Reckless Runaway at the Racecourse (9 page)

     ‘I’m not your secretary yet,’ Fliss pointed out.

     ‘Fair enough. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me now?’

     Fliss thought about this for a minute. ‘I won’t be getting up to wave you off to work at five o’clock in the morning.’

     Luke nodded. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

     ‘Luke, don’t you think this is a bit odd?’

     ‘What is?’

     ‘You and me. I mean, we’re barely… well, whatever we are, it’s only casual. And yet we’re going to be living together and working together. You don’t think that could be a problem?’

     ‘Only if I’m a terrible boss.’

     I’ve never slept with the boss before,’ Fliss mused. ‘Will I get perks?’

     ‘What sort of perks?’

     ‘Oh, you know, sitting on your knee while I take dictation. Or being sent home early when I claim to have a headache.’

     ‘Is that what happens?’ Luke was clearly fascinated by this insight into office life.

     ‘I don’t know, I told you I’d never slept with the boss before.’

Chapter Five

     Black, shiny, spiky, ridiculously high heels.

     Short, tight, barely-decent skirt.

     White, figure-hugging, too-many-buttons-undone shirt. Or not enough, depending how you looked at it.

     Luke was looking at it from every angle. Fliss’s outfit was clearly designed for distraction, having the merest semblance of office attire and all the seductiveness of a stripper’s outfit. To match her clothes, her shiny chestnut hair was neatly twisted up into a severe bun, as if deliberately tempting him to pull out all the pins and let it tumble around her shoulders.

     Luke closed his eyes, counted to ten, then opened them again. She was still there. Still dressed like the object of any red-blooded male’s fantasy.

     Though this fantasy woman she wasn’t even looking at him. Fliss was perched on the kitchen counter, cradling a cup of coffee and chatting nineteen to the dozen with his housekeeper.

     Luke coughed.

     Fliss turned instantly to greet him with a wide smile and a knowing twinkle in her eyes. ‘Morning, boss.’

     He frowned sternly at her, then turned to smile at his housekeeper. ‘Morning, Mrs Ricks. Felicity, I’d like a word with you. In my office. Now.’

     ‘Certainly.’ She slid off the counter, tugged ineffectively at her skirt, managing for an instant to give Luke a perfect view down her cleavage. Then she picked up her coffee and smiled at the housekeeper. ‘Cheers for the coffee, Annie. Let me know how you get on with that website.’

     Luke held the door open and waited for her to pass through. She was near enough that he could smell the scent of her. This had been a really, really bad idea.

     In his office, Fliss had taken possession of the desk chair. She pushed it back and crossed her ankles. She held a notepad and pen and looked up at him in anticipation.

     ‘All ready, boss.’

     He didn’t smile back. ‘This isn’t going to work.’

     She pretended to look confused. ‘I haven’t even started yet. How can I be fired?’

     Luke shook his head. ‘You’re not fired. Yet. But if you’re going to work here, you have to take it seriously.’

     Fliss pulled the chair up to the desk and cocked her head at him. ‘What makes you think I don’t?’

     Luke looked at her. Again. She was the very image of temptation. Worse than in his t-shirt and borrowed socks. Worse even than in the blue dress she’d been wearing when he first saw her.

     ‘I need you to dress appropriately for work,’ he told her sharply.

     She looked down at her clothes in apparent surprise. ‘You don’t like this outfit?’

     He clenched his hands into fists. ‘It’s not appropriate for work,’ he repeated.

     ‘Why not?’

     ‘Because you’re here to be my secretary, not seduce my staff.’

     A wicked twinkle crept into Fliss’s eyes and she leaned over the desk towards Luke. ‘You think I could seduce someone in this outfit?’

     ‘I think you know exactly what you do to people in that outfit and I don’t want to see it again. Is that understood?’

     She gave a mock salute. ‘Yes, boss!’

     ‘You can start by addressing me in an appropriate manner. Just because we…’

     ‘Have sex?’ Fliss supplied.

     Luke narrowed his eyes warningly at her. ‘Yes, that. This has to be a professional relationship while you’re working. Okay?’

     She flipped open her notebook. ‘I’m ready to start whenever you want, Mr Caldecott.’

     ‘Luke is fine.’

     ‘Luke. What would you like me to do first?’

     He took a deep breath. He was
not
going to tell her what he would really like her to do first. Instead he was going to explain his haphazard filing system.

     Fliss spent the afternoon filing and sorting through the huge heap of paperwork on Luke’s desk. By five o’clock there was a large pile to be dealt with as soon as possible, a smaller one which could wait, and a handful of incomprehensible documents which Fliss needed Luke to explain to her. She kicked her shoes off underneath the desk and stretched.

     ‘Ready for a cup of tea?’ Luke was leaning against the door jamb.

     ‘In a minute,’ Fliss replied. ‘I have a couple of things to go through with you first.’

     He checked his watch. ‘You’ve done enough for today. I’ve already put the kettle on and Mrs Ricks has left a coffee and walnut cake.’

     She smiled. ‘I know. It’s good.’

     ‘You started it? Without me?’

     Fliss laughed. ‘You weren’t here. Besides, she made it for me. I told her it was my favourite.’

     ‘Mine too,’ Luke said.

     ‘Oh.’ That pleased her for some reason she wasn’t sure she wanted to investigate too closely.

     ‘Where’s the kitten?’

     Fliss looked round guiltily. Marshmallow was curled up on top of the filing cabinet in the square of afternoon sun that streamed through the window.

     ‘She helps me concentrate,’ she told Luke as she collected up her cat and took her through to the kitchen.

     He looked sceptical but said nothing. Apparently they were on a truce.

     ‘So, what do you normally do in the evenings?’ she asked Luke when they were both sitting down with large slices of the delicious cake and huge mugs of strong tea.

     Luke stared at her in bewilderment. ‘I work.’

     ‘Oh.’ She licked the coffee flavoured icing off her finger. ‘But now you have me to do all the office work for you.’

     He shook his head. ‘I have you to do some of the paperwork for me and answer the phone. But there’s a lot that you can’t do.’

     ‘I’m more competent than you think.’

     ‘I’m sure you are. But I’m still not going to trust you to decide which horses should be entered at Wincanton next Thursday. Or which lad to put up on Chrysanthemum tomorrow. Or whether the cheaper feed that I’ve seen advertised is any good or not.’

     Fliss offered a little bit of the cake to Marshmallow.

     ‘That won’t do her any good, you know.’

     She shrugged. ‘It makes her happy.’ The kitten was purring contentedly on Fliss’s lap, proving her point. ‘Besides, I saw you hand half of yours to Benjy.’

     The spaniel was certainly looking extremely pleased with himself. Luke changed the subject.

     ‘I have something for you that I think you’ll like.’

     Fliss looked at him questioningly over her cup of tea. Luke pushed an envelope across the table towards her.

     ‘See for yourself.’

     She extracted a piece of thick cream-coloured card embossed in fine lettering. An invitation.

     ‘Zhao Corporation requests the pleasure of the company of Mr Luke Caldecott and guest at a Derby Ball in aid of the Children’s Charity Foundation,’ Fliss read aloud.

     ‘I have to go,’ Luke explained. ‘They’re my most influential owners and there will be plenty of other potential owners to chat up.’

     ‘Oh.’

     ‘So you’ll come with me? You can stand next to me and look decorative.’

     Fliss stuck her tongue out at him. ‘I don’t do decorative.’

     He laughed. ‘Oh yes, you do. Look, it’ll be fun. You can dress up, wear heels as high as you want, eat fabulously expensive food, dance with lots of tiny men…’

     ‘Tiny men?’

     ‘They always invite the jockeys.’

     ‘Ah. What if I’d rather dance with a tall man?’

     Luke shook his head. ‘Not me. But I daresay you’ll find some other sucker.’

     ‘Luke!’

     ‘Sorry.’ He held out his hands in a peace-making gesture. ‘But you’ll come?’

     ‘As your secretary?’ She needed to be certain.

     ‘As my date. I’m not paying you to go out with me if you don’t want to.’

     ‘In that case,’ Fliss gave him a beaming smile, ‘I’ll do it.’

     ‘Great. Do you have plans for this weekend?’

     ‘Won’t you be working?’

     Luke took a deep breath. ‘Actually, I wondered if you might like to come with me.’

     ‘To Huntingdon?’

     She was sharp, he’d give her that. She had already assimilated the racing schedule for the next week. ‘Yes, but I’ve only got one horse running, so I’ll be free most of the afternoon.’ And evening. And all night.

     ‘I’d love to. Should I wear my stilettos?’

     He laughed. ‘Sensible shoes only.’

     ‘Which one do you fancy, then?’

     Fliss grinned as Luke came to stand behind her, putting his hands on the rails either side of her, effectively trapping her body against his.

     ‘The tall, arrogant one in the grey suit,’ she replied.

     He chuckled. ‘Nope, can’t see anyone who meets that description. What about the horses?’

     They watched the glossy thoroughbreds being led around the paddock, each of them brushed and plaited and groomed like supermodels. They seemed as temperamental as supermodels too, tossing their heads and pushing their stable-hands aside.

     ‘What’s wrong with that one?’ Fliss pointed at a dark bay coming towards them.

      ‘He’s just frothing up a bit. It’s nothing to worry about.’

     ‘It looks awful.’ There were great tracks of white lather all over the horse’s side and neck. Is it really normal?’

     ‘Completely. Like an actor getting sweaty before going on stage.’

     Fliss leaned forward to peer more closely at the horse as it passed in front of them. It was practically dancing on its toes and throwing its head back. ‘It doesn’t look like it wants to be here.’

     ‘He’ll be fine. If a horse doesn’t want to race, you can’t make him,’ Luke explained.

     ‘Isn’t that what all the bondage gear is for?’ In the middle of the paddock, the trainers were checking their horses over, tightening straps and shortening stirrups. It all looked most peculiar.

     ‘Bondage gear?’ Luke sounded amused.

     ‘Leather straps and chains and things.’ Fliss waved her hand vaguely towards the nearest horse. ‘That one looks like it’s been fitted out in a sex shop, as far as I can see.’

     Luke threw back his head and laughed. ‘No. Although it gives the jockey some control, it’s more about sending signals and keeping the animal’s mind on its job. If he refuses to go into the starting stalls, or decides to pull up during the race, or unseat his jockey, well, it’s one ton of horse versus eight stone of jockey. The horse wins.’

     ‘Oh. So they really like racing?’

     ‘Most of them. There are always a few that just don’t take to it at all. And then there are some which love it if only you can keep them calm enough beforehand - they can’t cope with the parade and the build up. But most horses love to race. They’re pack animals in the wild, and they race for their lives. Leading the pack is a natural instinct. The jockey’s task is mostly to make sure that their mount is leading at just the right moment when they are passing the winning post.’

     Fliss watched for a couple of minutes as the horses were led into the centre of the paddock and the jockeys were thrown up into the saddles.

     ‘Where’s your money going, then?’ Luke asked, pulling out his race card.

     ‘Fiendish Cat,’ Fliss told him.

     Luke snorted. ‘You can’t bet on a horse because of the name.’

     ‘Can, actually. Besides, I like her. She smiled at me when she walked past.’

     ‘Horses don’t smile,’ Luke replied automatically. ‘Just don’t tell me you’re putting all your life savings on her.’