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expectantly for her answer. Shit, she’d got distracted—again.
    “About six years, I think,” she said, before taking a sip of the water, knowing full well that he would already have known the answer.
    “There’s something I don’t understand about you, Rachel,” he said, thoughtfully. “You’re obviously a very bright woman, your qualifications are excellent and you come across as articulate and personable, if not a little scatty.”
    Do I?
    “And yet,” he continued, “you don’t seem very ambitious. You’ve had several opportunities to move on at Stone Media and you’re still in the same position you were in six years ago. Why?”
    Rachel didn’t bother to hide her frown this time. What the hell was wrong with having the same job for six years? It showed dedication and loyalty for God’s sake. “Mr Stone,” she said, coolly, “how long have you been CEO of Stone Media?”
    There was mirth in his eyes as he answered, “Eight years.”
    “And why are you still CEO? Why haven’t you sold the company or made yourself Chairman or whatever?” she demanded, angrily.
    “I am Chairman.”
    “Oh. Well, you know what I mean. Just because I’m a lowly secretary doesn’t mean that I’m not successful. I choose to stay in my job because I enjoy it, I like Joe and I like the stability. If I wanted to move up the corporate ladder, I would have done so, so please don’t write me off as a complete loser.”
    Ha, that told him. It was true, she was happy with her job—it paid the bills and allowed her the freedom to have fun outside work. Every year, at her appraisal, some jumped-up smart-arse from HR would ask her where she’d like to be in a year’s time and her answer was always the same—to still be doing her present job to the best of her ability.
    “So it’s not because of a lack of confidence?” probed Mr Stone, his gaze never leaving her face.
    “Of course not.” Rachel looked down at the table to try to hide the surge of heat staining her cheeks because Mr Stone had just seen right through her bravado and had her completely sussed. Yes, it was true that she was happy in her job, but actually she didn’t have a lot of confidence and she knew that one of the reasons she never applied for more senior positions was because she was scared she would screw up. The memory of Joe’s Genoa trip was testament to that, along with her disastrous day yesterday.
    “Rachel”—Mr Stone’s voice was gentle—“I wasn’t trying to catch you out or to imply there’s anything wrong with being a secretary, I’d be lost without one, for God’s sake. I like to know who I’m working with, so I wanted to try to get to know what your thoughts and ambitions are, that’s all.” His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he added, “We’ll work on your confidence issues another time.”
    Rachel was about to insist that she did not have any confidence issues when the waitress brought their food. Thankfully, that was the end of the subject.
    The fish was delicious. Mr Stone had been right in ordering it—she’d never have thought to try it and would have missed out on a fabulous meal. They exchanged small talk as they ate, mostly titbits about the office, but, even though he was relaxed, Rachel had a feeling that Mr Stone was constantly assessing her, working out what she was thinking before she probably even thought it herself.
    When they were finished, he sat back and ran his eyes lazily over her body. She felt herself turn a deep puce and moved uncomfortably in her chair.
    “Dessert?” he asked.
    “Oh, no thanks.” She smiled, and took another sip of water.
    “Can we see the dessert menu?” he asked the waitress, as she cleared their table.
    “Yes, of course.” She smiled, and fluttered her eyelashes at him.
    Rachel stifled a giggle. The girl was actually flirting with her boss. Then she blushed when she remembered all the times she must have fluttered her eyelashes at him herself. Shit, she