At Her Boss's Bidding

‘That boy doesn’t know what he likes any more,’ she grumbled. ‘That bitch of a wife of his certainly did a number on him. If ever I run into her again I’d like to…’

Whatever it was Alice was about to vow to do to her son’s ex-wife was cut dead when the door to Justin’s office was suddenly wrenched open, and the man of the moment appeared.

‘Mum! I thought I heard a familiar voice. What are you doing here? And what were you talking about just then? Not gossiping about me to Rachel, were you?’

Alice’s cheeks flushed but she managed not to look too guilty. ‘I never gossip,’ she threw at her son defiantly. ‘I only ever tell the truth.’

Justin laughed. ‘In that case, why are you here? And no white lies, now. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’

Alice shrugged. ‘I came to the city early to do some shopping, didn’t see a single thing I liked and decided on the spur of the moment to pop in and take you to lunch. Rachel too, if she’d like.’

‘Oh, no, no, I can’t,’ Rachel immediately protested. ‘I have some shopping that I simply have to do.’ Namely, some brown hair dye.

‘And neither can I,’ Justin informed his mother. ‘There was some unexpected bearish rumblings on the world stock markets last night and I have to have a report ready for the powers that be here before trading ceases today. So I’ll be working through lunch. I was going to get Rachel to pop out and bring me back some sandwiches.’

‘Poor Rachel,’ Alice said. ‘I thought the days of secretaries doing that kind of menial and demeaning job were over. I dare say you have her bring you coffee twenty times a day as well. I know how much you like your coffee. What else? Does she collect your dry-cleaning too?’

Justin looked taken aback. ‘Well, yes, she has collected my dry-cleaning. Once or twice.’ His eyes grew worried as they swung towards Rachel. ‘Do you object to doing that kind of job, Rachel? You’ve never said as much.’

Rachel sighed. Of course she didn’t object. If Alice thought those jobs were menial and demeaning, let her try changing urine-soaked sheets every morning.

‘No, I don’t mind at all. Really, Alice,’ she insisted when Justin’s mother looked sceptical. ‘I don’t.’

Now it was Alice’s turn to sigh. ‘No, you wouldn’t. Just make sure you don’t take advantage of Rachel’s sweet nature,’ Alice warned her son.

Rachel wished Alice would simply shut up.

Justin’s eyes met hers again and she knew by their exasperated expression that he was thinking exactly the same thing. Rachel gave him a small smile of complicity, and his blue eyes twinkled back.

‘I would never take advantage of Rachel,’ he told his mother. ‘I value her far too much to do anything to risk losing the best PA a man could have.’

Rachel’s cheeks warmed at his flattering words.

She didn’t realise at the time how ironic they were.

CHAPTER THREE

MOST city singles loved Friday afternoons. Their moods would lift as the working week drew towards an end, anticipation building for that wonderfully carefree moment when they poured out of their office buildings and into their favourite bars and drinking holes for the traditional Friday-night drinks-after-work bash. Even the non-drinkers liked Fridays, because there was still the weekend to look forward to, two whole days without having to sit at their desks and their computers; two whole days of doing exactly as they pleased, even if that was nothing.

Rachel was one of the exceptions to the rule. Since coming back to work she hated the week to end because she hated the prospect of two whole days of doing just that. Nothing.

As she made her way to work the following Friday morning Rachel began thinking she might have to go shopping by herself this weekend after all, just for something to do. Last weekend had been OK, because of Isabel and Rafe’s wedding. But this weekend was going to be dreadful, with Isabel away and that strangely soulless town house all to herself.

She could hardly fill the whole weekend with housework. She already kept the place spotless on a daily basis. She could read, of course, or watch television. But, somehow, indoor activities did not appeal. She felt like getting out and about.

It was a pity that the town house didn’t have a garden. Unfortunately, the courtyard was all paved and the few plants dotted around were in pots. Rachel liked working with her hands. That was why she’d first taken up sewing as a teenager.

But sewing was on the no-no list for Rachel nowadays. She never wanted to see her sewing machine again. It was packed away at the back of a cupboard, never to see the light of day again. After the funeral, whenever she looked at it she thought of Lettie’s illness, and all that had happened because of it. No nice associations at all.

Sometimes, she wished Justin would ask her to work overtime on the weekend. She knew he went into the office on a Saturday, so surely there was something she could do. Extra data entry, perhaps. Justin often had to farm some of that work out to an agency.

But he never asked, and she wouldn’t dream of suggesting it. He might see her offer as evidence of a desire for more of his company, rather than the result of chronic loneliness.

Rachel glanced up at the sky before she entered her building. The clouds were heavier than the day before, the southerly change predicted earlier in the week having finally arrived yesterday, bringing intermittent showers.

The thought of more rain over the weekend dampened Rachel’s enthusiasm for shopping by herself. Maybe she would wait till Isabel returned. There was no real hurry, now that Sydney’s weather had changed back to cooler. Her black suits would do a while longer.

Yes, she decided as she swung through the revolving glass doors. Her shopping expedition could wait.

Justin was already in when she arrived. Surprisingly, he’d put on the coffee machine and was in the act of pouring himself a mugful when she walked into the tea room. He was wearing one of her favourite suits, a light grey number which looked well against his dark hair and blue eyes, especially when teamed with a white shirt and blue tie.

‘Morning,’ he said, throwing her a warm smile over his shoulder. ‘Want me to pour you one as well?’

‘Yes, please,’ she answered, her spirits lifting now that she was at work. She shoved her black bag and umbrella on the shelf under the kitchen-like counter, then took the milk out of the fridge, preferring her coffee white, though she could drink it black, at a pinch. Justin always had his black.

‘What’s it like outside?’ he asked, and slid her mug along the counter to where she was standing.

‘Overcast,’ she said as she added her milk.

‘Not actually raining, though?’ he queried just before his mug made it to his lips.

‘Not yet. But it will be soon.’

‘Mmm.’

Rachel detected something in that ‘mmm’ which made her curious.

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Do you have something on this weekend which rain will spoil?’

He took the mug away from his mouth. ‘Actually, no, just the opposite. I won’t be here in Sydney at all. I’m flying up to the Gold Coast this afternoon to spend the weekend at a five-star ocean-front hotel.’

‘Lucky you,’ she replied, wondering who he was spending the weekend with.

‘No need to feel jealous. You’re coming with me.’

Rachel was grateful that she hadn’t lifted her own coffee off the counter, because she surely would have spilt it.

Justin chuckled. ‘You should see the look on your face. But don’t panic. I’m not asking you to go away with me for a dirty weekend. It’s for work.’

Rachel closed her mouth then. Well, of course it was for work. How could she, even for a split-second, imagine anything else?

Silly Rachel.

‘What kind of work?’ she asked, finally feeling safe enough to lift her coffee off the counter and take a sip.

‘A different kind of investment advice from my usual. Apparently, this holiday hotel—it’s called Sunshine Gardens—is on the market and all potential buyers—of which AWI is one—are being flown up free of charge so they can see and experience first-hand the hotel’s attractions and assets. Generally speaking we can do our own thing, except for tomorrow night, when we’ll be wined and dined by management, after which there’ll be a video shown, along with a presentation of facts and figures to con everyone into believing the hotel is a rock-solid investment. Guy Walters was supposed to go, but he can’t, so he asked me to go in his place.’

Rachel frowned. ‘Guy Walters. Who’s he? I can’t place him.’