His Secretary Mistress(21)

It was heaven and hell, and she moved in time with the music, trying her best to ignore the hardness of his thighs pressing on hers. She was so aware of him it hurt, every nerve-ending seemed ultra-sensitive, her senses heightened to such a degree that she was intoxicated by the sensual musk of his aftershave, and another, more subtle scent that was him. She focused rigidly on a point above his shoulder, and a frisson of excitement shot through her when he coiled a strand of her hair around his finger, his head bent so low that if she turned she would graze her cheek against his jaw.

The song eventually came to an end and she pulled abruptly out of his arms. ‘I really must go before I miss the last train.’

‘You can’t possibly be planning to travel alone on the underground at this time of night?’

The impatient edge to his tone made her bristle. ‘Why ever not? I live in a suburb of North London, not the Bronx. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, Alex.’

His scathing look said it all. ‘I take it your husband didn’t offer to collect you and escort you safely home?’

‘Chris is away this weekend, visiting friends.’ That much was true anyway; her brother had travelled up to Nottingham to visit an old schoolfriend at the university.

‘I’ll take you home,’ he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. But she argued anyway.

‘Absolutely not. There’s no need for you to leave the party on my behalf; honestly, Alex,’ she added, a note of panic entering her voice, ‘I’ll be perfectly all right.’

He won, of course; there was really no contest. When Alex was determined to have his own way he was like a bulldozer, flattening any opposition, and Jenna was faced with causing a scene in front of the entire workforce or acceding to his will.

She remained silent on the journey home. Polite chit-chat was beyond her, and the simmering tension that hovered like a spectre between them stretched her nerves to screaming point.

‘Do you have any plans while Chris is away?’ His voice cut through the silence and she shrugged.

‘I’ll probably just rent a film and order a pizza.’ She could hardly explain that she intended to spend her leisure time catching up on the chores that had built up all week, or that the highlight of the weekend would be cleaning out Maisie’s pet rabbit.

She was filled with a sudden restlessness and wished that her life sounded more exciting. She loved spending time with Maisie, so why suddenly was it not enough? Why was she filled with a longing for adult company, and, if she was honest, for this particular man’s company?

Alex caught the note of misery in her voice and wondered again about her husband. Would she spend the weekend missing him, impatiently waiting for him to return? He stared at her, his bland expression belying the surge of jealousy he felt as he imagined her eagerly welcoming the man he had briefly glimpsed when he had driven her home on her first day.

Maybe they would go to bed early on Sunday night. Doubtless they would make love. Jenna was a beautiful, sensual woman; she wasn’t going to play Monopoly! He fought to blank out the stark image of her naked, pale limbs entwined with those of the man he had seen—her husband. This had to stop, he told himself furiously. Fantasising about his married secretary was repugnant, and he was sickened with himself. He had definitely been too long without a lover, but this weekend he could count on the companionship of a particularly charming ex-girlfriend, with whom he still enjoyed an open relationship. It was time he banished Jenna Deane well and truly from his mind, and the form of physical exercise he was planning for the next few nights should do the trick.

‘How about you? Do you have anything exciting planned for the weekend?’ Jenna queried, and his mouth curved into a sensual smile.

‘I’m going to spend a few days at my apartment in Cannes.’

‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten.’ She had a vivid image of him cavorting in Cannes with a gorgeous blonde and felt sick. Suddenly the interior of the car seemed claustrophobic; she urgently needed air and she fumbled to release her seat belt.

‘Wait—the strap of your bag is tangled round the belt catch. What’s the sudden hurry?’

She couldn’t restrain the tremor that shook her as his hand closed around her wrist, and she shook her head frantically, her hair dancing wildly on her shoulders. ‘Nothing, I need to…’

He was close, so close that even in the dim interior of the car she could see the laughter lines at the corner of his eyes and the grooves on either side of his mouth. His face was suddenly a taut mask.

‘No, I need…to do this,’ he muttered, his voice so deep she could barely make out the words. But she was in no doubt of his intent. His fingers tightened on her arm while his other hand cupped her jaw and exerted gentle pressure so she tilted her face up to his. His lips moved as soft as a butterfly over hers, caressed briefly and then lifted and paused fractionally before skimming again, his touch as light as gossamer.