A NINE-TO-FIVE AFFAIR

by Jessica Steele

Overview

From nine to five it's strictly business…

Emily Lawson has always put her much-loved grandmother before her job, and as a result she's been in heaps of trouble at work! It's crucial that she keeps her new job, but she just can't seem to stop arguing with Barden Cunningham, her infuriatingly attractive boss.

But after hours, is romance on the agenda?

Then things go from bad to worse! One evening whilst delivering an urgent report to Barden at home, Emily crashes her car and finds herself having to stay the night! Sharing an office with Barden is one thing, but it's quite another to share her boss's bedroom….

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781460366950
Publisher:	Harlequin
Publication date:	08/15/2014
Sold by:	HARLEQUIN
Format:	eBook
Pages:	256
File size:	889 KB

About the Author

Jessica Steele started work as a junior clerk when she was sixteen but her husband spurred Jessica on to her writing career, giving her every support while she did what she considers her five-year apprenticeship (the rejection years) while learning how to write. To gain authentic background for her books, she has travelled and researched in Hong Kong, China, Mexico, Japan, Peru, Russia, Egypt, Chile and Greece.

Read an Excerpt

SO MANY thoughts and emotions went through Emmie's mind as she drove to the job interview that winter's afternoon, chiefly how desperately she needed this position, and the tremendous hope that she would be successful in getting it. It didn't matter that it was only temporary — probably a maximum of nine months — it paid extremely well and would afford her some financial breathing space.

The work involved as assistant PA, and then acting PA while Mr Barden Cunningham's PA took maternity leave, would be very demanding, which accounted for the high salary. But, though Emmie had endured a blip in her career during this last year — well, several blips in actual fact — she knew, previous to that, her work record was exemplary.

Her secretarial training had been first class, and she had thought that, after three years with Usher Trading, she was really going places, and that she was due to be promoted as PA to one of the directors — only to go into work one Tuesday morning to learn, with utter astonishment, that the firm had folded. Usher Trading had, with a mile-long list of creditors, ceased trading.

It had not been her only shock that month. She had still been getting over her astonishment that, overnight, or so it seemed, Usher Trading had gone under, when her stepfather had suffered a heart attack and had died. The fact that she'd been without a job or financial security had been neither here nor there to her then. She had lovedAlec Whitford as a daughter, and now he was gone.

Emmie clearly remembered her own father. He had been a scientist dedicated to his work, and for a lot of the time had seemed to be in a world of his own. He had also died, in some experiment that had gone wrong, when she had been ten years old.

Her life had been different then, Emmie recalled. Her family had lived in an elegant house in Berkshire and had been very comfortably off — sufficiently so for her mother to be able to indulge her love of antiques.

They'd had a whole houseful of beautiful furniture when, two years after her husband's death, her mother had married Alec Whitford. Alec had been a total contrast with Emmie's father. Alec had loved to laugh, and had been full of life, but — he hadn't liked work.

Though it hadn't been until after her mother's death three years later, in one of those freak garden machinery accidents that were never supposed to happen, that Emmie had begun to have any inkling that she and Alec were not financially sound.

She had been fifteen then. "Shall I get a job, Alec?'she'd asked him, her thoughts on evening and weekend work.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart," he'd said. "We'll sell something."

By the time she was eighteen, and had completed a most meticulous business training, there hadn't been much left to sell. By then Emmie had grown up fast to value security above all else. She'd loved her stepfather, and wouldn't have had him be any different, but he had seemed to make an art out of spending. She'd rather thought then — and later knew — that he was having a one-sided affair with his bookmaker — Alec doing the giving, his bookmaker taking.

Emmie's mother had died intestate, so the house had passed to Alec. By that time Alec's mother, a formidable if slightly unconventional woman, had been living with them. Hannah Whitford had turned eighty, but was as sharp as a tack — and didn't suffer fools gladly. Emmie had calculated that she must be some kind of step-grandmother to her, but when out of respect she'd addressed her as Mrs Whitford, the thin, straight, white-haired woman had advised her that, since she drew the line at being called 'Granny', Emmie could call her Aunt Hannah.

So Aunt Hannah she had become. She had her own private pension — but, having already 'lent' her son her savings, had declined to let him see any of her pension. "If you're that hard up,'she'd told him forthrightly when he'd come on the scrounge, "sell the house!"

So he had. And they'd moved to a three-bedroomed rented apartment in a very nice area of London. And Emmie had started work at Usher Trading. All in all, given that Emmie had learned to more and more value her security, she had come to love Aunt Hannah too, and the next three years had passed very pleasantly.

And then Emmie had been made redundant and dear Alec had died. About that time, when Emmie had been trying to get a grip on things, she'd become startled to realise that Aunt Hannah was occasionally losing her grip a little!

At first Emmie had put it down to the fact that, for all Alec's mother had used to tear him off a strip from time to time, she had dearly loved him — and had lost him. Perhaps, when she had come to terms with her grief, she would be her old self again.

In the meantime, Emmie had found herself a new job with a firm of insurance brokers — and managed to hold it down for six weeks! Then her womanising boss, not content with the extramarital affair he was having — the phone calls she'd overheard had spoken volumes — had had the utter nerve, after many ignored hints, to one day openly proposition her! That was when Emmie had discovered she was quite good in the tearing-off-a-strip department herself. Because, though it had been entirely unplanned, she'd been goaded beyond all possibility of suffering her new employer's lecherous advances any longer, she'd let fly with her tongue — and found herself out of a job.

She'd consoled herself that she didn't want to work there anyway. And found herself another job. It had taken her ten weeks to lose it — this time for bad time-keeping. And it was true, her time-keeping had become appalling. But Aunt Hannah hadn't seemed to want to get out of bed in the morning any more and, while it had been no problem to take her breakfast in bed, Emmie had found she didn't love her work well enough to leave the apartment until she was sure Aunt Hannah was up and about.

Her third job after being made redundant from Usher Trading had lasted four months. It hadn't paid as well, but it had been nearer to her home, which had meant she hadn't had to leave for work so early. All had seemed to be well, until her employer's son had come home from abroad and, obviously believing himself to be irresistible, alternated between being overbearingly officious with her or, despite the fact he had a lovely wife and children, making suggestive, sickening remarks about how good he could be to her if she'd let him.

Emmie hadn't known how much more she could take, but supposed that working for fatherly Mr Denby at Usher Trading had rather sheltered her from the womanising types lurking out there. She'd recognised she was a novice at knowing how to handle them, and had been near to exploding again one day, when a call had come through from the local police station. Apparently they had a Mrs Hannah Whitford there, who seemed a little confused.

"I'm on my way!" Emmie exclaimed, holding down panic, grabbing up her bag, car keys at the ready.

"Where are you going?" Kenneth Junior demanded. "Can't stop!" 'Your job?" he warned threateningly. "It's yours — with my compliments,'she told him absently. The fact that she'd just walked out was the least of her worries just then. She made it to the police station in record time. "Mrs Whitford?" she enquired of the man at the front desk.

"She's having a cup of tea with one of the WPCs," he replied, and explained how the elderly lady had been found wandering the streets in her bedroom slippers and seemed distressed because she couldn't remember where she lived.

"Oh, the poor love!" Emmie cried. "She's all right now," the police officer soothed. "Fortunately she had her handbag with her, and we were able to find your office telephone number in her spectacle case."

"Oh, thank goodness I thought to jot it down!" Emmie's exclamation was heartfelt. She'd only put it in Aunt Hannah's spectacle case because she'd known the dear soul would look first for her glasses before she thought to look for her phone number.

"Has Mrs Whitford been — er — forgetful for very long?" the policeman asked in a kindly fashion. Emmie explained how, if Aunt Hannah had, it was only recently, and only since she had lost her son earlier in the year. Whereupon, on learning that Emmie was away from the apartment for most of the day, the officer tentatively suggested that it might be an idea to consider establishing Mrs Whitford in a residential home.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly!" was Emmie's initial shocked reaction. "She would hate it!'And, getting over her shock a little, she asked, "Was she very upset when you found her?"

"Upset — confused, distressed — and," he added with a small smile, "just a little aggressive."

"Oh, dear," Emmie mumbled feebly. But, fully aware that Aunt Hannah had a tart tongue when the mood took her, was in no mind to have Alec's mother 'established' in a residential home. Even if, while waiting for Aunt Hannah, the kindly policeman did suggest to her not to dismiss the notion out of hand, that residential homes weren't jails, and that if those in charge knew where residents were, they were quite at liberty to come and go as they pleased. For unintentional but added weight, he mentioned that while indoors someone was there all the time to keep an eye on residents, and see to it that they had their lunch.

Hannah Whitford suddenly appeared from nowhere. "All this fuss!'she snapped shortly, quite back to normal, but Emmie, who knew her well, knew that she was more embarrassed than cross. "Have you got your car outside?"

Emmie was not about to give the police officer's 'residential home' suggestion another thought. But Aunt Hannah, either having had a similar conversation with the woman police constable who'd looked after her, or having done some serious thinking of her own, brought the subject up herself. It was around lunchtime the following day that, having been deep in thought,Aunt Hannah suddenly seemed to realise that Emmie was not at work.

"What are you doing home?'she demanded in her forthright way. "I thought I'd look for another job,'Emmie replied, aware that, with yesterday's confusion behind her, Aunt Hannah was getting back to being as sharp as she had ever been.

"Because of me."

It was a statement, and despite Emmie telling her that she would have walked out of her job anyway, without receiving the phone call from the police station, Aunt Hannah would not have it.

Nor would she countenance — despite Emmie's protestation —  that she should become a burden to her step-granddaughter. But it was only when Emmie saw that she was growing extremely agitated that she agreed — more in the hope of calming her down than anything — to investigate the possibility of her step-grandmother moving to a residential home.

Aunt Hannah, as Emmie later realised — and might have known — was not prepared to stop at mere investigation. So they set off doing the rounds of residential homes. The first one they looked at, Keswick House, was in actual fact a very pleasant surprise. Light and airy, with its residents seemingly busy with their own pursuits, and a general cheerful atmosphere about the place. All residents were encouraged to bring their own furniture. There was, however, one very big drawback — it was expensive. To stay there was going to take all of Mrs Whitford's income and more.

With Aunt Hannah not ready to give up the idea, they began to look at other establishments. By then Emmie was starting to realise that, if she herself was out all day — as she would be when she found herself a new job — perhaps as a legacy of when Aunt Hannah had forgotten where she lived that day, the old lady would be frightened and nervous of being on her own. Aunt Hannah, Emmie all at once knew, needed to feel safe.

But, in adjusting to the fact that the dear soul was determined to move out, Emmie was not prepared to let her go and live just anywhere. The trouble was, though, that while one or two of the places they looked at were adequate, there were others that Emmie would not dream of allowing her step-grandmother to move to.

Emmie couldn't bear the thought that Aunt Hannah might feel frightened and unsafe in their apartment. She blamed herself that, when clearly Aunt Hannah needed company, she had left her on her own for so many hours during the day. But — Emmie had to work.

It wasn't until the following day, when Aunt Hannah had another spell of confusion — and came out of it looking very bewildered — that Emmie knew for sure what had to be done. How, for goodness' sake, would Aunt Hannah have coped if she'd been out at work? Aunt Hannah had to feel safe! Emmie rang Lisa Browne, the owner of Keswick House.

A week later, on the day before Emmie started her new job, Mrs Whitford moved into Keswick House. Fortunately, what with packing her personal treasures and looking forward to the move, she had entirely forgotten the stated fee required, and was happy to sign anything Emmie gave her and to leave all the paperwork to her step-granddaughter. Two weeks after that Emmie moved out of the well-maintained three-bedroomed apartment that had been the family home, to a two-bedroomed flat in a much less salubrious area.

Emmie ignored the peeling paint and the rotting woodwork of the front door, and strove to think positively. The house was old; what did she expect? Anyhow, because of its age, it would set off her few remaining pieces of antique furniture a treat. Well, it would when she'd stripped the walls and redecorated. And also, don't forget, it was a ground-floor flat — ideal for when Aunt Hannah, who wasn't so good with stairs, came to stay. As an extra bonus, it was only half the rent of the former apartment, so, providing she hung on to her new job at Smythe and Wood International, she could just about scrape up the shortfall required to keep Aunt Hannah at Keswick House.

A month later, however, and Emmie was having a hard time in staying optimistic. Her new flat was looking super. Newly decorated, with carpets and curtains as well as her mother's good quality furniture, which had transformed it. Emmie had become friends with Adrian Payne, the man who had the upstairs flat. Non-licentious Adrian, who was true to his ex-live-in-girlfriend Tina, had in part restored her faith in men.

Not completely, however. For her new boss, Clive Norris, turned out to be the womanising type she had just about had enough of. Her job at Smythe and Wood, it had to be said, was just not working out. While the tasks were no problem — she had a quick brain and absorbed instruction easily — she couldn't help wondering what was wrong with some of these men that they had to touch her, to hint — more than hint in some cases — that they'd quite care to be more than boss-PA-friendly.