Читать книгу Seduced By The Boss - Шантель Шоу, Kate Hardy - Страница 16

THE NEXT MORNING, Bella woke to find a warm body curled round hers. For a moment, she couldn’t place where she was and why on earth a naked male body would be in her bed at all, let alone wrapped round her.

Then she remembered.

Hugh.

She went hot as she thought about the previous night. The way he’d kissed her in the orangery among the fairy lights until she’d been dizzy. The way he’d actually carried her up to her bed. The way he’d undressed her, and then made love to her until she’d seen stars.

Right now, the way he was holding her made her feel special. Even though she wasn’t really Hugh’s girlfriend, and they weren’t in any kind of relationship other than that of employee and boss—just for a moment, Bella could imagine what it would be like if this was the real deal instead of an elaborate fiction. She’d spent the last six months feeling stupid and useless and pathetic, after Kirk’s betrayal. Last night, Hugh had made her feel good again. Not just the sex, either. He’d danced with her, laughed with her—believed in her.

Would last night have changed everything between them? They’d agreed that this was a one-off. No strings. No promises. No for ever. But could they still work together after this? Or would she have to resign?

They’d have to talk—really talk—and maybe redraw the ground rules.

Nothing fazes a Faraday girl, she reminded herself.

Except the mantra felt hollow.

Right now, she really didn’t know what to do. Did she stay where she was and wait for him to wake up? Or did she creep out of bed and get dressed—or would that make facing him even more awkward?

Hugh woke to find himself curled round a warm female body.

Bella.

He remembered the previous night in full Technicolor, and panic slid down his spine. Why had he been so stupid?

It was a physical thing, that was all, he told himself. It was obvious why it had happened. He hadn’t satisfied any physical urges for a while. Maybe it’d been the same for her. They’d both drunk too much champagne, they’d danced together, they found each other attractive, and they’d just given in to the temptation.

He sighed inwardly. Just who was he trying to kid?

If he was honest with himself, he’d been attracted to Bella since the first moment he’d met her. Her bright blue eyes, her bubbly personality, the way she opened her mouth and just said what was in her head without thinking it through. Not to mention the way she’d been there for her sister; Bella Faraday had a good heart. He really liked that about her.

But he still shouldn’t have let things go this far between them. They were going to have to talk, really talk, and redraw the ground rules. Because Bella was a great designer, perfect for Insurgo, and Tarquin would have his guts for garters if she left the company just because Hugh hadn’t been able to keep his hands—or anything else, for that matter—to himself.

He lay there, trying to think what to say. Even though they’d both agreed that last night was a one-off, would she feel differently this morning? And, if she did, how was he going to handle it?

He knew that Bella wasn’t like Jessie. But he just didn’t trust his own judgement any more. He didn’t want to take the risk of getting involved with anyone, so it was easier not to start something that was likely to end up in a mess.

Eventually he became aware that Bella’s breathing was no longer deep and even, and her body was slightly tense. Clearly she was awake.

Was she, too, remembering what had happened?

Did she, too, think about turning round and kissing him hello, the way he wanted to kiss her right now?

Or was she full of regrets and awkwardness and embarrassment?

Right now, he didn’t have a clue. But he knew he was going to have to do the right thing rather than ignoring the rest of the world and making love with her all over again. They had to talk.

‘Bella?’ he whispered.

‘Uh-huh.’ She sounded worried.

He resisted the urge to kiss her bare shoulder. No matter how much he wanted to touch her, taste her, he had to keep himself in check. Carefully, he withdrew his arms from round her. Odd how cold it made him feel. ‘I think we need to talk.’

‘Uh-huh,’ she said again, and turned to face him. ‘OK. I’ll say it first. I know we agreed that last night was a one-off, but it really shouldn’t have happened at all.’

Relief coursed through him. If she knew it, too, then it meant that things weren’t going to be awkward between them. They could still work together. He wouldn’t have to find another designer.

He tried to ignore the fact that another emotion underpinned the relief. It was ridiculous to feel disappointed, especially as he didn’t want to risk starting another relationship. He knew he was better off on his own, concentrating on his business.

‘Last night was last night,’ he said.

‘Exactly. You know the Vegas principle?’

‘The Vegas principle?’ he asked, not quite following her train of thought.

‘You know—what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,’ she explained.

‘Ah. Yes.’

‘I think we should apply that to last night,’ she said carefully.

He agreed. Completely. ‘So you’re not going to resign because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself?’ he asked.

‘And you’re not going to sack me because I didn’t stick to our plan?’

Clearly she didn’t want to leave her job, either. Which was a very, very good thing. ‘Apart from the fact that I don’t have any grounds to sack you, you’re good at your job. Tarquin would kill me if I made you leave.’

Was it his imagination, or was there a flash of disappointment in her eyes?

He wasn’t going to analyse that too closely. Much better to let each other off the hook instead than to get tied up with all the complications. And he definitely shouldn’t tell her that he didn’t want her to leave because he liked having her around. That’d be way too much pressure on both of them.

‘What happened last night—we don’t talk about it ever again. And it’s not going to be repeated,’ she said.

‘Agreed,’ he said.

She took a deep breath. ‘So we stick to the plan from here on, and I’m back to playing Miss Ditzy this morning.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Even though he knew she wasn’t very good at it. Yesterday, although she’d tried, her true self had just shone through the play-acting. And his family had responded in kind: warmth generating warmth.

If only he’d met her years ago. When he was still able to trust. But there was no point in wishing for something he couldn’t have.

‘What’s the agenda for today?’ she asked. ‘You promised me a guided tour of the house.’

And he’d make very sure that the orangery wasn’t part of that. Because then he’d remember how it had been last night and he’d want to kiss her again. It would be very stupid to put himself back in the path of temptation. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘and everyone’s going for a walk between breakfast and lunch.’

‘I have a really unsuitable outfit for that,’ she said. ‘Totally impractical spike-heeled mules that I can totter about in.’

‘They sound perfect.’ He paused. ‘I guess we ought to, um, get up and face everyone downstairs for breakfast. I’ll, um, go next door and have a shower.’ Even though part of him would much prefer staying here and having a shower with her.

‘Uh-huh.’

Was she relieved or disappointed that he was going? He hadn’t a clue. And he wasn’t going to ask. ‘I’ll knock for you when I’m ready, shall I?’

This time she definitely looked relieved. He winced inwardly. Did she really think that he’d leave her to find her own way through the house, and then face his family on her own? Or maybe that was the way her ex had treated her. Again, he couldn’t really ask. Not without maybe ripping open some scars, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

‘See you in a bit, then,’ she said. And then she closed her eyes.

Was she feeling shy? Or was she trying to spare his blushes?

He climbed out of bed, pulled on his boxer shorts, grabbed the rest of his clothes—and then made the mistake of glancing back at the bed. She looked so cute, lying there. Warm and sweet. He almost dropped his clothes back on the floor and climbed back in beside her again. Especially as he remembered last night so clearly. Touching her. Tasting her. The look of sheer pleasure in her eyes just before she’d fallen apart. The soft little cry she’d made when she’d climaxed in his arms.

No, no and absolutely no.

Common sense won—just—and he managed to get back to his own room without bumping into anyone in the corridor.

Showering helped to restore a little more of his common sense, once he’d turned the temperature of the water right down. Once he’d dressed, he stripped the bed, threw everything into his case, and knocked on Bella’s door.

‘Come in,’ she called.

She was just closing the lid of her suitcase, and she was wearing a strappy top and the shortest pair of denim cut-offs he’d ever seen. Her legs went on for ever. And his tongue felt as if it was glued to the roof of his mouth.

It grew even worse when she gave a little wiggle. Her bottom had the most perfect curve, and it made him want to touch her again.

‘Is this ditzy enough?’ she asked with a grin, seemingly oblivious to the desire coursing through him.

‘Uh—yeah.’ And now he sounded like a total troglodyte. He didn’t want her to guess the effect she had on him, particularly as he knew she wasn’t doing it deliberately. Bella wasn’t a game-player. ‘I need some coffee,’ he gabbled wildly. ‘You know I’m not a morning person.’

‘Coffee sounds good. Would you mind, um, showing me where I can make some?’

‘There’s probably already a pot on the go downstairs.’

Though now they had to face his family at the breakfast table. Please don’t let any of them start asking questions about where he and Bella had disappeared to last night, he begged silently.

When he ushered Bella into the kitchen, his brothers and their partners were all sitting there, along with Sophia in her high chair; his mother was bustling around and his father was deep in the Sunday newspapers. He narrowed his eyes at them all in warning that they were absolutely not to say a single word, and to his relief they actually went along with him, saying nothing more awkward to her than a cheerful, ‘Good morning.’

Without another word, he pulled out a chair at the table for Bella, then sat down next to her.

‘Would you like tea or coffee?’ Libby asked, coming over to them.

‘Coffee, please,’ Bella said. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

‘No, sweetie, it’s fine. Bacon sandwich? I’m just about to do another batch.’

‘Yes, please.’ Bella smiled. ‘Bacon and sandwich have to be the two most perfect words for a Sunday morning.’

‘And coffee,’ Nigel added with a smile. ‘Don’t forget coffee. Especially where Hugh’s concerned.’

‘I reckon it’ll be another twenty minutes before we get a civil word out of our Hugh,’ Julian teased.

‘And the rest! He only ever grunts before midday,’ Alastair added. ‘Even with coffee.’

‘Now, now, children,’ Libby said, mock-warning.

Bella was really enjoying the byplay between Hugh and his brothers. She missed chatting in the kitchen with her mum and her sister on Sunday morning, when her dad would be deep in the Sunday papers in the living room and they would talk about anything and everything—from films to books to seriously girly stuff that would make her dad squirm.

Then her smile faded. If any of her family knew what had happened last night... Well. Nobody would be surprised. If there was a way to mess things up, Bella would be the one to find it. But she and Hugh had agreed that they’d act as if last night hadn’t happened.

She just hoped that he meant it.

The kitchen was amazing, a huge room with cream cupboards and tiled floors, with an Aga and an island workstation as well as the breakfast area with the massive table looking out onto the garden. There were comfortable-looking dog beds next to the Aga, but Bella had already worked out that the Labrador, the Westie and the spaniel were all sitting under the table, waiting patiently for treats to be sneaked down to them. ‘Your kitchen’s really lovely, Libby,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ Libby replied, putting a plate of bacon sandwiches onto the table. ‘Has Hugh shown you the rest of the house yet?’

Only the orangery. And Bella had to fight to prevent the blush that threatened to betray her. ‘Not yet,’ she said.

‘I promised I’d do that before we go out for our walk,’ Hugh drawled.

‘Make sure you do,’ Libby said.

Bella noticed that little Sophia was fussing in her high chair; both Poppy and Julian looked exhausted, and she guessed that Sophia had slept badly during the night, meaning that so had her parents. ‘Can I give her a cuddle?’ Bella asked.

Poppy looked torn between wariness and gratitude.

‘One of my friends does music classes for babies and toddlers,’ Bella said. ‘So I know a few things that might help distract her—then you might be able to have your breakfast in peace.’

‘You haven’t had your own breakfast yet,’ Poppy said.

‘I’ll be fine.’ Bella shrugged and smiled. ‘So can I?’

Poppy smiled back at her. ‘Thank you.’

Bella didn’t quite dare look at Hugh as she scooped Sophia out of the high chair and then settled the baby on her lap. But Sophia clearly enjoyed being bounced to ‘Humpty Dumpty’ and ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’ and the other nursery songs Bella could remember, and she was gurgling with delight when Julian picked her up from Bella’s lap again.

‘Eat your bacon sandwich before it gets cold,’ he said, patting her shoulder. ‘And thank you for cheering up Miss Grumpy here.’

‘Any time,’ Bella said with a smile.

‘Can I help with the washing up?’ Bella asked when she’d finished her sandwich.

Libby shook her head. ‘No, sweetie. Thank you for the offer, but it’s fine.’

‘The kitchen is Ma’s domain,’ Nigel explained.

‘My mum’s the same, except we all pitch in and help when we have family over for lunch, because it’s really not fair to make someone peel all the veg on their own,’ Bella said.

‘Well, if you really want to, you can help me with the veg,’ Libby conceded. ‘But let Hugh show you round first.’

‘Hint taken,’ Hugh said and stood up. ‘Come on, Bella.’

She took his hand and let him lead her out of the kitchen.

He dropped her hand again, the minute they were out of sight. ‘Guided tour,’ he said, and proceeded to whisk her through the house. The house was glorious, with mullioned windows upstairs and floor-to-ceiling windows downstairs.

‘Hugh,’ she said when he’d taken her swiftly through the library, not even letting her browse a single shelf in the acres of shelving.

‘What?’

‘What did I do wrong?’ she asked.

‘Nothing.’ But his voice was clipped.

She sighed. ‘Was it because I cuddled the baby? I like babies, Hugh. And I like your family.’

‘You’re meant to be unsuitable,’ he reminded her.

‘Even unsuitable girlfriends can like babies.’

‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Drawing room.’ There were comfortable chairs and amazing artwork on the walls, and a den with a state of the art television and music system.

‘Dining room.’

She’d already seen this the previous day, and the ballroom—though it was much less intimidating now it was empty. She was almost tempted to ask him to play something for her on the piano, something soft and gentle for a Sunday morning, but there was an odd expression on his face and she didn’t quite dare.

So much for the Vegas principle. He was clearly finding it hard to ignore what had happened between them.

And that was probably why he didn’t show her the orangery in daylight. It would’ve been too much of a reminder of how reckless they’d been.

‘Do you want your family to think we’ve had a fight?’ she asked when he’d finished the tour and was leading her back to the kitchen.

‘Fight? Oh.’ The penny clearly dropped, and he took her hand again.

Except it felt grudging.

Considering that he’d been the one to come up with the idea of the unsuitable girlfriend in the first place, Bella wanted to shake him by the scruff of his neck. ‘You have to be the most difficult man in the universe,’ she muttered.

He didn’t disagree with her. And she had the nasty feeling that she was going to be looking for another job, pretty soon. She just hoped that Tarquin would give her a decent reference—she certainly wasn’t going to ask Hugh. And she wasn’t telling Grace about any of this. So much for standing on her own two feet and getting her life in shape. She’d just messed up again. Big time.

In the kitchen, everyone was still drinking coffee.

Libby looked at her shoes. ‘You need to borrow some wellingtons, Bella, or you’ll risk ruining those lovely shoes.’

‘I guess they’re probably not that suitable for a walk in the garden,’ she said, playing Miss Ditzy—though her heart really wasn’t in this any more.

‘Hugh will find you something in the boot room,’ Oliver said.

She blinked. ‘You have a room just for boots?’ Hugh hadn’t shown her that.

‘It’s for boots, coats and muddy dogs to dry off in,’ Hugh explained.

The boot room turned out to be just off the kitchen. The room had a stone chequered floor that reminded Bella a bit of the orangery, teamed with white tongue and groove panelling on the cabinets. There were shelves of wellington boots, pegs for coats, and a couple of wicker picnic baskets on shelves; there were also a washing machine and tumble dryer, and she guessed that there would be an iron and ironing board in one of the cupboards.

Hugh checked her shoe size and came up with a pair of green wellington boots and an ancient waxed jacket that was too big for her. ‘You’ll need socks,’ he said, and rummaged in one of the wicker baskets for an old but clean pair of what looked like rugby socks.

And at least borrowing a jacket meant she had pockets to shove her hands into and she wouldn’t have the temptation of being hand-in-hand with Hugh—or the awkwardness if she tried to hold his hand and he rejected her, which she thought would be the most likely outcome.

Hugh’s brothers and their partners all joined them on the walk, along with Sophia in her pushchair, and the dogs romped along happily beside them.

‘So we’re going for a walk in the nearby woods or something?’ she asked.

Hugh nodded. ‘They’re part of the estate.’

Well, of course a huge manor house like this would come with an estate rather than just a garden. How stupid of her not to think of that before.

But her awkwardness turned to delight when they walked through the narrow paths in the woods and she could see bluebells everywhere. ‘That’s gorgeous!’

‘It’s still a bit early for them yet,’ Hugh said, ‘but they’re like a blue haze when they’re fully out.’

‘A real bluebell carpet—how lovely,’ she said. It made her itch to sit out here with a pad of cartridge paper and a box of watercolours. ‘I love the colour of new leaves, that really bright lime-green that means spring’s really here.’

‘Yeah.’

Somehow, Hugh was holding her hand again, and it sent a shiver of pure desire through her.

He met her gaze. ‘I’m not coming on to you,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Everyone will expect me to hold my girlfriend’s hand.’

‘Of course,’ she said, but she had to swallow her disappointment. Which was ridiculous in any case. She didn’t want a relationship and she didn’t want to mess up her job. Hugh was off limits and this was simply a bit of play-acting for his family’s benefit. They’d agreed. And the fact that he was holding her hand simply meant that the bluebells had just got rid of his Monday morning-itis, which was actually more like every morning-itis.

Back at the house, the others all disappeared to sort out various things, and Hugh’s father called him to come and help with something. Feeling a bit like a spare part, Bella went in search of Libby in the kitchen. ‘I promised to help you with the vegetables.’

‘You really don’t have to,’ Libby said. ‘You’re a guest.’

‘Even so,’ Bella said. ‘Is that beef I smell roasting?’

‘Yes.’

‘I could make the Yorkshire puddings, if you like.’ She laughed. ‘I admit I’m a terrible cook, but I’m actually quite good at cupcakes, pancakes and Yorkshire puddings. I guess it’s because they’re light and fluffy, like me.’

Libby gave her look as if to say that she knew there was much more to Bella than that, or Hugh wouldn’t be dating her. ‘You’re playing a part, this weekend, aren’t you?’

Uh-oh. She hadn’t expected Libby to call her on it. ‘A part?’ Bella asked, trying not to panic. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Because the real you keeps shining through. The way you brought me my favourite chocolates, the way you looked after Lavinia yesterday afternoon, the way you drew those pictures for everyone, the way you haven’t minded a muddy dog draped all over you, the way you sat and cuddled Sophia this morning during breakfast and sang nursery songs to her.’ Libby ticked them off on her fingers. ‘If you were the dreadful airhead that you and Hugh clearly want us all to think you are, I’m not so sure you would’ve done any of that.’

There was no way she could keep up the pretence any more. ‘Busted, I guess. But please don’t tell Hugh you know.’

‘I won’t,’ Libby said softly. ‘But what I don’t understand is why you both feel that you have to play a part.’

‘I did tell him Plan B would be better,’ Bella said with a rueful smile.

Libby’s frown deepened. ‘What’s Plan B?’

Bella held up both hands in a surrender gesture. ‘Just ignore me. I’m rambling.’

‘No, I think this is something I need to know,’ Libby said.

Bella bit her lip. ‘Please, please don’t shoot the messenger, because you’ve all been so kind and I don’t want to be rude and ungrateful. Even though I’ve already been rude and obnoxious.’

‘Now you’re really worrying me,’ Libby said. ‘What’s plan B?’

‘To tell you the truth about his job and make you see how he feels. Hugh isn’t a stockbroker at heart,’ Bella said, ‘he’s a music producer. He loves his job and he’s really, really good at it. I really don’t mean to be rude or to offend you, but he seems to believe that you all want him to toe the line—to sell Insurgo Records to the highest bidder and join the family firm instead. If he does that, you’re going to break his heart and his spirit. He’d hate it so much and he’d spend all his time wishing he was somewhere else. And then he might grow to resent you all instead of loving you like he does now.’

Libby was silent for so long that Bella thought she’d gone too far.

‘Mrs Moncrieff? Libby?’ she asked anxiously.

Libby’s eyes were glistening with tears. ‘Those were very wise words,’ she said softly. ‘And they came from the heart.’

Hugh was halfway down the corridor to the kitchen when he heard his mother ask, ‘So are you his real girlfriend pretending to be his fake girlfriend?’

What?

Oh, no. He knew his mother was perceptive. He needed to go in and head her off. Or had Bella already caved in and told her the truth?

To his horror, he heard Bella say, ‘That all sounds so complicated. But I was telling you the truth when I said I’m the designer at Insurgo.’

Oh, hell. She had caved in. She’d blown their cover completely. And he was shocked by how hurt and disappointed he was. He’d been telling himself that Bella wasn’t like Jessie—and yet she’d let him down, too. She’d promised to play a part and she’d gone back on her word. Betrayed his trust. Ratted him out to his mother, so his subterfuge was well and truly uncovered. So much for thinking that she was different. Obviously his judgement was still way off.

‘That,’ Libby said, ‘figures.’

‘What does?’ Bella asked.

Hugh went cold. Please don’t let his mother start talking about Jessie. He only realised he was holding his breath when Libby said, ‘If he hasn’t told you, I won’t break his confidence.’

‘That’s not very fair, given that I’ve just done that,’ Bella said.

She’d even admitted what she’d done. And it made him feel sick. How far had she gone?

He strode into the kitchen. ‘Breaking my confidence?’ he asked.

Bella went white. ‘Hugh. I didn’t know you were there.’

‘Obviously.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘Well, thanks a bunch. I guess that’ll teach me to trust you. So do you blab Insurgo’s business all over social media, too, the same way you’ve just blabbed my personal business to my mother?’

‘Hugh, that’s not fair,’ Libby said. ‘She was trying to help.’

‘She was gossiping about me.’ And that hurt.

‘I wasn’t gossiping at all,’ Bella said. ‘Right now, I want to tip this Yorkshire pudding batter all over your stupid head. But I’m not going to waste food and put your mum in an awkward position. Instead I’m going to walk outside in the garden, in this stupid outfit I found to fit your even more stupid idea. And you,’ she said, walking over to him and stabbing her finger into his chest, ‘are going to sit down with your mum and talk. Really talk.’

He was too taken aback to say anything. Not that he could’ve got a word in edgeways, because Bella was on a roll.

‘You’re going to tell her how you feel about your business and how it’s not just your job, it’s your passion, and for you it’s like breathing. And you’re going to tell her that you’re great at business and you don’t take unnecessary risks—that you save being a total idiot for the other bits of your life. You three,’ she added to the dogs, ‘you’re coming with me and we’re going to find some tennis balls, and I’m going to pretend they’re Hugh’s head and kick them as hard as I can.’

‘Bella—’ he began, knowing that he needed to apologise.

‘No. Talk to your mum,’ she said. ‘Right now, I don’t want to talk to you. I’m going out with the dogs.’

‘Take whatever you need from the boot room, love,’ Libby said. ‘And I’ll shout at him for you.’

Bella shook her head. ‘I’d much rather you listened to him,’ she said softly. ‘Even though right at this moment I don’t like him very much, I respect him when it comes to business—and I think you both need to listen to each other.’ And she walked quietly out of the kitchen, followed by the dogs.

Hugh found himself talking—really talking—to his mother about the most important thing in his life. And she listened. Understood. Just as he could now see that the worrying and fussing were driven by love rather than a need to make him toe a family line that didn’t actually exist.

Without Bella’s intervention, this would never have happened, and he knew it.

When he’d finished, Libby said, ‘You owe that girl—’

‘—a huge apology,’ he cut in. ‘I know.’

She hugged him. ‘You’re my youngest son, Hugh, and I love you, but I don’t like you very much today.’

‘I don’t like myself very much, either,’ he admitted.

‘She isn’t Jessie,’ Libby said softly.

‘I know.’ Jessie would never have offered to help prepare the vegetables. Yes, musicians had to look after their hands, because an accidental cut or burn would affect their ability to play an instrument—but Jessie wouldn’t have offered to do something that didn’t risk her hands, either. She wouldn’t have played with Sophia. He knew that his family hadn’t taken to her—they’d been polite but reserved. But everyone had instantly warmed to Bella, from his great-aunt to his brothers and even his father. ‘I need to go and talk to her.’

‘Be nice,’ Libby said softly. ‘She’s got a good heart. She didn’t break your trust. She found a better way to deal with things than any of us did.’

Hugh hugged his mother back. ‘I know.’ And he’d messed this up. Big time.

He went outside to find Bella. She looked as if she’d been crying, and he felt a total heel. How could he have been so unkind to her?

‘Bella. I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Hmm.’ She didn’t look in the slightest bit mollified by his apology.

‘You were right and I was wrong.’

She folded her arms. ‘That’s rather stating the obvious.’

‘And I’m sorry I was obnoxious to you. I shouldn’t have said any of that.’

‘Also stating the obvious,’ she said.

‘I can’t even blame it on Monday morning-itis.’ He sighed. ‘How do I make it up to you?’

‘You’ve made it clear that you don’t trust me. So, actually, I don’t think you can,’ she said.

He blew out a breath. ‘I don’t have a clue what to say or what to do. Only that I’m sorry for hurting you. And, without you, I don’t think my family would ever have understood what Insurgo means to me. And I wouldn’t have understood how they really feel, either. I appreciate that.’

She shrugged. ‘Even so, I’m not your personal punchbag. Hugh, I don’t enjoy people lashing out at me. I was only playing Miss Ditzy because you asked me to. I’m not an actress. Your mum saw right through the whole thing. And I did tell you it was a stupid idea.’

‘You were right,’ he said again. ‘I know you probably want to be a million miles away from here right now, so if you want me to drive you straight home, then I’ll do it. But I think my family would like you to stay for lunch. They like you. And I mean they like the real Bella Faraday,’ he clarified. ‘The one who looks out for elderly aunts, cuddles babies, plays ball with the dogs, is an amazing artist and brings out the best in everyone. The woman who really is the life and soul of the party—because I’ve never seen my entire family get up on the dance floor before you came along.’

Her eyes sparkled with tears; he brushed away the single one that spilled over her lashes.

‘They don’t hate me for lying to them?’ she whispered.

‘No. They really, really like you.’ And so did he. Though now wasn’t the time to say so. After the way he’d hurt her, she wouldn’t believe him—and he couldn’t blame her.

‘Come and have lunch,’ he said.

‘For your mum’s sake. Not yours.’

‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘And thank you.’

Although Bella didn’t say much to him once they were back in the house, she sparkled all the way through Sunday lunch. She insisted on helping to clear things away and on cuddling Sophia again when his niece had another fit of the grumps. And when his family said goodbye to her, it was with a warm, heartfelt hug rather than the formal handshakes they’d always given Jessie.

‘Come back soon,’ Libby said. ‘And I mean really soon. You have to see the bluebells when they’re at their best.’

‘I’d love to,’ Bella said, hugging her back. ‘Thank you so much for having me.’

His brothers and their partners all got hugs, too, along with the baby. And so did his father, who then shocked Hugh immensely by saying, ‘Come and paint the bluebells for my study, and I’ll cook you my famous chicken biryani.’

Since when had his father ever cooked? Let alone something as exotic as biryani?

Hugh was so stunned that he didn’t say a word until they were halfway home. And then it was only because Bella was the one to start the conversation.

‘I think we need to talk,’ she said carefully.

‘Talk?’

She took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry I messed up your plans. If you want me to resign and go quietly from Insurgo, I’ll accept that and write you an official resignation letter as soon as we’re back in London.’

‘No, that’s not fair.’ And he didn’t want her to leave.

‘You asked me to play your unsuitable girlfriend, and I didn’t do it right.’

‘I also told you to be yourself,’ he said. ‘And you were. Though I don’t get how you do it.’

‘How I do what?’ she asked, sounding confused.

‘Fit in so effortlessly. When you joined Insurgo, within a couple of days it was as if you’d been one of the team right from the start. And my family. They took to you like they never did to—’ He stopped abruptly.

‘Never did to whom?’ she asked softly.

‘Never mind.’

‘The girl who broke your heart? The one you worked with?’

He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Fishing, Bella?’

‘No—but I can hardly ask you straight out about it, can I? You’re not exactly approachable.’

‘My past isn’t any of your—’ he began, then stopped, knowing that he was being completely unfair to her. ‘Sorry. That was rude and unkind. Especially as you’ve just given up your whole weekend to do me a favour, and I’ve already treated you badly. I apologise unreservedly. And you have the right to stamp all over me in spike heels.’

‘Spike heels?’

‘Your “three strikes and you’re out” rule. I’ve broken that several times.’

‘That’s bravado,’ Bella said, sounding sad. ‘I don’t really stomp on people.’ And he felt even guiltier when she added, ‘Besides, you’re right. Your past isn’t any of my business.’ She sighed. ‘Did you hear everything I said to your mum?’

‘Only from when she asked you if you were my real girlfriend pretending to be my pretend girlfriend.’ He gave her another swift look. Guilt was written all over her face. ‘Is there more I should know about?’

‘I told her that you’re Insurgo’s heart—and joining the family firm would break your spirit and make you resent them instead of loving them and being exasperated by them as you do now.’

If Hugh hadn’t been driving, he would’ve closed his eyes in horror. ‘We never talk about that sort of stuff.’

‘I think you might do, in future,’ Bella said softly. ‘But, as I said earlier, I understand if you want me to resign.’

‘Right now,’ Hugh said, ‘I think the best thing would be if neither of us said another word until we get back to London.’

‘OK,’ Bella said, and lapsed into silence.

Which made Hugh feel even more mean and guilty. He knew she’d said everything with the best of intentions. But his head was in a whirl. Bella Faraday knocked him seriously off balance, and he didn’t trust himself to say what he really meant. He wasn’t even sure what he really felt, other than being completely mixed up, so it was better to say nothing.

It didn’t help that he could still smell her perfume, and that made him remember kissing her in the orangery last night. That kiss—and what had happened afterwards—was something he really couldn’t dare to repeat. So it was better to put a little bit of metaphorical distance between them. Wasn’t it?

Finally he pulled up in the road outside her flat. ‘I’ll see you to your door.’

‘There’s no need,’ Bella said. ‘Thank you for the lift. And I won’t ask you in. Not because I’m being rude, but because I’m sure you’re busy. And, tomorrow morning, when we’re back in the office, this weekend never happened.’

‘Agreed,’ he said.

Even though he didn’t see her to the door, Hugh waited until she’d closed her front door behind her before he drove away. That was the very least he could do. And as for the damage to their working relationship... He’d better hope that he could fix it. Because the only way he could keep Bella in his life was as a colleague—and he didn’t want to lose her.

What a weekend, Bella thought as she closed the front door behind her.

She changed swiftly into a more comfortable—not to mention demure—pair of jeans and a normal T-shirt, and bustled about sorting out things in her flat. There was a message on her phone from Grace.

Give me a ring when you’re back and let me know how it went xxx

Yeah, right. Bella rolled her eyes. She could hardly admit to her sister what she’d done: slept with her boss, gone completely off brief, interfered and told his mother the truth, and then had a huge row with Hugh. Even though he’d apologised, she still hated the fact that he thought he couldn’t trust her. Maybe his ex had broken his ability to trust, the way Kirk had broken hers; but it still hurt that he could think of her in that way. Did he not know her at all?

So she left it until late in the evening to text a reply to Grace: Just got back. That was stretching a point, but it was only a tiny fib. Too late to call. That bit was true. All fine. That bit might not be true. But she hoped that Grace wouldn’t push her for more details—and that things would be OK in the office tomorrow. That she and Hugh could pretend that nothing had ever happened. Because, otherwise, she’d be looking for another job.

And, if she left Insurgo, it wasn’t just the job she’d miss.