Free Secretary on Demand by Cathy Williams Page B

take notes, had lasted until after one.
    A bowl of soup, some bread and fruit and a cup of coffee, she thought, sitting at one of the many empty tables, would revive her enough for the afternoon. Working for Kane outside work hours had seemed easy enough when she’d accepted the job. How had she known that she would begin to feel a little too submerged in him and his personal life for her own sense of well-being? Eleanor was a joy to look after, but she chattered about her father, whom she adored, and Shannon was finding herself going down the slippery slope of piecing together all the intriguing facets of Kane’s personality that emerged during their girlish conversations together after school.
    The fact that the women he had brought back to the house, far from being a heady stream of dizzy blondes, had all been, as far as Eleanor had been concerned, boring and formal. Which Shannon shrewdly interpreted as career-women who had found it difficult to accommodate an eight-year-old. The fact that Carrie had developed a crush on him and it had been his idea to relieve her of some of her hours rather than the other way around, which was what he had initially implied.
    â€˜How on earth do you know that?’ Shannon had laughed.
    â€˜I could tell,’ was Eleanor’s implacable reply. ‘She started giggling whenever he was around and finding all sorts of reasons to stay later than she needed to.’
    Shannon learnt that Kane rarely took holidays, and when he did he was always in contact with his office, which made her feel acutely sorry for Eleanor, but was firmly told, as a follow-on, that he couldn’t help working so hard because it was all to do with looking after her.
    She was reflecting on all of this, drinking her soup and relaxing, when a familiar voice said from behind her, ‘Mind if I join you?’ Before she could answer, Kane slid into the chair opposite her and deposited his plate of salad in front of him and his glass of water.
    â€˜What are you doing here?’ Shannon muttered, looking around her nervously, relieved that there was no one she recognised left in the canteen. Little did he know that there were quite a few young girls in the company who considered him a heartthrob, and the last thing she needed was the job of fending off their curiosity should they see them together, having lunch.
    Then she decided that she was being utterly ridiculous because there was nothing meaningful about sitting at the same table at the same time by chance. Bosses frequently came down to the canteen at lunchtime and most of them sat at whatever table was available, usually at the ones where their secretaries were sitting, which was an instant gossip-quencher but did promote a healthy informality in the company.
    â€˜Eating lunch,’ he said mildly, pausing in mid-mouthful to look at her. ‘And don’t look so shocked. I do occasionally manage to slip in a mouthful of food some time during the day.’
    â€˜But here ?’
    â€˜If you recall, you suggested I eat here now and again so that I could be on the ground floor when it came to seeing and hearing what’s going on in the company.’ He gave her one of those bland smiles which she was sincerely coming to distrust. ‘Not that there’s anyone around to speak of,’ he said ruefully. ‘Bad timing, I suppose. You’re not eating your soup. You can’t afford to lose weight. You’ll disappear. So eat up.’
    Shannon reluctantly swallowed a mouthful of soup while he dug with hearty enthusiasm into his salad, spearing the tiger prawns and making favourable remarks about the quality of the food, finally hinting that maybe he should make the time to frequent the canteen a bit more often, and when it was more crowded.
    â€˜You can’t!’ Shannon squeaked.
    â€˜Why not?’ His dark eyes were unrevealing which, she thought sceptically, meant that he would somehow try and worm a response