His Secretary: BBW Romance (Her Second Chance Book 1) (4 page)

“Stop apologising.”

“Sorry ... it’s a habit.” She tried to concentrate on the numbers as they slowly descended through the building, wishing she had never raised the subject. He would think she was even more of an imbecile now.

“And that’s why she thinks she can blame you. If you’ve done nothing wrong why should you apologise.”

She stood looking at him, open mouthed. Tears brimmed in her eyes once more. “I never thought about it like that.”

“You might not think you did anything wrong, but subconsciously you still blame yourself.”

“Are you a shrink in disguise?”

“No. It’s what I’ve learned through business meetings. You learn to read people. Know what they’re thinking, what their motives are.”

“Really. That is fascinating.”

“Not really. It makes it hard to relax around people, you’re always looking for their tells, you know, like poker.”

“Do I have any tells?” she asked, as they reached the ground floor and the doors opened.

“This is me over here. It’s a rental,” he said, pointing the key at it and waiting for it to bleep. “Good job it’s one of the only cars in here, I travel so much I sometimes forget what car I have.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

He opened the car door for her, and stood leaning over it as she slid inside. “Sure you want to know?”

“I think so. In the name of self preservation. I’m worried my children will grow up knowing exactly how to read me if I’m that obvious.”

“OK.” He crouched down next to her, and looked at her intently. “First, when you’re unsure of yourself, and feel out of your depth, you chew your pencil, if there’s no pencil you rub your thumb and forefinger together.”

“Today it must be said I’ve been more than a little nervous. That’s not so bad.” He raised his eyebrow and smiled, and she knew he was holding more information about her in his mind. More things that he had stored up while they worked today. “There’s more?”

He nodded. “Are you sure, these next ones are a little more personal.”

“Oh.” She drew herself back from him, but then had the irresistible desire to know what else he saw in her that perhaps no one else did. Things that might make her special to him, it was a mistake, but she needed to know. “Tell me,” she said quietly.

“When you talk about your children your mouth curls up at the corner here.” He reached out and touched the corner of her mouth so very gently, and her insides turned to liquid fire. She wanted to turn her head and kiss those fingers, to feel them trail along her arm and then across her breasts, to touch her nipples and feel them respond. “And when you talk about your husband, you twirl your ring around, and then cover it with your other hand, as if to try to hide it.”

He placed his hand over hers, and touched the wedding ring she still stupidly wore on her finger. Her eyes flew up to his, and she looked into those deep pools, and sensed he wanted more from her, that he knew more about her, something he would not tell her. She blushed and looked away, breaking all contact with him. Did she have a tell for him, did he know how attracted she was to him? Would this drive home result in him expecting more from her, a kiss on the lips, or night in her bed?

He rose abruptly and went around to the driver’s side. He slid in, and in a most business like voice began to talk to her about the deal, about what he expected from the notes. The private interlude they had shared was ended, she had ruined it. Never would she know what he wanted. And maybe that was how it should be. It was safe. And safe was what she needed, she told herself. There was no room for excitement when she had her precious girls to think about.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, and he willed himself to take hold of his emotions the same way. What the hell had come over him? She was an employee, and married. Her husband might not be around, but she still wore his ring, didn’t that say something about her feelings towards the man who had left her?

It didn’t help that his fingertips still held the memory of the softness of her lips. He could so easily have leaned forward and kissed her, but he hadn’t been sure. That wasn’t true, he was sure of one thing, that to have done so would have been the greatest mistake of his life. A case of sexual harassment was not high on the list of things he wanted to hand his uncle right now. The deal was the most important thing.

When she had turned away from him as he touched her wedding ring, he knew he had done the right thing. For the first time he questioned his ability to read people, because the one tell he had not informed Mrs Draper of was the one she saved for him.

It was so subtle he was sure she had no idea she did it, but to him it was like a neon sign. When they were close, she leaned towards him, almost imperceptibly, but his body had become so attuned to hers in just this one day that his skin registered the nearness of her body. The hairs on his arms raised, as if trying to touch her, to make the smallest of connections, registering the heat of her body.

And then she would sigh, and he found himself imagining her in his arms, after they had made love, sighing in complete contentment. He was turning into some Victorian romance idiot, his life was not made up of heaving breasts and hidden looks.

“Here we are,” he said, drawing up in front of her house to the sound of ‘you’ve reached your destination’ from the GPS navigator.

“Thank you.” She looked up at her house, the upstairs lights were all on. “They’re getting ready for bed.”

“Get them settled, and then finish your work. I’m going to find something to eat, so you have some time to spare.”

She picked up the laptop. “Mustn’t forget this. Is there a password?”

“No. I’ve taken it off, so you just have to open it up. When you're ready go to file and send it by email. My address is in there.”

“Thank you.” She got out of the car, and then leaned down to ask. “Do you want to come in? I could find you something to eat, even if it is fish fingers.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Mrs Draper.” He smiled. “That’s another tell by the way. Every time someone calls you that, you wince ever so slightly.”

“Well, once I find that poor excuse for a husband of mine, I’m going back to my maiden name.”

“You never did tell me what to call you instead.”

“Helen. My name is Helen.”

He held out his hand, and she slid hers into it, looking slightly bemused. “Then when we are in private you can call me Oliver. Every time someone calls me Mr Pierceson at the bank, I keep expecting my uncle to be standing behind me.”

“Goodnight Oliver,” she said, and closed the door. He pretended to look for oncoming traffic before he pulled off, but really he was watching her walk up the path to her house. The door opened, and two small figures threw themselves into her arms.

For once he felt he’d done the right thing. Family always came first.

Going into work the next morning with Max felt completely different. Last night she had prepared the notes for Oliver, and put the girls to bed, and made dinner for herself. Accomplished was the feeling of the day.

“You look happier today,” Max noted as they rode the elevator up to the office.

“I am, thanks Max. Yesterday was hard, really hard. I don't know what stopped me quitting, but I’m glad I didn’t wimp out.”

“Mr Pierceson not so bad in the end?”

“No. I don't think so. He’s just trying to please his uncle I think. And we both know how hard family can be to keep happy.”

“Tell me about it. I’m still not sure about my father giving me away.”

“You don’t have a choice do you?”

“I could walk down the aisle on my own.”

Helen turned to Max. “Listen, Max, don’t take this the wrong way. I know you’ve had trouble with your father. But at least you have one who’s around. My girls might not have a choice, their dad never even bothered seeing them, or even calling them, at Christmas. Your dad might not be perfect, but none of us are.”

“You’re right.” Max smiled at Helen. “At least your girls have a fantastic mom.”

“Thanks, Max. I just hope it’s enough. It’s hard, you know. I felt so guilty not being there for them last night.”

“They understood, I think they see it as a bit of an adventure. And they are so proud of you.”

“Really? Because most of the time I feel like a failure.”

“Well. you aren’t. You’re parents are the proudest though. The way they talk about you. I have a lot to live up to. I’ll never compare to you.”

The doors opened, and the scene before them was a lot calmer than yesterday. Walking towards reception, Helen said, “They love you, Max. They see how happy you make Dan. The way he looks at you. That’s the one thing I miss being on my own, no one looks at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Helen looked up, and before her stood Oliver, looking fresh and ready for a long day, while she felt old and tired. “When do you sleep?” she asked. Helen had a sneaking impression he had been waiting for her. Of course he has, she berated herself, he’s waiting for his secretary to make notes. Nothing more, but she so wished it was.

“When this deal is over. Come on, we’ve got lots to get through. Thank you for getting everything done last night,” he said.

“No problem.” She followed him, turning to say to Max, “I’ll see you later.”

Max was watching Oliver walk away, he turned and waited for Helen. Max shifted her gaze back to Helen, and gave her an odd look. “I’ll see you for lunch if Mr Pierceson can spare you.”

Helen rolled her eyes. “He’s a hard man to please.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He looks very pleased with himself this morning,” she said quietly.

Helen opened her mouth to speak, but Max had turned her attention back to her messages. With a frown she caught up with Oliver. He strode off, and she had to hurry to keep up with him, not that she minded slipping behind him slightly and watching him move. Everything about him appealed her, he made her feel somehow feminine and attractive again, especially when he turned to her and gave her that perfect smile that lit up his eyes.

“Ready for work?” he asked, his voice softly seductive, if only he was inviting her for some extra curricular activities, but instead he opened the door to a whole mess of papers, and she could only sigh with resignation.

“Sure. Let’s get on with it.”

They worked hard. Her notes becoming more scribbled as they progressed, but she was confident she would be able to decipher them. Talking was kept mainly to the deal in hand, although she did ask Oliver about his uncle.

“How’s he doing? Any better?” She had brought them coffee, and from her bag she produced a selection of food.

“Home cooked?” he asked.

“Of course. The girls love to bake, and it’s cheaper than shop bought.”

“And better. These are delicious.”

“The recipe is from a friend. Robin has her own cake shop.”

“You are a woman of many talents.”

“Thank you. But it’s more out of need. The great thing about baking is it is both cheap and entertaining for the girls.”

“Are things that bad? Doesn’t your husband give you any money?”

“No. He’s gone off to find himself, or something like that. Travelling the world, god knows where he’s shacked up, or with who.”

“And so you live for your children?”

“Yes. They’re my responsibility. That’s what I find so hard, I can understand him wanting to leave me. But not the girls. I can’t get my head around it.”

“No one knows what goes on in other people’s heads.”

“You do,” she smiled, trying to lighten the mood. It was inappropriate of her to keep complaining about her life.

“Except for me. But then I’m special.” He grinned back at her.

“And modest too.”

“That, I’m not. In business your success is often shown by how conceited and self-assured you are.”

“Then I can see why you’ve got so far,” she joked back.

“And that reminds me we have to finish this.” He gestured to the piles of papers littering the floor.

“OK. I can’t wait to get through it all.” She wrapped up the rest the food she had brought in, knowing they would be needing it later. There was no way she would be escaping for lunch today. However, skipping lunch to spend more time with Oliver didn’t sound too bad at all.

“You will be glad to see the back of me at the end of the week you mean?”

“I didn’t say that.” Did he know that was the last thing she wanted?

“You don’t have to. I can read it in your expression.”

“That expression is telling you that you have certainly put me off going for a job as a PA or anything higher than a typist.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It wasn’t my intention.”

“I know. But after yesterday I realised that I like being at home to put my kids to bed. I want to be able to walk out of the door at a reasonable time and make their dinner and listen to their day.”

“That’s what usually what happens. This is not normal.”

“I thought you would be the first to agree that I’m not cut out for this job.”

“Not at all. I intend to give you a glowing reference and recommend to my uncle that he offers you a job here. I’m sure he can find something that fits in with your home life.”

The pencil nearly dropped out of her hand. “Why would you do that for me? You don’t even know me.” Her voice was a whisper.

His head shot up, his eyes the soft brown that made her stomach flip. “I didn't mean to upset you.” He got up and came over to her. “Listen, Helen. And I trust what I say goes no further than this office.”

She held her breath, not sure what he was going to tell her, but knowing she wanted to hear it. She nodded.

“I grew up with no dad. He left my mom when my brother was a baby. I was two when they got divorced. I never knew him. I could pass him in the street and have no idea. My mom went back to her maiden name, it was like he never existed to her, so I learned to never ask questions.”

“I had no idea. I thought you had the same name as your uncle because he was related to your dad.”

“No. Bob Pierceson is my mom’s brother. He tried to help us out, but my mom was too proud.”