Читать книгу Business Arrangement Bride - Jessica Hart - Страница 8

MARY laughed. ‘Well, this is very sudden!’ she said, entering into the spirit of the joke and pretending confusion. She pressed a hand to her throat as if to contain her palpitations. ‘I don’t know what to say. I had no idea you felt that way about me.’

‘What?’ Tyler stared at her.

‘Still, it’s a good offer,’ she said, putting her head on one side as if giving it serious consideration. ‘I’m thirty-five, and a girl my age can’t be picking and choosing. I’m up for it if you are!’

Looking down into her face, Tyler realised with a mixture of incredulity and outrage that she was laughing at him. The grey eyes were alight and a smile was tugging at the corner of her wide mouth.

‘I’m serious,’ he said, glowering.

The smile was wiped off Mary’s face and it was her turn to stare. ‘I thought you were joking!’

‘Do I look like the joking type?’

‘Well, no, now you come to mention it, but…No, come on.’ She laughed uncertainly. ‘You are joking!’

‘I can assure you,’ said Tyler grimly, ‘that I am not in a humorous mood.’

‘But…you don’t want to marry me, surely?’

His expression changed ludicrously. ‘Good God, no!’ he said, appalled at the misunderstanding. ‘I don’t want to marry you.’

Charming, thought Mary acidly. She knew that she wasn’t beautiful and, OK, she was a bit overweight at the moment, but she wasn’t that bad, and Tyler was no George Clooney, when it came down to it. He had no call to look as if he would rather pick up slugs than touch her.

‘Well, you know,’ she said, leaning forward confidentially, her smile a-glitter with defiance, ‘that’s what the princess in the fairy tale always says to the frog, and you know what happens to them!’

Tyler’s fierce brows were drawn together in a ferocious scowl, and if Mary hadn’t been so cross with him by this stage she would have been quailing in her heels. As it was, when he demanded, ‘Do you want a job or not?’ she only looked straight back at him.

‘I’m not at all clear what this job of yours involves,’ she said. ‘Or, to put it another way, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about!’

A passing waiter, seeing that they were without glasses, approached with a tray, only to falter as Tyler waved him away irritably, but as the man made to retreat Mary gave him her best smile.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’d love one.’

Ignoring Tyler’s glare, she helped herself to a glass of champagne. She didn’t care what he thought anymore. It was late, she was tired, her feet hurt and she was fed up with Tyler Watts looming over her. She didn’t know what he wanted, but it didn’t sound like it was anything to do with recruitment, and that meant he was wasting her time.

‘I think you’d better go back to the beginning,’ she told him coolly and took a sip of champagne.

Tyler drew a deep breath and counted to ten. If he was the kind of man who was prepared to admit that he had made a mistake, he would have to accept that he might have made a big one in approaching Mary Thomas.

When the idea had first struck him, she had seemed ideal. She had been talking about coaching and he needed a coach. More to the point, he didn’t want to spend time finding a suitable coach, and here was one, right in front of him and anxious for work, it seemed.

Her ordinariness had been appealing too, if he was honest. While accepting in principle the idea of a relationship coach—it was just one step in his strategy, after all—Tyler hadn’t been looking forward to the prospect of discussing his private affairs with anyone too smart or sophisticated. He had every intention of remaining in control of the whole process, and Mary Thomas had looked suitably meek and deferential. All he wanted was for her to offer him a few pointers and then fade into the background.

But the closer he looked, the less ordinary she seemed. Take away that ill-fitting suit and those ridiculous shoes, and you would be left with a lush figure and an impression of warmth that made an intriguing contrast with the direct grey gaze and the slight edge to her voice. Mary Thomas, he had realised already, was not going to do meek or deferential.

It was annoying, Tyler admitted. He had decided that she was the person he needed, and once he had made up his mind he liked to go straight for what he wanted. His ability to focus on a goal and his refusal to be diverted had been the secret of his business success and he wasn’t going to change a winning strategy now. He didn’t have time for doubt or hesitation. He needed to get Mary Thomas on side, and get the job done.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll start again. I want a wife.’

There was a pause while Mary tried to work out what was going on. He sounded utterly clear and utterly serious but she couldn’t see how this could be anything other than a very elaborate joke at her expense. People just didn’t say things like ‘I need a wife’.

Although, perhaps, people like Tyler Watts did.

‘I think you’ve misunderstood what I do,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m not a dating agency. I can find you a secretary or a computer operator, but not a wife.’

And then she offered a smile, just in case he turned out to be joking after all.

Tyler looked down at the empty glass in his hand, made an irritated gesture and put it down. He was getting frustrated. Mary Thomas didn’t seem to be taking this seriously at all.

‘I don’t want you to find me a wife,’ he said in a taut voice. ‘I’m just trying to explain. Getting married is my goal. I just need a bit of coaching to get there.’

‘Coaching?’ said Mary, trying to look willing but still confused about where she came into all this.

‘Yes, you know…relationship coaching.’

Tyler couldn’t quite hide his distaste of the term, although Mary wasn’t sure whether it was relationship or coaching that was the problem for him. There was a very slight tinge of colour along his cheekbones and he looked faintly uncomfortable.

Mary’s interest sharpened. The Tyler Wattses of this world would normally only discuss emotions if they were listed on the stock exchange, so it must be costing him a lot to even mention the word relationship, let alone with the implication that he needed some help on that front. Men like Tyler Watts didn’t do asking for help any more than they did talking about their feelings. Things must be pretty bad.

She had only ever thought of Tyler as an employer, but of course he was a man too. And not an unattractive one, Mary had to admit. He projected such a forceful personality that it was hard to get past that and look at him properly, but if that cold blue stare didn’t have you trapped like a rabbit stuck in headlights, it was possible to see that he had a face that was dark and strong rather than handsome.

The fierce brows, jutting nose and forceful jaw were familiar, of course, but she had never noticed his mouth before, she realised. It was rather a nice mouth too, now she came to look at it. They might be set in a stern line right now, but his lips looked cool and firm, and it would be interesting to see what they would be like if he smiled.

Or feel like if he kissed.

Sucking in an involuntary breath at the thought, Mary caught herself up sharply and stamped down firmly on the little tingle that was shivering its way down her spine.

What was she thinking of? This was Tyler Watts, of all people. He was a hard man, and she didn’t envy the woman he was planning on marrying. It would be like cuddling up to a lump of granite.

On the other hand, she would know what it was like to kiss him.

Enough. Mary pulled her wayward thoughts sternly to order.

‘Relationship coaching isn’t really my field,’ she said carefully. ‘If you’re having problems with your fiancée, there are plenty of organisations that offer counselling and will be able to help you. I could put you in touch with them, if you like.’

‘I don’t need counselling,’ said Tyler, outraged at the very idea. This was all proving much more difficult to explain than he had anticipated. ‘I haven’t got any problems. I haven’t!’ he insisted crossly when Mary just looked at him.

‘What does your fiancée think?’ she asked.

‘I haven’t got a fiancée, that’s the point,’ he snapped, goaded by the needle in her voice.

‘But you said you wanted to get married,’ said Mary, puzzled.

‘I do.’

‘Then who do you want to marry?’

‘Anyone—anyone except you,’ he added hastily.

‘Anyone?’

‘Well, not anyone,’ Tyler amended. ‘Obviously I’d want my wife to be beautiful and intelligent and sophisticated, but the point is, I don’t have anyone particular in mind yet.’

Incredible. He actually meant it, thought Mary. It was an oddly old-fashioned attitude for a man who had built this extraordinary twenty-first century building, but there wasn’t so much as a glimmer of laughter in his voice, and she could only conclude that he was serious. Anyone would think he was some stiff-necked earl planning a marriage of convenience in a Regency romance.

‘I’m sorry, but I still don’t see where I come in,’ she told him, looking around for somewhere to put her empty glass.

Tyler raked a hand through his hair in frustration. ‘Look, finding a woman isn’t a problem,’ he said with unconscious arrogance.

Mary would have loved to have contradicted him, but she was afraid it was all too true. Tyler was in his early forties and had built his company up from nothing to be listed in the top hundred in the country. He was extremely wealthy, undoubtedly intelligent, apparently straight and even attractive if you liked the ruthless, hard-bitten type—and let’s face it, lots of women did, even when the toughness wasn’t accompanied by loads of dosh.

No, Mary could see that acquiring a girlfriend wouldn’t be too difficult for Tyler.

‘Then what is the problem?’

‘Keeping her,’ he said. ‘I want to get married, but my relationships aren’t lasting long enough to get engaged.’

‘Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman yet,’ Mary suggested mildly, but he dismissed that idea.

‘It’s not that. No, there’ve been several suitable women, but I’m doing something wrong. That’s where you come in.’

‘I don’t see how,’ said Mary frankly.

‘You said that you ran coaching courses where you helped people identify and achieve their goals.’

‘Well, yes, but in a work context,’ she said. ‘I help people with their careers, not their love lives.’

Tyler brushed the distinction aside. ‘It’s the same process, surely? I’ve identified my goal—to get married. I need you to help me with my strategy.’

‘Relationships aren’t like business plans,’ said Mary. ‘You can’t have a strategy for emotions!’

‘Everything’s a strategy,’ said Tyler. He dug his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. ‘I’m obviously getting something wrong,’ he conceded. ‘You work out what that is and tell me what I should be doing instead. I apply what I’ve learnt to my next relationship, the relationship works, I get married and achieve my goal. That’s strategy.’

Mary sighed. ‘I can tell you now what you’re getting wrong,’ she said. ‘Your attitude.’

‘What’s wrong with my attitude?’

‘Relationships just don’t work like that. I can understand wanting to get married, but first of all you need to fall in love and that’s not something you can plan for. You can’t predict when you’re going to meet the right person. It’s not like interviewing for a job, you know. Falling in love isn’t about mugging up a few notes, drawing up a list of criteria and finding someone who more or less fits your requirements!’

That was exactly what Tyler had planned to do. ‘I think you’re over-romanticising,’ he said stiffly. ‘The goal here is to get married. It’s not about falling in love.’

‘But if you want to get married, that’s exactly what it should be about,’ said Mary, appalled.

‘You don’t really believe that love is the only reason people get married, do you?’ he asked, raising his brows superciliously, and Mary lifted her chin.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I do!’

‘You’re a romantic.’ He didn’t make it sound like a compliment. ‘My own view of the world is a little more practical…perhaps realistic would be a better word,’ he added after a moment’s consideration.

‘I’m prepared to accept that some people do indeed get married because they’re in love, whatever that means,’ he went on, putting sneery quotation marks around the words, ‘but you’re a fool if you think it’s the only reason, or the only good reason. There are plenty of equally valid reasons to marry.’

‘Like what?’ she demanded, profoundly unconvinced.

‘Like security…stability…comfort…fear of loneliness…financial incentives…status…convenience…’

‘Oh, please!’ Mary rolled her eyes. ‘Marriages of convenience went out centuries ago!’

‘I disagree,’ said Tyler. ‘I think the idea of settling into a routine where you don’t have to think about making the effort to go out and impress someone new is very appealing for a lot of people. Knowing that there’s someone else to do the cooking and cleaning, or change the plug, or pick up the dry-cleaning, is a lot more convenient than having to think about everything for yourself. I imagine there are a lot more happy marriages based on comfort and convenience than on bodice-ripping passion.’

Mary opened her mouth to disagree, then thought about her mother’s second marriage. Her mother had been open about the fact that she was settling for comfort this time round, and she had been very happy with Bill. Until Bill had decided that comfort wasn’t enough, of course, but that was another story.

‘Perhaps,’ she allowed, ‘but I don’t see you as someone who’s short of comfort and security and all that stuff. You certainly don’t have any financial incentive to get married! So why get married unless you are in love?’

‘Because I’ve decided that’s what I want to do,’ said Tyler curtly. He didn’t have to explain himself to Mary Thomas. ‘You’re not concerned with the goal, only with how to achieve it.’

Mary shook her head. ‘I’m not concerned with any of it,’ she corrected him. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. You’re not talking about the kind of goals and strategies I want to be associated with.’

His brows drew together in the familiar frown at the flatness of her rejection. ‘I thought you were looking for work?’

‘Not that kind of work,’ she said. ‘Recruitment opportunities, yes.’

‘And if I tell Steven Halliday I don’t want your agency considered if any recruitment contracts come up?’

Mary’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘That’s blackmail!’ she said, and he shrugged.

‘That’s business. I want something from you, you want something for me. Why should I give you what you want if I don’t get what I want in return?’

‘That’s not business,’ said Mary, her voice shaking with fury. ‘I’m offering you an excellent service. If you choose to use that service, you pay me for what I do. That’s business.’

Tyler merely looked contemptuous. ‘That’s not the deal that’s on offer here.’

‘Then you can keep your deal! I may be desperate for work, but I’m not that desperate!’

‘Sure? The recruitment contract will be a lucrative one.’

‘I’m sure,’ said Mary distinctly. She took a firmer grip of her bag and got ready to leave. ‘You know, I’m not surprised that you have problems forming relationships if your first response to rejection is bullying and blackmail,’ she told him, too angry by now to care about alienating him, his company or the entire business community if it came to that.

‘What makes you think that I’d want to be involved in your pathetic strategies?’ she went on in a scathing tone. ‘I can think of better goals to work towards than seeing some poor woman trapped in a loveless marriage with someone so emotionally stunted! Frankly, the whole idea is offensive.’

A muscle was jumping furiously in Tyler’s jaw and there was a dangerously white look around his mouth. It was some satisfaction to know that he was as angry as she was.

‘I may be emotionally stunted, but I don’t need any lessons from you about business,’ he retorted. ‘I’ve got an extremely successful company,’ he said, pointing a finger at his chest, and then at her for emphasis. ‘You’ve got a piddling recruitment agency with no clients. Which of us do you think understands business better?’

He shook his head. ‘I would moderate your ambitions, if I were you, Ms Thomas. You’ll never get your agency off the ground if you’re going to get all emotional and upset about every opportunity that comes your way.’

‘I’ll take my chance,’ said Mary with a withering look. ‘You’re not the only employer in York, and if I’m going to be in business I’d rather deal with people who don’t resort to blackmail as a negotiating technique!’

She turned to leave, wishing the floor didn’t prevent her stalking off in her heels. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ she said, ‘I’ve wasted enough time tonight. My feet are killing me and I’m going home.’

‘How’s she been?’ Mary tiptoed over to the cot and rested a protective hand on her baby daughter’s small body, reassuring herself that she was still warm and breathing. She knew it was foolish, but she had to do it every time she went out, had to see Bea and touch her to reassure herself that she was all right.

She had asked her mother if she would ever get over the terror at the awesome responsibility of having this tiny, perfect, miraculous baby to look after, and her mother had laughed. ‘Of course you will,’ she had said. ‘When you die.’

‘She’s been fine,’ Virginia Travers said quietly from the doorway. ‘Not a peep out of her.’

Reluctantly, Mary left her sleeping daughter and hobbled downstairs, collapsing on to the sofa at last with a gusty sigh. ‘Thanks for looking after her, Mum,’ she said as she rubbed her poor feet.

‘It was no trouble,’ Virginia said, as she always did, which always made Mary feel even guiltier. ‘How did the reception go?’

Mary made a face. ‘Not good,’ she admitted. Disastrous might have been a more accurate reply, but she wanted to sound positive for her mother, who had enough to worry about at the moment.

Absently, she rubbed her arm where Tyler had grabbed her to stop her falling. It felt as if his fingers were imprinted on her flesh and it was almost a surprise to see that there were no marks there at all.

‘It was a waste of time, really,’ she told her mother.

‘Oh, dear.’ Virginia’s face fell. ‘It sounded such a good opportunity to make contacts too. There’s no chance of a contract with Watts Holdings?’

Mary thought about Tyler’s expression as she’d walked off. ‘Er, no,’ she said. ‘I don’t think that’s at all likely.’

‘Mary, what are you going to do?’

Her mother sounded really worried and Mary felt guilty about having blown her one chance to make an impression on Tyler Watts. At least, she had probably made an impression, but it wasn’t the right one.

‘Don’t worry, Mum, something will come up,’ she said, forcing herself to sound positive. ‘There are still one or two companies I haven’t approached yet, and I’ve placed a few temporary staff.’

All of whose contracts were up at the end of the next week.

Deciding to keep that little fact to herself, Mary found a smile of reassurance that she hoped would fool her mother, but when she looked closer she saw that Virginia was plucking nervously at the arm of the chair and avoiding her eye.

Mary straightened, suddenly alert. ‘Mum?’

‘Bill rang this evening,’ Virginia told her a little tremulously. ‘He wants to come home.’

‘Oh, Mum…’ Mary went over to sit on the arm of the chair and put her arm around her mother’s shoulders.

Virginia had been distraught when Bill had suddenly announced that he was leaving earlier that year. His decision had coincided with Mary’s unexpected pregnancy, and coming back to York to have the baby had seemed the obvious solution.

Mary had needed somewhere to live and Virginia had needed the company, and in many ways it had worked as planned. Thirty-five was really too old to be living with your mother, and the house was too small for the three of them, but they had been rubbing along all right. Mary had even begun to think that her mother might be ready to move on. She had served Bill with divorce papers only the week before.

‘What did you say?’ she asked Virginia gently.

‘I said I’d meet him tomorrow and we’d talk about it.’

Mary heard the wobble in her mother’s voice and hugged her tight. ‘You want him back, don’t you?’ she said, and Virginia’s eyes filled with tears as she nodded.

‘I know I ought to hate him after he hurt me like that, but I just miss him so much,’ she confessed.

‘Well, you need to talk about what happened, but you’re still married,’ Mary pointed out. ‘If you decide you want him back and he wants to come back, there’s no reason you shouldn’t just get on with being married again.’

‘He can’t come back yet,’ said Virginia, still a bit tearfully. ‘There isn’t any room for him now.’

‘Bea and I will move out. It’s time we were doing that anyway, and you certainly can’t sort things out with us around.’

‘But you can’t afford your own place,’ her mother objected.

‘I’ll work something out,’ said Mary confidently, giving her mother’s shoulders a final squeeze and getting to her feet. ‘Don’t worry about us, Mum. You concentrate on sorting out things with Bill and I’ll find somewhere to live.’

But where? Mary asked herself wearily as she started the long climb up the stairs to her office the next morning.

She liked her attic office in the city centre. Dating from the seventeenth century, the building had higgledy-piggledy rooms, sloping floors and dangerously low beams. It was charming but there were times, like now, when she had Bea on her hip and two bags to carry, that she wished for a few more modern amenities. Like a lift, for instance.

Plodding upwards, Mary made it to the first landing and hoisted Bea higher on to her hip as she pondered her accommodation problem. Her mother was happy for the first time in months, and if she and Bill had some space and some time on their own, Mary was sure that they could work things out.

If only Alan would release her money from the house, there wouldn’t be a problem. As it was, Mary was beginning to wonder if she would ever get her money back. She had put the savings that she had into renting this office and getting the agency off the ground, but the only way that she had been able to afford that was living with her mother. She couldn’t borrow while Alan was being so obstructive, and her income from the agency was sketchy, to say the least.

She had thought it was such a good idea to set up her own business when she moved back to York. It had seemed her best hope of generating an income while still giving her the flexibility to look after Bea herself, but perhaps she would have to think about applying for a job after all.

That wouldn’t solve her immediate problems, though. It would take too long for her mother and Bill and, anyway, she would have to find a job that earned enough to cover childcare costs. What she needed right now was some money to put down as a deposit on a flat and cover the first few months rent until she had some proper income from the agency but, short of robbing a bank, Mary couldn’t think where she was going to get it.

Her thoughts were still circling worriedly as she puffed up the last flight of steps and rounded the landing to stop dead when she saw who was waiting outside her office door.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It’s you.’

Her heart had lurched violently at the sight of him, leaving her breathless and a little shaken. Tyler Watts was the last person she had expected to see this morning.

He looked as grim as ever and his massive presence was overwhelming on the cramped landing. Mary was suddenly very conscious of the fact that her skirt was creased, her hair unwashed and she hadn’t even had time to put on any lipstick.

She had overslept after a broken night and had fallen into yesterday’s clothes as she hurried to get Bea ready for the day. Normally her mother would look after her, but Virginia was preoccupied with her coming meeting with Bill. Bea wasn’t sleeping well at the moment and Mary would have been exhausted even if she hadn’t had her own worries to keep her awake long after she had got the baby back to sleep.

She had spent half the night replaying that conversation with Tyler and wishing that she hadn’t lost her temper. His attempt at blackmail had been outrageous, of course, but it wasn’t as if he had been trying to force her into white slavery, was it? All he wanted was a bit of coaching.

Would a few tips on how to make a relationship work have been so hard to do? Mary asked herself. It was only what she would discuss over a bottle of wine with her girlfriends, after all. They were all relationship experts now. And, in return, she could have had an introduction to Steven Halliday and a chance at a contract that would save her agency.

But no, she had had to get all righteous and uppity because he unnerved her. The way he was unnerving her now.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded rudely.

Tyler was looking from her to Bea. ‘You’ve got a baby.’

‘My, he’s a quick one.’ Bea got very heavy after three flights of stairs and Mary shifted her to her other hip. ‘We can’t fool him, can we, Bea?’

‘Is she yours?’

‘She is, and before you ask, no, her father’s not around.’

Mary pulled her bag round and fished one-handedly for the key. Having already accused him of being a bully, a blackmailer and being emotionally stunted, it seemed a bit late to try sucking up to him, and she was too tired and fed up with her whole situation to make an effort any more.

‘What do you want?’

‘To see you,’ he said and then looked at his watch. It was half past nine. ‘Do you always start work this late?’ he asked disapprovingly. In Tyler’s world, everyone was at their desks at eight o’clock on the dot, and he was probably at his even earlier.

‘No, not always,’ said Mary, still searching for the key. ‘It’s been one of those mornings.’

Where was that key? She sucked in her breath with frustration. Of course, she hadn’t had time to transfer the contents to a different bag so she was still carrying the one that had broken so inopportunely last night, and the muddle at the bottom was even worse than usual. She had managed to knot the broken strap together, but it hardly made for a professional image.

Still, it was too late for that.

This was hopeless, thought Mary, rummaging fruitlessly. She glanced at Tyler, still waiting for her to open the door. Her unwelcoming greeting didn’t seem to have put him off, but then she guessed he was a man who didn’t go until he had said what he was going to say.

‘Look, would you mind holding her a moment?’ she said, handing Bea over to him before he had a chance to answer. ‘I’ll just find my key.’

Appalled, Tyler found himself holding the baby, his arms extended stiffly so that she dangled from his hands. He stared at her nervously and the baby stared back with round eyes that were exactly the same grey as her mother’s.

‘Ah…here it is.’ Mary produced the key from the depths of her bag and inserted it in the lock. She opened the door on to a room that was surprisingly light as the autumn sunshine poured through the two windows set into the sloping roof, and she waved a hand with a trace of sarcasm. ‘Come into my luxury penthouse,’ she said.