Page 19 of A Wedding Negotiation with Her Boss

‘Go on adate? The guy asked you on a date?’

‘It’s what single people do. You should know that better than anyone else. Don’t look so horrified, Gabriel.’

Gabriel relaxed and shot her a slow smile. ‘It certainly is what single people do, Helen; and if I look a little startled maybe it’s because I’m suddenly seeing a side to you you’ve been so busy keeping under wraps before. Maybe I’m liking this new side to you.’

Helen blushed and tried to recover lost ground because his soft, lazy drawl made her skin tingle and reminded her of how his finger had felt on her mouth.

‘I should go.’ She backed away. ‘I have a lot to do.’

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. He was still grinning, a wicked grin that got to all parts of her. ‘If you’re quite sure you won’t join us...’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Gabriel. Let me know if there are any amendments you need me to do before I submit everything.’

He watched her vanish through the revolving door into the summer sunshine, as slender and graceful as a ballerina.

Drinks and an early dinner didn’t hold a huge amount of appeal, but he had to show his thanks to the hard work the guys had put in. He would go beyond and arrange a weekend for they and their families—somewhere suitably luxurious. He would doubtless use their skills again at some point and loyalty was a great thing.

He thought of one of those guys sneakily making a pass at his secretary and it made his teeth snap together. Yet she was perfectly correct—hehadurged her to relax, to let her hair down, and if her back story had come as a shock it was only because he hadn’t credited her with such a riveting one.

Broken engagements, shattered hearts... What next?

She’d never given him the slightest inclination that she was somehow trapped in a physical deep-freeze. He’d just read the outward signs and come up with his own, as it turned out incorrect, interpretation of the woman who worked so diligently and uncomplainingly for him.

And he was honest enough to admit to himself there might be just the tiniest bit of egotism behind those assumptions. He knew the power of his own personal magnetism. He’d cultivated it from a young age, flung into a boarding school on the opposite side of the world when he’d just been a kid. He’d learned that, to avoid being bullied, side-lined or mocked as an outsider with a foreign accent, it was imperative that he was accepted and, beyond acceptance, that he was admired and, ultimately, feared and respected.

He’d been clever, athletic and had learned to charm. It had been a very successful front for those feelings of hurt buried deep inside him. The hurt at how his wealthy parents had treated him had felt a lot like abandonment.

It was something he’d taken for granted over the years and he wondered, now, whether that was why he’d rushed to foregone conclusions.

Had he thought that his perfect secretary wouldn’t be able to resist the occasional remark? Wouldn’t be able to resist the force of his personality when he’d initially tried to tease casual chit-chat out of her? He hated to think that his ego was as big as she’d informed him she found it, in no uncertain terms, but he had to concede that there had surely been a reason he hadn’t just accepted the obvious. She was a sexy woman with a very healthy personal life who just didn’t want him involved in it on any level.

Especially seeing that she’d written him off as a womaniser who played the field—probably from the very beginning, he figured.

He was half-occupied with those thoughts during the course of drinks and dinner, which was much earlier than he would usually eat, because the older guys needed to get back to their homes.

All were instantly grateful at the suggestion about a long weekend with partners and, when he magnanimously told them to agree on where they wanted to go and his secretary would sort it out, they beamed from ear to ear. ‘Something beachy in Mexico’ was suggested as they gathered their belonging to leave.

He called Helen the second he was on his way back.

‘A couple of things to discuss...’

‘Sure.’

Helen listened while he discussed two points belatedly raised over drinks, neither of which were in any way crucial to the deal, but both of which could be sorted in five minutes with an alteration to some of the wording.

She’d returned to the cottage with the sun still shining and so little packing to do that she’d finished it in under five minutes.

She should have stayed. She’d shared a bit of herself with him but then, all of a fluster, she’d made a point of leaving and afterwards had felt a bit of a fool. Now here he was, coolly talking about work, because the fluster had been all on her part...

‘There’s also a little trip I want you to arrange for me,’ she surfaced to hear him saying. ‘A weekend somewhere. I’ll fill you in on the details at a later date, but a beach somewhere expensive in Mexico looks like a likely candidate.

‘This can all wait, to be honest, until tomorrow morning,’ he added.

Helen had frozen at the mention of Mexico and a weekend away. That had all the hallmarks of one of his romantic rendezvous and she wondered who the latest blonde might be. Surely not...?

There was a sour taste in her mouth when she thought about it and it horrified her to think that that sour taste was plain, old-fashioned jealousy. She’d opened the door a crack and now look at the result!

‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘It’s no bother for me to sort everything out this evening. It’s not even eight yet.’

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