The Boss’s Unconventional Assistant Page 2

  ‘I’ll find out if Mr Barlow can speak with you.’ Soph pressed the hold button and swung around.

  Grey stood right behind her, closer than she had realised. Her heart did that little stutter thing again.

  She thrust the phone towards him and relayed the name of the caller. ‘He says you asked for another update on the Mitchelmore project. Do you want to speak to him?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll take it.’ He added a muttered, ‘Some things are too important to ignore, no matter what the doctor says.’

  This didn’t make a lot of sense to Soph, but she placed the phone into his hand anyway.

  Grey lowered himself into his office chair in a slightly awkward manoeuvre. Soph noticed that he didn’t have a footrest under there or anything.

  ‘Peter.’ His attention centred immediately on his caller. ‘Do you have any further news about the zoning issues?’

  Soph left him to it and scuttled outside to Gertie, grabbed the software package and hurried it back into the office. Her boss still had the phone to his ear so she left the package on the desk and raced back out to the car and a problematical but adorable rabbit.

  First she would take care of Alfie and then she would start to figure out how to best look after her boss.

  Collapsible rabbit cage and associated paraphernalia in one hand, Alfie in his basket in the other, Soph hurried to the back of the house. She breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted a part of the garden tucked away behind a tree and a flower border, and hidden from sight of the house by a big shed that had a mesh gate enclosing its front.

  ‘There’s plenty of long grass, Alfie.’ Soph tugged the collapsible enclosure upright and eased the rabbit inside, then ran to the back of the house and filled her pet’s water container.

  She set down the water and a bowl full of pellet supplement from the five kilogram bag she’d scrounged from a neighbour. It was just as well she knew someone with guinea pigs and that rabbits ate the same supplement. Soph placed a blanket over part of the cage for shade.

  Between the friendly single mum and Joe the mechanic, who had the cage from days gone by, Soph had her bases covered. Without these things, she didn’t know how she would have fed and housed Alfred, but she would have made it work somehow. She didn’t walk away from anyone who needed or relied on her.

  Not like her parents had done, but that was long ago.

  Soph returned to the car and unloaded the remainder of her things. It took several trips. She didn’t travel light and she’d brought a few things especially with her employer in mind. But she hurried, and soon presented herself in the office in time to hear Grey snarl a string of words into a headset. He then glared daggers at the resulting words as they appeared on his computer screen.

  ‘I dropped by the kitchen. Did you want anything specific for lunch today?’ A brief inventory had revealed staples—healthy enough ingredients, but nothing fancy. Fortunately, she’d brought her own extras so they wouldn’t have to be bored on the food front.

  Her boss drew the headphones off and tossed them on to the desk. ‘You can make sandwiches or something at twelve-thirty. Meanwhile—’ he gestured to the second desk ‘—you’ll sit there. Work your way through the tapes in the order they’re in the tray. You’ll email the correspondence to me to look over. Once I’m happy with it, you’ll fax or email each item as directed.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Barlow.’ Soph took the first tape and fitted it into the player on the second desk but she didn’t immediately sit down.

  ‘Grey will do.’ He turned away, retrieved his headset and started to growl again. He interspersed the words with occasional irritated clicks of his computer mouse and one-handed typing.

  It seemed the new voice program and he hadn’t fully come to an understanding as yet.

  Soph left the room, pulled a soft scatter cushion from one of the big squishy chairs in the living room and carried it back into the office. She grabbed two reams of copy paper from a box in the corner and, armed with packets of paper and cushion, dropped to her hands and knees beside his desk and edged underneath. ‘Okay, I’m ready. Lift your foot and I’ll scoot all this under.’

  He didn’t respond immediately and Soph wiggled a little. The floor felt hard beneath her knees, despite the curves on the rest of her.

  A hiss of breath followed and then some muffled words that sounded like, ‘Anything to get you out from under there.’ He lifted his foot.

  Soph gently moved the paper packages and cushion into place. ‘Try that and let me know if it’s soothing at all.’

  ‘Soothed is not the word that comes to my mind right now.’ He spoke in a controlled tone that, oddly, sent delicious warmth in a cascade down her spine. But he lowered his foot.

  When he said nothing more, Soph assumed all was well—the first strike at looking after him went to her. She wiggled out from under the desk and got to her feet, dusting her trouser legs although she suspected a cleaner had been through here recently.

  ‘I’d be happy if you’d place your bottom in your chair now, Sophia, and keep it there.’ His eyes glittered and he seemed to almost grind his teeth before he looked away. ‘Quite a lot of that correspondence is urgent.’

  Soph stared at the back of his beautifully shaped head as sensual awareness belatedly impinged on her consciousness. Heat rushed into her face. That was the reason for his indrawn hiss of breath a moment ago? He’d been watching her bottom wiggle?

  With a muttered agreement, Soph hurriedly took up her workload.

  CHAPTER TWO

  AS THE hours passed Soph learned a number of things. Her new employer knew how to churn out work. The phone wasn’t about to stop ringing simply because she needed to concentrate, and Grey had three stepmothers who all seemed determined to demand his attention. Three!

  At twelve-thirty Soph handed her boss the latest phone message, from Leanna Barlow:

  ‘I’m his stepmother, dear. I hope he’s feeling all right? Good, good. I also need to touch base with him and…um…talk to him about a little problem I have with my credit cards…’

  The message followed similar ones from Sharon Barlow and Dawn Barlow, who had both bemoaned Grey’s absence from Melbourne and his idea that he should isolate himself completely in the country for the first phase of his recovery.

  They had then said they respectively wanted to—Sharon—use his yacht for a three-month cruise and—Dawn—use the plane the company chartered to fly to Greece because there was this expo on for the next week and a half—something to do with hand-crafted table decorations.

  Grey ignored all the messages and carried on with his work.

  Soph wanted to get chatty and ask about his family, but refrained. She did, however, help herself to a piece of paper she spotted tucked half under a pile of files on his desk as she stood there after passing him the latest message.

  ‘Is this your physio outline?’ Exercises he hadn’t done all morning? ‘I can help you with the routine now. It’s lunch time, so we’re due for a break anyway.’

  ‘I’ll do the exercises before I join you for the meal.’ He held his hand out for the piece of paper. ‘That will give you time to organise some food.’

  Soph pretended not to notice his outstretched hand and, instead, walked to the photocopier in the corner of the room and made a copy of the regimen. She then passed the original back to him and disappeared into the kitchen with her page before he could say anything. She studied it as she went.

  While the soup heated, Soph rushed out to the back garden via the laundry room door. Alfie was fine, but clearly wanted to play, and to come back inside with her. When she spoke his name—made up when she’d found him because she’d thought he looked like an Alfred and he had had no identification on him—he twitched his nose as though he liked to hear it.

  Soph smiled at the thought and gave him as much time as she dared, then returned inside alone. It still didn’t seem a good idea to bring the topic of the rabbit up with her boss.

  Grey hobbled into
the kitchen moments after she got there.

  ‘The food is almost ready.’ She gestured towards the table. ‘Please, have a seat.’

  He sniffed the air. ‘What can I smell? Sandwiches would have done. There’s shaved double-smoked ham in the fridge, cheese, pickles.’

  ‘It’s soup. I made it last night.’ Her sisters said her cooking efforts were legendary for all the wrong reasons. Her brothers-in-law agreed, but Soph thought they all just liked to tease her.

  After all, she ate her creations and couldn’t discern anything wrong with them. ‘I hope you like roast pumpkin with some other vegetables blended in. I’ve flavoured it with curry paste, Italian herb blend and vanilla bean. I’ll make toasted sandwiches to follow.’

  ‘I see.’ He lowered himself into a chair and again his weariness showed. ‘It sounds…interesting.’

  ‘Yes, exactly. Spices add variety to life,’ she said, deliberately rewording the usual saying and smiled at him, then carried the mugs of soup to the table and placed one in front of him before she took her seat opposite. ‘You need good food to help you get well.’

  ‘Healthy food and quiet surroundings, fresh air and rest and a complete break from all stressors.’ Her employer seemed to quote the words verbatim. No doubt the admonitions had come from his doctor, although it did sound a little over-the-top for these simple injuries.

  Grey certainly should get some rest, though, yet had he slowed his workload? If he had, she hated to imagine what it was like normally.

  Lips pursed, he took a tentative sip of the orange brew. His nose wrinkled and he sniffed it a second time. Another sip followed, and he frowned and poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the table and quickly drank.

  ‘I’m glad you understand the concept of rest to help you get better.’ Even if he wasn’t following it very well as far as she could see.

  He gave her a sharp glance across the table, but Soph maintained a serene, silent pose. Her boss may not realise it yet, but he really did need her. To chivvy him along, watch out for him.

  With a smile still hovering, Soph tasted the soup. Oh, yes, lovely job. She lifted her gaze and waited, eyebrows raised, for him to express his opinion.

  Grey cleared his throat. ‘You say you made the soup yourself, especially to bring here?’

  ‘Yes. Last night. It took a couple of hours, but I wanted to get you off to a good start, and I figured there might not be time to make it today once I got here.’ She had certainly been right about that.

  His shoulders shifted in a gesture that seemed to reflect a mental discomfort rather than a physical one. Then, with a deep breath, he raised his soup mug and drank it all down. His eyes sparkled and a flush rose in his cheeks as he set the mug back on the table.

  Sunshine broke out all over Soph’s world. She had harboured just the tiniest seed of doubt, but he didn’t know about that and had gulped her food with alacrity anyway.

  ‘You liked it.’ Pleasure and a hint of gratitude filled her voice. Grey Barlow liked her soup! Soph buried her nose in her mug to hide her grin.

  ‘It was…very tasty.’ He drank more water.

  The water would also benefit him. Soph nodded her approval. Somewhere sweet and warm inside her couldn’t help but soften towards him. They had tastes in common—culinary ones at least—even if he felt a little shy about expressing his compliments to her.

  Well, it was probably fine to like him, provided none of those other initial responses resurfaced.

  When they finished the toasted sandwiches minutes later, she turned a determined gaze on him. ‘It’s time to do the physio exercise you can’t do by yourself. I’ve looked at the sheet and, if you don’t do it, you’ll miss one of the most helpful exercises on the list. You did do the rest, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did, and it’s not convenient to do more right now. I have work waiting.’ His lips stopped just shy of a manly pout. ‘Besides, I’ve already replaced the brace and laced it up.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that, either.’ Soph got to her feet and did not think about how kissable his lips might be, shaped in just that particular way.

  He wasn’t at all adorable in his prickly splendour, either. He was stubborn and far too protective of his personal space when he’d hired her to get right in it. That was the fact of the matter. ‘Not unless you tied the laces one-handed.’

  She searched the kitchen drawers until she found a cloth long enough to suit her purposes. ‘Shall we go? You said you’re in a hurry.’

  On those words she bustled into the sitting room before he could argue and hoped he would simply follow. The boss-man needed a little bossing of his own.

  ‘Why don’t you sit there, on the sofa?’ Sophia gestured without looking at Grey, for all the world as though she hadn’t just ordered him about in his own home. Albeit a second home he visited less often than he would like, when he managed to eke out some free time to climb in the nearby mountains.

  Grey wasn’t accustomed to taking orders. He wasn’t accustomed to having his statements ignored, either. He wanted to be able to scale those mountains too, not be stuck just looking at them when he glanced out of the windows. ‘I did say I don’t have time for this.’

  ‘I know, but we’re here now and it will only take a couple of minutes.’ She blinked guileless sherry-coloured eyes at him.

  The lashes were ridiculously long. If he held her to him, cheek to cheek, those lashes would brush his skin. ‘Fine, do your worst. Just get on with it.’

  ‘First I’ll have to unlace the ankle brace and remove it.’ She waited expectantly.

  Grey sat. Controlling her was like trying to trap light in a bottle. He had no idea how to manage her exuberance.

  Sophia sat beside him, so close their thighs pressed together. Necessary, he knew, but the knowledge didn’t stop him from tensing as his body catalogued every nuance of that touch, reacted to it and wanted more of it.

  She had golden skin and a soft, slender neck, her face a perfect oval with winged brows and a straight little nose and full, generous lips that were right out of a man’s fantasy. His gaze caught on those lips, caught on the smile that lingered there even now.

  With a murmured word, Sophia leaned down and made quick work of removing the brace. When finished, she turned that megawatt smile on him again. The breath she drew held just enough of a hitch to tell him she wasn’t unaware of their closeness.

  ‘There.’ She lifted her hand and almost patted his leg. Almost, before she snatched her wandering appendage back. ‘The brace is off. Let’s get started with the exercise, shall we?’

  ‘By all means, let’s complete the physio routine.’ Grey didn’t want assistance with his physiotherapy. He didn’t want to be incarcerated in the countryside for the next week either, but Doc Cooper had some bug in his brain that Grey could be on the road to serious trouble.

  All because a few readings had come in high on the scale after the accident—it was silly! Just because Grey’s mother had died young of a heart attack, no apparent trigger, and his father had had high cholesterol and high everything else before he, too, had died.

  Okay, those weren’t silly, but Grey looked after himself. ‘Bloody doctor probably doesn’t know what he’s on about, anyway.’

  ‘Your exercises seem sensible to me,’ Sophia offered with a slightly confused look.

  Grey ignored it and instead noted the way her hair cupped her face and neck.

  Her body was all sweet curves. The sight of her bottom as it had wiggled about beneath his desk had almost made him moan, and Grey wasn’t someone to be affected easily by a woman.

  Not unless he chose to be, and never involuntarily. Yet he’d noticed Sophia.

  ‘How does that feel?’ Her mouth formed the words and Grey could imagine her lips beneath his, lush and generous.

  He didn’t want to, damn it.

  Because Sophia Gable wasn’t only fluffy and colourful and capable of making a soup that truly defied description; she was a girl som
e man would take home to his mother. Grey didn’t take women anywhere, other than to bed. He stayed away from the kind who wouldn’t understand that.

  As for the idea of him taking a woman to meet his three stepmothers? What a concept.

  ‘Grey? Your foot?’ Sophia spoke as though to prompt a child. ‘I’m trying not to hurt you.’

  ‘You’re not hurting me, and you won’t.’ Injuries aside, she had no power to hurt him in other ways. No woman did. Grey had seen to that, yet he wondered at his need to voice the knowledge aloud. Another thought followed.

  He could hurt Sophia Gable without trying.

  Grey was a hard man, toughened by years in a cutthroat business world. Hardened by his upbringing, too, although that truly was history, aside from the ongoing legacy of his late father’s three bored and at times self-indulgent past wives. He had let himself love them as surrogate mothers, one after another, until he’d finally realised the futility and refused to love anyone at all.

  Sophia Gable was too gentle for him, soft and young. She looked as though she would care about anyone who gave her half a chance, and would expect them to care for her in return. Such women were made for marriage—an institution Grey respected when it worked, but would never enter into.

  Why hadn’t he dismissed her completely from his awareness, then? Why did the curiosity, the interest, remain?

  ‘I appreciate your trust in me.’ She misread the meaning behind his words. Luminous eyes smiled at him. ‘My middle sister Chrissy broke two toes once, when we decided to rearrange the furniture in our apartment and she didn’t have her glasses on.’

  A chuckle escaped. ‘That was a few years ago, but boy, did Bella, the eldest, get uptight. We all live separately now, but we had some fun times.’

  For a moment he thought she looked just the tiniest bit sad, but she went on to work on his ankle, and to prattle about her life in Melbourne, and the thought faded.