Free Secretary on Demand by Cathy Williams Page A

heading back to her bedsit. The Victorian house which had been converted into bedsits was in a leafy, residential area but a residential area that only just managed to creep into the category of savoury. In the daytime it was fine, because there were always people around, leaving for work, but on one or two occasions she had walked the pavements back to the house on her own and then the sound of her footsteps clattering on the tarmac had made her nervously turn her walk into a semi-run. Good job she didn’t suffer from high blood pressure or it would have been through the roof by now. And with winter swiftly descending, the nights would get darker earlier and eight-thirty would seem like midnight. She would have to make an effort not to think about it. ‘I like the exercise,’ she lied feebly. ‘And the fresh air.’
    â€˜Because I could always arrange for Jo to drive you home.’
    â€˜No!’ She was already indebted to Kane for her job, which was far more highly paid, she was sure, than she could have got somewhere else, and for the babysitting which she enjoyed and which, incidentally, further boosted her income. She didn’t need to be further relianton him for her transport. ‘I mean, thanks very much but, no, thank you.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜Because it would…confuse my arrangements.’
    â€˜What arrangements?’
    â€˜Arrangements to go somewhere else once I leave your place!’ Shannon insisted in a shrill voice, racking her brains to think of any arrangements she had made recently that had involved her not returning in a semi-run back to her dreary bedsit.
    â€˜You mean like another fun club,’ he said gravely, and she bristled at his patronising tone.
    â€˜I shall have to try out quite a few before I find the right one!’ she declared defiantly. ‘I’m new to the area, after all.’
    â€˜A club crawl at nine p.m. on a weekday every time you leave my place. Sounds hard work. Are you sure you’re going to be able to fit all this in with getting up in the morning to come to work?’
    â€˜I would never let my personal life affect my working life—’ Shannon began swiftly, only to be cut down in mid-self-righteous explanation.
    â€˜I’m surprised you can say that after your fling with Eric Gallway, which ended up in your leaving your last job and fleeing Ireland.’
    That, she thought, was hitting below the belt and she could tell from Kane’s sudden flush of discomfort that he was aware of that as well.
    â€˜Which is why I shall always make sure that the two sides don’t meet,’ Shannon retorted. ‘Now, will this be all?’ She cocked her head to one side in a businesslike manner and he grinned and lowered his eyes. There was a certain wickedness to his grin, she thought absent-mindedly, that belied the stern appearance. Was heaware of that or was it just some characteristic he had been born with? Like some people were born to have dimples when they smiled?
    â€˜For the moment,’ he agreed, back to his usual highly professional and unreadable self. ‘Dennis Clark and one of our accountants will be here in an hour. Make sure there’s coffee, would you?’
    â€˜Of course, sir,’ Shannon said in a docile voice. ‘Anything else? Some biscuits perhaps? I could rustle something up from the canteen.’ Me secretary, you boss. This was more like it. At the risk of overplaying her role, she was tempted to launch into a selection of various other secretarial duties he might avail himself of, but instead she headed back to the safety of her own office and decided to banish all thoughts of Kane Lindley the man by working fast and furiously and keeping her eyes fixed on the computer screen in front of her.
    She was the perfect secretary until lunchtime when she bolted down to the canteen, later than usual because the meeting, in which she’d been asked to sit and