The Boss's Virgin

‘He hasn’t got any big vehicles—trucks, farm vehicles, fire engines, that sort of thing. He loves toy cars, so that would probably be the best bet.’

‘Right, then; okay, I’ll do my best. When did you want me to go?’

‘Take an extra hour for lunch.’ He pulled out a sheaf of bank notes from a wallet in his jacket, and counted some out into her hand. ‘That should be enough. And would you buy a birthday card, too?’

His fingers brushed hers, making her legs turn weak, but she nodded, smiling, and hurriedly retreated.

She managed to do her shopping in a world-famous toyshop. It only took a few minutes to choose and pay for a huge bright red fire engine with expanding ladders and tiny firemen in yellow helmets, coiled water hoses, all the equipment a boy would need to play firemen. In another shop she bought a card which she thought quite funny, with a big gold number five on it and a line of pink elephants dancing and playing the trumpet.

She had lunch nearby, before returning to work at the usual time. Miss Dalton was at lunch when Pippa got back.

‘She was looking for you,’ Judy warned. ‘Asking why you had gone to lunch early and who gave you permission. I played dumb, said I didn’t know. Where have you been, anyway?’

‘Shopping,’ Pippa said, rushing into Randal Harding’s office and laying the package she had bought on his desk, then hurrying back before Miss Dalton caught her. The last thing she needed was trouble.

‘I worry about you,’ Judy said. ‘What’s going on between you and Randal?’

‘Nothing! Don’t be silly.’ Pippa buried herself in her work.

She got into trouble when Miss Dalton returned ten minutes later and demanded to know why Pippa had gone to lunch early.

‘I had some urgent shopping to do,’ Pippa said, eyes lowered.

‘I don’t believe my ears! So you just went off to do it without a word!’

Pippa thought of telling her Randal Harding had given her permission to go, but decided that might merely make matters worse, so said nothing.

‘How dare you walk out of here without permission? You will go to lunch at the time allotted to you in future.’ Miss Dalton’s voice was acid. ‘One more trick like that and you’re out of a job!’

Pippa shivered. She needed this job; there was no guarantee she would get another. Without an income she would find life very hard. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘You’ll be even more sorry if you keep annoying me like this!’ the older woman snapped.

Judy rolled her eyes at Pippa behind Miss Dalton’s back and mouthed, ‘I told you so!’

As the time to stop work came closer Miss Dalton came over to look at Pippa’s desk and gave her an icy, triumphant smile.

‘You’ve fallen behind again, I see. Your work is far from satisfactory. Well, I want all those letters finished when I come into work tomorrow—understood?’

‘Yes, Miss Dalton,’ Pippa wearily said; she seemed to spend her life running on the spot just to keep up. She had never had this trouble before.

When everyone had gone she put her head down on the desk, tears welling up into her eyes. Day after day Miss Dalton attacked her, overloaded her with work, watched her like a hawk, and Pippa was exhausted by the strain of it. She had enjoyed her last job; everyone had been friendly, she had been able to keep up with her work. But now she didn’t know if she could keep on going; she might have to resign—was that what Miss Dalton wanted? Was she trying to drive her out?

‘What’s wrong?’

The voice made her stiffen, instinctively wiping her wet eyes with the back of her hard before she sat up.

‘Nothing…sorry…just tired,’ she mumbled, avoiding Randal Harding’s eyes.

He came over to her desk, put an imperative hand under her chin and tilted her face, stared down at it, his grey eyes moving from her wide, wet green eyes to the tremulous curve of her pink mouth.

‘You’ve been crying.’

‘Just tired,’ she stupidly repeated, staring up at him, conscious of a now familiar turmoil

in her body. Her heart was beating so hard it deafened her; she couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t focus on his face, which loomed far too close to her own.

‘Nonsense, something else is wrong—tell me!’