was, of course.
In a few weeks’ time summer would be gone.
Of course it would come around again, but this summer, this one, would never return.
‘Was Gordon upset when you finished with him?’ Luka asked. ‘And before you tell me that it’s private, I know it is.’
‘So why ask now?’
‘Because you’re the best PA I’ve ever had, and I didn’t want to push you into leaving by getting too personal, but now that you’ve already resigned I don’t have to behave.’
‘Yes, you do,’ Cecelia said, and though her voice remained even there was a flurry of nerves low in her stomach as to what her boldness today had unleashed.
So she answered the question.
‘Yes, he was upset, although, to be honest, I think he was more embarrassed than upset.’
‘No, I imagine he was very upset,’ Luka said in his deep, low voice, and met her eyes. Suddenly the cool breeze from the river felt like a warm one.
At times, Luka would disregard her professional boundaries and flirt with her.
Like now.
That little hint of his silken charm carried from his lips and sent a slow shiver the length of Cecelia’s spine.
‘I’d better get back to the office,’ Cecelia said, ‘and set up for your meeting.’
But he would prefer to linger.
The changing world was waiting and it was nice to be here by the river.
With her.
‘Garcia can wait,’ Luka said.
‘One day he might get tired of waiting.’
‘I doubt it,’ Luka said. ‘Right now he wants to wrap up the purchase.’
‘I thought you wanted a hotel in New York City.’
‘I do,’ Luka said, ‘but at a price of my choosing. Anyway, we need to talk about your replacement.’
‘I’ve informed the agency you generally use,’ Cecelia said, and Luka frowned.
‘You weren’t referred via them?’
‘No.’ Cecelia shook her head.
‘Ah, that’s right, you were working for Justin. How did you end up with him?’
‘Via the agency,’ Cecelia said, and she itched to get back and away from his gaze but Luka wasn’t letting her go just yet.
‘How did you become a PA?’
More questions, Cecelia thought, but this wasn’t such a personal one and so she was a little freer in her response. ‘I never intended to be. When I finished school I had wanted to travel,’ she told him, ‘or go to university, but...’ Cecelia hesitated. ‘My uncle had a friend who needed a nanny in France. I spoke French—well, a little—and he said that way I’d get to travel and work at the same time.’
‘The trust fund ran out, you mean.’
‘Sorry?’ Cecelia blinked.
‘They would have received money to raise you, but once you turned eighteen—’
‘No,’ Cecelia interrupted. ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’ She shook her head. ‘They were very good to take me in.’
‘Did they have children?’
‘No,’ Cecelia said, and she swallowed because she believed they had very much been childless by choice.
Luka’s comments needled for she had always felt rather in the way with her aunt and uncle, not that she’d admit it to him. ‘My uncle had a contact who needed a nanny.’
‘Really, Cece! You? A nanny?’
He could not imagine the very crisp and proper Cecelia working with children and he actually smiled at the very thought, parting those gorgeous lips to show his pearly white teeth.
Gosh, he had such a nice mouth.
‘I hated it,’ Cecelia admitted. ‘I lasted four weeks before I gave notice, but then the mother, a television producer, asked if I could work for her instead. I guess it all started from there.’
‘Do you still see your aunt and uncle?’
‘Of course,’ Cecelia said confidently, although inside she wavered for it had always been her making the effort rather than them.
They hadn’t so much as sent a text for her birthday.
Perhaps a card would have arrived in the mail when she got home.
Or there would be flowers on her doorstep.
Yet she knew there wouldn’t be.
Her birthday had passed by unnoticed again and it hurt.
She would not let Luka see it, of course, but his comment about the trust-fund money drying up had perturbed her.
‘Do you want dessert?’ he asked, knowing the answer.
‘No, thank you.’
‘Tough,’ Luka said. ‘You’re getting one.’
She went to ask what he meant but at that moment the background music wafting out of the restaurant changed to a very familiar tune and she turned as she saw a waiter with a slice of cake and atop it a candle.
The tune was ‘Happy Birthday’!
And it was being played for her.
‘Luka...’
Cecelia was embarrassed.
Pleased.
And utterly caught by surprise.
No one remembered her birthday.
Ever.
As a child, it had fallen in the school holidays and her mother had only liked grown-up parties, certainly not the type Cecelia had dreamed of. And after she had died, Cecelia hadn’t readily made friends. In fact, at boarding school she had been endlessly teased and bullied.
At eighteen, her aunt and uncle had given up on the perfunctory birthday card and last-minute present, which had always, always been something she needed rather than something she might want.
This was the first time that she’d truly been spoiled on her birthday.
There were two spoons and the cake was completely delectable—vanilla sponge drizzled in thick lemon syrup
