A Very Personal Assistant: Oh-So-Sensible Secretary / The Santorini Marriage Bargain / Hired: Sassy Assistant. Jessica HartЧитать онлайн книгу.
overseas.
I didn’t mind doing that as long as I didn’t have to go myself. Still, he could hardly force me onto the plane, could he? I would be able to get out of it somehow, I reassured myself, and in the meantime I was much more excited about organising the Glitz interview. This was the chance I had dreamed about. At last I had a real reason to be in touch with Jonathan again.
Putting Africa out of my mind, I sat down to compose an e-mail to him. My heart was beating wildly at the mere thought of seeing him again, and I didn’t trust my voice on the phone.
All I had to do was suggest that we meet the next day to discuss the Glitz feature, but you wouldn’t believe how long it took me to produce a couple of lines that struck just the right balance between friendliness and cool professionalism.
I knew Jonathan would want to get involved. Glitz was stacked at every supermarket checkout in the land, and a positive piece about Phin taking up a new role at Gibson & Grieve would be fantastic publicity for us. Jonathan wouldn’t let a PR opportunity like this go past without making sure Phin’s office—i.e. me—was onboard.
Sure enough, he came back straight away.
Good idea. 12.30 tomorrow my office? J
Not a long message, but I read it as carefully as the floweriest of love letters, desperate to decipher the subtext.
Good idea … That was encouraging, wasn’t it? I mean, he could have just said OK, couldn’t he? Or fine. So I chose to see some warmth there. Also, he’d signed it with an initial. That was an intimate kind of thing to do. Not as good as if he’d added a kiss, of course, but still better than a more formal Jonathan.
But the bit that really got my heart thumping with anticipation was the time. Twelve-thirty. Was it just the only time he could fit me in, or had he chosen it deliberately so that he could suggest lunch?
Naturally I spent the entire afternoon composing a suitable reply. The resulting masterpiece ran as follows: 12.30 tomorrow fine for me. See you then. S. And, yes, my finger did hover over the x key for a while before I decided on discretion. I didn’t want to appear too pushy. Jonathan would hate that.
I discarded the idea of suggesting lunch myself for the same reason. But just in case Jonathan was thinking that we could discuss a PR strategy for Phin over an intimate lunch somewhere, I was determined to be prepared. Normally I’m very confident about putting outfits together, but I spent hours that night, dithering in front of my wardrobe, unable to decide what to wear the next day.
‘What do you think?’ I asked Anne.
I had dragged her away from yet another repeat of Into the Wild—wasn’t there anything else on television?—so she wasn’t best pleased. She sprawled grouchily on the bed.
‘What I think is that you’re wasting your time,’ she said frankly. ‘Face it, Summer, Jonathan’s just not that into you. He’s already made that crystal-clear.’
‘He might change his mind,’ I said, and even I could hear the edge of desperation in my voice.
‘He won’t,’ said Anne, who had never liked Jonathan. ‘Why can’t you see it?’ She sighed at my stubborn expression. ‘For someone so clear-thinking, you’re incredibly obtuse when it comes to Jonathan,’ she told me. ‘It’s not like he ever made any effort for you, even when you were seeing each other. Why was he so keen to keep your affair a secret? It wasn’t like either of you were involved with anyone else.’
‘Jonathan didn’t think it was appropriate to have a relationship in the office,’ I said primly.
‘You weren’t having a relationship,’ said Anne, exasperated. ‘That was the whole point. You weren’t even having much of an affair. You were just sleeping together when it suited Jonathan. If he’d been really keen on you he wouldn’t have cared who knew. If he’d loved you he would have wanted to show you off, not hide you away as if he was ashamed of you.’
‘Jonathan’s not the kind of person who shows off,’ I said, aware that I sounded defensive. ‘I like that about him. He’s sensible.’
‘I think you’re mad!’ she said, throwing up her hands. ‘I can’t believe you spend every day with a hot guy like Phin Gibson and you’re still obsessing about Jonathan Pugh!’
‘Phin’s not that hot,’ I said, dismissing Anne’s objections as I always did. ‘And anyway, he’s my boss. And we all know his idea of commitment is making it through to dessert without feeling trapped. I’m certainly not going to waste my time falling for him. That really would be mad! Now, concentrate, Anne. This is important. The twinset or the jacket?’
I held them on hangers in each hand. The cropped jacket was one of my favourites, a deep red with three-quarter-length sleeves, a shawl collar and a nipped-in waist. ‘Too smart?’ I asked dubiously. ‘I don’t want to look as if I’m trying too hard. But maybe the cardigan is a bit casual for the office?’
I’d bought the twinset with my Christmas bonus. A mixture of angora and cashmere, it was so beautifully soft I hadn’t been able to resist it. I liked to take it out and stroke it, as if it were a kitten. To be honest, I wasn’t sure that the colour—a dusty pink—was quite me, and I never felt entirely comfortable with the prettiness of it all, so I’d never worn it to the office. It was very different from my usual smartly tailored look, but perhaps different was what I needed.
Anne agreed. ‘The twinset,’ she said without hesitation. ‘It’s a much softer look for you, and if you leave your hair loose as well it’ll practically scream touch me, touch me. Even Jonathan won’t be able to miss the point.’
The hair was a step too far for me. If I turned up at work with my hair falling to my shoulders everyone would get the point. I might as well hang out a sign saying ‘On the Pull’. So I tied my hair back as usual, but made up with extra care and painted my nails a pretty pink: Bubblegum—much nicer than it sounds. I wore the twinset, with a short grey skirt and heels just a little higher than usual.
Phin whistled when he came in—late, as usual—and saw me. ‘You look very fetching, Summer,’ he said. ‘What’s the occasion?’
‘No occasion,’ I said. ‘I just felt like a change of image.’
‘It’s certainly that,’ he said. ‘You look very … touchable. How many people have stroked you to see if that cardigan is as soft as it looks?’
‘A lot,’ I said with a sigh. I’d lost count of the women who’d stroked my arm and ooh-ed and aah-ed over its softness. I couldn’t blame them, really. Wearing it was like being cuddled by a kitten. ‘It’s a bit disconcerting to have perfect strangers running their hands down your arm.’
‘But you can understand why they do,’ said Phin. ‘In fact, I’m sorry, but I’m just going to have to do it myself. I don’t count as a perfect stranger, do I?’ Without waiting for my reply, he smoothed his own hand down from my shoulder to my elbow, and I felt it through the fine wool like a brand. ‘Incredibly soft,’ he said, ‘and very unexpected.’
Funny—I’d never felt anyone else’s stroke quite like that. My skin was tingling where his fingers had touched me. I swallowed.
‘I think I’ll go back to a suit tomorrow.’
‘That would be a shame,’ said Phin. ‘I like this new look a lot.’
Now all I needed was for Jonathan to like it, too. If the cardigan had the same effect on him, it would be worth feeling self-conscious now.
For the first time I realised that Phin didn’t look quite his normal self either that morning. There was a distinctly frazzled air about him, and his shirt was even more crumpled than usual. Probably partying all night again with Jewel, I thought unsympathetically.
I was sure of it when he suggested having coffee immediately. ‘In keeping with today’s