As devastating as this sudden self-awareness was, she was determined to keep it in proportion and not be overwhelmed—she could cope. Her intellect and emotions weren’t involved; she could rise above what amounted to basic lust.

‘Tell Charlie that Steve sends his love,’ Benedict called after his secretary.

It looked to him as though she was about to break all records for escaping from the building. Or was it just him she was trying to escape? Whistling softly to himself as he pondered this question, he walked back into the inner office.

CHAPTER THREE

‘WHERE are you off to?’

Rachel registered that the solid object she had walked into was the chest of her temporary boss. ‘S-sorry,’ she gasped. So much for the cool, professional distance she’d vowed to keep. After a single morning of detachment she was flinging herself into his arms.

She was seized by a sudden strong and bizarre urge to blurt out her troubles. This is the wrong person and wrong place to indulge in an orgy of shared burdens, Rachel, she told herself firmly as she attempted unsuccessfully to pull clear of the protective circle of his arms. She’d learnt to handle life’s crises alone some time ago.

‘Is it the appeal of sandwiches in the park? I’d join you myself if I hadn’t already promised to lunch with the revered parent.’ The quizzical, teasing expression left his face as he took in her pale features. ‘What’s wrong, what’s happened?’ he demanded, taking her by the shoulders. The smell of the soft, lightly floral perfume she used tantalised his nostrils. That haunted expression in her wide eyes was doing the strangest things to him.

‘I’m sorry but I have to go… Charlie…it’s an emergency. I left you a note… I have to go.’

Hands flat against his chest, she tried to push past. God, what must he think of her? Only their second day working together and she was running off. She didn’t care what he thought of her; there was such a thing as priorities. He’d have to wait for explanations.

‘Hold on, what’s wrong?’

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‘I know it’s not convenient, but I—’

‘Forget about what’s convenient and tell me what’s wrong.’

‘The headmistress rang; Charlie’s at the casualty department…’

She didn’t get any further. ‘Which hospital?’ He nodded when she told him. ‘Come on, I’ll take you.’

‘What…?’ On the very few occasions when her meticulous childcare arrangements had not stretched to cover a domestic disaster that required her presence, at best her previous bosses had displayed impatience; at worst they’d been openly critical of her lack of professionalism.

‘I thought you were in a hurry.’

‘I am.’ A sudden smile of pure relief spread across her face. The journey by underground and taxi would have taken her over an hour, with every second an agony of anticipation. ‘I can’t impose,’ she began doubtfully.

‘Shut up, Rachel; I’m trying to show you what a nice guy I am. Don’t spoil it. A lift should be good for at least a dinner date.’ His mouth curved in a lopsided smile and when she looked half suspiciously into them his eyes were kind and concerned, not predatory.

‘On me,’ she promised fervently.

Seeing the glow of gratitude in her marvellous eyes, Benedict decided he might just have undervalued his services. She didn’t object to the light touch of his guiding hand on her shoulder as they left the building.

He racked his brains to recall one instance when he’d actually put himself out to please one of his lady friends and failed, but then the disasters in his previous lady friends’ lives had tended to lean in the direction of broken nails or an inability to get a hair appointment, not hospitalised children!

Rachel pulled aside the cubicle curtain to reveal a pathetic sight.

‘Oh, Charlie!’

‘I know I look terrible, but the hair will grow back; they had to shave off the little bits to stitch up the cuts. The blood’s from my nose.’ She touched the gory front of her once pristine school shirt. ‘I’m not cut anywhere and I didn’t break anything.’

‘Congratulations,’ Rachel said drily as she sat down on the edge of the trolley.

‘They want to throw me out so I must be fit.’

‘And does Mrs Faulkner want to throw you out too?’ When Rachel had left the headmistress in the reception area with Benedict the lady had looked almost as stressed as she felt.

‘I hope so. It’s a crummy school. They all think they’re so smart.’

‘And you don’t?’ Charlie’s new punk-spiky hair made her look incredibly young.




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