The Boss's Forbidden Secretary. Lee WilkinsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
that his fair head was pillowed on her breast.
She lay quietly, savouring the pleasure of it, until he stirred and lifted himself away.
At this point Neil had invariably turned his back, leaving her cold and unsatisfied, with a leaden feeling of depression, of failure, as though the fault was hers.
And though this time she was warm and satisfied, the remembrance of that failure was descending like a fog when Ross leaned over her and, taking his weight on his elbows, kissed her mouth deeply, tenderly.
Then, his lips wandering over her face and throat, punctuating the words with soft, baby kisses, he told her how infinitely desirable she was, how warm and responsive, and how much he had enjoyed making love to her.
His words and his kisses dispersed the miasma as sunlight dispersed mist, and, her heart light, her spirits rising, for the first time in her adult life she felt happy, fulfilled, like a real woman.
He turned on his back, and, as though he didn’t want to lose contact, he gathered her to him and, his body half supporting hers, settled her head on the comfortable juncture between chest and shoulder.
She lay contentedly, enjoying the strong beat of his heart beneath her cheek, the feel of his skin against hers, the clean male smell of him and the scent of his aftershave.
Never in her wildest imaginings could she have visualized all her dreams coming true like this. To have an unspoken longing, a tenuous hope, a hidden desire become wonderful reality so fast seemed almost unbelievable.
He was everything she had ever wanted in a man, and she thanked fate for the snowfall that had brought him into her life.
Though she wanted to stay awake for a while to savour the magic of it all, in the blink of an eye she was asleep—deeply, dreamlessly.
Some time during the night Ross awakened her with a kiss and a soft caress, and they made love again.
For Cathy it was a rocket trip to the stars, and when it was over she lay in his arms, blissfully happy, and once more thanked fate for bringing him into her life.
Her last thought before sleep claimed her once more was that now their instant and mutual attraction had become so serious so quickly, over breakfast she must explain about Carl and the deception she’d agreed to.
She could always ask him to keep it to himself until Carl had managed to prove his worth and was able to tell his employers the truth…
In the early hours of the morning she started to dream. She was lying contentedly in bed in the arms of her lover, while they made wonderful plans for their future together.
Then in her dream she heard the urgent shrill of a phone, and, summoned away, her lover left her side.
Cold and bereft, she wept soundlessly, heartbroken, until he returned and she felt the brush of his lips as he kissed her softly.
But it was a goodbye kiss.
She put her arms around his neck and tried to keep him, to make him stay, but as though she was embracing a wraith he slipped from her grasp and walked away, and in the way that dreamers do she knew he was gone for ever.
Still, she searched for him everywhere, through strange, empty rooms and on every busy street, scanning faces as they went past, and in despair stopping anyone who looked remotely like him.
Then she saw him walking just ahead of her and, filled with joy, she ran after him and caught his arm. But when he turned to face her it was Neil and, his eyes cold and uncaring, he pulled his arm free and pushed her roughly away.
Though the disturbing dreams went on, they grew vague, hazy, until eventually she fell into a more settled slumber.
From then on she slept deeply, until her brain finally stirred into life and struggled to free itself from the clinging cobwebs of sleep.
But even when she was almost awake, she was aware of a lingering feeling of sadness and loss.
Opening her eyes, she found herself in a strange room. It was a split second before memory kicked in, and she recalled everything that had happened the previous night. The unexpected snow, meeting Ross, the instant attraction that had flared between them and the delight and magic they had shared.
Her spirits soaring, a smile on her lips, she turned towards him.
But the place beside her was cold and empty. If she smoothed the sheets and plumped up the pillow the last traces of him would be gone and it would be hard to believe he had even existed.
Pushing the gloomy thought away, she glanced at her watch. Almost eight-thirty.
He was probably shaving.
She clambered out of bed and, pulling on her robe, headed for the bathroom. But even before she tapped on the door the utter stillness convinced her that he wasn’t there.
When she opened the door, the two towelling robes hanging side by side and the absence of his clothes confirmed the fact that he was gone.
He must be having breakfast.
But why hadn’t he awakened her so they could breakfast together?
Her heart grew cold.
Had she been mistaken after all? Had Ross—despite his caring words—seen her simply as a one-night stand? A casual bed partner that he felt nothing for?
Turning away, she saw the note on the floor—a small, flimsy page torn from a pocket diary and almost hidden by the quilt. It must have fluttered off the bedside cabinet.
She picked it up with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. Though obviously hurried, the writing was firm and decisive. It said simply:
You were sleeping so soundly it seemed a shame towaken you. Thank you for last night. You were a delight. Mrs Low will explain why I’m having to rush off. Have a safe journey up to Luing, and I’ll see you as soon as I possibly can. Ross.
She hadn’t told him exactly where she was staying, so unless Luing was a very small place how would he find her? She desperately wanted him to. But if he turned up asking for a Miss Richardson, it could cause problems. Oh, if only she had explained about Carl…
But perhaps he hadn’t gone yet. She might be in time to catch him…
She showered quickly, brushed her hair and coiled it neatly, then, having put on fresh undies and the fine wool suit she’d worn the previous day, she hurried along to the breakfast room.
But it was empty apart from an elderly couple who were just on the point of leaving.
As they exchanged a civil good morning, Mrs Low came busily in.
‘Ah, there you are, Miss Richardson,’ she exclaimed. ‘Perfect timing. Mr Dalgowan said if you weren’t down for breakfast by nine o’clock I was to call you.’
‘Has he gone?’
‘Oh, yes, he left before five-thirty. I was barely up myself. I understand he’d had a phone call from home in the early hours of the morning to say there was some kind of emergency…’
It must have been the phone ringing that had started her off dreaming, Cathy realized, and sighed. If only she had awakened properly and been able to talk to him before he left.
But Mrs Low was going on. ‘The poor man didn’t even stop for a bite to eat, he just swallowed a cup of coffee and went, saying he’d be sure to see you as soon as may be. Luckily a warm front followed the blizzard through, so instead of freezing the snow has turned to slush, which means the main roads should be clear.
‘Now, what would you like for breakfast? We’ve bacon and eggs, or a pair of nice kippers?’
A mixture of excitement and apprehension over what the day might bring robbing her of her appetite, she said, ‘Just coffee, please.’
‘Well, if you’re sure?’
‘Quite sure, thanks.’