His Secretary Mistress(44)

‘Then who the hell is he?’ Alex snarled, his eyes glittering as he stared past the officious porter at her.

‘He’s my brother,’ she shouted frantically, and as she sank back in her seat she was sure that the memory of Alex’s darkly furious face would be imprinted in her mind for ever.





Alex didn’t return to the office for the remainder of the week, and Jenna told herself she was glad of the reprieve. There would be no escaping the conversation he had threatened when he did appear, and she resolved that there would be no more secrets between them; she would explain everything, including the existence of her daughter. He must surely despise her anyway, and the news that she was a single mother would simply be another nail in her coffin. It was time she looked for another job.

Saturday dawned cold but bright, and she took advantage of the winter sunshine to sweep up the mountain of fallen leaves in the garden, while Maisie trotted after her with her toy wheelbarrow.

This was her life now, she reminded herself as she watched her daughter run delightedly through the leaves. Her most important role was as mother to Maisie, and she wouldn’t swop it for the world, but she was unable to dismiss the dull ache that settled around her heart, the feeling that she was only half alive.

She missed Alex so much it was a physical pain. If she closed her eyes she could picture his face, could see the chiselled beauty of his bone structure and the way his blue eyes glinted with amusement or darkened with pleasure when they made love. How would she ever forget him? she wondered despairingly. Even if she found a new job tomorrow and never saw him again the scent of him, the taste of him, were now an integral part of her. He was her other half. Without him she felt incomplete, but he was not hers. He loved another woman and she would have to learn to live without him.





Alex parked his car and briefly checked his appearance in the mirror, cursing to himself as he spied the cut on his chin that he had inflicted whilst shaving. As he rang the doorbell of Jenna’s house he raked a hand through his hair, the betraying gesture revealing a degree of tension that was all the more irritating because it was such new territory. He was a man who liked to be in control, but where Jenna was concerned he discovered that he was as vulnerable and unsure of himself as a teenager on a first date.

He tried the bell again, stifling his impatience when it became apparent that Jenna was not at home. But as he turned to walk back down the path he heard a small voice, and glanced along the passageway that ran along the side of the house.

‘You’re not the milkman,’ the child observed in her clear, tinkling voice, ‘or the postman. Are you Father Christmas?’

For a moment he couldn’t answer, shock robbing him of his power of speech as he stared down at the little girl. ‘I’m afraid not,’ he murmured. ‘My name’s Alex. Who are you?’

‘Maisie Jane Deane,’ she told him importantly. ‘I live at sixty-three Cedar Crescent, and my rabbit’s name is Smudge.’

‘Maisie? Who are you talking to?’ Jenna turned the corner of the house, alerted by the sound of her daughter’s voice, and stopped dead. ‘Alex!’

He looked horrified, there was no other way to describe his expression, and Jenna paled. ‘This is my daughter, Maisie,’ she explained in a faltering voice, and shrank from the glittering fury in his eyes.

‘I know; we’ve already introduced ourselves.’ He stared again at the little girl, as if he couldn’t believe she was real, and then glanced at Jenna. ‘Right, I’ll be off, then.’

‘Alex!’ Shock had rooted her to the spot, but as he walked down the front path she fumbled to unlock the side gate and hurried after him. ‘Alex—wait.’

The throbbing sound of his car’s engine reverberated down the street and she stared after him helplessly, her heart pounding.

‘So that’s that,’ she told Chris an hour later, after her brother had stumbled out of bed to be greeted by her tearful face. ‘He took one look at Maisie and left, without giving me a chance to explain.’

‘It must have been quite a shock for him, to come face to face with the daughter he never knew you had,’ Chris pointed out. But Jenna wouldn’t be comforted.

‘You didn’t see his face,’ she said miserably. ‘He looked at Maisie as if she was Frankenstein’s daughter. For some reason he hates children. I can’t carry on working for him now, but it’s Christmas in a couple of weeks. What am I going to do?’

‘They need someone to man the chip fryer in the burger bar,’ Chris said helpfully, and she sighed. But it could come to that.