‘What the hell is the matter?’

Jamie couldn’t meet Ryan’s eyes, but she had to when she felt his fingers on her chin and she was roughly made to look at him.

‘You’re my boss! I work for you!’

‘I want more than your diligence. I want you in my bed, where I can touch you wherever I want. I’m betting that that’s what you want too—whether you think it’s right or wrong. In fact, I’m betting that if I touch you right now, right … here …’ Ryan trailed his finger along her cleavage and watched as she fought to catch her breath ‘… you’re not going to be able to tell me that you don’t want me too …’

‘I don’t want you …’

‘Liar!’ He kissed her again, and her lies were revealed in the way she clutched at him, not wanting to but utterly unable to resist.

About the Author

CATHY WILLIAMS is originally from Trinidad, but has lived in England for a number of years. She currently has a house in Warwickshire, which she shares with her husband Richard, her three daughters, Charlotte, Olivia and Emma, and their pet cat, Salem. She adores writing romantic fiction, and would love one of her girls to become a writer—although at the moment she is happy enough if they do their homework and agree not to bicker with one another!

Recent titles by the same author:

HER IMPOSSIBLE BOSS

IN WANT OF A WIFE?

THE SECRETARY’S SCANDALOUS SECRET

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

His Christmas Acquisition

Cathy Williams

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

JAMIE was late. For the first time since she had started working for Ryan Sheppard she was running late due to an unfortunate series of events which had culminated in her waiting for her tube to arrive, along with six-thousand other short-tempered, frustrated, disgruntled commuters, so it seemed.

Wrapped up against the icy blast that raced along the platform—whipping her neatly combed hair into frantic disarray and reminding her that her smart grey suit and smart black pumps might work in an office, but were useless when faced with the grim reality of a soggy London winter—Jamie pointlessly looked at her watch every ten seconds.

Ryan Sheppard hated late. In fairness, he had been spoiled with her because for the past eighteen months she had been scrupulously early—which didn’t mean that he would be sweetly forgiving.

By the time the tube train roared into view, Jamie had pretty much given up on getting into the office any time before nine-thirty. Because nothing would be gained from calling him, she had resolutely refused to even glance at the mobile phone hunkered down in the bowels of her bag.

Instead, she reluctantly focused her mind on the main reason why she had ended up leaving her house an hour later than she normally would have, and sure enough, all thoughts of her sister successfully obliterated everything else from her mind. She could feel the thin, poisonous thread of tension begin to creep through her body and, by the time she finally made it to the spectacular, cutting-edge glass building that housed RS Enterprises, her head was beginning to throb.

RS Enterprises was the headquarters of the massive conglomerate owned and run by her boss, and within its stately walls resided the beating pulse of all those various tentacles that made up the various arms of his many business concerns. An army of highly trained, highly motivated and highly paid employees kept everything afloat although, at quarter to ten in the morning, there were only a few to be glimpsed. The rest would be at their desks, doing whatever it took to make sure that the great wheels of his industry were running smoothly.

At quarter to ten in the morning, she would normally have been at her desk, doing her own bit.

But instead …

Jamie counted to ten in a feeble attempt to dislodge her sister’s face from her head and took the lift up to the director’s floor.

There was no need to gauge his mood when she pushed open the door to her office. On an average day, he would either be out of the office, having emailed her to fill her in on what she could be getting on with in his absence, or else he would be at his desk, mentally a thousand miles away as he plowed through his workload.

Today he was lounging back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, feet indolently propped on his desk.

Even after eighteen months, Jamie still had trouble reconciling the power house that was Ryan Sheppard with the unbearably sexy and disconcertingly unconventional guy who was such a far cry from anyone’s idea of a business tycoon. Was it because the building blocks of his business were rooted in computer software, where brains and creativity were everything, and a uniform of suits and highly polished leather shoes were irrelevant? Or was it because Ryan Sheppard was just one of those men who was so comfortable in his own skin that he really didn’t care what he wore or, for that matter, what the rest of the world thought of him?

At any rate, sightings of him in a suit were rare, and only occurred when he happened to be meeting financiers—although it had to be said that his legendary reputation preceded him. Very early on Jamie had come to the conclusion that he could show up at a meeting in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks and he would still have the rest of the world bowing and scraping and asking for his opinion.

Jamie waited patiently while he made a production out of looking at his watch and frowning before transferring his sharp, penetrating black gaze to her now composed face.

‘You’re late.’

‘I know. I’m really sorry.’

‘You’re never late.’

‘Yes, well, blame the erratic public-transport system in London, sir.’

‘You know I hate you addressing me as sir. When I’m knighted, we can have a rethink on that one, but in the meantime the name is Ryan. And I would be more than happy to blame the erratic public-transport system, but you’re not the only one who uses it, and no one else seems to be running behind schedule.’

Jamie hovered. She had taken time to dodge into the luxurious marble cloakroom at the end of the floor so she knew that she no longer resembled the hassled, anxious figure that had emerged twenty minutes earlier from the Underground station. But inside she could feel her nerves fraying, unravelling and scattering like useless detritus being blown around on a strong wind.

‘Perhaps we could just get on with work and … and … I’ll make up for lost time. I don’t mind working through lunch.’

‘So, if it wasn’t the erratic public-transport system, then what kept you?’ For the past year and a half, Ryan had tried to get behind that calm, impenetrable facade, to find the human being behind the highly efficient secretary. But Jamie Powell, aged twenty-eight, of the neat brown bob and the cool brown eyes, remained an enigma. He swung his feet off his desk and sat forward to stare at her with lively curiosity. ‘Hard weekend? Late night? Hangover?’

‘Of course I don’t have a hangover!’

‘No? Because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with a little bit of over-indulgence now and again, you know. In fact, I happen to be of the opinion that a little over indulgence is very good for the soul.’

‘I don’t get drunk.’ Jamie decided to put an immediate stop to any such notion. Gossip travelled at a rate of knots in RS Enterprises and there was no way that Jamie was going to let anyone think that she spent her weekends watching life whizz past from the bottom of a glass. In fact, there was no way that she was going to let anyone think anything at all about her. Experience had taught her well: join in with your colleagues, let your hair down now and again, build up a cosy relationship with your boss—and hey presto! You suddenly find yourself going down all sorts of unexpected and uncomfortable roads. She had been there and she wasn’t about to pay a repeat visit.

‘How virtuous of you!’ Ryan congratulated her with the sort of false sincerity that made her teeth snap together in frustration. ‘So we can eliminate the demon drink! Maybe your alarm failed to go off? Or maybe …’

He shot her a smile that reminded her just why the man was such a killer when it came to the opposite sex. For anyone not on their guard, it was the sort of smile that could bring a person out in goose bumps. She had seen it happen any number of times, watching from the sidelines. ‘Maybe,’ he drawled, eyebrows raised speculatively, ‘there was someone in your bed who made getting up on a cold December morning just a little bit too much of a challenge …?’

‘I would rather not discuss my private life with you, sir—sorry, Ryan.’

‘And that’s perfectly acceptable, just so long as it doesn’t intrude on your working life, but strolling into the office at ten in the morning demands a little explanation. And fobbing me off with promises to work through your lunch isn’t good enough. I’m an exceptionally reasonable man,’ Ryan went on, tapping his pen thoughtfully on his desk and running his eyes over her tight, closed face. ‘Whenever you’ve had an emergency, I’ve been more than happy to let you take time off. Remember the plumber incident?’

‘That was once!’

‘And what about last Christmas? Didn’t I generously give you half a day off so that you could do your Christmas shopping?’

‘You gave everyone half a day off.’

‘Point proven! I’m a reasonable man. So I think I deserve a reasonable explanation for your lateness.’

Jamie took a deep breath and braced herself to reveal something of her private life. Even this small and insignificant confidence, something that could hardly be classed as a confidence at all, went against the grain. Like a time bomb nestling in the centre of her well-founded good intentions, she could hear it ticking, threatening to send her whole carefully orchestrated reserve into chaos. She would not let that happen. She would throw him a titbit of information because, if she didn’t, then the wretched man would just keep at it like a bull terrier worrying a bone.

He was like that—determined to the point of insanity. She figured it was how he had managed to take his father’s tiny, failing computer business and build it up into a multinational conglomerate. He just never gave up and he never let go. His sexy, laid-back exterior concealed a strong and powerful business instinct that laid down rules and watched while the rest of the world fell into line.

She opened her mouth to give him an edited version of events, filtered through her strict mental-censoring process, when the door to his office burst open. Or rather it was flung open with the sort of drama that made both their heads spin round simultaneously in surprise to the leggy, blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman who literally flew into the office. Her big, long hair trailed wildly behind her, a thick, red cashmere coat hooked over her shoulder.

She threw the coat over the nearest chair. It was a gesture that was so wildly theatrical that Jamie had to stare down at her feet to stop herself from laughing out loud.

Ryan Sheppard had no qualms about bringing his women into the workplace once he had signed off work for the day. Jamie had always assumed that this was the arrogance of a man who only had to incline his head slightly to have any woman he wanted putting herself out to accommodate him. Why go to the bother of traipsing over to a woman’s house at nine in the evening when she could traipse to his offices and save him the hassle of the trip? When things had been particularly hectic, and his employees had been up and running on pure adrenalin into the late hours of the night, she had witnessed first-hand his deeply romantic gesture of sending his staff home so that he could treat his date to a Chinese takeaway in his office.

Not once had she ever heard any of these women complain. They smiled, they simpered, they followed him with adoring eyes and then, when he became bored with them, they were tactfully and expensively shuffled off to pastures new.

And such was the enduring charm of the guy that he still managed to keep in friendly touch with the majority of his exes.

But there had never been anything like this, at least that she could remember in her brief spell of working for him.

She couldn’t help her snort of laughter at the unexpected sight of some poetic justice being dished out. She quickly tried to bury it under the guise of coughing, although when she caught his eye it was to find him glaring at her before transferring his attention back to the enraged beauty standing in front of his desk.

‘Leanne …’

‘Don’t you dare “Leanne” me! I can’t believe you would just break up with me over the phone!’

‘Flying over to Tokyo to deliver the news face to face wasn’t an option.’ He glanced at Jamie, who immediately began standing up, because witnessing the other woman’s anger and distress was something she would rather have avoided. But Ryan nodded at her to sit back down.

‘You could have waited until I got back!’

Ryan sighed and rubbed his eyes before standing up and strolling round to perch on his desk. ‘You need to calm down,’ he said in a voice that was perfectly modulated and yet carried an icy threat. Leanne, picking it up, gulped in a few deep breaths.

‘Cast your mind back the last two times we’ve met,’ he continued with ferocious calm. ‘And you might remember that I have warned you that our relationship had reached the end of its course.’

‘You didn’t mean that!’ She tossed her head and her mane of blonde hair rippled down her back.

‘I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean. You chose to ignore what I said and so you gave me no option but to spell it out word for word.’

‘But I thought that we were going somewhere. I had plans! And what—’ Leanne glared at Jamie, who was focusing on her black pumps ‘—is she doing here? I want to have this out with you in private! Not with your boring little secretary hanging on to our every word and taking notes so that she can report back to everyone in this building.’

Little? Yes. Five-foot-four could hardly be deemed tall by anyone’s standards. But boring? It was an adjective that would have stung had it come from anyone other than Leanne. Like all the women Jamie had seen flit in and out of Ryan’s life, Leanne was the sort of supermodel beauty who had a healthy disrespect for any woman who wasn’t on the same eye-catching plane as she was.

Jamie looked at the towering blonde and met her bright-blue eyes with cool disdain.

‘Jamie is here,’ Ryan said in a hard voice, ‘because, in case you hadn’t noticed, this is my office and we’re in the middle of working. I’m sure I made it perfectly clear to you that I don’t tolerate my work life being disrupted. Ever. By anyone.’

‘Yes, but …’

He walked across to where she had earlier flung the red coat and held it out. ‘You’re upset, and for that I apologise. But now I suggest that you exit both my offices and our relationship with pride and dignity. You’re a beautiful woman. You’ll have no trouble replacing me.’

Jamie watched, fascinated in spite of herself, by the transparency of Leanne’s emotions. Pride and anger waged war with self-pity and a temptation to plead. But in the end she allowed herself to be helped into her coat; the click of the door as she left the room was, at least, a lot more controlled than when she had entered.

Jamie studiously stared in front of her and waited for Ryan to break the silence.

‘Did you know that she was coming?’ he asked abruptly and Jamie turned to him in surprise. ‘Is that why you chose today, of all days, to get here two hours late?’

‘Of course not! I wouldn’t dream of getting involved in your private life.’ Although she had in the past: trinkets bought for women; flowers chosen, ordered and sent; theatre tickets booked. On one memorable occasion he had actually taken her to a luxury sports-car garage and asked her to choose which colour Porsche he should buy for a certain woman who had lasted no longer than a handful of weeks. He was nothing if not an absurdly generous lover, even if his definition of a relationship never contained the notion of permanence. ‘And I don’t appreciate being accused of … of … ever being in cahoots with any of your bimb—girlfriends.’

Ryan’s eyes narrowed on her flushed face. ‘The reason I asked was because you seemed to derive a certain amount of satisfaction from Leanne and her display of histrionics. In fact, I could swear that I heard you laugh at one point.’

Jamie looked at him. He was once more perched on his desk, his long, jean-clad legs extended and lightly crossed at the ankles. In heels, Leanne would have been at least six foot tall and he had still towered over her.

Jamie felt a quiver of apprehension race down her spine but for once she was sorely tempted to say what was on her mind.

‘I’m sorry. It was an inappropriate reaction.’ Except she could feel a fit of the giggles threatening to overwhelm her again and she had to look down hurriedly at her tightly clasped fingers.

When she next looked up it was to find that he was standing over her and, before she could push back her chair, he was leaning down, his muscular hands on either side of her, his face so close to hers that she could see the wildly extravagant length of his eyelashes and the hint of tawny gold in his dark eyes. He was so close, in fact, that by simply raising her hand a couple of inches she would have been able to stroke the side of his face, touch the faint growth of stubble, feel its spikiness against her fingers.

Assaulted by this sudden wave of crazy speculation, Jamie fought down the sickening twist in her stomach and carried on looking at him squarely in the face although she could feel her heart beating inside her like a jack hammer.

‘What I’d like to know,’ he said softly, ‘is what the hell you found so funny. What I’d really like is for you to share the joke with me.’

‘Sometimes I laugh in tense situations. I’m sorry.’

‘Pull the other one, Jamie. You’ve been in tense situations with me before when I’m trying to get a major deal closed. You’ve never burst out laughing.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Explain.’

‘Why? Why does it matter what I think?’

‘Because I like to know a bit of what’s going on in my personal assistant’s head. Call me crazy, but I think it makes the working relationship go a lot smoother.’ In truth, Ryan didn’t think that it would be possible to find anyone with whom he could have worked more comfortably. Jamie seemed to possess an uncanny ability to predict his moves and her calm was a pleasing counterpoint to his volatility.

Before he had hired her, he had suffered three years of terrific-looking fairly incompetent secretaries who had all developed the annoying habit of becoming infatuated with him. His faithful middle-aged secretary who had served him well for nearly ten years had emigrated to Australia and he had followed her up with a series of ill-suited replacements.

Jamie Powell really worked for him and it had nothing to do with the mechanisms of her mind or what she thought about him. But suddenly the urge to shake her out of her cool detachment was overwhelming. It was as though that shadow of a snicker that had crossed her face earlier on had unleashed a curiosity in him, and it took him by surprise.

He pushed himself away from her and walked across to the low sofa that doubled as a bed for those times when he worked so late that sleeping in his office was the easiest option.

Reluctantly, Jamie swivelled her chair in his direction and wondered how many billionaire bosses would be sprawled indolently on a sofa in their office in a pair of jeans and a faded jumper, hands clasped behind their heads, work put on temporary hold while they asked questions that were really none of their business.

Again that finger of apprehension sent another shiver down her spine. After a succession of unsatisfactory but emotionally important temp jobs, would she have taken this one if she had known the nature of the beast?

‘I’m not paid to have thoughts about your private life,’ she ventured primly in a last-ditch attempt to change the subject.

‘Don’t worry about that. I give you full permission to say what was on your mind.’

Jamie licked her lips nervously. This was the first time he had ever pinned her down like this, the first time he hadn’t backed off when his curiosity had failed to find fertile ground. Now, like a lazy predator, he was watching her, gauging her reaction, forming conclusions.

‘Okay.’ She looked at him evenly. ‘I’m surprised that this is the first time one of your girlfriends has seen fit to storm into your office and give you a piece of her mind. I thought it was funny, so I laughed. But quietly. And I wouldn’t have laughed if I had left your office when I had wanted to, but you gestured to me to stay put. So I did. So you can’t blame me for reacting.’

Ryan sat up and looked at her intently. ‘See? Now isn’t it liberating to speak your mind?’

‘I know you think it’s funny to confuse me.’

‘Am I confusing you?’

Jamie went bright red and tightened her lips. ‘You don’t seem to have any morals or ethics at all when it comes to women!’ she snapped. ‘I’ve worked with you for well over a year and you must have had a dozen women in that time. More! You play with people’s feelings and it doesn’t seem to bother you at all!’

‘So there’s a lurking tiger behind that placid face of yours,’ he murmured.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You asked me for my opinion, that’s all.’

‘You think I use women? Treat them badly?’

‘I …’ She opened her mouth to tell him that she had never thought anything whatsoever about the way he treated women, not until this very moment, but she would have been lying. She realised with some dismay that she had done plenty of thinking about Ryan Sheppard and his out-of-hours relationships. ‘I’m sure you treat them really well, but most women want more than just expensive gifts and fun and frolics for a few weeks.’

‘What makes you say that? Have you been chatting to any of my girlfriends? Or is that what you would want?’

‘I haven’t been chatting to your girlfriends, and we’re not talking about me,’ Jamie told him sharply.

Her colour was up and for the first time he noticed the sultry depths of her eyes and the fullness of her mouth. She was either blissfully unaware of her looks or else had made a concerted effort to sublimate them, at least during working hours. Then he wondered how he had never really noticed these little details about her before. It occurred to him that they had rarely, if ever, had the sort of lengthy conversation that required eye-to-eye contact. She had managed to avoid the very thing every single woman he met sought to instigate.

‘I treat the women I date incredibly well and, more importantly, I never give them any illusions about their place in my life. They know from the start that I’m not into building a relationship or working towards a “happy family” scenario.’

‘Why?’

‘Come again?’

‘Why,’ Jamie repeated in a giddy rush, ‘are you not into building relationships or doing the happy-family thing?’

Ryan looked at her incredulously. Yes, he always encouraged an outspoken approach, both within the working environment and outside it. He prided himself on always being able to take what was said to him. He might choose to totally ignore it, of course, and did a great majority of the time, but never let it be said that he wasn’t open to alternative opinions.

Except who had ever asked him such an outlandishly personal question before?

‘Not everyone is.’ But he was keen to bring the conversation to an end now. ‘And, now that the cabaret show’s over, I think it’s time we get back to work.’

Jamie gave a little shrug and instantly resumed her professionalism. ‘Okay. I didn’t manage to find the time to look at those reports about the software company you’re thinking of investing in. Shall I go and do that now? I can have everything ready for you by this afternoon.’

So, to Ryan’s vague dissatisfaction, the day kicked off the way it always did: with Jamie working wonders with her time, sitting outside his office in her own private cubicle, where she did what she was highly paid to do with such staggering efficiency that he wondered how he had ever managed without her around.

His phone rang constantly; she fielded calls. The creative bods who worked on some of the games software three floors down burst into his office with some new idea or other, became over-exuberant; she ushered them out like a head teacher whose job it was to keep order in the classroom. When he made the comparison, his keen eyes noted the way she blushed and smiled, and then he grinned when she told him that she wouldn’t have to play head teacher if he was a bit better at playing it himself.

At three, he grabbed his coat; he was running late for a meeting with three investment bankers. She told him at the very least to take off the rugby shirt and handed him something a little more presentable from the concealed, fully stocked wardrobe in the suite opposite his office. Everything was back to normal and it was beginning to grate on him.

At five-thirty, he got back to his office after a successful meeting to find her gathering her things together and slipping on her coat. About to switch off her computer, Jamie felt her heart flutter uncomfortably. She hadn’t been expecting him to be back before she left.

‘You’re leaving?’ Ryan tossed his coat over his desk and began pulling off the unutterably dull grey woollen jumper which he had obligingly worn for the benefit of the bankers.

Underneath, the white tee-shirt barely concealed the hard muscularity of his body. Jamie averted her eyes, mentally slapping herself because she should be used to all this by now and she wasn’t sure why she was suddenly reacting to him like a complete idiot. Maybe it had something to do with her sister being back on the scene. There would be a psychological connection there somewhere if she could be bothered to work it out.

‘I … I would have stayed on, Ryan, but something’s come up, so I have to dash.’

‘Something’s come up? What?’ He headed straight to where she was still dithering in front of her computer terminal and lounged against the door frame.

‘Nothing,’ Jamie muttered.

‘Nothing? Something? Which is it, Jamie?’

‘Oh, just leave me alone!’ she blurted out, and to her horror she could feel her eyes welling up at the sudden intrusion of stress that had presented itself in her previously uncomplicated life. She looked away abruptly and began fiddling with the paperwork on her desk, before turning all her attention to her computer in the desperate hope that the man still leaning against the door frame would take the hint and disappear. He didn’t. Worse, he walked slowly towards her and she felt his finger on her chin, tilting her face up to his.

‘What the hell is going on here?’

‘Nothing’s going on. I’m just … just a bit tired, that’s all. Maybe I’m … coming down with something.’ She shrugged his hand off but she could still feel it burning her skin as she quickly stuck on her thick black coat and braced herself for the biting cold outside.

‘Is it to do with work?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Has something happened here at work that you’re not telling me about? Some of the guys can be a bit rowdy. Has someone said something to you? Made some kind of inappropriate remark?’ He suddenly blanched at the possibility that one of them might have seriously overstepped the mark and done something a little more physical when it came to being inappropriate.

Jamie looked at him blankly and shook her head. ‘Of course not. No, work’s fine. You’ll be relieved to hear that.’

‘Some guy giving you grief?’ He tried to sound sympathetic but his imagination had broken its leash and was filling his head with all sorts of images that were definitely in the ‘inappropriate’ category.

‘What kind of grief?’

‘Has someone made an unwanted pass at you?’ Ryan said bluntly. ‘You can tell me and I’ll make damn sure that it never happens again.’

‘Why do you think that I would need help in sorting out something like that?’ she asked coolly. ‘Do you think that I’m such a fool that I wouldn’t know how to take care of myself if some guy decided to make a pass at me?’

‘Did I say that?’

‘You implied it.’

‘Other women,’ Ryan said, his big body tensing, ‘are probably just a bit more experienced when it comes to men. You … I may be mistaken, but you strike me as an innocent.’

Jamie stared at him. She distantly wondered how they had reached this point in the conversation. How many wrong turnings did it take to get from discussing a software report to her sex life—or lack of it?

‘I think it’s time I head home now. I’ll make sure that I’m in on time tomorrow.’ She began moving towards the door. She was only aware of him shifting his stance when she felt the hot weight of his fingers curled around her wrist.

‘You were upset. Can you blame me for wanting to know why?’ He gave a little jerk and pulled her towards him.

‘Yes, I can!’ Her mouth was dry and she knew that she was flushed. In truth, she felt as though her body was on fire.

‘I’m your boss. You work for me, and as such you’re my responsibility.’ His eyes drifted down to her full mouth and then lower, to the starched white shirt, the neat, tailored jacket. He was aware of her breasts heaving.

‘I am my own responsibility,’ Jamie said through tight lips. ‘I’m sorry I brought my stress to work. It won’t happen again and, for your information, it has nothing to do with anything or anyone in this office. No one’s been saying anything to me and no one’s made a pass at me. I haven’t had to defend myself but I’m just going to say this for the record—if someone had done something that I found offensive, then I would be more than capable of looking out for myself. I don’t need you to step in and defend me.’

‘Most women appreciate a man jumping to their defence,’ Ryan murmured and just like that the atmosphere changed between them. He slackened his grip on her wrist but, instead of pulling away her hand, Jamie found herself staring up at him, losing herself in the depths of his eyes, mesmerised. She blinked and thankfully was brought back down to planet Earth.

‘I am not most women,’ she breathed. ‘And I’d really appreciate it if you could let me go.’

He did, stepping aside, watching as she stuck on her coat and wrapped the black scarf around her neck.

She couldn’t look at him. She just couldn’t. She didn’t understand what had happened back there but she was shaking inside. Not even the thought of Jessica could distract her from the moment. And she was horribly aware that he was staring at her, thinking that she was over-reacting, behaving like a mad woman when all he had done was to try and understand why she had been acting out of character.

She worked for him, and as her boss he had seen it as his civic duty to protect her from possible discomfort in her working environment, and what had she done in response? Acted like an outraged spinster in the company of a lech. She was mortified.

And then she had stared at him. Had he noticed? He noticed everything when it came to women and the last thing she needed was for him to think that she saw him as anything other than her boss, a man whom she respected but would always keep at arm’s length.

‘I’ve left those reports you asked me to do on your desk in descending order of priority,’ she said crisply. ‘Your meeting at ten tomorrow’s been cancelled. I’ve rearranged it and you should have the new date updated onto your phone. So …’

‘So, you can run along and nurse your stress in private,’ Ryan drawled.

‘I will.’

But she spent the entire journey back to her house dwelling on the tone of his voice as he had said that. She wondered what he was thinking of her. She didn’t want to, but she did.

The barrier she had imposed that clearly defined both their roles felt as though it was crumbling around her like a flimsy pack of cards, and all because he had happened to catch her in a vulnerable moment.

Thanks to Jessica.

It was pitch-black and bitterly cold as she walked from the Underground station to her house. London was in a grip of the worst winter weather for twelve years. Predictions were for a white Christmas, although it had yet to snow.

In her house, however, the lights were on. All of them. Jamie sighed and reflected that, on the bright side, at least Jessica had managed to locate the key in its secret hiding spot under the flower pot at the side of the house. At least she had made it down to London from Edinburgh safe and sound, even if she brought with her the promise of yet more stress.

CHAPTER TWO

‘BUT you don’t understand …’

Jamie took time out from loading the dishwasher to glance round at her sister, who was wandering in a sulky fashion around the kitchen, occasionally stopping to pick something up and inspect it with a mixture of boredom and disdain. Nothing in the house was to her taste; she had made that very clear within the first few minutes of Jamie pushing open the front door and walking in.

The place, she’d announced, was poky. ‘Couldn’t you have found something a little more comfortable? I mean, I know Mum didn’t leave us with much, but honestly, Jamie!’ The furnishings were drab. There was no healthy stuff in the fridge to eat and, ‘What on earth do you do for alcohol in this place? Don’t tell me that you while away your evenings with a cup of cocoa and a good book for company?’

Jamie was accustomed to the casual insults, although it had been so long since she had actually set eyes on her sister that she had forgotten just how grating they could be after a while.

Their father had died when Jamie was six and Jessica still a three-year-old toddler and they had been raised by their mother. Jamie had been a bookworm at school, always studying, always mentally moving forward, planning to go to university. She left Jessica to be the one who curled her hair and painted her fingernails and, even at the age of thirteen, develop the kind of wiles that would stand her in very good stead with the opposite sex.

Jamie had never made it to university. At barely nineteen she had found herself first caring for her mother—who, after a routine operation, had contracted MRSA and failed to recover—then, when Gloria had died, taking on the responsibility of looking after her sixteen-year-old sister. Without Jamie even noticing, Jessica had moved from a precocious pre-teen to a nightmare of a teenager. Where Jamie had inherited her father’s dark looks and chosen to retreat into the world of literature and books, Jessica had been blessed with their mother’s striking blonde looks. Far from retreating anywhere, she had shown a gritty determination to flaunt as much of herself as was humanly possible.

A still-grieving Jamie had suddenly been catapulted into the role of caretaker to a teenager who was almost completely out of control.

What else could she have done? Gloria had begged her to make sure to keep an eye on Jessica, to look after her, ‘Because you know what she can be like—she needs a firm hand …’

Jamie often wondered how it was that she hadn’t turned prematurely grey from the stress of it.

And now, after all that muddy water under the bridge, stuff she still could hardly bear to think about, here was Jessica, back on the scene again, as stunning as ever—more, if that was possible—and already making Jamie grit her teeth in pointless frustration.

‘I understand that you have responsibilities, Jess, and they may be getting to you but you can’t run away from them.’ Jamie slammed shut the dishwasher door with undue force and wiped her hands on a tea towel.

Dinner had been a bowl of home-cooked pasta with chicken and mushrooms. Jessica had made a face and flatly refused to eat any of the pasta because she was off carbs.

‘It’s all right for you!’ Jessica snapped, scooping up her poker-straight blonde hair into a ponytail before releasing it so that it fell in a heavy, silky curtain halfway down her back. ‘You don’t have to deal with a bloody husband who works all the hours God made and expects me to be sitting around with a smile pinned to my face, waiting for him to return for a nice hot meal and a back massage! Like some kind of creepy Stepford wife.’

‘You could get a job.’

‘I got a job. I got eight jobs! It’s not my fault if none of them suited me. Besides, what’s the point me going out to work for a pittance when Greg earns so much?’

Jamie didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to think about Greg. Thinking about Greg had always been a downhill road. Once upon a time he had been her boss. Once upon a time she had fancied herself in love with him—a secret, pleasurable yearning that had filled her days with sunlight and made the burden of looking out for her younger sister more bearable. Once upon a time she had actually been stupid enough to think that he would wake up one day and realise that he cared for her in the same way she cared for him. Unfortunately, he had met Jessica and it had been love at first sight.

‘Have you thought about volunteer work?’ she offered, fed up.

‘Oh, purr … leese! Can you really see me doing anything like that, Jamie? Working in a soup kitchen in Edinburgh? Or arranging flowers in the local parish church and doing fund raisers with the old biddies?’

She had dragged one of the chairs over and was sitting with her long legs propped up on the chair in front of her so that she could inspect her toenails which were painted a vibrant shade of pink.

‘I’m bored,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m bored and I’m fed up and I want a life. I’m too young to be buried in the outskirts of Edinburgh where it rains all the time, when it’s not snowing, hanging around for Greg, who only cares about sick animals anyway. Did you know he’s got a fan club? The dishiest vet in town—it’s pathetic!’

Jamie turned away and briefly squeezed her eyes tightly shut. It had been years since she had last seen Greg but she remembered him as clearly as if it had been yesterday. His kind face, the way his grey eyes crinkled when he smiled, his floppy blond hair through which he constantly ran his fingers.

The thought of her sister being bored with him filled her with terror. In the end, Greg had been her salvation. He had taken over the business of worrying about Jessica. Jessica might not need him, but she, Jamie, most definitely did!

‘He’s crazy about you, Jess.’

‘Loads of guys could be crazy about me.’

Jamie felt her body go cold. ‘What does that mean? Have you? You’re not doing anything stupid, are you?’

‘Oh, don’t be such a prude.’ But she sighed and leaned back against the chair, letting her head flop over the back so that she was staring glassy-eyed up at the ceiling. ‘No, I’m not doing anything stupid, if by that you’re asking me whether I’m having an affair. But the way I feel …’

She allowed that possibility to take shape between them and it was all Jamie could do not to slap her sister. However, years of ingrained caretaking papered over the passing temptation. This, she felt, was a subject best left alone in the hope that it might just go away. She was busy wondering what topic she could choose that might be safer when the doorbell rang.

‘Someone flogging something,’ she muttered, relieved for the distraction. ‘Please, Jess, just give Greg a call. He must be worried sick about you.’

She left the kitchen to a disgruntled Jessica informing her that she had no intention of doing any such thing, that he knew perfectly well where she was, just like he knew that she needed some space.

Jamie wondered how long Greg would carry on waiting while Jessica hunted around for this so-called space she was intent on finding, and she was still chewing it over in her head as she pulled open the front door.

The sight of Ryan standing on her doorstep was so shocking that for a few seconds her mind went completely blank.

He had never, ever been to her house before. Not even when they had happened to drive out of London to attend a meeting. He had never picked her up or dropped her off. She hadn’t even thought that he knew where she lived.

Eventually, her brain caught up with what her eyes were telling her, and she stopped gaping at him open-mouthed and actually croaked, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You were stressed out. I was worried about you. I thought I’d drop by, make sure you were all right.’

‘Well, I’m fine, so I’ll see you tomorrow at work.’ Belatedly, she remembered her sister scowling in the kitchen and she stepped outside and pulled the door quietly closed behind her, taking care not to shut it completely.

‘How did you find out where I live?’ she hissed under her breath. Under the lamplight, his face was a contour of harsh shadows and his eyes glittered in the semi-darkness. He was still in his work clothes, the jeans, the faded sweater, the trainers and the coat, which she knew had cost the earth, but which he wore as casually as if he had got it from the local Oxfam shop.

‘Personnel files. It really wasn’t too difficult.’

‘Well, you have to go.’

‘You’re shaking like a leaf. It’s cold out here—let me in for a few minutes.’

‘No!’ She saw his eyebrows rise fractionally and added, stammering, ‘I mean, it’s late.’

‘It’s eight-forty-five.’

‘I’m busy.’

‘You’re on edge. Why? Tell me what’s going on.’ Ryan laughed. ‘You’re my indispensable secretary. I can’t have you storing up nasty secrets and then suddenly deciding to walk out on me, can I? What would I do without you?’

‘I … I’m obliged to give a month’s notice,’ Jamie stammered. Ryan Sheppard on her doorstep suddenly seemed to throw that all-important distance between them into confusion and she didn’t like it.

‘So you are thinking of leaving me. Well, it’s a damn good thing I turned up here to get the full story out of you, isn’t it? At least this way I can defend my corner.’ For some reason he felt disproportionately let down by the thought of her just dumping a letter of resignation on his desk without any forewarning and then jumping ship. ‘So, why don’t you invite me inside and we can discuss this like two adults? If it’s more money you’re after, then name the amount and it’s yours.’

‘This is crazy!’

‘I know. And I hate dealing with crazy.’ He reached out and pushed the door open just as Jessica’s petulant voice wafted from the direction of the kitchen, carolling to ask where Jamie was, because she really needed something to eat—and was there anywhere they could go for a halfway decent salad? She didn’t fancy being cooped up for the rest of the night.

And then there she was, long and beautiful and blonde, and all the things that Ryan looked for in a woman, standing by the banister as Jamie turned around with a sigh of resignation. Stunningly pretty, stunningly fair-haired and dangerously bored with her husband.

If Jamie could have reached out and pushed Ryan straight back out of the front door, then she would have done so, but he was already inside the tiny hall, removing his thick coat while his eyes never strayed from Jessica.

‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled in a lazy undertone. ‘What have we here …?’

‘My sister,’ Jamie muttered.

The glitter in Jessica’s eyes mirrored his lazy speculation and Jamie felt a chill run down her spine.

There was no need for her to make introductions. Not when her sister was sashaying forward, hand outstretched, introducing herself—with, Jamie noted, her left hand stuck firmly behind her back.

‘You never told me that you had a sister,’ Ryan said, turning his fabulous eyes to Jamie.

Standing to one side like an uninvited spectator in her own house, Jamie’s voice was stiff when she answered, ‘I didn’t see the relevance. Jessica doesn’t live in London.’

‘Although, I might just be thinking of changing that.’

Jamie’s head whipped round and she stared, horrified at her sister. ‘You can’t!’

‘Why not? I told you. I’m bored in Scotland. And, from what I see here, London certainly has a hell of a lot more to offer. Why did you never mention that you had such a dishy boss, Jamie? Did you think that I might dash down here and try to steal him from you?’

Jamie held on to the banister, feeling faint, and Ryan, lounging only feet away from her, took the opportunity to gauge the electric atmosphere between the sisters. Arriving unannounced on his secretary’s doorstep had been a spontaneous decision which he had begun to regret on the drive over, but now he was pleased that he had made the journey.

‘How long are you in London?’ He looked at Jessica but his mind was still on Jamie and on that ferocious wall of privacy she had erected around herself. Purpose, he thought, unknown.

‘She’s literally only here for a day or two before she returns to Scotland. She’s married and her husband will be waiting for her.’

‘Did you have to bring that up?’

‘It’s the truth, Jess. Greg’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve this.’ And you certainly don’t deserve him, she thought.

‘I’m having lots of marital problems,’ Jessica insisted to Ryan. ‘I thought that I could come down here and find some support from my sister, but it looks like I was wrong.’

‘That’s not fair, Jess! And, besides, I’m sure Mr Sheppard doesn’t want to stand here and listen to our family history.’

‘Please, feel free to go on. I’m all ears!’

‘You need to go.’ Jamie turned to him. Every muscle in her body felt like it had been stretched to snapping point and the ground under her feet was like quicksand. One minute she had been on solid ground and then, in the blink of an eye, her sister was on her doorstep, Ryan was in her house breaking down her fortifications just by being there, and she was struggling in quicksand. ‘And you, Jess, need to go to bed.’

‘I’m not a kid any longer!’

‘You behave like one.’ In terms of condemnation, it was the first time Jamie had ever taken such a dramatic step. She had been conditioned to look after Jessica, to treat her like a baby, to make sure that her needs were met because she, Jamie, was the stronger one, the older one, the one upon whom the responsibilities lay.

In the tense silence that followed her flat statement, Jessica hesitated, confused, then her lips pursed and she glared sulkily at her sister.

‘You can’t make me go back up to Scotland, you know,’ she muttered.

‘We can discuss this in the morning, Jess,’ Jamie said wearily. ‘I think I’ve had enough stress today.’

‘And she is stressed.’ Ryan inserted himself into the conversation and Jessica sidled a little closer to him, her body language advertising her interest in a way no amount of words could have done. ‘She arrived late for work this morning.’

Jessica giggled and looked at her sister slyly. ‘If you’d told me that you were running late, I would have got off the phone sooner. I know you’re a stickler for punctuality. Don’t worry. I’ll be good as gold while I’m here, and you can be the perfect little secretary again and get in to work on time. Mind you …’ She looked at Ryan coyly. ‘If I had a boss like this one, I’d be getting in to work at six and leaving at midnight. Or maybe not leaving at all …’

Jamie turned on her heels and stalked off towards the kitchen. She knew how these conversations with her sister went. The slightest whiff of criticism and she would react with jibes below the belt that were designed to wound. Jamie had long discovered that the fastest way of dealing with this was to walk away from the situation, to treat her sister like a child who was not responsible for her tantrums. They blew over as quickly as they materialised and making herself scarce removed her from the eye of the storm.

She half-expected Jessica to linger on the staircase, turning on the full-wattage smile and bringing all her feminine wiles to play in an effort to charm Ryan. But, in fact, barely had Jamie sat at the kitchen table than Ryan appeared in the doorway and looked at her quietly, his hands shoved into his pockets.

An uncomfortable silence gathered around them which she broke by reluctantly offering him a cup of coffee.

She would cheerfully have sent him on his way, but there were things that needed to be said, and, reluctant as she was to open up any kind of discussion on her private life, she had no idea how she could avoid the issue.

‘Where’s Jessica?’ she asked, standing up and moving across to the kettle.

‘I sent her on her way.’

‘And she listened?’

‘I have that way with women.’

Jamie snorted, no longer bothering with the niceties that would have been more appropriate given that he was the guy who paid her salary. He had invaded her territory, and as far as she was concerned niceties were temporarily suspended.

‘Now you know why I got in late to work this morning. Jessica kept me on the phone for nearly an hour. She was a mess. I only knew that she had decided to sort herself out by coming down here when she phoned me from the train.’

‘No big deal.’ Ryan took the mug she was holding out to him and sat down. ‘Family crises happen. Why didn’t you just tell me the truth this morning?’ He watched her and realised that she was barely seeing him as she walked towards the kitchen table, nursing the mug in her hands. For a man who was fully aware of the impact he had on the opposite sex, being rendered invisible was a new experience.

He, on the other hand, keenly noted this new casual dresscode of hers, the one she used when she wasn’t wearing her work hat. Lazy eyes took in the way her jeans clung to a body that curved in all the right places and the way her long-sleeved tee-shirt skimmed a flat stomach and lovingly contoured pert, full breasts. Even her hair looked different—less neat and pristine, more tousled, as though she had spent time running her fingers through it. Which, judging from what he had picked up of the atmosphere in the house so far, she probably had.

‘I suppose because I happen to think that what happens in my private life is no business of yours.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, I didn’t even know that you had a sister! How much of a state secret could that possibly be?’

Jamie flushed and fiddled with the mug before taking a sip of coffee. ‘I … I’m not really the confiding type.’

‘Really? I’d never have guessed.’

‘I didn’t tell you about Jessica because the chances of you ever running into her were non-existent. I live in London, she lives just outside Edinburgh. She isn’t a part of my daily life.’

‘And that was exactly the way you wanted it until she had the misfortune to need your support.’

‘Please don’t presume to have any insight at all into my family affairs!’

‘If you don’t want me to presume, then you’re going to have to be a bit more forthcoming.’

‘Why? What difference does it make? I do a very good job for you and that’s all that matters.’

‘Why are you so uncomfortable with this conversation?’ He could have let it go. She was right; she delivered the goods when it came to her job and whatever happened outside it was absolutely none of his business. But Ryan decided that he didn’t want to let it go. It was as though a door had been partially opened and what lay behind it promised to be so intriguing that he was compelled to try and push the door a little wider.

‘You don’t understand. You’re my boss, for a start, and like I said I’m not into confiding. I prefer to keep my own counsel. Maybe it’s a reaction to having a sister like Jess. She always made so much noise that it was just a lot easier to keep quiet and let her get on with it.’

‘Easier, but maybe not better. Forget for a minute that I’m your boss. Pretend that I’m just anybody—your next-door neighbour who has come over to borrow a cup of sugar, coincidentally just at a time when you need a shoulder to cry on …’

‘I’m supposed to think of you as my next-door neighbour on the scrounge for a cup of sugar?’ She was momentarily distracted enough by the image to feel her lips twitch. ‘What would you be doing with the cup of sugar?’

‘Baking a cake, because I happen to be a kindly and caring neighbour who enjoys baking. It’s my favourite pastime. Next to flower arranging and cross stitch.’ She was relaxing. She was even smiling and he felt a kick of gratification that he had been responsible for that. For some reason, he didn’t care for the idea of her stressed out, tearful and unable to talk to anyone about it. His experience of women was that they couldn’t wait to pour their hearts out and confide in whomsoever happened to be willing to listen. He was the youngest of four and the only boy in the family. He could remember many an instance of sitting out one of his sister’s ridiculously long phone calls, waiting impatiently to use the telephone.

This level of reticence was new to him. ‘So …?’ he prompted encouragingly.

‘So, look, I’m not sure how to say this but …’ Jamie sighed and adopted a slightly different approach. ‘Now that you’ve met my sister, what do you think of her?’

‘After all of my five-second acquaintance, I’m only qualified to tell you that she’s very attractive.’

Jamie felt a stab of disappointment but she nodded sagely at him. ‘She’s always been the prettier one.’

‘Hang on a minute …’

‘Spare me the kindness. I’m stating a fact, and it’s not something that’s ever bothered me anyway.’ But for a fleeting second Jamie wondered what he had been about to say. Of course, it would have been a polite lie, but nevertheless … ‘Jessica’s beautiful and she knows it. She’s also married and going through a bit of a bad patch which will blow over just so long as …’

‘As she’s not offered any distractions by someone like me?’ He looked at her coolly.

‘I know what type of girls you go for—tall, blonde, beautiful and pliable. Well, Jess is tall, blonde, beautiful and at the moment she happens to be very pliable. I know you probably think that I’m being totally out of order in saying this stuff, but you chose to come here, and now that you’re here I’m afraid I have every right to say what’s on my mind.’ She licked her lips nervously. ‘I hope I’m not jeopardising my job by telling you this.’

‘Jeopardising your job? What kind of person do you think I am?’ He was outraged to think that she could even consider him the type of man who would penalise her for speaking her mind. Was that what she thought of him? Under her cool, dutiful exterior, did she think that he was some sort of monster?

‘Don’t worry, your job is perfectly safe, and if you’re so obsessive about your privacy then I’m happy to walk out that door right now and leave you to get on with hiding behind your walls. As for your sister, she might be the sort of woman I date, but I don’t date married women, even married women who claim to be unhappily married.’

He stood up and the colour drained from Jamie’s face. She had enjoyed the free and easy way he had always had with her. It was all part and parcel of his unconventional personality, that curious, alluring mix of creativity, intelligence and self-assurance. Did she want to lose that? Did she want a boss who stuck to the rules and never teased her, or over-stepped the boundaries in asking about her personal life? That thought left her cold and she hurriedly got to her feet and reached out to put a restraining hand on his arm.

‘I’m sorry. I know how that sounded, but I have to look out for my sister. You see …’ She hesitated a fraction of a second. ‘Our dad died when I was six, and when Jess was sixteen Mum died after complications following an operation. It was horrible. I was left in charge. Mum made me promise that I would look after her. I was about to go to university, but I found myself having to get a job and look after Jess.’

‘That was a lot of responsibility for someone so young,’ Ryan murmured, sitting back down.

‘It wasn’t easy,’ Jamie agreed. ‘Jess was boy crazy and I nearly tore my hair out making sure she showed up at school every day and left with a handful of qualifications.’

‘What were you doing for a job?’ he asked curiously, and was even more curious when slow colour crept into her cheeks and she looked down.

‘Oh, just working at a vet’s. It wasn’t what I had expected to be doing at the age of nineteen, but I enjoyed it. The thing is …’

‘What had you expected to be doing?’

‘Huh?’

‘Your plans? Dreams? Ambitions? What were they before your life was derailed?’

‘Well …’ Jamie flushed and hesitated. ‘I wanted to go to university and study law. Seems like a lifetime ago! Anyway, that’s not important. The important thing is that I just wanted to warn you off her.’

‘Tough, having to give up on your dreams. There must be a part of you that resents her.’

‘Of course there isn’t! No one can help what life throws at them.’

‘Noble sentiment. Alas, not many of us are noble creatures.’

‘As I was saying …’ Jamie chose to ignore the invitation to elaborate. ‘I just wanted to warn you off her.’

‘Because she’s going to dutifully return to her husband and they’re both going to live happily ever after?’

‘Yes!’

‘Warning duly noted.’

‘What warning?’

Jessica was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, and with a sinking heart Jamie realised that she hadn’t vanished because she had been instructed to vanish—she had vanished so that she could have a shower and resurface in the least amount of clothing possible. She was kitted out in slinky lounging culottes and a tiny vest, worn bra-less, that left nothing to the imagination. She had a stupendous figure and every inch of it was available for inspection as she walked slowly into the kitchen, enjoying the attention.

Through the thin, grey vest, Jamie could see the outline of her sister’s nipples. Ryan would similarly be taking that in. Yes, he had told her that he would keep away from Jessica, but how strong was any red-blooded man’s will power when it came to a sexy woman who was overtly encouraging?

‘Well?’ Jessica paused and leaned against the counter, legs lightly crossed at the ankles, her back arched so that her breasts were provocatively thrust forward. ‘What warning?’

‘A warning,’ Ryan drawled, ‘that I’m not to interfere and try and persuade you to return to your husband.’

Jessica looked at her sister narrowly. ‘That true, Jamie?’

‘Why would he lie?’

‘So you don’t mind me staying with you for a while? Maybe until Christmas is over? I mean, it’s only a couple of weeks away. I could help you decorate the tree and stuff and by then I might have got my head together.’

Boxed in, Jamie had no choice but to concede defeat.

‘Hey, we could even have a party!’ She looked sideways at Ryan and shot him a half-smile. ‘I’m great at organising parties. What are you up to at Christmas, anyway?’

‘Jessica!’

‘Oh, don’t be such a bore, Jamie.’

‘I’m in the country,’ Ryan murmured. ‘Why?’ He had already received so many invitations to join people for Christmas lunch that he was seriously considering ignoring them all and locking himself away in his apartment until the fuss was over.

‘You could join us here.’

Adjacent to Jamie, he was aware of her look of pure horror at the suggestion. He nearly burst out laughing, but he managed to keep a straight face as he appeared to give the offer considerable thought.

‘Well …’ He hesitated. ‘I am in the unique position of spending Christmas day without my family.’

‘Where are they?’ Jessica strolled towards him, her thumbs hooked lightly into the elasticated waistband of the culottes so that they were dragged slightly down, exposing a flat, brown belly and the twinkling glitter of her pierced navel.

No wonder Jamie worried about her sister, Ryan thought. The woman was clearly a walking, talking liability to anybody’s peace of mind.

‘They’re in the Caribbean.’

Jessica’s eyes rounded into impressed saucers and her mouth fell open. ‘You’re kidding.’

‘I have a house there and this year they’ve all decided to spend Christmas and New Year in it.’

‘I don’t know why we’re having this silly conversation,’ Jamie interrupted crisply. ‘Ryan already has his own plans for Christmas.’ She rose to her feet and pulled open the dishwasher, which was her way of announcing that it was time for the impromptu evening to come to an end. But Jessica was in full flow, quizzing Ryan about his house in the Caribbean, asking him what it looked like, while he answered with just the sort of indulgent amusement that she was accustomed to getting. It had never mattered what boundaries Jessica had over-stepped; the world had always smiled and allowed her to get away with it. Whoever said that beautiful people didn’t lead charmed lives?

‘I’m open to persuasion,’ Ryan finished, leaning back and watching Jamie bang pans into cupboards, frustration stamped on her face, her mouth downturned and scowling. ‘What were you going to do, Jamie? Bit boring if you had been planning to stay in on your own.’

‘I would rather call it peaceful,’ she snapped. ‘And, besides, I had plans to go out for drinks on Christmas morning with some friends and I would probably have hung around for their alternative Christmas lunch.’

‘I want traditional,’ Jessica stated flatly.

‘What’s Greg going to do?’ Jamie spun round to look at her sister. ‘Does he know that you’re planning on abandoning him for Christmas day?’

‘He won’t mind. He’s on call, and anyway, his parents can’t wait to have him all to themselves so that they can tell him what a rotten wife I am. So …’ That technicality concluded, Jessica turned her attention back to Ryan, who looked as comfortable and settled in the kitchen as though he had been there a million times. ‘Will you come? Jamie’s never been into Christmas, but I’ll make her stick up a tree, and it’ll be festive with a turkey and all the trimmings!’

‘I’m sure he’ll think about it. Just stop nagging him, Jess!’ Jamie was pretty sure that she could convince Ryan to ignore her sister’s rantings. He was a guy who was in great demand. The last thing he would want to do would be to sit around a small pine table in a kitchen and dine on a turkey reluctantly cooked by his secretary. Just the thought of it made her shiver in nervous apprehension.

‘It’s wonderful the way you can answer on my behalf.’ Ryan grinned at Jamie, who scowled back at him. ‘It’s probably why we work so well together. You know just when to read my mind.’

‘Ha-ha. Very funny.’

‘But she’s right.’ He stood up and glanced at Jessica. ‘I’ll think about it and let Jamie know.’

‘Or you could let me know. I’ll give you my mobile number and you can get in touch any time at all. No need to go through Jamie.’

He left five minutes later and Jamie sagged. The peace of having her sister upstairs safely in bed was greatly diminished by the nasty tangle of thoughts playing in her mind.

Not only had Ryan found out more about her in the space of an hour than he had in eighteen months, but she was now facing the alarming prospect that, having wedged his foot through the door, it would be impossible to get him to remove it.

Everything that had always been so straightforward had now been turned on its head.

And what if the man decided to descend on them for Christmas lunch?

Apprehension sizzled in her and, alongside that very natural apprehension, something else, something even more worrying, something that closely resembled … anticipation.

CHAPTER THREE

CHRISTMAS’S rapid approach brought a temporary lull in the usual relentless work-ethic. Ryan Sheppard made a very good Christmas boss. He entered into the spirit of things by personally supervising the decorations and cracking open champagne at six every evening for whoever happened to be around in the countdown to the big day. Extra-long lunch hours shopping were tactfully overlooked. On Christmas Eve, work was due to stop at twelve and the rest of the day given over to the Secret Santa gift exchanges and an elaborate buffet lunch which would be prepared by Ryan’s caterers.

On the home front, Jamie was stoically putting up with a sister who had decided to throw herself into the party season with gay abandon. She tagged along to all the Christmas parties to which Jamie had been invited, flirted outrageously with every halfway decent-looking bachelor, and in the space of a week and a half collected more phone numbers than Jamie had in her address book. There was, ominously, no mention of Greg. If they were in contact, it certainly wasn’t via the landline. Jamie had stopped asking because the response of tear-filled eyes, followed by an angry sermon about the valuable space for which she was still searching, was just too much of a headache.

A tree had been erected and Jessica had enthusiastically begun helping with the lights, but like a child, had become bored after fifteen minutes, leaving Jamie to complete the task. Clothes were left strewn in unlikely places and were retrieved with an air of self-sacrifice whenever Jamie happened to mention the state of the house. The consequence of this was that Jamie’s peaceful existence was now a round-the-clock chore of tidying up behind her sister and nagging.

Of course, Jamie knew that she would have to sit her sister down and insist on knowing when she intended to return to Scotland, but like a coward she hid behind the Christmas chaos and decided to shelve all delicate discussions until Boxing Day at the very least.

There was also the hurdle of Christmas day to get through. Ryan had, totally unexpectedly, accepted Jessica’s foolish invitation to lunch and, with the prospect of three people cutting into a turkey that would be way too big, Jamie had invited several other members of staff to come along if they weren’t doing anything.

Three guys from the software department had taken her up on the invitation, as well as a couple of her girlfriends whom she had met at the gym when she had first arrived in London.

Jamie anticipated an awkward lunch, but when she mentioned that to her sister, Jessica had smiled brightly and assured her that there was no need to worry.

‘I’m a party animal!’ she had announced. ‘I can make any gathering go with a bang, and I’ve got loads of party hats and crackers and stuff. It’ll be a blast! So much better than last year, which was a deadly meal round at the in-laws’. I can’t wait to fill Greg in when the last guest leaves.’

‘I’m surprised you even care what he thinks,’ Jamie had said and was vaguely reassured when her sister had gone bright red.

Not that she had dwelled on that for any length of time. Most of her mind for the past week had been taken up with the prospect of Ryan descending on her house for Christmas lunch.

And now the day had finally arrived. It came with dark, leaden skies and a general feeling of anticlimax; although some snow had been forecast, it appeared to be in the process of falling everywhere else but in London.

From downstairs came the thud of music, a compilation of songs which Jessica had prepared during her spare time. Peace seemed a distant dream. At eight-thirty, Jamie had thoroughly cleaned the bathroom, which had been taken over by her sister in a series of undercover assaults, so that each day slightly more appeared on the shelf and in the cabinet.

Now, sitting and staring at her reflection in the mirror, Jamie wondered how much longer she would be able to cope with a very hyper Jessica.

Then she thought about her outfit: a long-sleeved black dress that, she knew, would look drab against the peacock-blue of Jessica’s mini skirt and her high wedges that would escalate her height to six feet.

By the time the first guest arrived, Jamie was already settling into her role of background assistant to her life-and-soul-of-the-party sister.

Every nerve in her body was tuned to the sound of the doorbell, but when Ryan eventually appeared, she was in the kitchen, as it happened, doing various things with the meal. Outside alcohol was steadily being consumed and Jessica was flirting, dancing and enjoying the limelight, even though the guys concerned were the sort of highly intelligent eccentrics she would ordinarily have dismissed as complete nerds.

The sound of his voice behind her, lazy and amused, zapped her like a bolt of live electricity and she leapt to her feet and spun around, having been peering worriedly into the oven.

‘Well,’ he drawled, walking into the kitchen and peering underneath lids at the food sitting on the counter, ‘looks like the party’s going with a swing.’

‘You’re here.’

‘Did you think that I wasn’t going to turn up?’ Since the last time he had seen her in jeans and a tee-shirt, he had found himself doing quite a bit of thinking about her. As expected, she had mentioned nothing about her sister when she had been at work, which didn’t mean that their working relationship had remained the same. It hadn’t. Something subtle had altered, although he had a feeling that that just applied to him. She had been as efficient, as distant and as perfectly polite as ever.

‘I’m nothing if not one-hundred-percent reliable.’ He held out a carrier bag. ‘Champagne.’

Flustered, she kept her eyes firmly on his face, deliberately avoiding the muscular legs encased in pair of black trousers and the way those top two undone buttons of his cream shirt exposed the shadow of fine, dark hair.

‘Thanks.’ She reached out for the carrier bag and was startled when from behind his back he produced a small gift-wrapped box. ‘What’s this?’

‘A present.’

‘I’m still working my way through the bottle of perfume you gave me last year.’ She wiped her hands and then began opening the present.

Her mouth went dry. She had been privy to quite a few of his gifts to women. They ranged from extravagant bouquets of flowers to jewellery to trips to health spas. This, however, was nothing like that. In the small box was an antique butterfly brooch and she picked it up, held it up to the light and then set it back down in its bed of tissue paper before raising her eyes to his.

‘You bought me a butterfly,’ she whispered.

‘I noticed that you had a few on your mantelpiece in the sitting room. I guessed you collect them. I found this one at an antique shop in Spitalfields.’

‘It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept it.’ She thrust it at him and turned away, her face burning.

‘Why not?’

‘Because … because …’

‘Because you don’t collect them?’

‘I do, but …’

‘But it’s yet another of those secrets of yours that you’d rather I knew nothing about?’

‘It just isn’t appropriate,’ Jamie told him stiffly. In her head, she pictured him roaming through a market, chancing upon the one thing he knew would appeal to her, handing over not a great deal of cash for it, but it never took much to win someone over. Except, she wasn’t on the market to be won over. Nor was he on the market for doing anything but what came naturally to him—thinking outside the box. It was why he was such a tremendous success in his field.

‘Okay, but you know that it’s an insult to return a gift.’ Ryan shrugged. ‘I’m in your house. Consider it a small token of gratitude for rescuing a lonely soul from wandering the streets of London on Christmas day.’

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