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.