Secretary on Demand by Cathy Williams Page B

politely stepping back so that she could fiddle with her key.
    â€˜ Delightful? Isn’t that taking courtesy a bit far?’ she asked feverishly.
    â€˜Don’t you like being described as delightful?’ Hiseyes were shuttered. ‘What adjective would you rather I used? How about sexy? Mmm. Yes, sexy might be more apt. Those freckles, that ivory white skin and flaming hair. Not obviously sexy, but discreetly so. Like a woman in jeans and a man’s shirt, not thinking she’s flaunting anything but arousing all sorts of illicit thoughts anyway.’
    His words made her feel limp.
    â€˜I don’t arouse illicit thoughts,’ she squeaked.
    â€˜How do you know?’
    â€˜Because…’ she spluttered helplessly.
    â€˜Would it turn you on if you thought you did?’
    â€˜No!’
    â€˜So…should I keep my illicit thoughts to myself, then?’ He dropped his eyes so that she couldn’t see whether he was being serious or not. No, of course he wasn’t being serious, she thought hotly.
    â€˜You haven’t got any illicit thoughts, so you can stop playing games!’
    â€˜You’re very suspicious of the opposite sex, aren’t you?’ he said, letting her off the hook and allowing her to lead the way down the narrow flight of stairs to the front door, but stepping forward once they were in the hall to open the door for her. ‘Not really surprising, I suppose. One sour relationship can have a knock-on effect that lasts much longer than we expect.’
    â€˜Oh, you speak from experience, do you?’ Shannon asked sarcastically, stepping past him, her head held high just in case he got the notion that anything he said might actually be absorbed and stored for inspection at a later date.
    â€˜Not really, no,’ he admitted, walking towards the high street, his hands in his pockets and his coat flapping around him, brushing against her legs. They walked withtheir heads down, instinctively pushing against the bracing wind that had sent the temperatures dropping.
    â€˜Was that what Gallway asked you to do? Trust him?’ he quizzed her shrewdly, and Shannon could have kicked herself for her momentary slip of the tongue.
    â€˜Isn’t that what all men say when they’re intent on getting a woman into bed?’ Shannon retorted heatedly.
    â€˜No, actually.’
    â€˜ You’re different, I suppose?’
    â€˜Very different,’ he murmured. ‘Look. There. A Chinese restaurant. Shall we try it?’
    â€˜OK,’ she said grudgingly. ‘I never noticed before, not that I spend much time on the high street.’
    â€˜Too dull?’
    â€˜Way too dull for someone as sizzling as I am,’ she answered brashly. ‘Not enough…pubs and wine bars and swinging clubs.’
    At which Kane had the insufferable temerity to burst out laughing, and she felt a smile reluctantly tug the corners of her mouth. Like it or not, she was enjoying his company, even though he had dragged her out of the warmth of her room at an ungodly hour, kicking and screaming, more or less.
    â€˜London isn’t just about pubs and wine bars and swinging clubs,’ he pointed out. ‘What about the theatres, the operas, the restaurants, the art galleries, the museums?’
    â€˜What about them?’ Shannon shot back airily. She decided that she would get some fun out of the remainder of the evening after all and play him at his own game of being patronising. She brushed past him as he held open the door for her to enter the restaurant, which was not quite empty but nearly.
    â€˜What do you mean “what about them?”’
    â€˜Well…’ She allowed herself to be relieved of her coat and then waited until she had sat down at the small table. ‘Yes, there is the theatre,’ she agreed, ticking off option one on her finger. ‘But if I could afford constant trips to the theatre I would have enough money