Specialist In Love. Sharon Kendrick
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Название: Specialist In Love

Автор: Sharon Kendrick

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Современные любовные романы

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СКАЧАТЬ her? Or do you think I should be down in the bowels of this building, inventing a new face for her?’

      The depth of his anger was shattering, and Poppy felt close to tears, but she had the sense within herself to realise that the anger was not directed at her personally, that he was as upset by Ginny’s problems as she was. But there was no doubt about one thing. That she owed him an apology.

      ‘I’m very sorry, Dr Browne,’ she said clearly. ‘I spoke out of turn. I didn’t know enough about her case, and I can assure you that it won’t happen again.’

      He rubbed at the soft brown hair on his temple, slightly mollified. ‘Humph,’ he muttered. ‘At least you haven’t stormed out, leaving me in the lurch. I made my point, but perhaps I didn’t do it in the most tactful way—I do have the tendency to fly off the handle when I’m roused.’

      Never! she thought, as her customary good humour returned. But she had an idea. ‘Can I ask you something else, please, Dr Browne?’

      ‘Not time off already?’ he asked suspiciously.

      What kind of women had he had working for him before? she wondered.

      ‘No, nothing like that. It’s just that I know someone who deals with the importation of cosmetics. They bring in a lot of stuff from the States—there are new products on the market all the time. I just wondered whether I should speak to her, to ask if there’s anything revolutionary in the line of concealment products—I do know they exist.’

      He looked unimpressed. ‘Oh, they exist all right, and they’re very useful for disguising birthmarks—port-wine stains and the like, but I’ve not heard of anything that’s particularly efficacious for acne. Ginny’s will probably have disappeared by the time she’s twenty-five.’

      But that’s nearly ten years away, Poppy wanted to blurt out, but stopped herself in time.

      ‘However, there’s nothing to stop you trying,’ he finished, and she flashed him a huge smile of gratitude.

      ‘One thing, though,’ he warned. ‘Don’t become too attached to her.’

      ‘Why ever not?’ she asked in surprise.

      ‘Because she’s vulnerable, because she’ll probably like you—she’s not past the age where she might hero-worship you. So you’ll form an attachment with Ginny, she’ll put her trust in you—and then you’ll get bored with the job, and you’ll be off.’

      She wished he didn’t have such a jaundiced view of everyone. His voice when he spoke was alive with passion and conviction; rarely had she met someone so quixotic, and she knew with some kind of uncanny conviction that she would not get bored with this job, with working for this man. She wanted this strange, prickly, grumpy individual to respect her—more than that, she wanted him to actually like her—but she suspected that winning his affection and respect wasn’t going to be easy.

      ‘I can’t imagine the job boring me, Dr Browne,’ she told him calmly. ‘And I have no intention of leaving. What do you think of your bookshelves?’

      He glanced at them critically. ‘They’re not completely straight, are they? Didn’t you use a spirit level?’

      She should have expected it! The word contrary must have been invented for Dr Fergus Browne!

      ‘Actually, no,’ she replied through gritted teeth. ‘Perhaps you’d like me to take them down and start again?’

      He raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t be silly, I was only teasing! Would you get me a Dr Henry Burke at St Thomas’s on the line? I’d like to speak to him.’

      She did as he asked, and then he handed her a tape for the audio machine.

      ‘I did this last night,’ he explained. ‘It has to be in as soon as possible, so can you give it priority.’

      She nodded and took the tape, and the two of them worked in companionable silence for the next couple of hours, Poppy rattling away on the keyboard of the fairly new electric typewriter, and Dr Browne scribbling furiously.

      When she presented him with the finished copy, he looked up with an expression of mild surprise on his face.

      ‘That was quick,’ he remarked.

      Quick! She’d gone as fast as she could, but she knew she was slower than a lot of experienced secretaries. He really must have had some dud typists if he thought she was quick!

      She glanced at her watch. It was almost half-past eleven.

      ‘Excuse me, Dr Browne,’ she began.

      He looked up from the paper he was studying, the grey eyes focusing on her face as if she’d woken him from a trance.

      ‘Yes? What is it?’

      Poppy wished he wouldn’t bark at her like that. ‘I’m going to get myself a cup of coffee. Would you like one?’

      ‘What? Oh, a coffee—yes, please.’ He started reading again.

      ‘Er—how do you like your coffee, Dr Browne?’

      ‘What? Oh—black, no sugar.’

      ‘And tea?’

      He gave a click of annoyance. ‘What is this—the Spanish Inquisition? Milk, no sugar in tea.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she said in an exaggeratedly patient voice. ‘Now I know, and I shan’t have to ask you again. Just one thing more, Dr Browne. . .’

      ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! What is it now?’

      ‘To fetch us a cup of coffee I have to walk all the way over to the canteen, which is a waste of time, and by the time I get it back here it will probably be cold. So I was wondering if I could bring a kettle in?’

      He frowned. ‘I don’t see why not. Have you got a kettle to bring?’

      ‘Oh, yes,’ replied Poppy conversationally. ‘When we got our new jug kettle to match the kitchen——’ She stopped hastily when she saw the expression on his face, and remembered what he had said about not liking chit-chat. Miserable beast!

      He was looking at her curiously. ‘Are you always quite so outspoken and persistent?’ he enquired.

      It didn’t sound like an insult, she thought cautiously, as she considered his question.

      ‘I haven’t been, up until now,’ she explained. ‘My last job didn’t exactly encourage it.’

      ‘Your last job being. . .?’ he probed.

      She was half inclined to tell him that he was now indulging in idle gossip, but on second thoughts. . .!

      ‘I worked at Maxwells,’ she told him.

      ‘Maxwells? The department store in town?’ He sounded surprised.

      ‘The very same!’

      ‘But not as a СКАЧАТЬ