The Boss's Inexperienced Secretary
Шрифт:
‘Oh, and why is that?’
‘Because if you treat people as morons they are likely to behave as morons,’ she said sharply. She regretted it immediately, not so much for herself but because she realised too late she might have got his secretary into trouble. And one didn’t answer Blaise West back; his face said so. She waited for the explosion.
‘Ah…’ He leaned forward, the vivid blue eyes never leaving her face. ‘You heard.’
It was no good denying it. She nodded, deciding she wasn’t going to apologise for her tone. If she got the sack in Surrey, she got the sack. She’d survive.
‘Then I apologise. I should imagine it wasn’t the best start to a job interview,’ he said quietly.
The apology was so unexpected she blinked in surprise. Clearing her throat, she said warily, ‘It doesn’t matter, Mr West. Like the others, I am clearly not what you’re looking for. Thank you for your time.’ As she stood up she saw his eyes narrow.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
She stared at him, her cheeks burning. ‘I presumed the interview was at an end.’
‘Then you presumed wrong. We haven’t even started.’ As she sank down in the seat again, he continued to dissect her face. She didn’t think she had ever felt quite so uncomfortable in her life. ‘Now…’ he leant back in the leather chair once more, his elbows on the padded arm rest ‘…I’m going to ask that question again and I’d like a truthful answer this time. Why do you want to come and work for me, Miss Abbott?’
She couldn’t remember the last time she had blushed like this. ‘It was a truthful answer,’ she said tightly. And then, as the black eyebrows rose quizzically, she added, ‘Just not a complete one, perhaps.’
She thought she saw his mouth twitch. It was a well-shaped mouth, firm, sensual, above a cleft chin. ‘So?’
His soft, silky tone didn’t fool Kim. He was determined to have his pound of flesh, she thought hotly. Of course, she could make up a hundred and one things which would be more acceptable than the truth, but somehow she felt he’d know if she did. Pride straightened her spine. ‘Like I said, I do feel I’ve gone as far as I can at your Surrey branch, but to be fair I probably wouldn’t have applied for this post but for something I overheard.’ She hesitated. ‘Something which prompted me to step out of my comfort zone and prove something to myself, I suppose.’
The blue eyes were like lasers. ‘What did you hear?’
‘It was personal,’ she said flatly. ‘Let’s just say it was aimed at me and it wasn’t complimentary.’
‘Anything to do with your work?’
That was a fair question in the circumstances. ‘No, my work has always been satisfactory, as I’m sure Mr Goode would confirm.’
‘He already has or you wouldn’t be here now.’ It was dry. ‘So, Miss Abbott—’ he paused for a moment ‘—are you wasting my time?’
‘What?’ The colour which had begun to subside flooded her cheeks again.
‘Have you any intention of accepting this post should it be offered to you?’
A few minutes ago, perhaps even one minute ago, the honest answer to that question would have been no. Now…she wasn’t sure. Working for someone like Blaise West would undoubtedly be terrifying and exhausting, but did she really want to stagnate in Surrey for the next ten, twenty years? And that was what she had been doing, she thought with a painful dose of self-analysis. She had a degree of independence but she was still in the comfortable cocoon of being close to family with all her friends about her. She had her job down to a fine art, there was no challenge there, and she knew exactly what she was doing from one week to the next. And that had been fine at first, in the initial fallout after David. It had been fine until she had walked into this room, in fact. ‘Yes, Mr. West,’ she said firmly. ‘I’d consider the post, should it be offered.’
He nodded. ‘Good.’ At last his gaze left her and transferred to the papers on the desk. ‘Then let’s get on with it, shall we?’
CHAPTER TWO
BY THE time she got home mid-afternoon, Kim felt like a wet rag. The interview with Blaise West had lasted for well over an hour and it had been gruelling. That was the only word for it. She had all but staggered out of his office, and she must have looked just as she felt because his secretary had quickly pointed out that the firm’s restaurant was already serving early lunch and the food was very nice.
It had been nice, and the two cups of hot, sweet coffee she had swallowed along with roast chicken with all the trimmings had gone some way to reviving her for the journey home. She hadn’t rushed over the meal, watching the other occupants of the sparklingly clean eatery while she tried to make sense of her jumbled recollections of the last hour.
The overall conclusion she came to was that she was stark, staring mad. Mad to think Blaise West might offer her the job. Mad to think she could do it if he did. She was out of her league here; way, way out. Needles of panic were making themselves felt now.
He had finished the meeting by stating he would come to a decision about the applicants within the next twenty-four hours when he had interviewed everyone. By then she had been so frazzled she’d had no idea how she had fared. Certainly hundred-watt smile had only been in with him for ten, fifteen minutes at the most, but there was another person he had to see this afternoon.
When she had finally exited West International the sunshine of early morning had given way to a grey sky that promised rain before nightfall. The train home had been delayed, and when she had eventually boarded it thousands—or so it seemed—of irritable commuters had got on with her. They had only travelled for fifteen minutes when debris on the line had meant another delay.
On reaching her home station, she had seen her little Mini faithfully waiting for her in the car park and had had to bite back tears. That alone told her she was exhausted.
Kim walked into the flat, dropping her handbag on the floor by the sofa as she collapsed into its plump depths. All the excitement and glamour of Blaise West’s fast-moving world was gone. A journey that should have taken less than an hour had taken three times as long. It reminded her of something he’d pointed out during the interview.
‘I’m sure you’re aware of what working as my personal assistant involves, but let me spell it out anyway. I need a PA who thrives on hard work and using their own initiative, Miss Abbott. The more routine secretarial work will be delegated by you to others, but you will be required to take care of the sensitive, confidential side of things. This will involve drafting letters, reports, memos and so on, collecting and collating information for me, taking minutes, greeting and helping to entertain business contacts, organising meetings and conferences, having discussions with other PAs or customers and clients, possibly even supervising other staff on occasion. I expect absolute loyalty as well as discretion. It’s essential you’re capable of adapting to the needs of the job. This will mean late nights and early mornings when necessary. Is this a problem?’