Jessica Hart: No Mistaking Love

`Morning,' he said in a brusque voice. `Glad o see you're here on time. I've got a lot to get through this morning.' He turned a page of the report and picked up a pen to make a note. `Are you ready to start?'

Kate had made a point of arriving half an hour earlier than necessary, but now she wished she hadn't. It was clear that she would have to take a stand right away if he was to avoid his taking her for granted!

`I'd like a coffee first while I sort myself out,' he said firmly. `I haven't even had time to find myself a notebook yet!'

'Oh, very well, but hurry up about it!'

Kate suppressed a sigh. It was no use expecting charm from Luke and she couldn't say that he hadn't warned her. `Would you like a coffee, as I'm making one?' she asked.

Luke grunted and Kate, after looking at his bent head for a moment, turned and quietly left the room.

She returned a few minutes later, equipped with a shorthand notebook, a pen and a cup of coffee. She put this on her side of the desk, sat down, opened the notebook on her knee and calmly waited for Luke to notice her.

He looked up at last. `Don't I get a coffee?' 'You didn't say you wanted one.' `Yes, I did!'

'No,' she corrected him in patient tones. `You grunted. I'm afraid I don't respond to grunts.'

Luke sighed irritably. `Don't say I have to go down on bended knee every time I want you to do something!'

`A simple please would do.'

His martyred air slightly spoiled by a glower, Luke pushed back his chair and strode over to the door. `I suppose I'll have to get my own coffee, then!' he said, evidently expecting Kate to jump to her feet, but she merely looked blandly back at him.

His previous secretaries had clearly been letting him get away with playing the tyrant, and she had no intention of doing the same. It wouldn't do Luke Hardman any harm to come across a bit of opposition for a change!

Reappearing with his own cup, he banged it down on his desk with bad grace. `Perhaps we could begin?' he said, adding sarcastically, `if that's not too much trouble, of course!'

'I'm ready,' Kate said, annoyingly placid.

Casting her a fulminating glance, Luke began to prowl about the room, hands jammed in his trouser pockets, while he dictated at high speed. His ideas were complex, but clear and obviously well thought out, and he paused only occasionally to take a sip of coffee.

Kate's pen flew over her notebook as she tried grimly to keep up, but she seized the opportunity to interrupt him as he picked up his cup once more.

`Do you think you could slow down a bit?'

Luke frowned at losing his train of thought. ' I thought you said you could do shorthand?'

'I can, but not at the speed of light!'

With a sigh he resumed at a more normal speed.

It was easier to keep up, but Kate found herself increasingly distracted by the way he flexed his shoulders, by the suggestion of strength beneath his cotton shirt or the coiled tension in the way he moved.

He was standing over at the window, frowning down at the traffic as he dictated. Kate glanced up, the outlines emerging automatically from the pen, and let her eyes rest on the back of his dark head. There was a steely quality to Luke, evident in the very set of his head and the controlled line of his body. If he had a vulnerable side he would take care to keep it well hidden, she decided. Did the hard features ever relax, the cold eyes soften in a smile? How would he look at the woman h loved?

`Read me back that last bit, will you?' Kate started. `What?'

'Would it be too much trouble to ask you t, read back the last part of that sentence to me? Luke said sarcastically, misinterpreting he hesitation.

She had been taking down his words so automatically that she had hardly taken in what h was saying. Now the shorthand squiggles dance in front of her eyes as she tried to make sense c what she had written.

'Um… "The contractors are concerned that if the manufacturers loved-"' She broke off flustered. The outline was unmistakable. She must have written that `loved' without thinking

Luke turned and stared at her. `If the manufacturers what? Can't you concentrate for more than five minutes at a time? If I go any slower I'll fall asleep!'

`It's really not at all easy to follow you when you're prowling around or muttering at the window,' Kate said, disguising her guilt with an air of reproof. `It would help if you sat down and spoke clearly.'

`Who's doing the dictation round here?' Luke demanded sourly, but he sat down again on the other side of the desk. `Is that better?'

Kate ignored the irony in his voice. `Much, thank you,' she said, but it wasn't really. This way he was much closer, and his front view was even more distracting than the back. Kate concentrated fiercely on her notebook and tried not to notice the cool, inflexible line of his mouth or the fingers twirling a pen in his frustration at having to sit still.

He let her go twenty minutes later, having dictated three more letters and several trenchant memos to his staff. There would be a few panic-stricken phone calls when they landed on their desks, Kate reflected, gathering up the papers from the desk and escaping gratefully to her own office.

Naturally organised, Kate was unworried by the amount of work Luke seemed to expect her to get through that morning. She settled herself down with the minimum of fuss, familiarised herself with the word processor and began to work her way through the enormous pile of letters, breaking off frequently to deal with phone calls for Luke. He had shut himself in his office and informed her that he didn't want to be disturbed before midday.

Frowning over a particularly obscure outline, Kate didn't look up immediately as the door to the outer office opened. It was probably one of the junior secretaries with some more post, she thought, and was about to look up with a friendly smile when a waft of exotic perfume reached her. She lifted her head in puzzlement to see who was sauntering over towards Luke's door.

It was Helen. With something of a shock Kate realised that she had been so taken up with seeing Luke again that she had forgotten about Helen.

How could she have forgotten that eclipsing beauty? Helen wore the briefest of black leather skirts, and a leather blouson jacket, slipping at one shoulder over a wispy top. It was a carefully careless look, and the effect with the loose blonde hair was dramatic.

The checked suit, which only that morning had seemed so smart and suitable, suddenly felt tight and dowdy. Kate looked at Helen and recognised with a twist of bitterness a vibrant sexiness that she would never, ever possess, no matter what she wore. She would look absurd dressed in such an outfit. Worse, she would be cold and uncomfortable.

If she had given Helen any thought she might have realised that Helen would be bound to turn up at the office at some stage. It was stupid not to have considered it. She had seen more of Kate than Luke, and might possibly remember her sister's little friend. She could spoil everything if she recognised her.

Kate cleared her throat. The last thing she wanted was to attract Helen's attention, but she could hardly let her barge in on Luke unannounced after all the fuss he had made about no interruptions.

She needn't have worried about being recognised. Helen was not the kind of girl who wasted much time noticing other women, particularly not plain, boring ones who were patently no threat. She turned with insulting unconcern, and the green eyes flickered over Kate without interest.

Kate could see herself just as Helen saw her: a boringly efficient-looking type in a prissy suit, with dull brown hair tied back and minimal make-up. There could hardly have been more of a contrast between them.

`I'm afraid Mr. Hardman has asked not to be disturbed,' she said, for a moment almost resenting her role as cool, competent secretary.