His Darling Valentine. Carole Mortimer

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      She moved to sit down abruptly in her chair behind the desk, moving a hand up to tentatively touch lips that still tingled from contact with Ross’s.

      Not by word or deed had he ever before stepped over that line between employer/employee. Leaving Tazzy to wonder why he should have done so now … She didn’t—

      ‘Tazzy, could I have the file on the Hanson hotel chain?’ Ross stood in the open doorway between their two offices, his manner completely businesslike now.

      Just as if those kisses, that melting touch of his lips on Tazzy’s, had never happened!

      He raised dark brows at her silence. ‘Today, if possible?’ he teased.

      She stood up abruptly, inwardly urging herself to pull herself together; Ross Valentine was far from the first man to kiss her, for goodness’ sake. But at the same time, he was the first man she had ever been in love with who had kissed her!

      ‘Yes, of course, Mr Valentine.’ She moved to one of the filing cabinets that stood along one wall of her office.

      At least, that was what she intended doing—until she sensed that Ross still stood in the doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the frame as he made no effort to hide the fact he was watching her every move.

      Making Tazzy feel extremely self-conscious! ‘I’ll bring it through once I’ve found it,’ she assured him sharply.

      ‘Fine,’ he accepted, making no effort to move. ‘You know, Tazzy—’

      ‘I thought we had agreed that it was much more suitable, during our hours of working together, if we stick to Mr Valentine and Miss Darling?’ she reminded him coolly. Goodness knew it was strange enough actually working in this man’s house, without being any more familiar with each other.

      She had thought it an unconventional arrangement when she’d first come for her job interview eighteen months ago, but once she had met Ross Valentine she would have agreed to work out in the garden shed!

      ‘As I remember it, you were the one to come up with that particular rule,’ Ross drawled. ‘Personally, I’ve always thought it sounded very unfriendly.’

      ‘Unfamiliar,’ Tazzy corrected briskly, at the same time whipping the appropriate file from the drawer and holding it out to him. ‘I really do think that it’s best during office hours.’

      He took the file, his expression one of reproach. ‘Well, as we don’t seem to have any “out of office hours,” when do I get to call you Tazzy?’

      Her eyes widened with impatience. ‘You don’t.’ That was the whole idea, for goodness’ sake!

      She wasn’t sure, spending as much time as she did in his company, often travelling abroad together for several days at a time, if she would be able to cope with working for him at all if she hadn’t put up some sort of barrier of formality between them from the first.

      ‘I’m not sure I particularly care for that,’ he pondered.

      She looked at him in exasperation. ‘Mr Valentine—’

      ‘Tazzy Darling?’ he came back blandly, dark brows raised in innocent query.

      Her exasperation deepened. Not that she wasn’t used to her surname being the butt of jokes, had been teased about it unmercilessly ever since she’d first started school; it was just that she wasn’t used to her employer resorting to such inanity.

      ‘Miss Darling will do,’ she said impatiently. ‘I—’ She broke off as a knock sounded on her office door, Ross’s housekeeper opening the door seconds later to admit the man who accompanied her.

      At least, Tazzy presumed it was a man. It was a little hard to tell when he—she?—was carrying the hugest bouquet of red roses Tazzy had ever seen in her life!

      ‘The gentleman has instructions to deliver the roses personally,’ Mrs Brown, the housekeeper, explained apologetically.

      Tazzy turned accusing eyes on Ross Valentine; she knew that he dated occasionally, but none of those women seemed to last very long—which begged the question, which one of them had sent him this huge bouquet of red roses for Valentine’s Day? Honestly, it was totally out of—

      ‘Miss Darling?’ the delivery man prompted as he looked at her hopefully.

      Tazzy turned slowly to look at the man, her tone wary as she answered him. ‘Yes …?’

      The man nodded his satisfaction with her answer. ‘Then these are for you.’ He placed the bouquet into her unresisting arms. ‘Whoever he is, he must have it real bad!’ he added, giving a knowing wink in Tazzy’s direction before departing the room, Mrs Brown following behind him.

      Tazzy didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Could only stare at what had to be dozens of deep red roses in her arms.

      There had to have been some sort of mistake. These flowers couldn’t possibly be for her. She never received roses, on Valentine’s Day, or any other day.

      But thinking of Valentine …

      She glanced across at her employer, a blush warming her cheeks as she saw he was looking straight back at her, dark brows raised in a question.

      That look was enough to shake Tazzy out of the daze she had lapsed into on being presented with the red roses. ‘I think there must have been some mistake, and these were meant for you.’ She grimaced as she held out the flowers to him.

      Ross shook his head, making no effort to take the blood-red blooms from her. ‘He distinctly said they were for Miss Darling, and as we both know that’s you …’ He strolled over to pluck out the white card that nestled amongst the roses. ‘“To Anastasia. Much love,”’ he read out. ‘No, they’re definitely for you, Tazzy.’ He grinned teasingly. ‘As the man said, someone’s got it bad,’ he added with an appreciative glance at the dozens of roses.

      To Anastasia. Much love …

      The card attached to the kitten earlier this morning had read, ‘To Anastasia. With love.’ The messages were so similar that it was impossible not to wonder if the kitten and the roses hadn’t been sent to her by the same person. But if so, who could that person be?

      She had no idea!

      She really didn’t. Oh, several of the men she had met while travelling with Ross had flirted with her or paid her compliments, but she was certain that none of them knew her name was Anastasia.

      The postman occasionally paid her a compliment when she went to the door to collect the mail from him, as did the young man from the courier service they habitually used, but as there had to be at least fifty red roses here, delivered on Valentine’s Day too, Tazzy would hazard a guess at such an extravagant gesture of love being out of either of their financial leagues. No, she really had no idea who could have sent them to her.

      Neither did she appreciate their being delivered here at her place of work, in front of Ross, of all people; on today’s evidence he was going to believe there was someone serious in her life!

      ‘Have you been holding out on me, Miss Darling?’ Ross’s next words seemed to confirm СКАЧАТЬ