Mirrors polished: tick.
Her gaze caught a glimpse of her reflection and she flinched. She still wasn’t used to her natural hair colour—she’d dyed her hair for so long that the red now looked all wrong—and it jolted her memory neurons with grief.
Imogen. Her identical twin. If Imo was alive this was what she would look like too. But Imo wasn’t alive. She’d lost her twin sister twelve years before. Diagnosed with leukaemia aged thirteen, she’d died after a two-year struggle against the illness. Snuffed out before she could experience very much of life. The unfairness of it all still burned.
Focus on something else. Before the still razor-sharp edge of grief and guilt cuts too deep.
A large notice hung up by the mirrors caught her eye.
Urgent Internal Vacancy
Wanted: Temporary PA to Ben Gardiner
Duration: Two weeks
Pay Grade: Excellent
For details contact Maree Whitaker
Sarah frowned, sure she’d seen other notices like it littered round the offices over the past three weeks—clearly there wasn’t a queue of applicants. Which meant Ben Gardiner must be a difficult boss, despite being gorgeous, loaded and successful, as well as London’s most wanted bachelor—at least according to the last article her mother had showed her.
For a moment Sarah allowed herself a daydream. She was a high-flying executive PA, rather than a mop-to-the-ground part-time cleaner-cum-sales-assistant in a clothing store... Though actually she wasn’t even that. Worry twisted her tummy. The shop she worked for had closed down, so right now she was fully reliant on this job.
Keep calm. Somehow she would find another job. She had to—for Jodie’s sake.
An image of her six-year-old daughter filled her mind—Jodie, with her vivid red hair and her gap-toothed smile.
The most important thing in the world was Jodie and she would give her daughter the best possible start in life. Guilt tugged at her again. She certainly hadn’t given Jodie a good father. And her own stupidity in her teen years meant she was in no place to get herself a good job. Not with a criminal conviction, however unjustified, and no qualifications.
Steely determination filled her. She’d turn it around. She would. For Jodie.
But right now she’d better get on. She was on probation and she could not afford to lose this job as well. So it was time to go and empty Ben Gardiner’s bins; it might not be high-flying but it would pay the bills.
Two minutes later Sarah raised her hand to push the office door open and halted as she heard voices from inside.
Ah...
In the past four weeks Ben Gardiner had never been in his office in the evening—most days Sarah was pretty sure he hadn’t even been there. But someone was definitely in there now. A female, by the sound of it, and an angry one at that. Her higher-pitched tones were interspersed with the low, deeper rumble of a male voice.
Clearly not a good moment to empty the bins, then.
As Sarah stepped back the door burst open and a woman exited. Though ‘exited’ was an understatement. This woman swept out and anger radiated from each long-legged stride. Her dramatic swirl round to face the interior of the office was followed by, ‘You will never know what you missed, Ben!’
Sarah blinked and realised the identity of the woman: short dark hair, endless legs, a classically beautiful face seen on billboards and fashion magazines. This was Leila Durante—supermodel and diva, who had the reputation of only dating the hottest, most famous bachelors in town.
Sarah stepped back into the shadows.
‘When you change your mind let me know. But know this: I will not wait long.’
Ben Gardiner appeared in the doorway. ‘I won’t change my mind. So don’t wait at all.’
The supermodel practically hissed and then marched off.
What now? In an ideal world Sarah would don a cloak of invisibility, but that wasn’t going to happen. Perhaps she’d get lucky and Ben Gardiner would retreat into his office without spotting her. Ha! Since when did luck single her out?
Instead he turned to her. ‘As first dates go, that wasn’t great,’ he observed. ‘We didn’t even make it to the restaurant.’
Sarah gulped. The man looked even better in the flesh than he did in his publicity photos and in magazines... He was tall and lithely muscular, clad in a dark grey suit that added to his aura of lazy power. His dark hair was rumpled, with a hint of curl, and he was tall and lithely muscular, with an aquiline nose, a six o’ clock shadow—or perhaps better to say seven o’clock shadow—and dark blue eyes that added to his air of sheer sexiness.
‘Um... No. But, just so you know, I wasn’t eavesdropping. It’s...’ She gestured to the cleaning trolley. ‘I was...um...about to...um...do your office and...’
For heaven’s sake. This was ridiculous. Yes, the man was extremely gorgeous, hotter than hot coals, but that shouldn’t render her incoherent.
He was a man, just like any other man—except somehow his genetics had conspired to give him the looks of a sex god. And genetics, as Sarah knew oh, so well, could hand out disaster—hence Imo had ended up with leukaemia and Sarah hadn’t. Outwardly they had been identical, but inside Imogen had been doomed from birth. So she of all people should not judge anyone based on their genetic inheritance.
‘Are you OK?’ The deep voice held concern.
Pull yourself together.
She needed this job.
‘I’m fine. Um...’ If she said um... one more time, so help her, she’d kick herself around the building. ‘I’ll come back later to do your office.’
Ben frowned. ‘Have you actually got any other offices to clean?’
‘U—Not as such, but really it’s not a problem.’
Now his expression held more than a slight hint of bemusement. Please, please don’t let him notice that her legs seemed to have turned to mush. Along with her brain, clearly.
‘I’ll come back later,’ she said firmly.
‘Really—no need. I’m just finishing up; come in now. It’s not a problem.’
Only it was. The wretched man seemed to have utterly messed with her hormonal balance. It was ridiculous, and she needed to get over it right now. He was the ultimate boss—a millionaire with a glittering lifestyle—and she was a cleaner on probation, a single mother who desperately needed to keep her job. So, time to lock down her hormones, get in, clean, then get out.
‘OK. Thanks.’
Clutching the trolley, she followed him into the office.
* * *
Ben sighed. So much for his dinner date with Leila; perhaps he should care more, but in truth he didn’t. Leila had completely overstepped the boundaries he’d clearly drawn out and thought she could get away with it. She’d had the temerity to arrange an interview with a celebrity gossip magazine for the two of them as a couple. Well, she’d misjudged her man and he’d had a lucky escape.
He glanced at the witness to the tail-end of their showdown; he hadn’t really been able to see her in the dim light of the outer offices. Interest sparked as his fashion eye assessed her automatically. Medium height, long-legged, hair an arresting shade of red, scraped