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
