Читать книгу Stand-In Mistress - Lee Wilkinson, Lee Wilkinson - Страница 5

PLAYING for time, Joanne sipped her champagne and scanned the menu for as long as she dared, before choosing a melon starter and a main course of avocado and prawns.

The order given, Brad Lancing fixed her with his handsome eyes, and asked, ‘By the way, as your sister’s spokeswoman, can you tell me if she still intends to go on this Norwegian trip?’

Caught wrong-footed, Joanne hesitated, then said lamely, ‘Well, I think she’d like to.’

Picking up on that uncertainty, he explained, ‘You see, there’s not much time. I have two seats booked on a plane that leaves Heathrow at lunch time, and if your sister is likely to be still tied up with…your auntie I shall need to find myself another secretary.’

And one who was willing to be his bed-companion, no doubt, Joanne thought sourly.

Hoping to give him as much trouble as possible, she assured him, ‘I’m quite sure Milly won’t want to let you down.’

Recklessly, she added, ‘And if by any chance she can’t come, I might even volunteer for the post myself!’

A devilish gleam in his eye, he refilled her glass and said, ‘I might hold you to that. But you’d need to come prepared. The nights can get pretty chilly.’

‘Oh, I’m sure I could cope.’

‘Have you much experience?’

Loathing both him and the double entendre, she gave him a come-hither look and cooed, ‘Oh, yes, lots.’

‘Where are you working now?’ 23

Reluctant to provide too much personal information, she said briefly, ‘Optima Business Services.’

‘Owned by Steven Winslow.’

It was a statement not a question, but she answered, ‘That’s right.’

Brad Lancing seemed to know a great deal. But perhaps Milly had told him?

‘So you act as your brother’s secretary?’ he pursued evenly.

‘I’ve been Steve’s personal assistant for over five years.’

Reacting to her tone, he said, ‘I see.’ Then, a challenge in his voice, ‘And are you a good PA?’

‘If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have kept the job. Neither of us believes in nepotism.’

As soon as the words were out it struck her that she had been replying as herself, rather than the kind of woman she was pretending to be.

Giving him a flirtatious glance, she said in her best girly voice, ‘But I’m not very interesting…I’d much rather talk about you, Mr Lancing.’

His firm mouth twitched. ‘Won’t you call me Brad?’

‘I’d love to, if you call me Joanne.’

‘It will be my pleasure.’

Taking a sip of her champagne, she smiled at him over the rim of the glass. Then, recalling something Milly had once said, she leaned towards him and murmured in a husky voice, ‘I’ve always found handsome, powerful men like you a real turn-on.’

The ‘like you’ was her own contribution.

An expression that might have been amusement flitted across his face, making her wonder if she was overdoing it, but it was gone in an instant, and she decided it must have been self-satisfaction.

Someone as vain and egotistical as he undoubtedly was would lap up any amount of flattery.

He must have been looking forward to a romantic evening with a girl who thought he was wonderful, and being a womaniser, he would no doubt have seduction on his mind.

Well, let him believe she was a pushover. The shock would be all the greater when he discovered that instead of the sex kitten he was hoping for, she was a cat with claws.

For the next hour or so, while they ate what turned out to be a very good meal, Joanne flirted with him shamelessly. Hanging on his every word, she touched his sleeve from time to time and occasionally let her foot nudge his under the table.

Avoiding questions about herself as much as possible, she made an effort to keep the conversation centred on him.

It proved to be harder than she had anticipated.

Most men, even the nicest ones, were usually happy to keep their egos inflated by talking about themselves, but Brad Lancing, while prepared to discuss the business scene, seemed unwilling to divulge anything remotely personal.

Perhaps he was married after all?

If he was, she pitied his poor wife.

‘I suppose you must travel an awful lot?’ Joanne enquired as the waiter brought the liqueur coffees Brad had ordered.

‘Not as much as I used to. These days I only travel if I believe my presence is really essential.’

‘Your wife must be pleased about that,’ she remarked idly, taking a sip of her coffee.

Those green eyes pinned her, making her go oddly fluttery. ‘I’m not married,’ he told her coolly, ‘nor have I ever been remotely tempted to put my head in the silken noose.’

‘Oh…’

With a gleam of mockery, he added, ‘Who was it said, “Love all and marry none”?’

‘Whoever it was, I understand you follow their advice to the letter?’ The sharp words were out before she could prevent them.

‘I have until now,’ he admitted easily. Then with a sidelong glance, ‘You sound as if you disapprove?’

She answered the question with another. ‘Who was it said, “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may”?’

‘Now, that one I can answer. Herrick.’

His voice, as well as being attractive, was educated, but, not having put him down as a man who would take much interest in poetry, she was surprised by his knowledge.

‘Do you agree with the sentiment?’ he pursued.

‘I suppose so,’ she admitted, ‘though I haven’t had much time for gathering rosebuds.’

‘Why not?’

She replied briefly, ‘When our parents died in a train crash I left college to take over the running of the house.’

‘How old were you then?’

‘Nineteen.’

‘And you went to work for your brother at the same time?’

‘Yes.’

‘How many were there in the family?’

‘Just three. Steve, who’s the eldest, myself, and Milly, who was only a schoolgirl.’

‘So you’ve been a mother to your younger sister?’

‘You could say that.’

Seeing he was about to probe further, she forced a bright smile, and changed the subject. ‘I understand that you’ll be in Norway for six weeks or so?’

‘That’s right.’

‘It seems a long time for a business trip. Are you planning a new project?’

‘No. Just sorting out a family business that’s been in existence for generations.’

‘A family business?’ she echoed in surprise. ‘Surely Lancing isn’t a Norwegian name?’

‘No, it was my mother who came from Norway. Her father was Norwegian and her mother English. An only child, she lived with her parents in Bergen until she met and married my father.

‘After that she only returned to Norway for holidays, though the family remained close until she was killed in an accident just over a year ago.

‘When my grandfather died shortly afterwards he left me the Dragon Shipping Line and hotel business he’d spent his entire life running.

‘Since then there have been quite a few problems, and a while ago I sent one of my best men over there to deal with them.

‘Paul was fairly sure he was well on his way to sorting them out without needing me, but during the last couple of months things have started to go wrong again.

‘Then this morning something more serious happened that made up his mind that he needed my help, and he contacted me to say he thinks I should go after all.

‘If the problems had been resolved I would probably have left my trip until the spring. But as it is, I can’t let things drift until then.’

Starting to feel more than a little woozy, she asked, ‘Why spring?’

‘Because, though September is a wonderful time to hike in the hills, Norway is particularly beautiful in the spring when the ice is breaking up and the rivers are in spate…

‘You see, as well as dealing with the business side, it’s my intention to take some time off and have a break.

‘Due to pressure of work I haven’t had a proper holiday for a couple of years, and I haven’t been to Norway for more than a few days at a time on business.

‘I’m very fond of my mother’s homeland, so the thought of taking a real holiday there is an enticing prospect…’

Enticing enough to almost make Milly leave her husband, Joanne thought bitterly.

He raised a winged brow. ‘Judging by your expression, you don’t think so?’

‘Not at all,’ she disagreed hastily. ‘I’ve always thought Norway must be wonderful. Which part are you going to?’

‘Bergen. Have you ever been there?’

‘No.’

‘Have you done much travelling?’

‘Not since my parents died. Though I did have a long-weekend break earlier this year.’

‘Where did you choose to go?’

‘I was hoping to go to Rome, but Trevor favoured Amsterdam.’ Now, what on earth had made her tell him that?

Picking up her left hand, he examined the diamond solitaire she wore. ‘Trevor being your fiancé?’

After a brief hesitation, she said, ‘Yes.’

He stroked over her knuckles with his thumb, sending a shiver through her. ‘But obviously he’s not the jealous type?’

‘No.’ Restive beneath his touch, she withdrew her hand, and glanced a shade muzzily at her watch. Milly and Duncan should be away from the house in the next five minutes or so…

‘You seem eager to leave,’ Brad commented lightly.

She was. Her mission accomplished, she couldn’t wait to end the charade and escape. ‘Well, if you need to make a fairly early start tomorrow…’

‘Yes, you’re quite right,’ he agreed, signalling the waiter. ‘It’s time we were making a move.’

High time. Drawing a deep breath, she turned to tell him exactly what she thought of him, but just at that instant the waiter arrived.

While Brad paid the bill, and added a generous tip, she glanced around. There were still quite a few people within earshot, and, disliking the idea of making a scene in the quiet restaurant, she decided to wait until they were outside.

When she had picked up her bag he drew back her chair, and she rose to her feet a shade unsteadily. A hand cupping her elbow, he escorted her out of the restaurant and across the foyer.

Distinctly light-headed, she had to make herself concentrate as they descended the red-carpeted stairs. A couple of steps from the bottom, she stumbled, and he was forced to steady her.

At the entrance, a sleek grey limousine was drawn up, a liveried chauffeur holding open the door. Before Joanne could gather her wits Brad had handed her in and was sitting beside her.

‘I’d intended to get a taxi,’ she said in belated and breathless protest as they drew away. ‘Oh?’

Without turning his head, the chauffeur asked, ‘Straight home, sir?’

‘Yes, please, Gregory.’ Brad touched a button and the glass partition between the driver and his passengers closed. A moment later blinds slid into place, covering both the partition and the windows.

Taking immediate advantage of the softly lit intimacy, he caressed her silk-clad knee.

Flinching away in a sudden panic, and wishing desperately that she hadn’t been foolish enough to get into the car in the first place, Joanne announced as firmly as possible, ‘I live in Fulham, and I—’

‘Yes, I know.’ He drew her close, and an instant later his mouth was covering hers.

Shocked by the suddenness of the move and by the tumult of feeling his kiss evoked, for a moment or two she made no attempt to free herself.

When, remembering just who was kissing her, she pulled herself together and began to struggle, his arms merely tightened and he deepened the kiss.

Terrified now, she began to struggle in earnest, but he was so much stronger than she had realised, and he held her easily.

Tearing her mouth free, she gasped, ‘Leave me alone. I don’t want you to touch me…’

Looking completely unruffled, he remarked, ‘From the way you’ve been behaving, I rather thought you were inviting it.’

‘Well, you were wrong. I want to go home,’ she added shakily.

‘That’s where we are going.’

‘My home,’ she insisted.

‘Somehow I’d got the impression that, in spite of being engaged, you’d intended to come home with me.’

Her heart throwing itself against her ribs, she said hoarsely, ‘Well, you were wrong! I’d like you to tell your chauffeur to stop and let me get out right this minute.’

Raising his dark brows in mock-surprise, he queried, ‘So what made you change your mind?’

‘I haven’t changed my mind. I—’

‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

Ignoring the interruption, she rushed on, ‘I haven’t changed my mind because I never had the slightest intention of going home with you.’

His voice holding more than a hint of soft menace, he said, ‘I wouldn’t like to think you’d been leading me on just for the hell of it.’

She swallowed hard. ‘I haven’t been leading you on just for the hell of it—’

‘Well, as you have undoubtedly been leading me on, perhaps you’d like to tell me why?’

‘Because I needed to keep you occupied, to prevent you contacting Milly,’ she admitted in a rush.

He smiled grimly. ‘So your sister was at home all the time? Oddly enough I never did believe in poor Auntie Alice…

‘But I’m afraid I don’t understand why you were prepared to go to such lengths to stop me contacting my own secretary?’

‘If you had spoken to her she would have dropped everything and come.’

‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘And you thought she might be…keeping my bed warm tonight?’

‘I know she would.’

‘You don’t know anything of the kind.’

‘She’s infatuated with you.’

‘And you blame me for that?’

‘Of course I blame you. She told me how you’d taken her out to dinner, and the way you’d looked at her.

‘If I hadn’t discovered what was going on, and happened to intercept your phone call, she would have risked everything to be here.’

He frowned. ‘Risked everything?’

Into her stride now, Joanne rushed on, ‘Steve told me you had a rotten reputation as far as women were concerned, but I never dreamt that even a swine like you would go after a girl who’s only eighteen and married into the bargain—’

‘Married?’ He sounded startled.

‘Don’t pretend you didn’t know.’

Her face full of contempt, she lashed out at him verbally. ‘You’re a miserable, womanising bastard, and totally without principles!

‘You dangled the bait of a Norwegian trip in front of her until she was almost prepared to break up her marriage and go to Norway with you, rather than move to Scotland with her husband—’

‘Would you care to slow down a little…? I’m getting confused. I thought she lived with you?’

‘She does, and so does her husband…Or rather they did. They’ll soon be on their way to Edinburgh to live, and hopefully Milly will be well out of reach of lecherous men like you…’ Running out of breath, Joanne stopped abruptly.

‘Now I’m beginning to understand,’ Brad said evenly. ‘Presumably they’re taking the night sleeper, and you wanted to keep me occupied until your sister was safely on board and couldn’t change her mind…’

‘That’s right.’ Joanne made no secret of her triumph. ‘Now, if you’ll ask your chauffeur to stop and let me get out…’

When he made no move she threatened shakily, ‘If you don’t I’ll start screaming.’

Calmly, he said, ‘Even if I allowed you to scream, I doubt very much if anyone would hear…’

Recalling both his strength and his total lack of scruples, she shuddered.

‘And I can’t help but feel you owe me…’

When she said nothing he pointed out, ‘You seem quite certain that your sister would have been sharing my bed tonight.’

‘Well, I’m not Milly,’ she cried desperately.

‘But earlier you agreed that you’d come in her place. You even boasted that you were experienced.’

Watching all the colour drain from her face, he observed mockingly, ‘Now you’re acting more like a frightened schoolgirl than a woman with lots of experience.’

He ran his hand up her thigh and, his voice smooth as satin, queried, ‘You did say “lots”?’

She pushed his hand away, and seeing the gleam in his eye, realised he was enjoying baiting her, getting a little of his own back.

Suddenly afraid of how far he’d go, she begged, ‘Please don’t.’

‘That’s better,’ he applauded.

‘Will you let me get out?’ Despite all her efforts her voice shook betrayingly as she added, ‘Please.’

His dark, well-shaped head tilted a little to one side, he pretended to consider. Then he said ironically, ‘As you’re asking so prettily, and I don’t want to add kidnapping to my list of crimes, I’ll be happy to take you home. Where do you live, exactly?’

She gave him her address.

He pressed a button, and, speaking into a small grille, ordered, ‘Gregory, I’d like you to go straight to Fulham and drop Miss Winslow at twenty three Carlisle Street.’

‘Thank you,’ she said through gritted teeth.

Settling himself back into his seat, Brad turned to her and asked seriously, ‘Suppose I told you that you’re totally mistaken about my relationship with your sister? That as far as I’m concerned she’s simply a nice girl and an efficient secretary?’

So now he was trying to excuse himself, make himself out to be whiter than white.

As she remembered the way he had slid his hand up her thigh Joanne’s blood boiled.

‘Knowing what kind of man you are, I wouldn’t believe a word of it,’ she said contemptuously, and moved as far away from him as the seat would allow.

For a while they sat in a silence that, keyed-up as she was, soon became nerve-racking. Bracing herself, she stole a sideways look at his clear-cut profile.

It was cold and set, and she realised that he was quietly, but furiously, angry.

But then he was not only a man whose lies had been summarily rejected, but also a hunter deprived of his prey.

Serve him right, she thought with immense satisfaction. Let him go to bed frustrated for once.

He turned his head and glanced at her. As he caught sight of her gleeful expression, his own face hardened even more.

At that precise moment the limousine slowed down, drew into the kerb, and stopped.

The instant the chauffeur opened the door, Joanne scrambled out without a backward glance, only to find Brad close on her heels as she crossed the broad pavement.

Accompanying her up the steps, he waited impassively in the lamp-lit porch while she found her key, then, taking it from her nerveless fingers, he opened the door.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was cold, and, dropping the key back into her bag, she turned away.

‘Before you go,’ Brad said silkily, ‘in view of the expectations you raised, I think at the very least I’m entitled to a goodnight kiss.’

Stepping over the threshold, he pinned her back against the door panels.

‘Get your hands off me, you—’

Ignoring her protest, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her deeply.

His kiss was insolent, punitive, and by the time he finally lifted his head she was dazed and breathless.

Looking down into eyes that brimmed with tears of rage, he said, ‘As you’re convinced I’m a lecherous, unfeeling brute, I thought you’d be disappointed if I didn’t act like one.’

As he moved back she lifted her hand and slapped his face as hard as she could. Then, catching her breath in a kind of sob, she fled into the house, banging the door behind her.

Trembling in every limb, she sank down limply onto the hall chair, and, taking a tissue from her bag, scrubbed repeatedly at her lips, as if trying to remove every last trace of his kiss.

Damn Brad Lancing to hell! she thought furiously as she listened to the car door slam and the limousine drive away. He had to be the most obnoxious man she had ever met, and if she never saw him again it would be too soon. He was immoral and arrogant and quite unscrupulous…

Seething futilely, she sat mentally flaying him, until the worst of her agitation had subsided and she had returned to a state of relative calm.

Everywhere was quiet and, apart from the hallway, the house seemed to be in darkness. Presuming that Steve and Lisa had gone to bed, she bolted the door and made her way upstairs.

As she reached the landing Steve’s bedroom door opened. ‘I know this sounds dead nosy,’ he admitted with an unrepentant grin, ‘but we happened to see you getting out of a posh limousine…’

Oh, hell! Joanne thought helplessly. In the circumstances, the last thing she wanted was to have to explain where she had been, and why.

It wouldn’t be fair to tell anyone else about Milly’s involvement, especially now everything was, hopefully, going to be all right.

‘I can’t imagine it belonged to Trevor?’ Steve pursued.

‘No,’ she said after a moment.

As Lisa appeared at his elbow he added, ‘The man who got out with you…while not in the least like Trevor, looked strangely familiar…’

‘Did he?’ she stonewalled.

‘Though I’ve only seen him once—Milly pointed him out one day when I picked her up from work—he’s not a man one would easily forget…’

When she said nothing, his voice teasing, Steve urged, ‘Come on, Sis, give. Can’t you see we’re both dying of curiosity to know what you were doing out with Brad Lancing?’

Caught off balance, and unable to think of any satisfactory explanation, she admitted boldly, ‘I was having dinner with him.’

Steve whistled softly. ‘So you were lying about Trevor and the concert tickets?’

‘Not exactly. He did get some tickets, but I told him I couldn’t go.’

Frowning, Steve said, ‘I know the engagement isn’t official but this isn’t like you, Sis…’

Joanne groaned inwardly. Now, on top of everything else, Steve thought she was cheating on Trevor.

She wished, not for the first time, that, even at the risk of hurting his feelings, she had refused point-blank to wear Trevor’s ring until she had come to a firm decision.

When she said nothing, sounding baffled, Steve commented, ‘I didn’t even realise you knew Lancing.’

‘I only met him recently.’

‘Why did you…? No, don’t tell me, I can guess why you kept it a secret. You didn’t want to upset Milly when she’d developed this schoolgirl crush on the guy…’

So Steve had been aware of Milly’s infatuation, but, judging by his casual tone, he hadn’t appreciated what terrible consequences there might have been.

But, showing he had, he went on, ‘The trouble is, men like him aren’t to be trusted. If he’d turned on the heat things could have been difficult, to say the least.’

Then awkwardly, ‘I know it’s none of my business, Sis, but if you intend to go on seeing Lancing you will take care, won’t you?’

‘I’m almost twenty-five,’ she pointed out a shade tartly. ‘Old enough to know what I’m doing…’

That was a laugh.

‘And if it sets your mind at rest, I’m unlikely to be seeing him again. Tomorrow he’s going to Norway for six weeks on business.’

Briskly, she added, ‘Now I’m off to bed. Goodnight, you two.’

Escaping into her own room, she closed the door firmly behind her, and went through to the bathroom to strip off her clothes.

What a night! she thought wearily. The only thing she could hope was that she had managed to discomfit Brad Lancing as much as he had annoyed her.

Rather than falling for him, as Steve seemed to fear, she had found him hateful and despicable. The few hours spent in his company were some of the worst she had ever had to endure.

Remembering the unpleasant little scene in the car, the way he had run his hand up her thigh and, his voice smooth as satin, queried, ‘You did say “lots”?’ she shuddered. He had deliberately gone out of his way to frighten and humiliate her.

Joanne brushed out her long dark hair and pulled on a voluminous cotton nightie, before cleaning her teeth more vigorously than usual.

Then, climbing into bed, she switched off the light, closed her eyes, and endeavoured to put Brad Lancing right out of her mind.

After more than an hour she was still wide awake and, in spite of all her efforts, still thinking about him, repeatedly going over in her mind everything he had said and done.

Especially that last devastating kiss.

She could still recall the way his mouth had ruthlessly mastered hers; smell the subtle scent of his aftershave; taste the hint of liqueur and the freshness of his breath; feel the way every nerve in her body had tightened in response.

Just thinking about it was enough to stir her senses and, she was horrified to realise, make a core of liquid heat start to form in the pit of her stomach.

No! She tried hard to deny it. How could a man like that, a man she both loathed and despised, arouse a desire that a decent, upright man like Trevor had never been able to awaken?

It was unthinkable.

Disturbed and wholly dismayed, she tossed and turned restlessly, finally drifting into an uneasy doze around dawn.

Joanne was trawled from the depths by a persistent sound that it took her a moment or two to identify as the doorbell.

It was almost certainly the postman, who was tending to come early these days, and she didn’t want Steve to be disturbed. Working as hard as he did, he liked to sleep late at the weekend.

Stumbling groggily out of bed, she pulled on her dressing gown and, tying the belt around her slender waist, padded barefoot down the stairs.

All the time the bell kept ringing with a maddening persistence that grated on her nerves. So much noise, and he probably only wanted to deliver one of those aggravating packets that gave themselves importance by saying, ‘Please do not bend…’ and then contained just junk mail.

Having drawn back the bolts, she threw open the door, and burst out crossly, ‘Will you please stop ringing the bell? My brother’s still in bed and…’

The words died on her lips.

Brad Lancing was standing there wearing a well-cut suit and a matching shirt and tie. Freshly shaved, his thick, dark hair parted on the left and neatly brushed, his green eyes clear and sparkling with health, he looked dangerously attractive and virile.

Before she could slam the door in his face he took his finger off the bell-push, and strolled in as if he owned the place.

As, the wind taken completely out of her sails, Joanne stepped back, he closed the door behind him and stood gazing down at her, his six-foot frame easily dwarfing her.

Straight-faced, he studied her shiny nose, the dark, silky hair tumbling round her shoulders, her demure Victorian nightdress and gown, her slim bare feet, and commented, ‘Just up, I see.’

Infuriated by his obvious amusement, she demanded, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Can’t you guess?’

‘It’s too early in the morning for guessing games,’ she informed him curtly, ‘so perhaps you wouldn’t mind just telling me what you want?’

His eyes glinted at her tone. ‘You.’

‘What?’ she said stupidly.

‘I’ll be setting off for Norway around lunch time today, and I need a secretary. As it’s the weekend and too late to make other arrangements, I’ve decided to accept your offer.’

‘Offer? What offer?’

‘Surely you remember offering, “If by any chance Milly can’t come, I might volunteer for the post myself”?’

‘I wasn’t serious.’ She took a step backwards and, a panicky edge to her voice, repeated, ‘Of course I wasn’t serious.’

His dark, winged brows drew together in a frown. ‘That’s a pity, because when I said I might hold you to it, I was.

‘Now, clearly your sister isn’t in any position to come, so the job’s yours.’

Knowing he’d noted that touch of panic, and determined to stay cool, Joanne said, ‘Thanks, but I already have a job.’

‘I’m sure that, for the next six weeks or so, your brother could find himself another PA.’

With polite finality, she said, ‘Even if he could, I wouldn’t be taking up your offer.’

The door to the kitchen was ajar, and, glancing in at the comfortable-looking high-backed chairs drawn up in front of the stove, Brad suggested, ‘Rather than stand here, suppose we go through and have some coffee while we talk about it?’

‘I’ve no intention of making you coffee, and I don’t want to talk about it.’

Stepping past him, she held open the front door. ‘Now, if you’ll please leave.’

When he made no move to go, losing her cool, she cried, ‘Go on, get out! If you don’t leave this instant I’ll call Steve and get him to throw you out.’

‘Are you sure that’s wise?’

Though his tone was mild, it was undoubtedly a threat, and she hesitated. There was something about his firm mouth, the set of his jaw that, despite his quiet manner, his veneer of charm, made him formidable.

She shivered.

Steve was far from being a seven-stone weakling, but she sensed instinctively that he would be no match for this man.

As she stood irresolute, Brad Lancing took control once more. Closing the door, he put a hand beneath her elbow and urged her towards the kitchen.

Digging in her toes, she said mutinously, ‘As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to talk about. You are the last person in the world I would choose to work for.’

He shook his head almost regretfully. ‘Ah, but you see, you don’t have a choice. At least not if you care what happens to Steve’s company.’

‘What do you mean, “care what happens to Steve’s company”? Of course I care.’ She was aware that the note of panic was back in her voice.

‘Then we do have something to talk about.’

He strode into the kitchen, leaving her to follow in his wake, demanding anxiously, ‘What could happen to Steve’s company?’

Ignoring the question, he asked, ‘Would you like to make some coffee?’

‘I’ve already told you, I wouldn’t.’

He indicated one of the armchairs. ‘Then perhaps you’d like to sit down?’

‘I don’t want to sit down. I want to know what you’re talking about.’

Plugging in the electric kettle, he began to calmly assemble the cafetière and mugs. ‘When we’re both sitting down with a cup of coffee, I’ll be happy to explain.’