on top of a layer of newspapers, they seemed perfectly happy gazing out of the wire front as they travelled to the veterinary surgery, apparently suffering no bad memories of their fateful car trip the day before.

After a thorough examination the vet pronounced them fit and well, but declined to start their inoculation process for another two weeks. He also wryly wished Harry good luck.

Gina and Harry came back armed with a mountain of feeding and drinking bowls, pet beds, rubber toys, puppy collars, leads, brushes, combs and special puppy-feed, and once home the utility room quickly resembled a pet shop. Gina stood, gazing around at all the paraphernalia, unaware her thoughts were mirrored on her face until Harry said drily, ‘No, I haven’t taken on more than I can handle.’

‘I didn’t say a word.’

‘You didn’t have to.’ He smiled. ‘I’m a big boy, Gina, or hadn’t you noticed?’

She’d noticed all right. If anyone had noticed, she had.

‘And I’m more than capable of taking care of this little lot. I shall build a temporary pen in the garden for when they’re outdoors, like the vet suggested, and put some strategies in place, OK?’ He gestured at the book the vet had recommended—Your Dog from Puppyhood To Old Age—and which they had bought on the way home. ‘And I’ll read that from cover to cover tonight.’

His enthusiasm melted her. Realising it was imperative she maintained her cool facade, she nodded. ‘Good, you’ll have to. And I hope Mrs Rothman’s pay rise is going to be a huge one.’

He grinned. ‘Massive. Now, what are we going to call them?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Call them?’ We?

‘You had as much to do with their rescue as I did. I’d like you to choose their names.’

‘I couldn’t.’ How could something so simple cause such pain? ‘They’re your dogs, Harry.’

‘And I’d like you to name them. Women are so much better at these sorts of things than men. I’m getting into the mental habit of referring to them as One, Two, Three and Four, and that’s no good. Don’t worry—I shan’t turn up in London with them in my arms, demanding you make an honest man out of me for the sake of the babies,’ he added, his grin widening. ‘You’re only naming them.’

Not funny. She laughed obligingly, hating him and loving him in equal measure. He could talk about her being so far away with total unconcern now, apparently. Bully for him. Well, she could show she didn’t give a hoot either. ‘Well, it’s spring,’ she said slowly. ‘How about flower names? Daisy for the little one, Rosie for the biggest, and perhaps Poppy and Pansy for the middle two.’

Harry eyed her in horror. ‘If you think I’m standing in the middle of a field shouting Pansy you’ve got another think coming,’ he said bluntly.

‘OK, perhaps not Pansy, then. How about Petunia?’

‘I don’t think so, for the same reason.’