as he glanced through the pile of correspondence Jenna had left for him to sign.
There was no problem with her diligence, he mused. His eyes had strayed with irritating monotony to the figure working in the outer office, but she hadn’t glanced up from her work, and his earlier reservations were subsiding. The problem was him, he acknowledged grimly. It had taken sheer determination to stop himself from strolling out to talk to her, and he had invented several reasons for doing just that, discarding them with derision—he would appear too obvious or, worse, desperate.
She wasn’t even his type. His usual girlfriends were tall and elegant, and, having been blessed with wealth, looks and an innate charm, he could choose from the cream of London’s socialites. So why had he spent the morning planning on taking his temporary secretary to lunch? Even worse, having missed his chance, how was he going to glean from the frighteningly efficient Katrin where Jenna had gone?
In the event it was the receptionist on the front desk who told him Jenna had asked for directions to the nearest park, and as he stepped out into the damp autumn air he was still arguing with himself over his reasons for seeking her out.
The park was a small oasis of tranquillity amidst the hubbub of the city, and as Jenna stared up through the trees she felt her tension ease. As first days went it had been a disaster, she thought dismally, although hopefully the quality of her work would meet Alex Morrell’s high standards and he wouldn’t dismiss her at the end of day one. She was still indignant that he hadn’t believed her reason for being late, and was half tempted to tell him to stick his job, but her hot temper had always been her Achilles’ heel, and at twenty-four it was time she learned to control it.
So much depended on her keeping this job; without its high salary she was in danger of losing the house, of having to uproot Maisie and move away from everything that was familiar to the little girl. At her interview Margaret had hinted that Pippa, the secretary on maternity leave, might possibly decide not to return to work at all, in which case the post of secretarial assistant would become permanent. Not that she could keep Maisie a secret for ever, Jenna fretted, but if she could prove to Alex that she had foolproof childcare arrangements then perhaps the fact that she had a daughter would no longer be an issue.
Did he dislike children? she wondered. Or was it simply that he had little sympathy for working mothers? Neither reason endeared him to her, so why had she been unable to dismiss his handsome face from her mind all morning? He was sex on legs, she acknowledged with a rueful smile, and it had taken sheer will-power to prevent her eyes from straying towards the dark tinted glass that separated her office from his.
‘So, you decided on lunch al fresco?’ A voice as cool and clear as a mountain stream trickled over her and she was unable to repress a shiver, felt goosebumps prickle her skin as she turned her head. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’
He had already sat down on the bench and her tension returned with a vengeance. She wished he would go, and at the same time wanted him to stay. She needed to look at him again, although one peep was enough to send her pulse racing, and with a determined effort she dragged her eyes away and stared at the ducks on the pond.
‘Help yourself,’ she answered, striving to sound cool and composed, but aware that her voice was starting to sound breathless.
‘I had planned on taking you to lunch, to give us a chance to get to know one another properly.’
Jenna swung round, her eyes colliding with his sapphire gaze, and she swallowed, her nerves jangling when she discovered how close he was. His hair was the colour of jet, cropped uncompromisingly short so that she noted the hard planes of his face, the classically sculpted cheekbones and square jaw. There were laughter lines around his eyes and she longed to see him smile, for his eyes to glint with warmth when he looked at her.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. Do you do that with all your new staff? Take them to lunch, I mean?’ she added, disconcerted by his intense appraisal.
‘No,’ he replied, and reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek.
The gesture was so intimate that she felt herself blush. He was too close for comfort. She was aware of the tantalising musk of his aftershave, the warmth of his breath on her skin.
‘We didn’t get off on the best of footings this morning,’ he continued quietly, and she knew he was referring to her lateness and the unbelievable reason for it. He still considered that she had lied, she realised; she opened her mouth to protest her innocence, looked into his eyes and lost the ability to think.
‘Would you like a sandwich?’ she offered, frantically searching for something to say to break the silence that thrummed with electricity.
‘What’s in them?’ he queried, glancing at the unappealing squares of white bread on her knee.
‘Jam.’
His expression was faintly disbelieving as he held up his hand. ‘I’ll pass, thanks. I haven’t eaten jam since I was a child.’
She wasn’t lunching on jam sandwiches out of choice either, Jenna thought, irritated by his amusement. What had he expected? Smoked salmon? Although in fairness that was probably the sort of lunch he was used to, and she certainly couldn’t reveal that she had saved the last slices of cheese for Maisie’s lunch.
‘I need to go shopping,’ she admitted as she picked up a sandwich, but her appetite seemed to have vanished along with her peace of mind.
‘There’s a little bistro at the edge of the park that serves lovely food and the best lemon meringue pie,’ Alex added, with another glance at her pathetic lunch. ‘Shall we start afresh over something to eat? I watched you working like a demon this morning; you must be hungry.’
‘You watched me?’ For a second Jenna envisaged him snooping on her through some sort of spyhole, her dismay written all over her face, and he could not prevent his smile.
‘The glass walls between our offices are tinted, but I can see out quite well. I hope you don’t find that unsettling?’
She did, hugely, but could hardly admit it. Thank God she hadn’t drifted off into one of her daydreams, where she lost all concept of time and filled several sheets of paper with sketches. She didn’t think he would be quite so friendly if he deemed her a time waster, and once again she realised that the job at Morrell and Partners was light years away from her comfortable existence at Philips and Co.
‘Do you know those little gold freckles across your nose are really beautiful?’
Alex Morrell had little in common with the fatherly Mr Philips either, Jenna acknowledged, sheer panic sending her jumping to her feet. Faced with the full force of his charm she quailed.
‘You must be a mind reader. I love lemon meringue pie. And I hate my freckles,’ she added on an afterthought. ‘I’ve got them everywhere.’
‘Really?’ She steadfastly ignored the wicked glint in his eyes, and to her relief he said no more on the subject of freckles or their whereabouts and led the way across the park to the bistro.
Alex Morrell was something else, Jenna mused as she stirred her coffee and contemplated the best lunch she had eaten in months. As if stunning good looks were not enough, he was witty, charming and fiercely intelligent, and he had entertained her with tales of past court cases and amusing incidents from his life as a barrister. All through lunch she had listened and laughed, utterly captivated, so that she’d relaxed and unknowingly lowered the
