‘You—’ Grey took her upper arm into his free hand as he stared with aggravation, and something else that wasn’t aggravation at all, right into her eyes ‘—are a very odd kind of personal assistant.’

She could have taken offence, but she didn’t. Maybe because his fingers held her arm in a gentle clasp. He might not want to admit it, but Soph thought he found her at least a little intriguing.

His eyes widened and he stepped abruptly away from her. Soph backed towards the door. She had to put distance between them before the Gremlin of Temptation struck and she said something terribly inappropriate.

Australian author Jennie Adams grew up in a rambling farmhouse surrounded by books, and by people who loved reading them. She decided at a young age to be a writer, but it took many years and a lot of scenic detours before she sat down to pen her first romance novel. Jennie is married, with two adult children, and has worked in a number of careers and voluntary positions, including transcription typist and pre-school assistant. Jennie makes her home in a small inland city in New South Wales. In her leisure time she loves long, rambling walks, starting knitting projects that she rarely finishes, chatting with friends, trips to the movies, and new dining experiences.

Jennie loves to hear from her readers, and can be contacted via her website at www.jennieadams.net

Dear Reader

Families come in all shapes and sizes. I confess I have unashamedly explored some of the motivations, behaviours and attitudes of my own broad ‘family’ as I’ve written each of my Gable sisters stories. All of that exploration is underpinned with the one special ingredient that gives us hope, holds us up and keeps us going. Love.

The Gable sisters’ journey began when middle sister Chrissy Gable butted heads with Nate Barrett as she determined to protect her elderly employer from harm in HER MILLIONAIRE BOSS, and instead fell into the love of a lifetime herself. It carried through when Bella, the eldest Gable sister, and Luc Monticelli faced their combined difficult pasts in THE ITALIAN SINGLE DAD, and were finally able to find forgiveness and healing and a future together.

Now it is Sophia Gable’s turn to find something even beyond the wonderful love of her sisters. And, indeed, Soph is set to take on the world, or at least the part of it populated by a certain wounded, grumbly and delicious employer named Grey Barlow—whether he thinks her quirky way of assisting and caring for him is outrageous or not! Grey is equally determined to protect himself from entanglements, but will his heart be able to resist the onslaught of one determined and unusual assistant?

I hope you enjoy Soph and Grey’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and in this centenary year of celebrating so many wonderful Mills & Boon stories perhaps the Gable sisters will live on in your hearts just a little, as they have in mine.

Love and hugs

Jennie

THE BOSS’S UNCONVENTIONAL ASSISTANT

BY

JENNIE ADAMS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Mark, because you always smile when I sing.

CHAPTER ONE

‘SO THIS is where a multimillionaire property developer comes for the occasional weekend away from the city.’ Sophia Gable made the observation as she drew her elderly yellow car to a stop outside Grey Barlow’s country home. ‘Or in this case it’s where he comes to recuperate from an accident.’

The house sat part way up an unspoiled section of Victorian mountainside, a large, solid structure made of slate and stone and mortar with a weathered roof of terracotta tiles. Vines twined about the veranda posts. Meadows full of wild flowers bloomed in every direction. Beyond those, snowcapped mountains rose in early spring splendour.

It was a change from the hustle and bustle of Melbourne, but Soph was adaptable. She glanced at the white flop-eared domestic rabbit that rested, nose twitching, in a deep basket strapped to the front passenger seat of the car. Alfred might also enjoy the change of scene.

Despite Soph’s efforts to remain calm, a small bout of nerves surfaced. This was a change of more than just her usual city surroundings. She sucked in a steadying breath. Her career change had been the right thing and for her first assignment she got to help a man in need, which she knew she would find fulfilling. It was all perfect. There was nothing to worry about.

Nothing except the fact that Soph had used up three of her four weeks of financial buffer zone before the We Work for You agency had given her this first posting. But the agency would see this proof of her versatility and skill and go on to send her into all sorts of varied jobs where she could help others and feel great as she did so.

Soph climbed out of the car, twitched her fluffy cerise jumper and black trousers into place and spared just a moment to admire the matching crimson ankle boots. With a cheerful expression pasted on to her face, she headed for the house and climbed the steps to the veranda.

‘You’re Sophia Gable, the assistant I acquired through the staffing agency?’ The question came as a low rumble of sound from a corner of the veranda where the speaker would have had a perfect view of Gertie the Beetle’s arrival, and Soph’s exodus from said car. ‘I thought you’d be older, less colourful.’

Was it the crimson tips in her hair? They probably looked a bit metallic in the sunlight, now Soph thought about it, but she’d wanted power hair for this fresh start. She squinted into the shadowed corner.

‘I’m Sophia, but most people call me Soph. I hope you will too, Mr Barlow.’ Despite the shadows, she could make out a cast on his arm and one foot in an ankle brace, stuck out awkwardly in front of him where he sat in an outdoor chair.

Poor fellow, but at least his injuries were temporary. ‘The position outline said clerical with a bit of housekeeping and cooking, other general duties and assistance related to your injuries as required. I want to assure you I’m prepared for all contingencies. I’ve given quite a bit of thought to how I can best assist in your recovery.’

‘You can assist by performing the required tasks and driving me places when needed. I’m certain nothing else will be necessary.’ He rapped the words out with every appearance of annoyance and even a hint of suspicion. ‘My injuries are simple, after all.’ Following this pronouncement he glared and said, ‘I’m merely dealing with a sprained ankle and a broken arm. There’s nothing at all to fuss about.’

‘That’s a very positive outlook.’ Though a bit taken aback, Soph tried to put a good spin on his grouchiness. The man may have placed his injuries last on his list of needs with the agency, but they were still needs. He might require a little coaxing to accept help with them. That was all. ‘Even so, I have lots of great ideas—’

‘Sit down, please.’ He interrupted her without compunction and gestured towards the chair opposite his. ‘At least you’re not late, but I don’t have a lot of time for pleasantries.’

Soph moved forward and got a proper look at him. ‘I thought you’d be older. It’s always the way when we anticipate meeting someone, isn’t it? We tend to imagine something quite different to the reality.’

She wondered what made him so defensive about his injuries, but didn’t have time to think about it now.

In truth, she was a little distracted. Now she could see him properly, she acknowledged that he was rather impressively packaged. Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, he had a chiselled face and stormy green eyes and not an ounce of spare flesh on him anywhere. She’d place him in his mid-thirties.

He said in a dry tone, ‘I’m sure we’ll manage to get over our mutual astonishment.’

‘Yes. I guess so.’ Despite his dryness and his wounded irritability, he had a presence. There was something compelling about him.

Soph’s pulse skittered, but she rejected her reaction. The man was a stranger, not in her social or economic set, at least a decade older than her, and her employer to boot.

When Soph chose to date, it was with average guys her own age and financial status, and she made it clear she only wanted company for an evening out or two. If they started to want a piece of her soul or anything similar, she was out of there.

One day, a long time in the future, Soph might want to choose someone more permanent from among those very ordinary men but it would have to be a relationship she could control, and she would have to feel ready.

Something told her that Grey Barlow couldn’t be ordinary or controllable if he tried. Nor did he seem the kind who would seek permanency, certainly not if it came with the picket fence she imagined she might some day want. Well, her sisters had both fallen for it.

With millionaires of their own, no less, and in spite of the trust issues they had carried, thanks to their deserting parents.

Soph hadn’t suffered like Bella and Chrissy. Her older sisters had shielded her, allowed her to live a normal and happy life after their parents had abandoned them, even when things had been at their toughest. Nope. Soph had no hang-ups, just a lot of gratitude and love and the wish that she could have done more for Chrissy and Bella in return.

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Barlow. I hope we’ll have a satisfying association while I work for you.’ This was the point. Something new and interesting to do, something which would drive away her restlessness, give her a feeling of completion, a feeling that she had contributed in a pleasing way. She simply liked to help people, and wanted more of a chance to do so.

‘The agency assured me you were the best they had to offer.’ After a brief hesitation in which he lifted his right hand, frowned in annoyance and dropped it down again, he reached out his undamaged left one.

Did he have to sound so dubious about her? Soph hoped he hadn’t got that impression from the agency itself. She reached out her left hand too. ‘I’ll do my utmost to live up to your expectations.’

The back to front handshake was firm and quickly over. It should have felt impersonal or simply awkward, but a flash of heat travelled up her arm and into her chest. She thought she saw a matching momentary reaction in his gaze.

Of course her response was a glitch, since she’d decided it wouldn’t be wise to notice him in that way.

As for him, a second glance revealed nothing but a blank mask. She had probably imagined anything else.

He began to rap out words. ‘On doctor’s orders, I’ve agreed to a break here for the next week. I concede the fresh air and change of scenery probably won’t do me any harm, although I think my doctor is being overly cautious about my…health.

‘After the week here, I’ll relocate to my town house in Melbourne. You’ll carry out your work for me at both locations.’

‘I’ll do my best to assist you.’ The town house would have a garden, a place for Alfred’s collapsible enclosure. That was a good thing. She needed to explain about Alfie, how she’d found the domestic pet abandoned, tied to a pole near her flat just last night and now needed to keep him with her.

Her employer gave a nod. ‘Aside from the duties you mentioned earlier, you’ll screen all my phone calls and turn away any person who might appear here at the house. I’ve made it clear I don’t want visitors, but some people might try to ignore that fact.’

No visitors, huh? If Soph had a broken arm and a damaged ankle, her sisters and brothers-in-law would be all over her. They’d tell her how to get better, bring her food and comfort. Actually, they’d probably insist she go to live with one or the other of them until she made a complete recovery.

She wondered about Grey Barlow’s family. Maybe he didn’t want his work colleagues or relatives to see him at less than his best. It made a proud male kind of sense. In response to this thought, she smiled at him extra kindly. ‘If anyone tries to get inside the house, I’ll be better than a Pekingese. They won’t know what’s—’

‘Bitten them?’ He finished the sentence for her and a wry smile touched his lips.

‘Do Pekingese bite? I think they just yap, don’t they?’ Soph’s heart pitter-pattered. He looked younger and more approachable when he smiled. Could she be blamed for noticing? ‘Do you have pets, Mr Barlow? You see, I have this—’

‘No, I don’t do the pet thing.’ The hint of a smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. ‘I’d find that kind of commitment restricting.’

Maybe she wouldn’t mention Alfie’s presence just yet. And definitely no picket fences on this man’s horizon if he couldn’t even cope with the thought of a pet responsibility. She’d been right about that, and it was fine with her.

‘Perhaps we could get back to our discussion of your duties?’ He sounded irritable again. ‘Although I’m incarcerated here for no good reason, I concede that I can’t physically cover ten floors of office space every day or go out to examine the construction sites in Melbourne and beyond until my ankle is better. But I will keep my finger on the pulse of the company.

‘I’ll keep in touch by electronic conferencing. I’ll also review and respond to written reports from the various departments daily.’ He paused to draw a breath. ‘You’ll type my correspondence and do any other work I hand over to you, including research.’

‘I look forward to getting started.’ Soph curved her lips into what she hoped looked a confident smile, although she began to wonder just where the ‘rest’ portion of his recovery came in if he planned to do all these things.

In any case, she wanted him to put his faith in her. ‘I’m up for any challenge this job may represent.’

‘Your positive attitude is…appreciated.’ His dark gaze roved over her, lingered on the fluffy jumper, the colourful hair. It then cut to the driveway, where Gertie the faithful Beetle sat in loaded-to-the-rafters splendour.

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally. ‘You do have the skills to perform well in these areas?’

‘I have proficient computer skills, I touch type at a speed of seventy-five words per minute, can format and edit any document as required and know my way around transcription machines.’ It didn’t matter that none of these areas had been tested beyond an evening course at the local further education college and lots of practice on the computer at home over the past months.

She’d trained for it; she was ready for it. Soph also had other skills. She hit him with all of them that she thought might be relevant. ‘I understand filing systems, both on the computer and off it. I’ve spent plenty of time running an appointments diary and handling incoming and outgoing phone calls.’ Nothing was busier than an inner city hair salon. ‘My driving record is spotless.’

That last part she threw in because no doubt they’d end up going somewhere sooner or later, even if only when they moved from here to Melbourne. Backing into a pole once on her L-plates didn’t count. ‘Um, I’ve rather a lot of stuff in my car, but I’m sure I’ll be able to fit your things in when it comes time for us to return to the city.’

‘Your vehicle will be returned to the city for you eventually. I prefer my own car so I had a driver drop me here in it.’

Oh. Right. He’d probably sent the man back in a taxi or even had a company car and driver follow him out for the purpose. ‘No problem. I enjoy the chance to drive different vehicles.’

Namely, she had driven Gertie and one other car—her brother-in-law Nate’s old restored convertible, which she still remembered with fondness. She’d worn a silk scarf around her neck and big sunglasses and pretended to be a movie star, and then she’d talked her landlady into going with her and done it all again. Fun!

‘I can spare you fifteen minutes to unload your belongings.’ He rose to his feet and hobbled towards the front door of the house. ‘Once that’s done, join me in the office. It’s the large room on the right as you come in. Your bedroom is upstairs, first on the left.’ With those words, he tugged the door open.

It was going to be like that, was it? Come help me, I’ll even pay generously for you doing so, but don’t acknowledge my injuries?

She could take care of him silently, if he wanted it that way, but Soph would perform all her duties to him.

‘Did you bring the voice recognition software package?’ He had lifted his foot off the floor, clearly because standing still on it had made it ache.

‘Yes, I collected it from the agency yesterday afternoon.’ She searched his face again. This time she looked beyond the appealing features to the weary lines around his eyes, the slight pallor of his face. Oh, yes. He needed to rest, get off that foot. Be pampered a little.

‘Bring me the software first.’ He stepped inside the door. ‘I’ll install it and get it going so I can at least send emails without your help and without having to type with one hand. Your first job will be the dictation I’ve done this morning.’

It was barely nine a.m. Soph had risen at the crack of dawn to load her car and get here on time and the man had been at work for how long already?

‘I’m happy to do whatever works best for you.’ Provided it included appropriate care of his injuries. She turned away and moved towards Gertie. ‘I’ll bring the software package straight in, then sort out everything else.’

Alfred would have to be secreted into the back garden for the moment. Soph would find the right opportunity to explain about him, but that moment didn’t seem to be now. It might be a good idea to impress her employer with her dedication and hard work for an hour or two, first.

Inside the house, a phone rang.

Soph turned back. ‘I’ll get that for you before I start to unpack.’

She preceded him into the house and followed the ringing to its source in the office. ‘Sophia Gable. Mr Barlow is unavailable at the moment. Please give me your name, phone, fax and email and the reason for your call and I’ll relay it on your behalf.’

‘Peter Coates here. I head up the architecture department of Barlow Enterprises.’ He had a friendly voice, although right now it seemed to hold a hint of long-suffering. ‘I’m returning Grey’s call. He left a message saying he wanted another update on the Mitchelmore project.’

‘I’ll find out if Mr Barlow can speak with you.’ Soph pressed the hold button and swung around.

Grey stood right behind her, closer than she had realised. Her heart did that little stutter thing again.

She thrust the phone towards him and relayed the name of the caller. ‘He says you asked for another update on the Mitchelmore project. Do you want to speak to him?’

‘Yes, I’ll take it.’ He added a muttered, ‘Some things are too important to ignore, no matter what the doctor says.’

This didn’t make a lot of sense to Soph, but she placed the phone into his hand anyway.

Grey lowered himself into his office chair in a slightly awkward manoeuvre. Soph noticed that he didn’t have a footrest under there or anything.

‘Peter.’ His attention centred immediately on his caller. ‘Do you have any further news about the zoning issues?’

Soph left him to it and scuttled outside to Gertie, grabbed the software package and hurried it back into the office. Her boss still had the phone to his ear so she left the package on the desk and raced back out to the car and a problematical but adorable rabbit.

First she would take care of Alfie and then she would start to figure out how to best look after her boss.

Collapsible rabbit cage and associated paraphernalia in one hand, Alfie in his basket in the other, Soph hurried to the back of the house. She breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted a part of the garden tucked away behind a tree and a flower border, and hidden from sight of the house by a big shed that had a mesh gate enclosing its front.

‘There’s plenty of long grass, Alfie.’ Soph tugged the collapsible enclosure upright and eased the rabbit inside, then ran to the back of the house and filled her pet’s water container.

She set down the water and a bowl full of pellet supplement from the five kilogram bag she’d scrounged from a neighbour. It was just as well she knew someone with guinea pigs and that rabbits ate the same supplement. Soph placed a blanket over part of the cage for shade.

Between the friendly single mum and Joe the mechanic, who had the cage from days gone by, Soph had her bases covered. Without these things, she didn’t know how she would have fed and housed Alfred, but she would have made it work somehow. She didn’t walk away from anyone who needed or relied on her.

Not like her parents had done, but that was long ago.

Soph returned to the car and unloaded the remainder of her things. It took several trips. She didn’t travel light and she’d brought a few things especially with her employer in mind. But she hurried, and soon presented herself in the office in time to hear Grey snarl a string of words into a headset. He then glared daggers at the resulting words as they appeared on his computer screen.

‘I dropped by the kitchen. Did you want anything specific for lunch today?’ A brief inventory had revealed staples—healthy enough ingredients, but nothing fancy. Fortunately, she’d brought her own extras so they wouldn’t have to be bored on the food front.

Her boss drew the headphones off and tossed them on to the desk. ‘You can make sandwiches or something at twelve-thirty. Meanwhile—’ he gestured to the second desk ‘—you’ll sit there. Work your way through the tapes in the order they’re in the tray. You’ll email the correspondence to me to look over. Once I’m happy with it, you’ll fax or email each item as directed.’

‘Yes, Mr Barlow.’ Soph took the first tape and fitted it into the player on the second desk but she didn’t immediately sit down.

‘Grey will do.’ He turned away, retrieved his headset and started to growl again. He interspersed the words with occasional irritated clicks of his computer mouse and one-handed typing.

It seemed the new voice program and he hadn’t fully come to an understanding as yet.

Soph left the room, pulled a soft scatter cushion from one of the big squishy chairs in the living room and carried it back into the office. She grabbed two reams of copy paper from a box in the corner and, armed with packets of paper and cushion, dropped to her hands and knees beside his desk and edged underneath. ‘Okay, I’m ready. Lift your foot and I’ll scoot all this under.’

He didn’t respond immediately and Soph wiggled a little. The floor felt hard beneath her knees, despite the curves on the rest of her.

A hiss of breath followed and then some muffled words that sounded like, ‘Anything to get you out from under there.’ He lifted his foot.

Soph gently moved the paper packages and cushion into place. ‘Try that and let me know if it’s soothing at all.’

‘Soothed is not the word that comes to my mind right now.’ He spoke in a controlled tone that, oddly, sent delicious warmth in a cascade down her spine. But he lowered his foot.

When he said nothing more, Soph assumed all was well—the first strike at looking after him went to her. She wiggled out from under the desk and got to her feet, dusting her trouser legs although she suspected a cleaner had been through here recently.

‘I’d be happy if you’d place your bottom in your chair now, Sophia, and keep it there.’ His eyes glittered and he seemed to almost grind his teeth before he looked away. ‘Quite a lot of that correspondence is urgent.’

Soph stared at the back of his beautifully shaped head as sensual awareness belatedly impinged on her consciousness. Heat rushed into her face. That was the reason for his indrawn hiss of breath a moment ago? He’d been watching her bottom wiggle?

With a muttered agreement, Soph hurriedly took up her workload.

CHAPTER TWO

AS THE hours passed Soph learned a number of things. Her new employer knew how to churn out work. The phone wasn’t about to stop ringing simply because she needed to concentrate, and Grey had three stepmothers who all seemed determined to demand his attention. Three!

At twelve-thirty Soph handed her boss the latest phone message, from Leanna Barlow:

‘I’m his stepmother, dear. I hope he’s feeling all right? Good, good. I also need to touch base with him and…um…talk to him about a little problem I have with my credit cards…’

The message followed similar ones from Sharon Barlow and Dawn Barlow, who had both bemoaned Grey’s absence from Melbourne and his idea that he should isolate himself completely in the country for the first phase of his recovery.

They had then said they respectively wanted to—Sharon—use his yacht for a three-month cruise and—Dawn—use the plane the company chartered to fly to Greece because there was this expo on for the next week and a half—something to do with hand-crafted table decorations.

Grey ignored all the messages and carried on with his work.

Soph wanted to get chatty and ask about his family, but refrained. She did, however, help herself to a piece of paper she spotted tucked half under a pile of files on his desk as she stood there after passing him the latest message.

‘Is this your physio outline?’ Exercises he hadn’t done all morning? ‘I can help you with the routine now. It’s lunch time, so we’re due for a break anyway.’

‘I’ll do the exercises before I join you for the meal.’ He held his hand out for the piece of paper. ‘That will give you time to organise some food.’

Soph pretended not to notice his outstretched hand and, instead, walked to the photocopier in the corner of the room and made a copy of the regimen. She then passed the original back to him and disappeared into the kitchen with her page before he could say anything. She studied it as she went.

While the soup heated, Soph rushed out to the back garden via the laundry room door. Alfie was fine, but clearly wanted to play, and to come back inside with her. When she spoke his name—made up when she’d found him because she’d thought he looked like an Alfred and he had had no identification on him—he twitched his nose as though he liked to hear it.

Soph smiled at the thought and gave him as much time as she dared, then returned inside alone. It still didn’t seem a good idea to bring the topic of the rabbit up with her boss.

Grey hobbled into the kitchen moments after she got there.

‘The food is almost ready.’ She gestured towards the table. ‘Please, have a seat.’

He sniffed the air. ‘What can I smell? Sandwiches would have done. There’s shaved double-smoked ham in the fridge, cheese, pickles.’

‘It’s soup. I made it last night.’ Her sisters said her cooking efforts were legendary for all the wrong reasons. Her brothers-in-law agreed, but Soph thought they all just liked to tease her.

After all, she ate her creations and couldn’t discern anything wrong with them. ‘I hope you like roast pumpkin with some other vegetables blended in. I’ve flavoured it with curry paste, Italian herb blend and vanilla bean. I’ll make toasted sandwiches to follow.’

‘I see.’ He lowered himself into a chair and again his weariness showed. ‘It sounds…interesting.’

‘Yes, exactly. Spices add variety to life,’ she said, deliberately rewording the usual saying and smiled at him, then carried the mugs of soup to the table and placed one in front of him before she took her seat opposite. ‘You need good food to help you get well.’

‘Healthy food and quiet surroundings, fresh air and rest and a complete break from all stressors.’ Her employer seemed to quote the words verbatim. No doubt the admonitions had come from his doctor, although it did sound a little over-the-top for these simple injuries.

Grey certainly should get some rest, though, yet had he slowed his workload? If he had, she hated to imagine what it was like normally.

Lips pursed, he took a tentative sip of the orange brew. His nose wrinkled and he sniffed it a second time. Another sip followed, and he frowned and poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the table and quickly drank.

‘I’m glad you understand the concept of rest to help you get better.’ Even if he wasn’t following it very well as far as she could see.

He gave her a sharp glance across the table, but Soph maintained a serene, silent pose. Her boss may not realise it yet, but he really did need her. To chivvy him along, watch out for him.

With a smile still hovering, Soph tasted the soup. Oh, yes, lovely job. She lifted her gaze and waited, eyebrows raised, for him to express his opinion.

Grey cleared his throat. ‘You say you made the soup yourself, especially to bring here?’

‘Yes. Last night. It took a couple of hours, but I wanted to get you off to a good start, and I figured there might not be time to make it today once I got here.’ She had certainly been right about that.

His shoulders shifted in a gesture that seemed to reflect a mental discomfort rather than a physical one. Then, with a deep breath, he raised his soup mug and drank it all down. His eyes sparkled and a flush rose in his cheeks as he set the mug back on the table.

Sunshine broke out all over Soph’s world. She had harboured just the tiniest seed of doubt, but he didn’t know about that and had gulped her food with alacrity anyway.

‘You liked it.’ Pleasure and a hint of gratitude filled her voice. Grey Barlow liked her soup! Soph buried her nose in her mug to hide her grin.

‘It was…very tasty.’ He drank more water.

The water would also benefit him. Soph nodded her approval. Somewhere sweet and warm inside her couldn’t help but soften towards him. They had tastes in common—culinary ones at least—even if he felt a little shy about expressing his compliments to her.

Well, it was probably fine to like him, provided none of those other initial responses resurfaced.

When they finished the toasted sandwiches minutes later, she turned a determined gaze on him. ‘It’s time to do the physio exercise you can’t do by yourself. I’ve looked at the sheet and, if you don’t do it, you’ll miss one of the most helpful exercises on the list. You did do the rest, didn’t you?’

‘I did, and it’s not convenient to do more right now. I have work waiting.’ His lips stopped just shy of a manly pout. ‘Besides, I’ve already replaced the brace and laced it up.’

‘You shouldn’t have done that, either.’ Soph got to her feet and did not think about how kissable his lips might be, shaped in just that particular way.

He wasn’t at all adorable in his prickly splendour, either. He was stubborn and far too protective of his personal space when he’d hired her to get right in it. That was the fact of the matter. ‘Not unless you tied the laces one-handed.’

She searched the kitchen drawers until she found a cloth long enough to suit her purposes. ‘Shall we go? You said you’re in a hurry.’

On those words she bustled into the sitting room before he could argue and hoped he would simply follow. The boss-man needed a little bossing of his own.

‘Why don’t you sit there, on the sofa?’ Sophia gestured without looking at Grey, for all the world as though she hadn’t just ordered him about in his own home. Albeit a second home he visited less often than he would like, when he managed to eke out some free time to climb in the nearby mountains.

Grey wasn’t accustomed to taking orders. He wasn’t accustomed to having his statements ignored, either. He wanted to be able to scale those mountains too, not be stuck just looking at them when he glanced out of the windows. ‘I did say I don’t have time for this.’

‘I know, but we’re here now and it will only take a couple of minutes.’ She blinked guileless sherry-coloured eyes at him.

The lashes were ridiculously long. If he held her to him, cheek to cheek, those lashes would brush his skin. ‘Fine, do your worst. Just get on with it.’

‘First I’ll have to unlace the ankle brace and remove it.’ She waited expectantly.

Grey sat. Controlling her was like trying to trap light in a bottle. He had no idea how to manage her exuberance.

Sophia sat beside him, so close their thighs pressed together. Necessary, he knew, but the knowledge didn’t stop him from tensing as his body catalogued every nuance of that touch, reacted to it and wanted more of it.

She had golden skin and a soft, slender neck, her face a perfect oval with winged brows and a straight little nose and full, generous lips that were right out of a man’s fantasy. His gaze caught on those lips, caught on the smile that lingered there even now.

With a murmured word, Sophia leaned down and made quick work of removing the brace. When finished, she turned that megawatt smile on him again. The breath she drew held just enough of a hitch to tell him she wasn’t unaware of their closeness.

‘There.’ She lifted her hand and almost patted his leg. Almost, before she snatched her wandering appendage back. ‘The brace is off. Let’s get started with the exercise, shall we?’

‘By all means, let’s complete the physio routine.’ Grey didn’t want assistance with his physiotherapy. He didn’t want to be incarcerated in the countryside for the next week either, but Doc Cooper had some bug in his brain that Grey could be on the road to serious trouble.

All because a few readings had come in high on the scale after the accident—it was silly! Just because Grey’s mother had died young of a heart attack, no apparent trigger, and his father had had high cholesterol and high everything else before he, too, had died.

Okay, those weren’t silly, but Grey looked after himself. ‘Bloody doctor probably doesn’t know what he’s on about, anyway.’

‘Your exercises seem sensible to me,’ Sophia offered with a slightly confused look.

Grey ignored it and instead noted the way her hair cupped her face and neck.

Her body was all sweet curves. The sight of her bottom as it had wiggled about beneath his desk had almost made him moan, and Grey wasn’t someone to be affected easily by a woman.

Not unless he chose to be, and never involuntarily. Yet he’d noticed Sophia.

‘How does that feel?’ Her mouth formed the words and Grey could imagine her lips beneath his, lush and generous.

He didn’t want to, damn it.

Because Sophia Gable wasn’t only fluffy and colourful and capable of making a soup that truly defied description; she was a girl some man would take home to his mother. Grey didn’t take women anywhere, other than to bed. He stayed away from the kind who wouldn’t understand that.

As for the idea of him taking a woman to meet his three stepmothers? What a concept.

‘Grey? Your foot?’ Sophia spoke as though to prompt a child. ‘I’m trying not to hurt you.’

‘You’re not hurting me, and you won’t.’ Injuries aside, she had no power to hurt him in other ways. No woman did. Grey had seen to that, yet he wondered at his need to voice the knowledge aloud. Another thought followed.

He could hurt Sophia Gable without trying.

Grey was a hard man, toughened by years in a cutthroat business world. Hardened by his upbringing, too, although that truly was history, aside from the ongoing legacy of his late father’s three bored and at times self-indulgent past wives. He had let himself love them as surrogate mothers, one after another, until he’d finally realised the futility and refused to love anyone at all.

Sophia Gable was too gentle for him, soft and young. She looked as though she would care about anyone who gave her half a chance, and would expect them to care for her in return. Such women were made for marriage—an institution Grey respected when it worked, but would never enter into.

Why hadn’t he dismissed her completely from his awareness, then? Why did the curiosity, the interest, remain?

‘I appreciate your trust in me.’ She misread the meaning behind his words. Luminous eyes smiled at him. ‘My middle sister Chrissy broke two toes once, when we decided to rearrange the furniture in our apartment and she didn’t have her glasses on.’

A chuckle escaped. ‘That was a few years ago, but boy, did Bella, the eldest, get uptight. We all live separately now, but we had some fun times.’

For a moment he thought she looked just the tiniest bit sad, but she went on to work on his ankle, and to prattle about her life in Melbourne, and the thought faded.

A picture of a close-knit family emerged. Two elder sisters, one with a stepdaughter, the other with a nine-month-old baby named Anastasia. The husbands of those sisters. An elderly grandfather they all seemed to have taken to their hearts.

How would it feel to have a family like that? Grey couldn’t begin to imagine. He realised her chatter had died away and she had released his ankle.

‘Are you done already?’ The woman had talked to distract him while she’d put him through the requisite number of stretches. It had worked, and they’d been perfectly undisturbed the whole time. He even felt something close to relaxed—almost sleepy, actually.

Doc Cooper would be pleased.

Grey shuffled the sarcastic thought aside. He had goals to focus on. ‘It’s a wonder the phone hasn’t rung several times by now.’

‘It probably has. I put it on silent ring and sent it to the answering service before I left to make our lunch.’ She didn’t lift her head as she replaced and laced the exoform brace.

His relaxed mood frayed. ‘I need to know of all incoming phone calls the moment they occur. I have a company to control.’ He leaned forward and gave her the benefit of his displeased expression. ‘There could have been something urgent.’ One project in particular had issues right now and could cost him upward of three million dollars if it crashed and burned.

Her gaze locked with his, caught in the glare of his anger. ‘I’m sorry. I thought lunch time would be a break from all of that. I’ll check the messages now.’

The woman sounded disappointed in herself and her mouth looked vulnerable, as it had when she’d watched and waited to see if he liked her bizarrely flavoured soup. It might have grown on him, he supposed, but how could he know for certain? His taste buds had imploded after the first two sips.

Another urge overcame Grey now. For a scant moment in time, he thought of kissing her uncertainties away. Maybe he revealed something of that thought as he looked at her because her gaze flared from curiosity to interest.

Of its own volition, Grey’s body leaned towards hers. She copied his action before she stopped abruptly.

‘I’ll turn the coffee on to brew before I check the messages. I prepared it earlier so it’s only a matter of flicking a switch.’ She removed herself from beside him, didn’t stop until she stood half a room away.

With her hands clasped in front of her she cleared her throat. ‘I assume you’d like coffee?’

‘One cup.’ Damn the doctor’s orders. ‘Not too strong, plenty of milk.’ Grey forced aside other wants—unacceptable wants that had nothing to do with coffee. It must be the country air addling his brain. Not that he’d breathed any of it except for this morning when he’d waited those few minutes on the veranda for Sophia to arrive.

Well, country air or simply the closeness of a woman—he had reacted on instinct, no thought involved. Now he had to engage his brain to override those instincts. Sophia Gable was not someone he should mess with.

‘You could take a nap instead of going straight back to work.’ She fidgeted from one foot to the other, burned into action, perhaps, by his glare.

‘I’m keeping off the foot as much as I can.’ Yes, he’d felt better, but, considering his injuries, that was to be expected. ‘And I’ll turn in at a decent hour tonight.’ Those were the only concessions he would give, and ‘decent hour’ was a relative term.

She sighed. ‘Coffee it is, then.’

Soph did indeed sigh, and repeated the sigh as she hesitated before she left the room. She didn’t want to irritate her employer, truly she didn’t. Rather, she wanted to help him, to be of assistance, to contribute appropriately to the working relationship. He didn’t make that easy. Nor did the way she reacted when in close proximity to him.

‘Are you resting well at night?’ She tried not to picture him in that big bed in the master suite and, yes, she had peeped into the room when she’d first arrived. So sue her.

Grey shook his head, whether as a statement of his lack of rest or resistance to her questions, she couldn’t have said. ‘Perhaps we should concentrate on you, Sophia, and your tendency to make arbitrary decisions about my care without consulting me.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’m not accustomed to that kind of behaviour in my employees.’

‘I won’t do the phone thing again.’ Why did she get all shivery when he put on his growly voice? She pushed the question aside. Maybe it was simply chilly today or something.

And he was annoyed with her. She should think about that. ‘You see, I thought you wanted me to take care of all those things, but that you didn’t want either of us to acknowledge my efforts openly.’

When he didn’t appear to understand, she went on. ‘I thought your pride was stung and, although that would actually be silly, I would still be willing to work with it but you would have to reciprocate. I must be able to take proper care of you.’

Her voice tightened at the end of that statement, because it mattered, blast him. She wanted to succeed at the job. And yes, fine, maybe she also needed to feel useful and know she was giving back, not just receiving. It was called a community consciousness, and lots of people had it.

Certainly it was nothing to do with him personally, or with the fact that he attracted her just a little.

She turned her focus back to what mattered, and cut him a glare to make it clear she meant business right now. ‘The alternative is that I do nothing at all for you. That’s not acceptable to me.’

‘I’m not embarrassed by my injuries.’ Even as he said it, a faint tinge of colour came into his cheeks.

Soph raised her gaze farther and got caught in deep-green eyes that seemed to hold surprise, a hint of unease, and something else.

‘I’ll play back the phone messages while you make the coffee. If anything’s gone amok, I’ll just have to fix it.’ Most of his anger was gone now.

She was glad that he was prepared to let the matter go.

The deep mellow tone of his voice raised goose flesh on her skin despite the distance between them, despite her lofty resolutions. That wasn’t so great.

As though he, too, felt it, he shook his head. ‘Take a few minutes to pre-plan what we’ll eat for dinner tonight.’ Oh, prosaic words, but his gaze held a different story. ‘Perhaps a casserole, so it can cook while we work.’ He made his suggestion without meeting her gaze. ‘There’s a pre-set function on the oven.’

Broad shoulders and slender hips receded from her view while Soph stood there, silent. She told herself to wake up, stop watching, to resist the lure of an interest that couldn’t be allowed to grow.

Already she liked him, was intrigued by him, felt more towards him than she should. That had to stop.

Grey buried himself in work for the rest of the afternoon. He seemed intent on maintaining distance. Those two things were good, Soph decided as she clacked away on the computer keyboard and assured herself that that earlier aberration of feeling was now firmly in the past.

While Grey scattered his emails about the universe, Soph worked her tail off on his tapes.

‘I need to check on the casserole now.’ She took a deep breath and suggested he sit on the veranda in the sunshine. ‘It won’t last much longer, and Vitamin D is good for you. Or is it Vitamin E? Whichever is right, just give it ten minutes. That’s all I’ll need, and I’ll bet it makes you feel good.’

He muttered under his breath as he hobbled out there, taking his dictation recorder with him, but he went. Soph managed the food issues in seven minutes and spent the other three with a lonely and disgruntled Alfie.

‘Taking a “smoko” break?’ Grey asked from the kitchen when she rushed back inside. She almost jumped out of her skin.

‘I’m certainly not. I don’t do that. That is, my sisters would have flayed me if I’d ever decided to try it, and once I grew up I didn’t want to anyway.’ She snapped her jaws shut before any more babble could escape.

‘I just took a breath of fresh air.’ Soph sidled inside. He couldn’t have seen Alfie’s cage, even if he had looked all the way through and out the laundry room door. She moved to step past him and return to the office. ‘You don’t smell cigarette smoke on me, do you?’

What a dumb question. Did she want him to grab her and sniff her hair, her clothing? Not to mention that would be far too close for comfort—witness the problems she’d had after lunch when she’d helped him do ankle stretches.

‘You smell like flowers,’ he pronounced and turned his back and started towards the office once more. ‘I don’t need to get close again to know that.’

Well, certainly not, and no doubt he didn’t want to get close, either. She was simply the hired help, and short-term help at that.

So not in his league, Sophia.

He wasn’t in hers, either.

Nope. Grey Barlow was not ordinary, not a safe bet.

Yet he had noticed the subtle scent she wore. Soph had only dabbed the tiniest bit behind each ear and on her wrists before she’d left home this morning.

So what? She had simply leaned too close to him on the sofa. He couldn’t help but smell her perfume, and probably didn’t even like it.

‘The casserole is doing nicely.’ She needed to get back to matters at hand. ‘It’s a curry, since you enjoy spicy food. I’ll serve rice pilaf with it.’ As though he would even care, but the silence yawned and Soph talked on. ‘You…you smell quite nice, yourself.’

That stopped her, even if it was a little late. With a sharp breath she bustled past him and subsided into her office chair. From then on she focused her attention on her work!

She did, however, draw the line at six o’clock. With a determined air she shut down her computer and tidied the remaining work on her desk. Then she faced her employer and waited until he gave up on whatever he was typing one-handed and lifted his head reluctantly to look at her.

‘It’s after six o’clock. You must have worked since at least seven this morning to churn out so many tapes before I got here. That’s an eleven hour day and far more than you should take on.

‘Would you like your bath before or after dinner, and would you like me to shut down your computer for you while you make your way to the living room and start your next set of physio exercises?’ She asked it all in one stream of words and then waited, arms crossed in front of her.

‘There’s still work for me to do before I finish for the day.’ He gestured towards the computer screen.

‘I think your company can probably survive without your input until tomorrow morning.’ Most of the employees would have gone home by now, wouldn’t they? ‘Unless you work your people in around-the-clock shifts, none of this is going anywhere at this hour, anyway.’

‘Be that as it may…’ he started.

‘I’ll just help you with this.’ Soph leaned across, saved his email into his drafts folder, clicked out of the program and shut his computer off.

He made a half startled, half disbelieving sound and pushed his chair back. It had the unfortunate result that his shoulder brushed against the inside of her outstretched arm and across her breast.

Soph froze. He froze. And then they both hurriedly shifted away from each other.

He got to his feet, swung to face her, wincing as he did so, and the movement put pressure on his ankle. He cradled his arm against his body.

Irritated green sparks shot at her from his eyes.

‘Don’t bother to say anything.’ She held up her hand. ‘You left me no other choice.’

Had the man heard of backing off a little, rather than needing to be right in the thick of everything that happened in his working world? Yes, he appeared to have a project in trouble, but what about all the reports that things were going perfectly well in other departments? Did he really need to be so hands-on and go into such detail with all of that?

Soph poked a finger into the air in front of him. ‘Your ankle is causing you pain. For the last two hours you’ve favoured your arm. I suspect it should be in a sling, but would you answer me when I asked about either of those things earlier? No. I got the death glare while you continued to speak into Bear Growling.’

‘Bear Growling?’ He stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose.

The intensity in his gaze made her catch her breath. ‘I…uh…it’s how I think of your voice program.’

Because he had a gorgeous growly voice that she would like to listen to, snuggled at his side…

No. She wanted no such thing.

Irritation crept through his tone even now. ‘It’s not my fault the voice program doesn’t work properly. I trained it at the start, exactly as instructed.’

‘Yes, but did you snarl at the time, because if you didn’t, it wouldn’t recognise snarl-speak now, would it?’ Soph said absently, still caught in the thought of having him growl just for her. When she realised what she had said and glanced at his face, she almost laughed at the look of surprise there.

‘You—’ he took her upper arm into his free hand as he stared with aggravation and something else that wasn’t aggravation at all, right into her eyes ‘—are a very odd kind of personal assistant.’

She could have taken offence but she didn’t. Maybe because his fingers held her arm in a gentle clasp and stroked lightly. The bear might not want to admit it, but Soph thought he found her at least a little intriguing.

His eyes widened and he stepped abruptly away from her. Soph backed towards the door. She had to put distance between them before the Gremlin of Temptation struck and she said something terribly inappropriate. Like, Grey, I really notice you as a man even though I’ve decided it’s not a good idea to do so, and it’s clear you’re appalled that you’ve noticed me.

Instead, Soph went for the most prosaic words she could come up with. ‘Will you come into the kitchen? I’ll tape a bag over your cast so it doesn’t get damaged if you accidentally splash it while you’re bathing.’ She blocked her mind to all thoughts of her employer in the bathtub!

‘I’ll cope without a bag on the arm.’ He just said so instantly, unequivocally, and turned away.

Soph didn’t feel the least disappointed in this further example of his resistance to her care. The attraction side of it was irrelevant, of course. Hmph. But what could she do if he wouldn’t accept her help?

‘I’ll get on with dinner, then. I still have a side dish to prepare to go with the curry.’ She turned her back, busied herself in the kitchen and didn’t look around again until she heard water running upstairs. At least she had the healthy food aspect well in hand.

Soph donned protective mitts and drew the casserole out of the oven, removed the lid, then discarded the mitts and gave the contents of the dish a vigorous stir.

She and her employer just had some random chemical reaction going on between them. No doubt it would go away through lack of a receptive audience. On either side!

CHAPTER THREE

‘OH, GOOD, you’re ready for me. It seems I’ve timed it exactly right.’ Soph pushed the door to her employer’s bedroom wider and stepped through the aperture. They’d eaten their dinner. Afterwards Soph had suggested they watch some television together and had received a blank look followed by a resistant one before Grey had said he had business phone calls to make, excused himself and disappeared into the office.

At least he’d seemed to somewhat enjoy chatting with her over the meal. Not that Soph had needed him to enjoy her company. Nor had she been overly conscious of her boss in the short time they’d spent together. She had worked on her silly, earlier inappropriate awareness of Grey and had that all under control now.

‘Let me put this tray down and I’ll help you get settled in the bed.’

The tray held a ceramic incense burner complete with stand, candle holder and tiny teapot on top, matches and a drinking mug full of steaming liquid. In a trice she placed the tray on to the dresser and turned to face her boss.

Nurse Sophia to the rescue.

Her employer hovered, features frozen, near his bed. He wore green silk pyjama trousers and, well, nothing else actually, which meant Soph had a rather amazing view of his broad shoulders, his chest, the smattering of hair that tapered towards his navel…

‘Ah, it’s warm in here, isn’t it?’ Soph snapped her gaze upward, away from silk, away from his chest, though meeting his gaze wasn’t particularly better. Did he have to look so sensual to go along with his air of fierce affront?

‘I can’t say I’d noticed any particular warmth,’ he snarled, but he also examined her from her hair—piled in a loose, messy knot on top of her head—to her face, her mouth and finally over her body and back up again. His muscles tensed.

Soph wanted to touch him.

No. Soph did not want to touch him.

‘Um, well, you probably put out a lot of body heat.’ She waved vaguely towards him. ‘Hence no need for a shirt to wear to bed.’

A shirt she truly had expected to see on him when she barged in to settle him down for the night. Nurse Sophia, indeed. If she got much hotter from looking at him, she would become a medical emergency.

Temperature far too hot, Doctor. What should we do?

‘Why are you here?’ Grey’s eyes flared for just a moment before he snapped his gaze away from her. When he turned back, the irritation had returned in full force. His eyebrows drew down and a muscle twitched at the base of his jaw. ‘I told you when I stepped out of the office that I planned to retire for the night.’

‘Yes, so I came to help.’ She’d been finished with the telly anyway. Soph tried not to look back at his chest, but it was so…there. And he had looked at her with interest before he’d locked the reaction down.

In the same way Soph needed to reject it. That was the thing. She couldn’t afford to desire her boss, and he clearly didn’t want to desire her.

‘I’m here to work,’ she blurted. ‘I mean, I’m here to work in your room, to put you to bed. I took a shower, gave you time to do whatever it is you might have needed to do, and then came to help you get settled. That’s why I’m in my nightwear. It seemed silly to dress again.’

It didn’t seem silly now, but it was too late. She reached for the incense burner and matches, clutching them tightly because he just might see her hands shaking if she didn’t.

He sent an incredulous stare her way. ‘You came to help me get settled, in my room, without even knocking first.’ He waved his hand towards her. ‘Wearing…a hibiscus caftan and bare feet and who knows what underneath? Did it occur to you I might be buck naked in here?’

Grey Barlow.

Naked.

In this bedroom with the great big bed.

I am not seeing those things in my head…

Anyway, the caftan covered a perfectly respectable tank top and pyjama bottoms. Lots of layers really, even if Soph felt as though he’d just swept his hands along the length of her bare skin.

‘The door was partly open. I don’t think you’d have left it that way if you were…if you weren’t… um…adequately attired.’

This said, she stepped forward and whipped the bedcovers out of the way with her free hand. ‘In you get. You’ll be so pleased with what I’ve brought for you.’

There. They could get back to business now.

Except he didn’t move.

Soph plumped his pillows and patted the mattress. ‘I’ll take the ankle brace off once you’re settled.’ Perhaps he would feel more comfortable if she busied herself while he got in? She turned aside, set the burner down on his bedside table, lit the candle and positioned the unit just so.

Her employer clamped a wad of the covers into his fist and climbed into the bed, where he promptly propped himself against the headboard. ‘You can remove the brace and then remove yourself. I don’t need a nanny.’

He yanked the covers across as much of him as he could while still leaving his ankle exposed. ‘What is that thing, anyway? A miniature fondue set or something?’

‘It’s an incense burner. I’ve put some lovely forest-scented oil in the water. You’ll find it relaxing.’ As she spoke, she perched on the bed beside him, batted his hands away from where he was tugging at the laces on his brace and finished the job for him in a far gentler manner. ‘And I’m not “nannying” you, I’m doing my job.’

Only her job and nothing more, even if she had slipped just a little when she’d first stepped into the room.

‘The incense will help you sleep, and so will this.’ Soph went to the tray again and returned with the steaming cup in her hands. She sat and held it out to him.

His fingers wrapped around the cup, brushing hers.

‘It’s chamomile tea.’ Hopefully, he would doze off and stay asleep until morning. Hopefully, he wouldn’t realise that just a touch from him put a flame to all her nerve endings and hung doubt above her determination to ignore her interest in him. ‘If you’re in pain, though, you must tell me. Do you have some painkillers? I can bring you water…’

‘The ankle is uncomfortable.’ His lashes swept down to conceal his eyes. After a cautious sniff, he took a sip of the tea and then he shrugged his shoulders, a ripple of bone and sinew and flesh that she tried not to see, not to think about. ‘That’s all.’

‘I’m glad it’s tolerable. And…ah…I’ve just realised I’ve forgotten one part of my—’ care package ‘—um…of what I meant to bring in. Drink the tea and wait right here.’ She hurried down the hallway and returned a moment later with a heart-shaped cushion. ‘My sister Chrissy swore by one of these during her pregnancy. I think it will be perfect for your ankle at night.’

‘I really don’t want a bright fluffy cushion.’ He cast a look of distaste towards the offending article.

Soph almost relaxed in the face of that look. It was the usual grumpy Grey. Except that his gaze, when he returned it to meet hers, was not truly grumpy, but deep and green and reluctantly but insistently interested. In her. Not in a cushion.

‘You should leave—’

‘Ah, well, I’ll just—’

They both stopped.

Soph lifted the covers to slip the cushion under his foot. Her hands barely trembled at all and she managed a fair simulation of calm cheerfulness when she pointed out, ‘The cushion isn’t fluffy, anyway. Although I concede it is quite a bright yellow. I bought it to match my car, you see.’

‘Yes, I think I do see. You are, though, fluffy and bright.’ He placed the half empty teacup on his bedside table next to the incense burner. The scent of forest wafted around them. ‘Fluffy jumpers, bright hair, a megawatt smile that makes a man want—’

He didn’t end the thought. Instead, his gaze narrowed. He gestured beyond her, to the laptop computer propped against the wall. ‘You should go to bed, get some rest. You’re so young. The long day has probably exhausted you. If you wouldn’t mind, now I’m settled here…’

‘I don’t mind at all.’ Soph knew what he wanted—his laptop so that he could continue to work into the night.

He also wanted her out of the room because he didn’t desire her—not really, not rationally. She wanted all this distraction over with as much as he did. She did! And he’d just told her she was a baby. Her eyes narrowed.

She stifled the urge to repudiate his statement, though, because he didn’t look at her as though he found her immature.

Not a particularly helpful observation, Soph!

She rose from the bed and reached for the laptop. ‘The candle will burn out after about an hour, so you don’t need to worry about it starting a fire in the house or anything. I’ll be busy downstairs for a while but if you have any urgent needs just yell and I’ll come to you straight away.’

She took the empty tray in one hand and his laptop computer in the other and moved to the door quickly enough that he didn’t have time to realise her intention until it was too late.

With one finger she flipped off his light and then stepped through the door. ‘I’ll leave the laptop downstairs for you so it’ll be there first thing in the morning. No trouble at all—I’m glad you thought of it and asked me. Peaceful dreams to you.’

Soph closed the door and high-tailed it downstairs, telling herself to be relieved to be away from a temptation named Grey Barlow.

Once he got over her taking his laptop away Soph would return to her room. She would sneak a certain rabbit in with her, but Grey had finished work for the night, whether he liked the fact or not. If he followed her downstairs to try to get his laptop back, she would tell him so.

Was Soph finished being attracted to him?

She should be, but she couldn’t say she was. She would have to work on that, get her defences raised properly, and how hard could it be, even though it had proved difficult just now? She’d never had this problem before!

* * *

Grey had fallen asleep as he’d waited for Sophia to return up the staircase so he could demand his laptop computer back. Sassy piece of work—and he wasn’t referring to the laptop. He’d wanted Sophia to stay, sit on the edge of his bed and talk to him.

That wasn’t all he had wanted, though. They had both known that and so he had called her a child, even though she wasn’t and his body had been insisting he take her in his arms and treat her in a very womanly way indeed.

He had told her to leave and for her own reasons she had also decided to go. It had been best.

Grey didn’t want to know those reasons so he could demolish them. She seemed to sense that he wasn’t the right kind of match for her anyway. Clever girl.

No, clever woman, because even if young and sweet and perhaps a little naïve in her determination to care for him, no matter what he wanted, she was all woman.

He muttered a growl. He had slept, too. All the way through, for the first time since he’d lost his footing at the rain-washed construction site and tumbled and tumbled to fall in an ignominious heap and be carted off in a blasted ambulance despite his protestations.

Perhaps her incense and yellow cushion hadn’t been so silly. But there were limits. He must control Sophia Gable so she gave him the assistance he had in mind, not her brand of it. And he would oust the stubborn attraction to her that didn’t want to die.

He would oust this temporary stress level nonsense, too. He swilled down the blood pressure pills with a grimace and swore he’d be off them again in no time. They were an overreaction on the doctor’s part anyway.

The doctor would test his levels again at his checkup, see the readings had been anomalous, probably due to the accident itself, and declare Grey fit again.

With a decisive nod, he moved out of his en suite bathroom and headed downstairs, ankle brace in hand. He’d heard Sophia open the back door of the house earlier, so he knew she was up.

Despite himself, a sense of anticipation rose as he approached the kitchen. What interesting food might she have concocted for their breakfast? What might she be wearing today? Last night’s curry had been death-defying, quite exhilarating, actually, and very, very tasty once he’d got over the initial burn and the unusualness of it and had suppressed the urge to cough until he was red in the face and gasping.

‘You’re getting bored, old man. Some might even say pathetic.’ He muttered the words in disgust. Infatuated with what his assistant cooked and wore? Her food would probably give him ulcers or, at the least, permanent tastebud damage, and her clothing was so bright he needed sunglasses to look at her.

Maybe he was simply infatuated, full stop.

Grey cast that thought aside. He didn’t do infatuation. He made choices in favour of carefully thought out short-term liaisons with no emotions involved.

Yes. On that thought he stomp-hobbled into the kitchen. He would grump his interest in her to a quick death. She might dislike him for it, but that was a small price to pay to make them both forget any attraction they might have felt. He blithely ignored the fact that he had been grumpy since Sophia had arrived and it hadn’t seemed to put her off all that much.

‘You confiscated my laptop last night.’

‘Good morning. You’re up. Did you sleep well?’ She swung around, searching his face while colour crept into her cheeks. It revealed both her guilt and her consciousness of him, and it rattled Grey’s composure far more than he would have thought possible.

They weren’t doing that any more. He’d decided. He had attacked her verbally to ensure there were no reminders. He growled some more. ‘Don’t ignore what I said.’

‘I’m not.’ Her face shone with good humour and a hint of mischief, just as though she didn’t care less about his grouchiness. In fact as though she enjoyed it, which wasn’t exactly what he’d set out to achieve. She couldn’t like him being grumpy?

How did this one bright, fluffy woman manage to undermine him at every turn anyway? Grey’s irritability rose further.

Sophia fiddled with a button on her blouse—the one right at the centre of her breasts. ‘I just put your laptop into the office for you—’

‘Don’t bother with the innocent act.’ And she was driving him insane with that button.

To shore up his defences he said harshly and with abandoned licence, ‘Your face is an open book. I can see everything you’re thinking at any given moment.’

Her eyes widened and her gaze darted about the room in a trapped and guilty fashion. ‘Can you really? My sisters bemoan the fact that I sometimes blurt exactly what’s on my mind, but they haven’t said anything about expressions on my face.’ She glanced once towards the laundry room door, as though she’d like to run through it and keep running. ‘Well, I’m sorry if you were annoyed that I took your laptop away.’ She seemed to deliberately pull herself back to matters at hand. ‘I realise you’re frustrated at present but surely you could tell you needed rest by then? You’ve got injuries, medical conditions that will suffer if you push yourself too hard.’

Yes, he had pushed himself hard yesterday, had paid for it in the pain in his ankle and other general feelings of weariness, but how could he avoid that with a company to run? Now Grey wanted to defend his choices again, instead of focusing on her behaviour. How did she do that to him?

‘If I’d really pushed over the line last night you’d have yelled for your laptop back before I got halfway down the stairs.’ Her confidence said more about her understanding of his limits of tolerance than he had given her credit for.

He also noted the absence of any assurance that she wouldn’t apply similar tactics in the future. Annoying woman. Insightful, too.

His gaze roved over the still crimson-streaked hair, lingering on the ponytail tied with a matching crimson ribbon. A jet-black figure-hugging blouse, cream trousers and yesterday’s crimson boots covered her from head to foot… Was that cat fur on her blouse, just a few little strands of white?

‘Domestic to the core,’ he muttered in a tone that somehow changed from his intended gruffness to almost admiration. With a snort, Grey hobbled forward to sink into a chair at the table. She probably had a dozen cats in her apartment in Melbourne, making her home look cosy and welcoming. Rather, shedding hair all over the place. A non-domestic-seeking man’s nightmare!

Maybe he needed food, fuel for his brain so he could think more clearly.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t quite hear what you said.’ She took a saucepan off the stove and spooned its contents into two bowls. On the bench, the coffee percolator belched out a scent that wasn’t quite ordinary.

‘It was nothing.’ Grey poured water into his glass and didn’t feel any anticipation about the food whatsoever. He ate to keep up his strength and she was all he had in the way of someone to conveniently provide meals while he focused on other things. She could dish up the blandest most ordinary foods and he would feel no differently.

He’d been off on a flight of some kind of weird, incapacity-induced fancy when he’d thought he anticipated her next meal. Now he had his thoughts under control. He’d reprimanded Sophia, achieved what he’d set out to do.

He’d killed the attraction stone-dead as effectively, hadn’t he, a sarcastic voice in his head put in.

Grey suppressed a second snort and grumbled, ‘What’s for breakfast? I’m hungry. It’s making my head explode. And I brought the brace for you to put on. You seem to feel I shouldn’t do it myself.’

‘No, and I’m sure you want to do everything possible to get better.’ She knelt at his feet and laced him up. Her movements were brisk and impersonal while those big sherry-coloured eyes fixed with way too much focus on first his foot and then his chin, his neck, even his ear.

Anything to avoid looking into his eyes, it seemed.

‘Just one more tug to make sure it’s snug enough.’ She suited actions to words.

In a moment she would get up, move away from him. Then he wouldn’t be able to smell her soft scent, touch the head bent to conceal her expression…

Grey’s hand disengaged itself from his brain function. There could be no other explanation for the fact that he reached out to touch the silken hair on that down-bent head. A feather-light touch she wouldn’t feel, wouldn’t know about.

Yet he felt that touch and reacted to it in a way he couldn’t explain. She had beautiful soft hair and a heart as big as Australia that drove her to send him demented with whatever manage-her-employer plan she had tucked away in that smart and sassy head of hers.

Inexplicably, a knot of something that felt like tenderness filled his chest. Grey yanked his hand back and leaned away from her.

‘How does that feel?’ She raised her gaze as she asked the question.

‘The brace is as comfortable as it will get.’ And her eyes were pools of liquid brown, her mouth soft and temptingly kissable.

She smiled that sunny smile even as she backed away from him and busied herself at the kitchen bench.

‘Uh, here’s breakfast.’ Sophia carried the bowls to the table and avoided looking into his eyes. She placed his bowl in front of him, pushed another of sliced bananas in some sort of brown, sticky sauce his way and returned to the bench to pour mugs of whatever she had brewed in the coffee percolator.

‘The cereal is five grain porridge, slow cooked for forty minutes on the stove—triticale, oats, barley, wheat and rye.’ She ticked the ingredients off on her fingers. ‘I’ve percolated my own blend of morning coffee. It’s decaf, but the cardamom flavour is so good you won’t notice the absence of a caffeine kick.’

‘I usually have toast or one of those snack breakfast bars you can buy off the shelf pre-wrapped and ready to go.’ He always had coffee with breakfast—real coffee—and, yes, his doctor had said he should give it up completely, but surely fewer cups a day would do? ‘I’m not really into coffee substitutes in the morning.’

But she’d already poured two big mugs of the brew. She put his on the table and paused to take the first sip of hers. The look that crossed her face as she absorbed the taste made his muscles clench.

Grey looked away. He had enough to cope with simply trying to control her and not desire her.

‘I’ll have the drink later, at my desk.’ It wasn’t capitulation. He would insist on some real coffee later this morning.

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