Time for a COFFEE

Richard Abbott pulled my ponytail at school and made me cry.

When we were at secondary school, he kissed me, and I blushed.

Many years later, when he became my boss, I realised he had forgotten our schooldays. I mean, he obviously knew we had been to school together, but his expression had been vague when I mentioned in my interview how awful Mr Jenkins had been as a geography teacher.

I got the job as his personal assistant and hoped it might lead to something more. I know it isn’t professional to mix business with pleasure, but Richard Abbott was every girl’s dream. Tall, with cool blue eyes and a mysterious air about him, he walked around the building as if he owned it (well, he did own it), and he wasn’t married. He was an eligible bachelor, ripe for the picking.

The only problem was, he never saw me in that light. Despite that, after two years of working