Lee Wilkinson - Unwordly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss - Secretary Mistress, Convenient Wife / The Boss's Unconventional Assistant / The Boss's Forbidden Secretary

Amid the laughter and sense of heightened anticipation that hung in the air of the luxurious salon on the eve of the anniversary concert, where his elegantly attired guests were enjoying the champagne, bowls of lush Tuscan olives and delicious antipasti that Maria and her kitchen staff had provided for the occasion, Fabian found himself from time to time thinking about the sensual impact of the kiss that he and Laura had shared. His skin prickled with sultry demanding heat every time he did so.

The kind of convenient marriage he had proposed to her would have its compensations, he discovered. It would not hurt that he was physically attracted to her and she to him. Oh how he had felt the violent tremors pulsing through her body as he held her! In light of his need for an heir, this was a positive plus! Yet she had been so quiet all the rest of that afternoon—her attention consumed by the demands of the concert, only speaking to Fabian when she absolutely had to. The heightened anticipation that he personally was going through was not about the coming performance tomorrow night, but about the final answer that Laura had promised she would give him concerning his proposal.

A world-famous tenor was shaking his hand and talking about the last time they’d met in Rome for lunch, saying they should do it again soon. Fabian hardly heard him, he was so caught up in his own distracting thoughts. Where was she? He glanced round the room across the big man’s shoulder. She’d still been at work when he’d left the office earlier, to go and get ready for the evening, but surely she had finished what she’d been doing by now? She had better put in an appearance soon, because he needed her here to help entertain his guests. He had noted how good Laura was at putting people at their ease, despite not being totally fluent in the language.

When she did arrive, she slid into the room almost unnoticed amid the melee of people. Fabian registered her appearance with relief and then curiosity. Wearing a demure long-sleeved cream smock with white palazzo pants—her expression a little guarded—she did not look as relaxed as she might. It was the sultriest of evenings, and most of the other females in the room were attired in far more revealing outfits in comparison.

Laura always seemed to be intent on covering up, Fabian noticed. Was she really so painfully self-conscious about her own slender form? When they were married, he would have to see what he could do about that. Perhaps when they shared a bed together he would teach her to be less self-conscious, even proud of what Mother Nature had gifted her with? The highly charged thought revived the languorous heat in his body, and he realised he was very close to being aroused.

Having wished his final guest farewell, Fabian returned to the salon to find Laura chatting to Maria as the housekeeper and two of her young staff began the clear-up after the drinks party. After congratulating the older woman on a job well done, and sharing a gentle good-humoured joke, he drew Laura out onto the moonlit veranda through the opened patio doors to talk to her.

‘You handled that very well tonight. Several of my guests commented on how charming you were,’ he told her, opening the single button on his stylish sports jacket to reveal the perfectly smooth black T-shirt he wore underneath.

‘So many well-known faces from the world of opera!’ she breathed, waving her hand in front of her too-warm face. ‘I’m not generally starstruck, but I had to pinch myself one or two times to convince myself it wasn’t all a dream!’

‘I think they would have been even more impressed with you if they had had the privilege of hearing you sing.’

‘With their phenomenal talent? No way! That would be like comparing a thoroughbred race horse to a nag.’ Folding her arms across her chest, Laura grimaced self-deprecatingly.

‘A nag?’

‘A horse that’s been put out to grass … a non-starter.’

‘Why do you underestimate your talents so? I do not understand.’

‘Perhaps it’s just the way we Brits look at life. We don’t believe in getting above ourselves.’

‘And I do not believe in such ridiculous false modesty! When you have a talent—and a talent such as yours—you should be proud, not act as though you are embarrassed about it and try to hide it away!’

Studying those faintly disapproving lips of his, Laura remembered the languid, earth-shattering kiss they’d shared earlier—though it was true to say it had been almost constantly on her mind ever since … that and Fabian’s startling proposition. Now, because of it, she had the sense of tumbling at speed down a steep rocky incline, with no prospect of anything to halt her flight except even more rocks.

‘I have no illusions about love affairs … none at all’, he’d almost violently asserted, and she had known in that instant that his ex-wife’s betrayal had destroyed his faith in love. He’d never got it back. Secretly her heart went out to him, but she had been hurt too—and badly—yet she knew she had not surrendered all hope of loving and being loved again.

‘Returning to the concert,’ he said now, rubbing his hand round his strikingly sculpted, smoothly shaved jaw. ‘I want you front of house with me, and I also want you to announce the performers.’

‘What?’

‘You have earned the right, Laura.’

His voice had all the fiercely powerful magic of a tropical moonlit night enfolding her, and he slid his hand underneath the weight of her hair and stroked the side of her neck. The melting, liquid feeling this induced was turning her bones to rubber again, and she opened her grey eyes very wide as her gaze spilled into his. She knew she should pull away, put some distance between them to show him she wasn’t going to fall like some windfall apple right into his hands, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

‘I’ve only done the job you hired me to do,’ she replied quietly. ‘And perhaps you’d better stop touching me like this … somebody might see.’

‘I have made you an offer of marriage, Laura. Do you think that when my staff know that they will be surprised that I want to touch you?’

At his unexpected, somewhat provocative answer, Laura finally found the will to withdraw from him. ‘In your own words, you have made me a business proposition—and now you’re acting like it’s a real marriage you’re proposing!’

‘When we are married, it will be a real marriage—in almost every sense.’

‘Will it? That’s not the impression I got at all.’ Shivering, Laura turned her back on him, so that he wouldn’t see the sudden glimmer of moisture in her eyes. He might believe he could live without love, but she knew differently. To exist without love meant you were consigning yourself to only half a life. After what she had been through and survived, she wanted so much more than that. ‘And you’re talking like my mind has been made up, as if I’ve already agreed to your proposal, when I haven’t!’

‘Then I apologise, if you think I am putting unfair pressure on you.’ Fabian’s hands were on her shoulders, turning her back to face him. There was a slight shift of awareness in his expression—almost surprise—as he registered her emotion. ‘I will wait for your answer until after the concert, as we agreed.’

The white diaphanous curtains at the patio doors blew up in a sudden fierce gust, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken. ‘I think we’re going to have rain tonight,’ Laura murmured, her blood heating because he was touching her again. ‘Maybe even a storm.’ Mark’s touch had never made her feel like this … not even at the beginning of their marriage. And in the end … she’d hardly been able to bear him touching her at all …