hadn’t heard him come in. He looked impossibly handsome as usual, dressed in a dark blue business suit which deepened the blue of his eyes and contrasted nicely with the fair hair. His shirt was a dazzling white, his tie a stylish blue-and-silver stripe.
‘You ought to talk,’ Harriet said, thinking of all her boss had done for Romany. ‘Might I remind you that you were the one who insisted on buying all the top-of-the-line cat accessories.’
‘Had to do something to stop my PA from crying her eyes out.’
‘I wasn’t doing any such thing.’
‘You were close to,’ he reminded her.
I suppose I was, she thought as she picked up the plate, washed it thoroughly and put it away, not wanting any of the staff to start complaining about the smell of fishy cat food. Not that they would. They all loved Romany. Unlike Dwayne. He hadn’t loved Romany at all; had complained like mad when Harriet had brought the poor starving animal home a couple of months ago after she’d found him cowering and crying under her car one Saturday night. He’d insisted she take it to the RSPCA the very next day, which she had, hopeful that they would find him a good home.
Impossible, they’d said. No one would want a seriously old cat like Romany. Unable to bear leaving him there to be put down, in desperation she’d taken him to work on the Monday, where she’d asked if anyone would give him a home. When no one had put their hand up, Alex had said he could be the office cat. Always a man of action, he’d immediately had a cat flap installed in the store room, then had taken Harriet out to buy whatever was necessary to keep the cat happy and clean. The cleaners had been informed of Romany’s presence so that precautions could be taken for him not to escape.
Harriet recalled feeling overwhelmed by Alex’s generosity and kindness at the time whilst seething with resentment over Dwayne’s meanness. As she bent and scooped the cat up in her arms, she realised that the incident with Romany had been the beginning of the end of their relationship. Being an animal lover was, after all, one of her checklist points. After that, she’d begun to look at Dwayne with different eyes. The rose-coloured glasses that came with falling in love had definitely come off. His constant refusal to give any money to charity was a sore point. So was his not doing his share of housework around the flat. When she’d complained to Emily about this, she’d just laughed, saying Harry expected way too much from men.
‘They expect their women to look after them,’ her best friend had told her. ‘It’s in their DNA. They’re the protectors and providers, whilst their women are the homemakers and nurturers.’
Harriet hadn’t agreed with Emily, hoping the world had moved on from expecting women to be happy with such narrow roles in life. No way was she going to settle for less than what she wanted in life, which was an interesting career, as well as a husband who ticked all of the boxes on her Mister Right checklist. Dwayne had certainly ticked the first three, but had begun seriously falling down on the rest. His suggestion a month ago that she buy her wedding dress second-hand on the Internet had been the last straw!
‘So has the kettle boiled?’ Alex asked, interrupting Harriet’s none-too-happy thoughts.
‘Should have,’ she said.
Dropping the cat gently on the tiled floor, she set about getting two mugs down from the overhead cupboard. ‘It’s not like you to be late,’ she added, doing her best to ignore the instant churning in her stomach. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him today after all...
‘I slept in,’ he replied. ‘Then traffic was bad. I’m going to need a bagel with my coffee.’
‘Fine. Oh, and, Alex...’ she said before he had the opportunity to walk away and before she could procrastinate further. ‘When you have a minute, I...um...I need to talk to you about something.’
He sighed a rather weary-sounding sigh. ‘Look, Harry, if you’re going to complain about the way I spoke to you yesterday, then don’t bother. I’m sorry. All right? I was in a bad mood and I took it out on you, which I realise was unforgiveable, but I’m only human. If you must know, I broke up with Lisa at the weekend.’
‘Oh,’ she said, not really surprised. Of the three girls Alex had dated during the time she’d worked for him, Lisa had been the most annoying with that silly laugh of hers, not to mention the way she would drop into the office unannounced. Alex hadn’t liked that, and neither had Harriet. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added a little belatedly.
‘I’m not. Not really.’ Alex stared at her hard for a long moment. ‘You’re not going to quit, are you?’
Her shocked expression must have soothed him, for his eyes immediately softened. But it underlined to Harriet that Alex was not a man who responded well to being crossed or thwarted. She’d always known he was a tough businessman, but she’d never seen him seriously angry. It wasn’t in his nature to be mean, but she suspected he had a temper, like most men.
‘No, nothing like that,’ she said quickly.
‘Then out with it, Harriet. I don’t like to wait for bad news.’
‘It’s not bad news,’ she said, startled by his calling her Harriet like that. She’d always liked the way he called her Harry. There was a subtle intimacy about it which made her feel like his friend as well as his assistant. Obviously, she’d been deluding herself in that regard.
‘Well, not bad news for you,’ she went on sharply, doing her best to control a whole range of emotions which began bombarding her. The sudden lump in her throat alarmed her.
‘The thing is, Alex, I...I’ve broken off my engagement to Dwayne.’
His expression carried a measure of shock, quickly followed by one of genuine sympathy.
When tears pricked at her eyelids, panic was only a heartbeat away.
‘I’m very sorry to hear that, Harry,’ he said gently. ‘Very sorry indeed.’
His calling her Harry like that completed her undoing, bringing a wave of emotion which shattered her pretend composure and sent a torrent of tears into her eyes.
ALEX’S SHOCK AT Harriet’s news was eclipsed by her bursting into tears. For not once during the months she’d worked for him had she ever cried. Or come close to it, except perhaps over the cat. She was the epitome of common sense and composure, pragmatic and practical under pressure at all times. Even when he snapped at her—as he had yesterday—she just ignored him and went on with her job. Which he admired.
He didn’t care for women who cried at the drop of a hat or used tears as a weapon. He’d been brought up by a woman who’d been very stalwart by nature, a legacy perhaps of being born poor in war-torn Hungary, she and Alex’s father having migrated to Australia when they’d been just newlyweds. They’d hoped to make a better life down under. Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened. But his mother had never complained, or cried.
‘Crying doesn’t get you anywhere,’ his mother had told her three children often enough.
She had cried, however, when she’d found out she was dying of cervical cancer, a condition which could have been cured if she’d been diagnosed early enough.
Don’t think about that, Alex. Attend to the here
