Desk Job (London Menage Book 2) Read online

It all took longer than planned and I realized the office had gone quiet. From what I could gather, there was just Andre still in his office and me sitting outside, like a guard on sentry duty.

  I glanced at my watch. It was past seven. I tutted. This is what happened. I lost track of time. I would have to grab something to eat on the way home, otherwise I wouldn’t bother and I knew that wasn’t good for me.

  Standing, I straightened my pale green dress, and went into the office. Andre appeared to be deep in concentration with the documents in front of him as he twirled a pen between his fingers.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Mmm … not really.” He shook his head. “I’m glad I took the time to go through this with a fine-toothed comb. A couple of things are not as agreed.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. These legalities are not the sort of thing that can be rushed or that you can keep getting distracted from.”

  “I agree.”

  He pushed it to one side and laid the pen on the top. “But I’ve done it now. Gent will just have to wait until it’s correct for Wainwright and Bramon too. And if that means another sweep through by our lawyers, so be it.”

  “And that discussion can wait until tomorrow now.”

  He looked at the big clock that sat on a shelf to his right. “It will have to. Lawyers don’t work after five-thirty.” He stood and reached for his suit jacket that was set on the back of his chair. “Have you eaten?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Have you eaten? It’s late and I’d planned on debriefing with you about how your first few days have gone. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Perhaps we could have the conversation over dinner rather than hanging about here any longer.”

  “Dinner. Now?” Was my handsome new boss seriously asking me to go out for dinner with him? Didn’t he have some pretty girlfriend to whisk off to the theater or something?

  “Yes, now.” He stepped around the desk and came up close to me.

  Fuck. I tried to imagine an invisible shield around myself that would protect my hormones from his allure, from his gorgeous cologne, his wide shoulders, sexy eyes.

  But it was no good.

  “There’s a nice Italian restaurant, not far from here. I usually manage to get a table if I drop in,” he said with a smile.

  “Italian?” I tried not to squeak.

  “Don’t you like Italian?” A small crease formed between his eyebrows.

  “Er, yes, of course. I mean I do, very much.”

  He smiled again. The soft, easy smile I’d gotten used to him showing to everyone as the week had gone past. “Good. Let’s go then.”

  ****

  Twenty minutes later I felt like I’d been transported to Italy. The restaurant, situated down a small back street, was a hive of activity and Italian was being spoken by the majority of staff and customers. The scent of garlic and parmesan and herby tomatoes filled the air, and the walls were crammed with pictures of Tuscany, Rome and Venice.

  “What do you think?” Andre asked, pouring us each a glass of pinot from the bottle he’d ordered as we’d sat.

  “It’s lovely.” I smiled, and as I looked around, realized that I was really hungry. It had been ages since I’d had lunch and I’d forgotten to eat my mid-afternoon snack. “It’s like stepping into another country in here.”

  “I always feel the same way.” He smiled. “Which is probably one of the reasons I like it so much.” He held up his drink. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” I did the same and we clinked glasses. “What are we toasting?”

  “To the fact that you’ve lasted three days without running off.”

  “I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch.”

  “That’s kind of you but I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch. You’ve only had me to deal with this week. Tristan will be back on Monday.”

  “Well if he’s anything like you, I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “He’s not like me.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “He’s the handsome one.” He laughed.

  I laughed too then bit on my bottom lip. Andre must be joking. He was so damn cute I’d had to stop myself going to sleep with thoughts of him spinning in my mind. The more I’d gotten to know him, the more I’d seen what a lovely genuine person he was on top of the good looks.

  “But he can also be a bit … brisk.” Andre’s smile dropped a little.

  “Brisk?”

  “Yeah, you know, when he’s busy he can be a bit sharp. He doesn’t mean to be. He’s just in the zone, getting things done. Doing his stuff.”

  “I can handle that … in fact…”

  “What?”

  “I think brisk is good.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes, I can be a bit brisk too, if I need to be.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “For example your staff need to leave you to be in the zone a bit more often. I’m happy to be a bit brisk with them in order for that to happen.”

  “What do you mean?” He leaned forward and set his forearms on the table.

  “Well, forgive me if I’m speaking out of line, but they wander in and out of your office regardless of what you’re doing.”

  “I like to think my door is always open. It’s an open office policy. They can come to me with any problems or issues they might be having whenever they want.”

  “Well yes … and that’s all well and good but…” I paused.

  “Please, go on.”

  “But there’s open door and then there’s never having any time to concentrate on a project. As soon as you get involved in something that needs your attention, it seems to me you get disturbed.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  I was quiet for a moment, letting what I’d said sink in.

  “So do you have a solution?” he asked, sitting back and clasping his hands behind his head, his elbows stretched to the side.

  I tried not to gaze at the way his shirt stretched over his torso and kept my attention on his face. “Yes, from now on they have to get past me.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “What, like keeper of the gate?”

  “Or the guardian of your sanity.”

  “You’re questioning my sanity?” He dropped his hands back to his sides.

  I didn’t think there was anything wrong with Andre’s sanity. He was one of the most switched on guys I’d come across in a long time. “No, not at the moment, but how long can you work at this speed?”

  “True.”

  The waiter appeared. Carbonara was on the specials list and the thought of all that creamy pasta made my mouth water so I ignored the calories and opted for that. Andre did the same and ordered extra garlic bread too.

  “So how will it work?” he asked. “You guarding my door.”

  “It’s simply a change in routine, habits. People can ask me if you’re free. If you’re not, then they can leave whatever it is they want to show you with me, or arrange a time when you’ll be able to discuss it with them.”

  “Go on.”

  “And twice, during the day, I’ll pop in with a list of all these matters so you can prioritize them. That way you don’t have to get engaged in chit chat about things you really shouldn’t be wasting time on.”

  “But—?”

  “It will work fine. I promise. I’ve used this strategy with everyone I’ve been PA for in the past. It’s the most time efficient thing to do.”

  “It will work fine.” He paused. “You promise?” He reached for his drink and took a sip.

  I mimicked his action. The wine was cool and refreshing. “Yes. I promise.”

  “Well in that case, Stella, I’ll put my faith and my time management in your capable hands.”

  His smile sent a warm wave of arousal through me. It was so genuine and gentle, as though I was the only other person in the room, heck the only other person in the world. The guy must have left a trail of broken hearts in hi
s wake over the years.

  “And will Tristan be up for it too?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Between you and me, I don’t think Tristan gets as bothered by the staff as often as I do.”

  “Because he’s not as approachable?” My pre-conceptions of the now infamous Tristan were building him into a cantankerous character in my mind.

  “He’s certainly approachable when it matters. When clinching a deal. But when it comes to the people who work for him, he wants efficiency, investment, the best out of them. I think that comes across as…”

  “Being an old grump.”

  Andre tipped his head back and laughed. A real hearty bellow that made his chest swell beneath his shirt.

  I wondered if I’d gone too far.

  “Old grump. Yep, that’s him, and do you know what, Stella?”

  “What?”

  “I think you’ll handle him just fine.”

  “I hope so.” Though I couldn’t deny a few nerves were building the more I heard about Tristan Wainwright.

  “Oh, you will. Trust me, you will. And what’s more, he’s going to adore you.”

  I was about to reply that I hoped for that too, but a waiter arrived at our table. He held two large bowls of steaming pasta which he set before us. After a nod and a smile from us both, he then sprinkled them with parmesan and black pepper.

  The smells drifting up were divine. A plate of carbs like this would have been a trigger for me at one point. Something I wouldn’t even want to look at, but that wasn’t who I was any more, so I picked up my fork and began to swirl the soft, cream-coated strands against a spoon.

  “Where are you from?” Andre asked as he did the same with his meal.

  “Originally from Cambridge but I moved down to London several years ago.”

  “And what brought you here?”

  “A PA job with better money and prospects. Plus, I’d always wanted to live in the big city. Bright lights and all that.”

  “And great shopping, restaurants, and theater.”

  “Yes, all of that, but what I actually really love is the vibe. London is beautiful whatever the season, whatever the weather. I enjoy the parks and the museums and people watching.”

  “People watching?” He tipped his head as though wanting me to go on.

  “I write poetry.” Why had I just said that? I never told people about that small but much loved hobby of mine.

  “Poetry.” He nodded slowly and put a fork full of food into his mouth.

  “Yes and people watching, sitting observing, it gives me inspiration. It’s easy to think everyone is the same, has the same ideas, values, hopes and aspirations. But listening and watching people when they’re going about their day to day business, it gives me ideas for my poems.”

  “Like a snap shot of their lives?”

  “Yes, that exactly.” I popped in a swirl of pasta and began to chew.

  “I’d like to read your poems.”

  Yeah, right. I kind of smiled. I didn’t let anyone read my poems. I swallowed then had another sip of my wine. “And what do you do for fun, to relax.”

  “To relax?”

  “Yes, you must relax some of the time.”

  “Well, no not really. Unless you count being asleep.”

  “No hobbies?”

  He shook his head. “The business has been my hobby for as many years as I can remember. I don’t have time for much else.”

  “Wow.” I scooped up another piece of pasta. “What does your girlfriend think of that?” What the fuck…? Why had I said that? What was going on with my mouth? It was tipping out words that hadn’t come from my brain.

  He half shrugged and set his blue gaze on me. “No time for a girlfriend.”

  “Oh.”

  “I didn’t have time for a wife either. She left me three years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His smile dropped. “You must think me a very sad and boring man.”

  “Not at all.” His wife left him. No girlfriend because he didn’t have the time. That was a bit sad. “Perhaps I should schedule dates into your diary.”

  “And would you be keeper of the gate then? Vetting women for suitability?”

  “Well…” A rise of heat crept up my cheeks. “I really don’t think that would be my place.”

  He reached out and put his hand over mine. “I’m sorry. I’m teasing.”

  My cheeks continued to burn. I knew they’d be red.

  “And I shouldn’t do that to you, tease that is. I’m trying to keep you on board not scare you away.”

  I looked at the way his big fingers had curled over my knuckles. His palm was warm and his shirt sleeve had fallen away to reveal a wrist coated in downy pale hairs and an expensive looking watch.

  “I am on board,” I managed.

  He moved his hand and picked up his fork again. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  The conversation moved on to travel and my cheeks cooled. Andre had been all over the world with Wainwright and Bramon and seen places I’d dreamed of visiting. I adored his story about hiking on the Great Wall of China and then he made me laugh with a tale about getting lost in Bangkok on the floating market.

  The restaurant emptied and as I finished the last mouthful of one of the best tiramisus I’d ever eaten, I realized it was late. “I should get going.”

  He shoved at his sleeve and checked the time. “Yes, it’s heading toward eleven o’clock.” He signaled for the bill.

  “Gosh, really.”

  He smiled. “I guess we got carried away chatting about nothing and everything.”

  I matched his smile. It was infectious, easy to respond to. “I enjoyed it. Thank you.”

  The bill arrived and he quickly took it.

  I opened my mouth, ready to offer to go halves.

  “No thanks required,” he said quickly. “And this is on me. It’s the least I can do. You’ve been amazing getting to grips with everything. I couldn’t have hoped for better.”

  A heavenly sensation of being appreciated washed through me. The wine had given me a light feeling and all was perfect. “Well, thank you very much.”

  “Not required.” He winked and set a gold credit card on the bill.

  Fuck. He winked at me.

  Was he flirting? Or was this just how Andre was? I didn’t know him well enough to judge it.

  We stepped outside and I slipped my light summer jacket on.

  Andre stuck out his hand and hailed a taxi.

  I was expecting to get in it alone but he dropped down next to me on the back seat.

  “I want to make sure you get home okay.” He shrugged. “Call me old fashioned.”

  “But, isn’t it out of your way?” I hesitated. “I mean, where do you live?”

  “Chelsea.”

  Of course he did. One of the most exclusive addresses in London. “Well in that case, it is out of your way because I live—.”

  “I know where you live, it was on your CV.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And I won’t rest easy unless I see you to your front door. It’s late and dark.”

  Wow, he was a charmer and a gentleman. Apart from being a workaholic, did he have any flaws? “In that case, thank you.” Protesting seemed feeble, and besides, I enjoyed his company.

  I fastened my seatbelt and sat back with a sigh.

  Andre gave the name of my road to the driver.

  “You okay?” he asked, resting back next to me as the car pulled away from the curb.

  “Yes, fine. A bit sleepy and a lot full.”

  He chuckled. “Nice way to end the evening.”

  No, what would be nice would be to have Andre naked and in my bed, his warm body against mine and his lips trailing down my neck, lower, lower and lower still. I would like to be full of him. Surrendered to him and pleasure.

  I supressed a shudder of desire and knotted my fingers together in my lap.

  I glanced at his face and bit on my bottom lip.

&n
bsp; He was staring straight at me, the headlights of the oncoming cars slipping over his features.

  For a moment, our gazes connected. I wondered if he could read my lusty thoughts. If he could see the image I’d conjured in my mind of us with our limbs tangled and his hands exploring my body, stroking my curves, slipping between my legs.

  “Stella…”

  “Yes?” I was breathing fast. What was he going to say?

  “I … I had a really lovely time this evening.”

  “Me too.” And was it really so weird if we got down and dirty? Boss and secretary relationships worked all the time … right? I could invite him up for coffee, no harm done, then we could see where it went.

  No, what was I thinking? Of course those relationships didn’t work. When it all went wrong it would be the end of my job and I had bills to pay. He’d be okay, he’d just call the agency to send another PA.

  But damn, the guy was cute, and his mouth only inches from mine. If I leaned forward a fraction I could kiss him, find out his flavor and the texture of his lips.

  He was looking at my mouth as though thinking the same thing.

  My heart thudded. It felt almost like a dream to be sitting so close to such a gorgeous man. Except it wasn’t a dream. It was real…

  Suddenly, a loud horn filled the taxi and the vehicle nose-dived to a halt.

  Andre was shunted forward in his seat.

  “Get out of the bloody way,” the driver yelled, waving his fist at a bus.

  “Whoops,” I said, pressing my hand to my chest.

  “That was a bit close for comfort.” Andre sat back and reached for his seatbelt.

  “Sorry about that folks. God only knows where they get these bloody drivers from,” the driver said over his shoulder.

  “No harm done,” Andre said. He turned to me. “You’re all right, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.” I tapped my seatbelt.

  “Good.”

  I was all right except for the fact he was no longer looking at me as though he wanted to kiss me. If I could have gotten away with it, I too, would have shaken my fist at the bus driver for interrupting our moment.

  Andre started to talk about a new project coming up with a famous sports company.

  I nodded and tried to pay attention, but the truth was I just enjoyed listening to his voice.

  All too soon, we pulled up outside my apartment block. The chug of the diesel engine was loud as I undid my seatbelt and did up the top button on my jacket.