breath. How the hell was he supposed to reach them over there? The uncharacteristic sense of helplessness that swept over him made him feel even more irritated.
‘Kit!’ he yelled. ‘Where the hell are you? I need you in here now!’
The door opened almost straight away and variously placed lamps flooded the room with softly diffused lighting. The first thing Hal noticed was that his new assistant had tamed her riot of auburn hair back into its precarious topknot. He didn’t rightly know why that should be such a crime, but to his thinking it was.
‘I need my crutches,’ he said gruffly, carefully swinging his legs to the floor. ‘I’m pretty desperate to get to the bathroom.’
Without a word she immediately went across to the armchair to collect them, then returned to stand in front of him.
‘It might be quicker if you lean on me and hop. It’s just a few feet away, isn’t it?’
‘Sweetheart.’ He glanced up into her pretty blue eyes and intoned, gravel-voiced, ‘I’m six-foot-two and no lightweight. I have only your word that you’re stronger than you look, and I’d rather not risk you getting a broken leg to match mine. Just help me with the crutches, will you?’
A little more au fait with the walking aids since his session with the physiotherapist, Hal was nonetheless pleased to see that Kit had waited for him when he emerged from the bathroom. Keeping a close eye on him, she silently accompanied him back down the hallway and into the living room.
‘Would you like me to get on with dinner now?’ she asked.
Dropping down onto the couch, he stared blankly out of the window, suddenly hypnotised by the still hammering rain. ‘It looks pretty bleak out there, doesn’t it?’ he commented.
‘Perhaps it’s not so bad being forced to stay in this evening in light of the weather?’
There it was again...that surprisingly engaging smile. It completely transformed her otherwise serious demeanour and made Hal think she should smile more often. Not wanting to linger on the idea, he found himself nodding in agreement. For someone who prided himself on not letting even the most extreme weather conditions prevent him from doing what he wanted if he could help it, it was probably a first. Then it struck him what Kit had said just before that last remark.
His brows drawing together in puzzlement, he asked, ‘Shouldn’t we be having lunch first?’
‘I’m afraid lunchtime has come and gone, Mr Treverne. You’ve been asleep since we got back from the hospital and that was nearly four hours ago. It’s just after six in the evening.’
He was genuinely shocked. ‘You’re joking?’
The slender shoulders beneath the mint-green sweater lifted in a gently amused shrug. ‘I promise you I’m not.’
‘Did I take a sleeping pill before I napped? I don’t remember...’
‘No, you didn’t. I think sheer exhaustion probably made you sleep so well. Anyway, you must be hungry. I saw that the fridge was well stocked and I took the liberty of making a beef bolognaise while you were sleeping. By the way, I checked with the agency that you weren’t a vegetarian. I’ve just got to rustle up some pasta and I’ll bring it in to you.’
‘Sounds good. But I’ll only eat it if you push me in my chair into the dining room and then come and join me. I really can’t abide eating my meals off of a tray, and neither can I abide eating alone. I feel decrepit enough as it is in my sorry state, without acting like an invalid.’
Kit’s expression was visibly perturbed. ‘That sounds as though you believe you don’t deserve any acknowledgement of your condition at all. Isn’t that why you hired me in the first place, Mr Treverne? Because you needed some help?’
‘How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Mr Treverne? And for pity’s sake please don’t keep referring to me as needing help. It’s becoming the bane of my life.’
It wasn’t her reference to his need that was bothering him, Kit guessed. It was the fact that for probably the first time ever this fit, active and no doubt fiercely independent businessman and sportsman had to be dependent on others...a state he undoubtedly despised. In truth, she entirely sympathised. She would hate it too.
‘Well, I’ll just go into the kitchen and cook the pasta, then I’ll come back and take you into the dining room.’
Stretching out his hand for the mobile phone he’d left on the coffee table, Hal turned towards her.
‘Take your time. I’ve got a couple of calls I want to make to my office first.’
‘Okay. If you need me for anything, just call out.’
* * *
While Henry had been having his rest earlier Kit had made good use of the time to unpack, arrange her clothes in the walk-in wardrobe and arrange her toiletries in the bathroom. Despite there being an array of wonderfully scented products lined up on the shelves, she wouldn’t be making use of them. After all, she was here to work, not as a guest. But she was more than appreciative of the beautiful room she’d been allocated. It had a lovely view of the large neatly mown communal gardens downstairs. The verdant green was bordered by a plethora of trees, plants and shrubs, and a person might almost fool herself that she was deep in the heart of the countryside instead of practically in the centre of London.
She’d also noticed the indisputably feminine touch that the room’s decor suggested—such as the luxurious lilac curtains with matching swags that hung at the windows and the array of colourful cushions that were attractively arranged at the head of the Queen-sized bed. The silk pillows were made up of various vintage designs full of natural motifs like birds and flowers. It was definitely not a man’s room. In fact the decor was the polar opposite of the very masculine chrome and glass furnishings that the apartment’s owner obviously favoured. Was Hal’s sister Sam’s the female influence that had helped design it?
Dropping strands of linguine into a pan of boiling water in the kitchen, Kit pushed back her hair and frowned. There’d been no mention of a girlfriend or fiancée. If Henry Treverne had either then surely she would have been told of her existence in case the woman dropped in or telephoned? In the newspaper reports she’d read about the accident at the time there’d been no mention of a girlfriend—which, considering his ‘playboy’ reputation, had surprised her. Telling herself he must be between relationships, she dropped her shoulders and made herself relax. The job she did could be testing enough without relatives or ‘significant others’ keeping too close an eye on her. She always worked best when her clients trusted her judgement enough to know that she could be completely relied upon to take good care of her charge.
In the dining room that also shared a view of the communal gardens, Hal took four or five mouthfuls of the fragrant pasta Kit had carefully prepared and across the magnificent glass table gave her a rueful smile.
‘This is really good,’ he commented. ‘But I can’t say the same is true of my appetite since the accident. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave it there. This must be a first. Anyone who knows me well would tell you that it’s unheard of for me to leave anything. Usually I can eat for England.’
‘Trauma can affect people in many different ways,’ Kit answered thoughtfully. ‘As I’m sure your sister must have told you.’
‘Trust
