'So this is where a multimillionaire property developer comes for the occasional weekend away from the city.' Sophia Gable made the observation as she drew her elderly yellow car to a stop outside Grey Barlow's country home. 'Or in this case it's where he comes to recuperate from an accident.'
The house sat part way up an unspoiled section of Victorian mountainside, a large, solid structure made of slate and stone and mortar with a weathered roof of terracotta tiles. Vines twined about the veranda posts. Meadows full of wild flowers bloomed in every direction. Beyond those, snow-capped mountains rose in early spring splendour.
It was a change from the hustle and bustle of Melbourne, but Soph was adaptable. She glanced at the white flop-eared domestic rabbit that rested, nose twitching, in a deep basket strapped to the front passenger seat of the car. Alfred might also enjoy the change of scene.
Despite Soph's efforts to remain calm, a small bout of nerves surfaced. This was a change of more than just her usual city surroundings. She sucked in a steadying breath. Her career change had been the right thing and for her first assignment she got to help a man in need, which she knew she would find fulfilling. It was all perfect. There was nothing to worry about.
Nothing except the fact that Soph had used up three of her four weeks of financial buffer zone before the We Work for You agency had given her this first posting. But the agency would see this proof of her versatility and skill and go on to send her into all sorts of varied jobs where she could help others and feel great as she did so.
Soph climbed out of the car, twitched her fluffy cerise jumper and black trousers into place and spared just a moment to admire the matching crimson ankle boots. With a cheerful expression pasted on to her face, she headed for the house and climbed the steps to the veranda.
'You're Sophia Gable, the assistant I acquired through the staffing agency?' The question came as a low rumble of sound from a corner of the veranda where the speaker would have had a perfect view of Gertie the Beetle's arrival, and Soph's exodus from said car. 'I thought you'd be older, less colourful.'
Was it the crimson tips in her hair? They probably looked a bit metallic in the sunlight, now Soph thought about it, but she'd wanted power hair for this fresh start. She squinted into the shadowed corner.
'I'm Sophia, but most people call me Soph. I hope you will too, Mr Barlow.' Despite the shadows, she could make out a cast on his arm and one foot in an ankle brace, stuck out awkwardly in front of him where he sat in an outdoor chair.
Poor fellow, but at least his injuries were temporary. 'The position outline said clerical with a bit of housekeeping and cooking, other general duties and assistance related to your injuries as required. I want to assure you I'm prepared for all contingencies. I've given quite a bit of thought to how I can best assist in your recovery.'
'You can assist by performing the required tasks and driving me places when needed. I'm certain nothing else will be necessary.' He rapped the words out with every appearance of annoyance and even a hint of suspicion. 'My injuries are simple, after all.' Following this pronouncement he glared and said, 'I'm merely dealing with a sprained ankle and a broken arm. There's nothing at all to fuss about.'
'That's a very positive outlook.' Though a bit taken aback, Soph tried to put a good spin on his grouchiness. The man may have placed his injuries last on his list of needs with the agency, but they were still needs. He might require a little coaxing to accept help with them. That was all. 'Even so, I have lots of great ideas—'
'Sit down, please.' He interrupted her without compunction and gestured towards the chair opposite his. 'At least you're not late, but I don't have a lot of time for pleasantries.'
Soph moved forward and got a proper look at him. 'I thought you'd be older. It's always the way when we anticipate meeting someone, isn't it? We tend to imagine something quite different to the reality.'
She wondered what made him so defensive about his injuries, but didn't have time to think about it now.
In truth, she was a little distracted. Now she could see him properly, she acknowledged that he was rather impressively packaged. Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, he had a chiselled face and stormy green eyes and not an ounce of spare flesh on him anywhere. She'd place him in his mid-thirties.
He said in a dry tone, 'I'm sure we'll manage to get over our mutual astonishment.'
'Yes. I guess so.' Despite his dryness and his wounded irritability, he had a presence. There was something compelling about him.
Soph's pulse skittered, but she rejected her reaction. The man was a stranger, not in her social or economic set, at least a decade older than her, and her employer to boot.
When Soph chose to date, it was with average guys her own age and financial status, and she made it clear she only wanted company for an evening out or two. If they started to want a piece of her soul or anything similar, she was out of there.
One day, a long time in the future, Soph might want to choose someone more permanent from among those very ordinary men but it would have to be a relationship she could control, and she would have to feel ready.
Something told her that Grey Barlow couldn't be ordinary or controllable if he tried. Nor did he seem the kind who would seek permanency, certainly not if it came with the picket fence she imagined she might some day want. Well, her sisters had both fallen for it.
With millionaires of their own, no less, and in spite of the trust issues they had carried, thanks to their deserting parents.
Soph hadn't suffered like Bella and Chrissy. Her older sisters had shielded her, allowed her to live a normal and happy life after their parents had abandoned them, even when things had been at their toughest. Nope. Soph had no hang-ups, just a lot of gratitude and love and the wish that she could have done more for Chrissy and Bella in return.
'I'm pleased to meet you, Mr Barlow. I hope we'll have a satisfying association while I work for you.' This was the point. Something new and interesting to do, something which would drive away her restlessness, give her a feeling of completion, a feeling that she had contributed in a pleasing way. She simply liked to help people, and wanted more of a chance to do so.
'The agency assured me you were the best they had to offer.'After a brief hesitation in which he lifted his right hand, frowned in annoyance and dropped it down again, he reached out his undamaged left one.
Did he have to sound so dubious about her? Soph hoped he hadn't got that impression from the agency itself. She reached out her left hand too. 'I'll do my utmost to live up to your expectations.'
The back to front handshake was firm and quickly over. It should have felt impersonal or simply awkward, but a flash of heat travelled up her arm and into her chest. She thought she saw a matching momentary reaction in his gaze.
Of course her response was a glitch, since she'd decided it wouldn't be wise to notice him in that way.
As for him, a second glance revealed nothing but a blank mask. She had probably imagined anything else.
He began to rap out words. 'On doctor's orders, I've agreed to a break here for the next week. I concede the fresh air and change of scenery probably won't do me any harm, although I think my doctor is being overly cautious about my…health.
'After the week here, I'll relocate to my town house in Melbourne.You'll carry out your work for me at both locations.'
'I'll do my best to assist you.' The town house would have a garden, a place for Alfred's collapsible enclosure. That was a good thing. She needed to explain about Alfie, how she'd found the domestic pet abandoned, tied to a pole near her flat just last night and now needed to keep him with her.
Her employer gave a nod. 'Aside from the duties you mentioned earlier, you'll screen all my phone calls and turn away any person who might appear here at the house. I've made it clear I don't want visitors, but some people might try to ignore that fact.'
No visitors, huh? If Soph had a broken arm and a damaged ankle, her sisters and brothers-in-law would be all over her. They'd tell her how to get better, bring her food and comfort. Actually, they'd probably insist she go to live with one or the other of them until she made a complete recovery.
She wondered about Grey Barlow's family. Maybe he didn't want his work colleagues or relatives to see him at less than his best. It made a proud male kind of sense. In response to this thought, she smiled at him extra kindly. 'If anyone tries to get inside the house, I'll be better than a Pekingese. They won't know what's—'
'Bitten them?' He finished the sentence for her and a wry smile touched his lips.
'Do Pekingese bite? I think they just yap, don't they?' Soph's heart pitter-pattered. He looked younger and more approachable when he smiled. Could she be blamed for noticing? 'Do you have pets, Mr Barlow? You see, I have this—'
'No, I don't do the pet thing.' The hint of a smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. 'I'd find that kind of commitment restricting.'
Maybe she wouldn't mention Alfie's presence just yet. And definitely no picket fences on this man's horizon if he couldn't even cope with the thought of a pet responsibility. She'd been right about that, and it was fine with her.
'Perhaps we could get back to our discussion of your duties?' He sounded irritable again. 'Although I'm incarcerated here for no good reason, I concede that I can't physically cover ten floors of office space every day or go out to examine the construction sites in Melbourne and beyond until my ankle is better. But I will keep my finger on the pulse of the company.
'I'll keep in touch by electronic conferencing. I'll also review and respond to written reports from the various departments daily.' He paused to draw a breath. 'You'll type my correspondence and do any other work I hand over to you, including research...
