Blueprint for Love (Choc Lit) (4 page)

          There must be another building at the end of the grounds, she concluded, although it seemed impractical to her.

          Her last thought before her exhausted head hit the pillow was the strange colour of the light. Why was it green?

CHAPTER THREE

She didn’t have time to dwell on the mysterious light. The following day started with a hasty breakfast in the kitchen with Irene, then a tour of the office with Jonathan.

          In contrast to the rest of the manor house, which was oak-panelled and furnished in a style befitting an earlier period, the main office took up most of the ground floor and was open-plan, light and airy, with adjustable desks and chairs in two rows down the sides like in a school room. Drawings and blueprints were pinned to noticeboards, and art materials were strewn about the place. It seemed efficient yet disorderly at the same time, and Hazel couldn’t wait to start.

          The other architects hadn’t arrived yet, and Jonathan showed her where everything was. There was so much to remember that she felt she was being dropped in at the deep end, but his presence and his apparent faith in her abilities to manage the office were reassuring.

          ‘What made you take a job in such a remote area?’ he asked.

         
‘It isn’t really remote for me. I come from Norfolk originally, but my parents moved to London when I was young. Sadly, they’re both dead now.’

         
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

          Hazel swallowed back the tears which often threatened when she spoke of her parents. The pain of their deaths in a traffic accident three years earlier was still raw, but she’d learnt to deal with it.

          ‘My only living relative is my Great Aunt Rose, who lives in Combury Cross,’ Hazel explained. ‘She used to come to London to see me, but sadly she’s been confined to a wheelchair and is in a nursing home. Finding a job so close to where she lives was just perfect.’

         
‘It’s perfect for me too.’

          There was a curious expression in Jonathan’s eyes which Hazel couldn’t quite decipher. Fresh from the shower, he smelled irresistibly of soap and aftershave, and with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, Hazel noticed the muscles on his strong forearms flexing every time he moved. She had to stuff her hands in her pockets to stop herself from reaching out and touching him.

          What
am
I thinking? she chided herself, and forced the conversation back on neutral ground.

         
‘I’ve enjoyed living in London,’ she continued. ‘I probably wouldn’t have had the same opportunities to go to college if I’d stayed here. There’s so much on offer there, and the firm of architects
I worked for previously, let me have time off for my exams.’

          She didn’t mention that her immediate boss had grumbled and said something rude and derogatory about how education was wasted on women. He had then added, lewdly, that women belonged in the bedroom, with a look in his eyes that made Hazel’s skin crawl. She couldn’t imagine Jonathan expressing a similar sentiment, but she’d been wrong about people before.

          ‘I expect you’re longing to visit your aunt.’

         
‘I’ll go as soon as I can. Although,’ she shot him a cautious look, ‘I wouldn’t do that without running it by you first.’

         
‘Your time is yours. We might not keep regular hours here when we’re working on a project, but I’m sure you can see your aunt during the day which is probably the best time to visit an elderly person. You can always make up the hours later.’

         
‘Thank you.’

         
‘I may be the boss, Hazel, but I’m not an ogre. You seem to think that I would be. Any particular reason why?’

          He smiled down at her, and her breath caught in her throat. It would be so easy to tell him about her previous boss, but she decided to err on the side of caution. She didn’t know him that well yet.

          ‘No reason,’ she replied, and changed the subject. ‘I met your father last night. He seemed surprised to see me.’

         
‘Ah, yes, my father.’ Grimacing, Jonathan ran his hand through his fair hair. ‘I told him you were coming, but it must’ve slipped his mind. Communication isn’t great between us really.’

         
‘I understand he works on the estate grounds. Isn’t he a little old for that?’ The pathetic image of George, with his flyaway hair and carpet slippers, had stayed in her mind.

          Jonathan sent her a sharp look, although a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
‘You’re very direct, aren’t you?’

         
‘Is that a bad thing?’

         
‘No, it’s ... refreshing.’

          He eyed her for a moment, another inscrutable look on his face, and Hazel felt herself go hot under his stare. She met his eyes as far as she dared, reminding herself yet again that complications were the last thing she needed.

          They were interrupted by the arrival of the other employees. Soon the office was buzzing with the sound of good-natured banter, printers whirring and mugs clinking. It reminded her of her previous workplace before everything had gone pear-shaped with her manager.

          Jonathan made the introductions, and they all welcomed Hazel enthusiastically. The majority of them were men, in casual clothes and of different ages, but there was one woman among them. Dressed in an exotic, flowing kaftan, Ellie was big-boned, with large, expressive hands. A pair of spectacles hung from a chain around her neck and a hair clip, shaped like a sunflower, tried unsuccessfully to tame her frizzy hair. She pulled Hazel aside.

          ‘We’re very glad to have you here. The office is in a bit of state. But don’t tell the big boss I said that or I’ll be in the doghouse.’ She gave Hazel a conspiratorial wink.

         
‘I won’t breathe a word.’

         
‘Joking aside, it’s a great place to work. Everyone’s friendly and helpful. Well, almost everyone,’ Ellie added, but didn’t elaborate. ‘Just give me a shout if there’s anything you don’t understand.’

          Jonathan’s voice cut through the chatter.
‘Right, enough loitering. Robert Miles wants to see a revised set of drawings by Monday, so there’s no time to waste. It’s vital that we keep this contract.’

          This was followed by a chorus of groans, but people returned to their desks readily enough although the buzz continued.

          ‘Tabitha here yet?’ Jonathan asked.

         
‘No,’ replied a dark-haired man in his thirties.

          Another employee rolled his eyes, but looked away when Jonathan frowned at him.

          ‘She’s probably running late,’ Ellie commented neutrally, although even a newcomer like Hazel could hear the unspoken word ‘again’ hanging in the air.

          Jonathan nodded pensively.
‘You’re probably right.’

          He disappeared into his own office at the far end, which Hazel knew also doubled as a small meeting room. Extremely aware of the exhilarating yet unsettling effect he had on her, she was quite relieved that he’d left. But she found it required all the self-control she possessed to force the thought of him from her mind as she sat down at the desk she’d been allocated and set to work.

The morning passed in a flash. By lunchtime, Hazel had made significant inroads into the teetering pile of papers on her desk and filed away most of them. Lunch was a happy, slightly chaotic affair. Some of the employees left for the village pub, while others, including Ellie, ate their packed lunch around a table by the office coffee machine. Irene had prepared a plate of sandwiches in the kitchen for those living in, and had told Hazel to help herself, so she quickly selected a few, as well as some fruit, then joined the others.

          Jonathan stayed in his office throughout, the door closed firmly behind him. Through the glass partition, Hazel could see that he was on the phone.

          When lunch was over, she realised that she hadn’t enjoyed herself so much in years. Her colleagues had treated her as an equal, and they’d quickly established that they had a lot in common.

          Certain she was going to like working in her new environment, she returned to her filing.

          When there was a lull in activity, she had a chance to study her colleagues hard at work. The architects at Gough Associates were a varied bunch, but they were all incredibly creative and skilled, particularly Ellie. Her large, fleshy hands were able to produce the most delicate drawings.

          ‘I wish I could draw like that,’ Hazel commented, when her duties took her past Ellie’s desk. ‘You’re amazing!’

         
‘You’re very sweet, but I know my limitations. I’m only average. Come, let me show you something.’ Ellie climbed down from her high chair and led Hazel to a desk at the end of the room, the only one not yet occupied. ‘Tabitha Fanshawe sits here,’ she said, and pointed to a work-in-progress on the drawing board.

          Stepping closer, Hazel felt her jaw drop. In a strong, confident hand, the artist had created a building with both modern and traditional touches, rendered in wood as well as concrete, steel and glass, enclosed by a garden and discreet car park. Grey-shaded high-rises on either side made it jump out and come to life, giving the illusion of an oasis in a forbidding city-scape. Other drawings, equally bold and self-assured, hung on a noticeboard above the desk.

          ‘She’s good, isn’t she?’

          Speechless with awe and envy, Hazel nodded.

          ‘That’s the only reason Jonathan tolerates her tardiness. You don’t come across that kind of ability every day.’

          Ellie was right. She might be a skilled architect herself, but the elusive Tabitha’s drawings were quite simply stunning.

          Just like the woman herself.

          The familiar buzz in the office died as the door opened and a woman entered. Tabitha Fanshaw
e was tall, with flowing blonde hair and long, slim legs. She was dressed in a figure-hugging, green velvet jacket, a crisp white shirt, and designer jeans. Stiletto crocodile skin boots partly explained her impressive height. A matching handbag hung over her arm and, with her perfect skin, baby-blue eyes, and lips curved like a Cupid’s bow, it was as if Tabitha had just stepped off the catwalk.

          She was the most beautiful woman Hazel had ever met –she’d seen quite a few glamorous people when living in London – and she couldn’t
stop staring, mouth wide open, utterly spellbound.

          A fug of expensive perfume preceded Tabitha, and Ellie’s demonstrative sneeze brought Hazel back to reality. She smiled and held out her hand.

          ‘Hi, I’m Hazel Dobson, the new secretary. We were just admiring your work. I hope you don’t mind.’

          Tabitha didn’t take the hand. Instead, her eyes travelled up and down Hazel insultingly. Hazel felt her neck growing hot with embarrassment and indignation, and withdrew her hand.

          ‘You’re not very big, are you?’ said Tabitha, at last. Her voice was low and throaty, and Hazel half-expected her to hiss.

          Oh, like that, is it? she thought waspishly.
Well, two can play that game.
She stuck her chin out. ‘It’s not the size of the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog that counts,’ she replied.

          Raising her finely sculpted eyebrows, Tabitha gave a little laugh.
‘What’s this:
The World According to Hazel Dobson, secretary
?’

         
‘Actually, it’s a quote from General Eisenhower.’

         
‘Ooh, a history buff.’ Tabitha put a French manicured fingernail against her dimpled cheek, a pose she’d no doubt practised in the mirror. ‘Problem is, we need an office girl, not a professor. And you can start by getting me a cup of coffee.’

          Behind her, Hazel heard Ellie gasp in outrage. The rule in the office was that everyone got their own coffee and offered everyone else while they were making it.

          ‘And not from the coffee machine either,’ Tabitha continued. ‘That’ll be stewed by now. I want it fresh from the kitchen, in a cup and saucer, one sugar cube, and hot milk in a little jug on the side. I’m sure that’s something even a history buff can manage.’

         
‘I wasn’t told that was part of my duties,’ Hazel replied, while seething inside, ‘so perhaps I should just go and check that with the boss?’

          Changing tactics, Tabitha pouted prettily and fluttered her eyelashes.
‘Aw, you wouldn’t begrudge me a proper cup of coffee, would you? Only, I work best with the right kind of fuel inside me. Jonathan can vouch for that.’

          She swanned off to her seat, apparently not expecting a reply. At the mention of Jonathan’s name, Hazel decided to let it drop, reminding herself that she needed this job if she wanted to be near Aunt Rose. If that meant putting up with someone like Tabitha, then so be it.