The Boss’s Unconventional Assistant Read online

  ‘Oh, well, if you’re sure.’ She seemed disappointed.

  He steeled himself against the thought, lest he begin to imagine just why she might feel that way. It was all to do with trying to look after him. Nothing else!

  ‘I have to start work.’ The bear growled the words in Grey’s rumbly, aggravated voice. Long fingers clutched his mug like a lifeline and he moved to the office.

  Grey seated himself at his desk and sipped his not-coffee, giving a soft sigh as the taste exploded on his tongue.

  He propped his ankle on the cushion Sophia had provided yesterday and started to speak clearly and without growling into the voice recognition program.

  He’d sorted everything out. He was in charge here.

  Totally and completely in charge!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SOPH cleaned up the kitchen, made early preparations for their lunch, tidied Grey’s bathroom and bedroom and didn’t pause once to breathe in his scent or think about him asleep with his head on the pillows as she plumped them and tossed them back on the bed.

  ‘That tape first, please,’ Grey said the moment she stepped into the office. He flicked a finger towards a tape on her desk but didn’t lift his gaze from his computer screen. The voice recognition headphones were clamped on his head and he seemed content to ignore her.

  ‘When will we break for your physio?’ She could compromise about a time, but she didn’t intend to skip the duty altogether.

  ‘Ten o’clock. You can have more of your not-coffee drink ready for then.’ He stopped with a frown. ‘You’ll probably want more of it and you might as well make the same for both of us. It will save time.’

  Her lips twitched. ‘Of course. That’s very considerate of you.’ He had liked the coffee. Why else would he want more?

  ‘I’ll give up about the massage for now,’ she conceded, ‘but I’m holding you to the physio, and half an hour outside in the sunshine, and a nap straight after lunch.’ She bounced once—just slightly—on her seat as she sat down.

  Then she turned to glare at him in the sternest imitation of one of his expressions she could manage. ‘You’ll just have to figure out what bits of work you can skip to make that all fit in.’

  He cast a disgruntled look her way. ‘And how do you propose I do that?’

  ‘For starters you could give up reading and commenting on the detailed department reports that could be summed up in a line from the department head that says “Everything is fine” and replied to with one word from you. “Good”.’ Soph made this pronouncement and snapped her transcription headphones into place.

  She then set about ignoring any response Grey might have made once he got over staring at her in disgusted fulminating shock.

  The man appeared to have good personnel at work on his behalf, yet he made them report to him to the nth degree about every little thing.

  In short, it appeared he was a control freak. She, on the other hand, would never be like that. She didn’t push her own opinion or inveigle people into doing what she wanted. Nor did she suffer from an overweening urge to be helpful.

  She was off topic, anyway. This was about Grey Barlow and…and his pushy opinions and behaviour.

  Yes, that was what it was about.

  Grey muttered something.

  Soph didn’t catch it.

  He sighed and spoke more loudly. ‘After you’ve done that tape, I’d like you to get on to the Internet, please, and research…’ He rattled off the information he wanted, made sure she’d jotted it all down and turned back to his work.

  Setting aside her questions for now, Soph did what he had asked.

  For the rest of the morning her employer focused almost exclusively on the deal that was in trouble—and it clearly was in trouble.

  The longer he worked, the more guilt gnawed at her. ‘Did my re-routing the phone yesterday lunch time contribute to these problems?’ she blurted when he had a break in phone calls.

  His gaze snapped to hers. For a moment he stared at her blankly, and then he shook his head. ‘The Beacon’s Cove project has been difficult from the start, unfortunately.’ His expression softened. ‘You didn’t create any added difficulties, and I know you meant well.’

  At this niceness, a fresh burst of honesty forced its way out of her. She had to do something to combat the mushy up-swell of happiness. ‘Sometimes I do things simply because I decide they’re right, without maybe consulting much beforehand—’

  ‘No kidding?’ His mockery was gentle.

  He went back to work.

  Soph relaxed—sort of—as much as she could when in the same room as Grey, and a less snarly Grey, at that. Would it last? What if it did and she liked him that way as much as she liked the grumpy version?

  ‘You can be a little overbearing, yourself.’ But the tension had drained out of her so that she smiled as she said it, and then got back to work.

  ‘Will you get those two sheets off the printer and fax them for me?’ Grey asked some time later and moved his foot on the cushion beneath his desk.

  With a nod, Soph walked to the other side of the room. As she sent the fax, the phone rang again.

  ‘Barlow.’ Grey took the call himself.

  Soph assumed it would be more about the Beacon’s Cove project and listened with half an ear.

  ‘You have a generous stipend, Leanna. I’ve explained what you need to do to manage it.’ He sounded both tolerant and frustrated, and his face looked kind of empty, maybe even a little sad.

  That last made Soph start across the room towards him, though she didn’t know what she would do when she got there. She stopped again when he went on.

  ‘If you’re in trouble, sell off some of the goods you bought that maxed out your cards and use the money to pay off your debts.’

  A short pause ensued in which Soph hovered and shuffled the papers in her hands, not quite knowing whether to go to her desk and pretend she wasn’t listening or leave the room to give him privacy.

  He spoke again. ‘Now that’s sorted, I guess I’ll speak with you some time and…thanks for asking after my health. Goodbye, Leanna.’ He ended the call and rubbed the back of his neck.

  Well, there didn’t seem much point in ignoring what had happened. ‘I take it one of your past stepmothers likes spending money?’

  ‘They all do.’ He spoke with weariness, not rancour. ‘My father encouraged the trait during his time with each of them and, to his credit, he set them all up generously and equally when the relationships ended and left them well provided for at his death. They just don’t always manage their money very well.’

  ‘I can’t imagine having three different mothers.’ Soph hadn’t got much joy out of her sole experience. ‘My sisters and I only had the one. She wasn’t exactly maternal at any time, and she left altogether with my father when I was still in early high school.’

  ‘It was four wives my father had, actually.’ He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders. ‘My mother died when I was five years old. I don’t remember much about her. I’ve forgotten a lot of it, actually. Domesticity really isn’t my thing.’ He paused and drew a breath. ‘I’m sorry about your past…’

  He was, she could tell. But he was also warning her off.

  ‘I’m sorry about yours. Anyway, my situation is no biggie.’ She waved the sympathy away even as she accepted the sting of his words.

  Domesticity really isn’t my thing.

  He had simply confirmed what she’d suspected. Perhaps the words saddened her because they made for a lonely future for him? Yes, it must be that.

  And what about your future, Soph? When will you be ready to trust in love?

  A silly thought. She could be ready any time, if she chose to be.

  ‘My sisters were all I needed, anyway.’ She focused on that and pushed the other thoughts aside.

  Grey probably preferred not to think about all this. For his sake she needed to come up with a change of subject now. It was a forte of hers to take the heat o
ff, so why could she only gaze at him, at the wounded arm in its cast with another loose pullover top pushed up above his elbow like yesterday? At the width of shoulders she had seen unclothed even though she’d been uninvited at the time?

  Why couldn’t she forget how he looked, how she reacted to him? ‘Um…’

  ‘In regard to the Beacon’s Cove project—all the faxes and phone calls this morning have taken the matter as far as it can go without some stronger discussion.’ Grey found the change of topic for her.

  Soph leaped on it with relief. ‘What can I do to help?’

  ‘I want you to set up a visual link on the computer. I’ve sent emails to schedule a meeting for—’ he glanced at the clock on the wall ‘—fifteen minutes from now. I’ll hear feedback from the other departments first, and then discuss Beacon’s Cove with my two most senior department heads.’

  He outlined how the visual link worked and what she needed to do to set it up. ‘I’ll go upstairs and change clothes. I prefer to greet my senior staff in a suit, even if it will be sans jacket this time.’

  Matching actions to words, he rose from his desk and moved through the doorway. Soph stood there and couldn’t seem to shift her feet until she realised the minutes were ticking away.

  It was possible that she may not have exactly taken in every little nuance of how to set up the link for the conference. She grabbed the pile of cords and plugs he had said she should use and started to unravel them.

  After grappling with various bits and ends for several minutes, Soph had to admit defeat. She picked up the phone and called her brother-in-law on his private line at his Melbourne shipping office.

  ‘Nate Barrett.’ Just the calm tone helped her take a deep breath.

  ‘It’s me, Soph. Do you know how to set up a visual conference thingy on the computer?’ She explained what she had done, all Grey’s directions and the resulting non-event currently on the screen.

  Her brother-in-law chuckled and sorted her out in about thirty seconds, then asked about her new job, when the family might expect to see her, and shared his daughter’s latest exploits.

  These included squealing in her great-grandfather’s ear, getting into everything at ground level and being able to make ‘phhtpht’ noises—a raspberry without the bubbles—this she usually demonstrated in a silent moment in the queue at the bank or the grocers.

  ‘She’s the cleverest nine-month-old in existence,’ her father boasted.

  ‘Naturally.’ Soph laughed, then heard steps approach behind her. ‘Gotta go, Nate. I love you so much for helping me. Bye.’

  ‘A personal call?’ Grey asked in a carefully neutral tone, but the look in his eyes wasn’t neutral. It was snappish. And interested. In a way he clearly didn’t want to be.

  ‘Not really a personal call, no.’ In a tone a little too breathless for her comfort, she went on to explain. ‘I phoned my brother-in-law and asked him to help me figure out the problem with your conference link. I didn’t want to disturb you while you were dressing and there wasn’t a lot of spare time.’

  ‘You got it sorted?’ His gaze remained locked on her.

  ‘Yes, I think I have it under control.’ She wasn’t sure about herself, though. Because she took a proper look at him then—not only into his eyes—and her heart climbed up and lodged in her throat at the sight he made.

  ‘Ah, you look, ah—’ Stunning, gorgeous, overwhelmingly male and powerful and compelling. All those words fitted. Soph settled for a lame, ‘—businesslike.’

  He moved forward and she saw the faint tinge of heat high on his cheekbones. Because she had complimented him? Or maybe because he’d read all the things she didn’t say when their gazes had met? Oh, she didn’t want him to think she was fixated on him!

  ‘A suit,’ she said quickly, her aplomb gone, ‘suits you.’

  At that he smiled, and her heart flipped over again.

  ‘I need your help.’ His smile faded into something a whole lot less cheerful.

  The disgruntled expression deepened as he went on to explain what he needed. ‘The top buttonhole is tight. I can’t do it up one-handed and I can’t do the tie at all.’

  ‘No problem.’ She wouldn’t allow there to be any problems. This was just business, even if it was the first time he’d admitted he actually needed her help, and that admission made her all warm and happy, which was a really, really foolish reaction on her part, and she would have to get up close and personal with his body…

  ‘It’s just buttons and a tie,’ she muttered, took the tie from his hand and tossed it on to the desk. ‘I’ll do the button first. Sorry if I strangle you a bit in the process. It’s not as easy when you’re not the one wearing the shirt.’

  ‘Have a lot of experience with other people’s buttons, do you?’ The words were low and instantly regretted if the look on his face was any indication.

  Yeah. Real smart to be pleased that he was still fighting an attraction to her. The point was he did fight it. He didn’t want to feel that way. Same as she didn’t.

  Grey was still looking at her and, despite his annoyance, he couldn’t seem to draw his gaze away.

  Soph resorted to ignoring the problem and did the button up as fast as she could. She reached for the tie and put it around her own neck where she could lower her gaze and focus on making a loose knot.

  ‘I dressed the occasional doll during my childhood.’ She kept a deliberate light tone in her voice but her senses remained heightened in awareness of him.

  She transferred the tie to his neck, fixed it just so and tilted her head to examine the results. ‘You look fine.’ Too fine for her peace of mind, but she couldn’t seem to help that at the moment.

  ‘I’d be happier in the jacket as well, but at least I managed to get the shirt over the cast.’ The cuff of that sleeve hung open. ‘Thank you for helping me to look as respectable as I can.’

  He did that. Grumped his head off, and then let her know he noted and appreciated her efforts, even if just in a hint about not-coffee. The man had his contradictions. It was a pity Soph found those contradictions intriguing rather than irritating or just plain unappealing.

  ‘I’m glad I could help, and I’m sure you’ll put out a good image to your staff.’

  He stepped around her, moved to his desk, sat and positioned his foot on the cushion.

  It was a reprieve, a chance for her to pull herself together. Soph sat, laid her hands on the computer keyboard and hoped she could type a coherent sentence.

  The man had simply appeared in business clothing. It was no big deal.

  ‘It’s time for the conference. Type your notes straight into the computer and save the data often.’ He spoke without looking at her. ‘Don’t worry about making it neat. Just get the details down.’

  Grey gave Sophia her instructions and turned his attention to his visual conference. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? Maybe the blood pressure prescription the doctor had forced on him had messed with his mind. There had to be some explanation for his ongoing, deepening and completely unwelcome response to his temporary assistant.

  ‘It’s quite ridiculous,’ he muttered, then snapped to attention when he realised his mind had wandered. ‘Sorry, Jones. Please repeat what you just said. The link went fuzzy for a moment.’ The link inside Grey’s head, that was.

  After reports from the others, Grey dismissed them, and Coates and McCarty filled him in on the Beacon’s Cove project. They admitted the news wasn’t good.

  ‘Tell me what you know—’ Grey leaned forward in his chair ‘—and everything you’re thinking. There has to be a way for us to resolve this so we don’t end up losing those millions.’

  A small gasp came from Sophia before her fingers continued on her keyboard with renewed vigour. Grey took no notice. He didn’t notice anything, in truth, until he ended the conference two hours later and realised he wasn’t exactly relaxed. He rubbed at his breastbone. Something in there felt tied in knots.

  ‘I’ve s
aved all the notes on to the computer. Do you want me to try to correlate them, put them into point form or something before I get dinner? I’ve had no chance to start a meal.’ Soph asked it tentatively because, well, she didn’t deal in millions of dollars and the idea of her employer possibly losing such an amount of money on a single deal gone wrong boggled her mind.

  Grey turned his glance her way and seemed almost surprised to see her still seated there. There were lines of strain around his mouth. ‘I think at this stage you can just keep the notes and we’ll refer to them if I want to check on details about anything that was said. Maybe you could organise something quick for us to eat.’ Frustration leached through his weariness and into his words. ‘Then—I don’t know. I’m limited in what I can do from here. I’ve told the others to do what they can…’ He trailed off.

  Soph prepared coconut-topped apricot egg custard and put it in the oven to bake. While it cooked she whipped together a vegetable stir-fry and savoury glazed meatballs in a mango chutney sauce. She got the food on the table quickly and, when she heard no signs of movement close by, went searching for Grey.

  She found him reclined on the sofa in the living room, his foot up, the physio sheet on the coffee table in front of him. His eyes were closed, his skin pale beneath his tan. The man was exhausted, but not asleep. He looked up as he heard her approach.

  ‘You look ill.’ She watched his gaze slowly focus on her and hoped he wouldn’t choose to growl. Not while he looked like this.

  ‘I’m fine. There’s no pain. A little discomfort in the ankle, but that’s nothing new and the rest has settled.’ He got to his feet, swaying slightly before he found his balance.

  What rest? Soph wanted to rush forward and prop him up but she could imagine how well that would be received. ‘Come and eat, then. Maybe the energy boost will help. The food isn’t overly spiced.’ She thought of him rubbing his chest. ‘If you have indigestion…’

  ‘There is nothing wrong with my digestion.’ He cut her a monster-snarl look from beneath beetled brows. ‘Do we have to discuss this?’