Читать книгу The Marriage Deal - Сара Крейвен, Sara Craven - Страница 6

AFTER a while, when she felt a little calmer, she lifted the telephone and dialled.

‘Martin Witham, please,’ she told the receptionist who answered. ‘Tell him Miss Landon is calling.’

She was put through with flattering promptness.

‘Ashley!’ Martin sounded pleased and surprised. ‘Why on earth are you back so soon?’

‘Clearly, you haven’t been reading the financial pages,’ she said lightly. ‘Let’s just say a state of emergency’s been declared and it seemed better to return.’

‘My poor sweet!’ His voice was warm and concerned. ‘Want to tell me all about it over dinner at the Country Club tonight?’

She laughed. ‘That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say,’ she teased. ‘Pick me up at eight?’

‘I’ll be counting the minutes,’ he promised.

She felt better after that. His voice had reassured her, helping to take away the sour taste the earlier call had left.

She’d been seeing Martin for a couple of months, since he’d arrived from London to join a local firm of solicitors. After Jago, Ashley had tended to steer clear of any kind of involvement, but Martin had persuaded her to think again, although he had made it clear from the first that he was in no hurry to rush into any kind of serious relationship. He’d been divorced, he told her, and was still licking his wounds, but he would be glad of some female companionship.

It was an arrangement which suited them both very well. Since Silas’ death, Ashley had been lonelier than she cared to remember, and Martin’s friendship had buoyed her up, just when she needed it most.

And she needed him now, she thought ruefully.

Martin had not told her very much about his marriage, and she was equally reticent on the subject of her broken engagement. Now, she supposed, she would have to tell Martin that her ex-fiancé was back in town, throwing fresh attention on an episode she had hoped was behind her for ever.

She felt depression closing in on her like a cloud, and gave herself a swift mental shake. Sleep was what she needed, and food. She made herself an omelette in her compact kitchen, eating every scrap, then curled up on the living room sofa, emptying her mind, and relaxing her muscles until her intrinsic weariness had its way with her.

When she woke, she felt perceptibly better, refreshed and even relaxed. Which seemed, she thought, to bode well for the evening ahead. She applied her usual light make-up, sprayed herself lavishly with Amazone, then zipped herself into a new dress she’d bought on impulse during her West Indian holiday. It was the colour which had attracted her originally—a clear, vivid emerald, enhancing her eyes.

Her one beauty, she thought critically, as she turned and twisted in front of the mirror, trying to decide whether the dress was too extreme for the sedate delights of the County Club. Certainly, the crossover bodice plunged lower than anything she had worn before, and the back of the dress bared her from the brief halter round her neck almost to the base of her spine. For a moment, she was tempted to change into something more demure, something that reflected the muted businesslike image she tried to project these days. Then she tossed her head, making her glossy hair swing challengingly.

To hell with it, she thought recklessly. Since the night of Jago’s betrayal, she’d lived a kind of half-life. Perhaps it was only right that his return should signal her emergence from her self-imposed chrysalis—proclaiming to the world at large, as well as himself, that she no longer carried even the flicker of a torch for him.

She’d been a fool to react like that to his call, she told herself angrily. She should have been civil but indifferent, instead of letting him know he could still get under her skin. Well, she would know better at their next encounter—if there was one.

Martin’s expression when she admitted him to the flat was evidence, if she needed it, that her change of image was a success. And it reminded her too of how little thought she’d given to her appearance over the past couple of years.

‘The new me,’ she explained. ‘Do you approve?’

‘I’m not sure if “approve” is the word I’m looking for,’ Martin said carefully. ‘May I kiss you, or will it spoil your make-up?’

Ashley went readily into his arms. She was accustomed to the light embraces they exchanged on meeting and parting, and when Martin deliberately prolonged and deepened the kiss, she made no demur. Perhaps it wasn’t just the outer shell she needed to change, she thought, submitting passively to the ardent pressure of his mouth on hers.

She waited for some answering surge in her own blood, but it didn’t happen. Probably she was still too tired and caught off-balance by the past twenty-four hours to be able to conjure up much of a response, she excused herself, as they left for the Club.

It was already quite crowded when they arrived. Martin had booked a corner table, away from the dance floor where a three-piece band played quietly.

‘The usual wide choice, I see,’ he said wryly, handing her a menu. ‘Steak, steak, scampi or steak.’

Ashley smiled at him. ‘And I keep telling you that’s the height of sophistication in this neck of the woods,’ she teased.

‘So you do,’ he muttered. ‘What’s it to be, then?’

‘Melon, please, followed by a fillet steak rare to medium, and a side salad.’

‘And I’ll have the same,’ Martin told the waiter. His hand reached for Ashley’s across the table. ‘We never seem to ask for anything else. Maybe we should make it a standing order.’

‘Maybe,’ Ashley returned neutrally. She returned the pressure of his fingers, but his words troubled her, seeming to signal a permanence she wasn’t ready for. She was relieved when the conversation took a less personal turn. Martin was engaged in litigation work, and he gave a droll description of some of the cases he’d been defending while she way away.

Ashley leaned back in her chair, enjoying the fragrance of the white wine she had asked for as an aperitif, her eyes idly scanning the room as she did so.

‘And when the magistrate asked if he had anything to say, the idiot came back with “But the car always stalls if I drive at less than sixty, Your Worship”,’ Martin was saying, then his voice sharpened. ‘Ashley, what is it? Are you all right?’

Her whole body had tensed, and she could feel the blood draining from her face. Standing in the doorway, looking round the room, was Jago Marrick.

Her first, instinctive thought was how little he had changed in the intervening years. The breach between them had left no mark on him as it had on her, but then why should it? she asked herself bitterly. No doubt he’d regretted the loss of Landons, but he was a success in his own right as Silas had always predicted. Ashley had been nothing more to him than a means to an end.

But it was unfair, she thought, digging her nails into the palms of her hands, that his physical appeal should not have diminished. Outwardly, he was still the man she’d fallen so helplessly in love with.

The lean, graceful body, the lightly curling brown hair, still worn rather longer than convention demanded, the cool, incisive lines of nose, mouth and jaw, had lost none of their impact, thrusting her into sudden unwelcome turmoil.

With a superlative effort she fought for control.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, forcing a little laugh, and inwardly thankful for the comparative seclusion of their table. ‘I—I’m jet-lagged still, I suppose. Perhaps I should have had a quiet evening at home.’

‘Well, you still can,’ Martin assured her promptly. ‘When we’ve eaten, I’ll drive you back.’ He smiled at her. ‘Some cosseting’s what you need.’

She doubted whether she needed anything he had in mind but now was not the time to be talking about that. She felt suddenly like an animal, caught in a snare with the hunter drawing closer …

Get a grip on yourself, she adjured herself, silently and savagely. So he’s here. It’s a public place, and he has as much right to use it as you. But there’s nothing he can do to you any more—nothing …

Martin said with a faint groan, ‘Oh, hell! One of the firm’s most important clients has just come in, and he’s heading this way. I shall have to be civil at least.’

Ashley knew with a sense of sick inevitability who it would be, and nerved herself, her hands clenching into fists in her lap, her face schooled to impassivity.

‘Good evening, Witham.’ Jago stopped beside their table. She made herself look up, her face stretched into a polite smile which felt like a grimace. He wasn’t alone, she saw. Erica was beside him, ethereal in black chiffon, clinging to his arm. The grieving widow’s first public appearance, Ashley decided ironically.

Jago was looking at her now, his brows lifting with faint cynicism as he assimilated her appearance.

‘Ashley,’ he said softly. ‘What a charming surprise.’

‘You know each other?’ asked Martin. ‘I was just about to introduce you.’

‘No need,’ Jago assured him. ‘Ashley and I are old—acquaintances, aren’t we, darling?’

‘You could say that,’ she said shortly. She looked past him to Erica. ‘Please accept my condolences on your sad loss, Mrs Marrick.’

‘Such a terrible shock,’ Erica sighed delicately. ‘But life must go on. That’s what dear Giles would have wanted.’

Remembering the big, bluff man with his booming laugh, Ashley thought this was probably true. At any rate, it absolved Erica from most of the conventions of mourning, she decided cynically.

‘Won’t you join us?’ Martin offered, to Ashley’s horror.

‘We’d be delighted,’ Jago said smoothly, and she had to bite back a gasp of sheer anguish. But nothing could be done; a waiter was already hurrying to lay two extra covers. Ashley’s sole consolation was that Erica seemed no better pleased by the situation than she was herself, judging by the expression she had seen fleetingly cross the widow’s lovely face, and the way her fingers were curving possessively on Jago’s sleeve.

Well, everyone looks for consolation in their own way, she told herself, and turned an artificially radiant smile on Martin.

The meal was a three-dimensional, Technicolored nightmare, with full stereophonic sound. The steaks, when they arrived, were excellent, but Ashley might just as well have been chewing her way through an old handbag for all the enjoyment she derived from hers. Tautly, she declined a dessert when it was offered, and coffee too, praying that Martin would take the hint, and whisk her away as he’d promised.

But Martin wasn’t in the market for hints. Oblivious to any undercurrents, he was leaning back in his chair, being expansive and thoroughly enjoying himself. Taking the opportunity to impress an important client, Ashley thought, then chided herself for being unkind.

She glanced up, and found Jago’s eyes on her. He, she realised resentfully, wasn’t even making an attempt at pretence. Openly and unashamedly, he was staring at her, insolently studying the shape of her breasts under the flimsy bodice, and to her shame and horror she found her body reacting to the calculation of his gaze, the nipples hardening and thrusting against the soft cling of the fabric. And, worst of all, she could tell by the slow smile curling his firm-lipped mouth that her involuntary arousal had not gone unnoticed.

Mortified beyond all bearing, she stared down at the table. What kind of person was she to allow herself to be excited by a look from a man who had treated her as badly as Jago had done? She swallowed, remembering that he had always had that effect on her, no matter how hard she’d tried to resist it. Even in company, one lingering glance from him had been enough to melt her bones, and send sweet fire coursing through her veins. It was only later, alone with him, that the problems had started, shame at her body’s own urgency freezing her into frightened rigidity when he tried to kiss and caress her.

But that was something she neither needed nor wanted to remember, and she tried to turn her attention elsewhere, gazing at the couples moving round the dance floor in time to the music.

Jago leaned towards her. ‘Would you like to dance?’ he asked courteously.

Her voice was stony. ‘No, thank you.’

‘Oh, go on, darling,’ Martin urged jovially. ‘You know you love this tune.’

Had she really admitted that to him? she asked herself despairingly. How could she—when it was a song she’d danced to with Jago over and over again in those first heady days?

‘Then that settles it.’ Jago was standing beside her chair, reaching for her hand, drawing her inexorably to her feet before she could utter any further protest.

She couldn’t free herself without making some kind of scene, and her spirit quailed at the thought of that, so numbly she allowed him to guide her through the encircling tables to the dance floor.

‘I’ll try not to touch any bare skin,’ he said sardonically, as he drew her into his arms. ‘But the design of your dress makes it rather difficult.’

She flushed angrily. ‘Don’t!’

‘Why so sensitive?’ he jeered. ‘You can’t help being the way you are, any more than I can. And you certainly never wanted to be touched—by me, at any rate.’

Ashley shrugged, trying not to flinch from the clasp of his cool fingers, making herself move to the music with him. ‘Why drag up the past?’ she asked shortly. ‘It was a long time ago. I’ve changed. Probably we both have.’

‘In your case, the change is formidable,’ he said softly. ‘What’s brought about this new sophistication? Witham?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Ashley, lifting her chin. ‘If it’s any of your business.’

The tawny eyes glittered down at her. ‘Going to marry him, Ash?’

‘Now that really is none of your business.’ Ashley bit her lip. ‘I’d like to go back to the table, please.’

‘When the dance is over.’ He swung her round, gently but inexorably, making her realise it was impossible to be free without undignified hassle. ‘And isn’t it natural that I should be interested in your plans for the future? After all, they once involved me quite intimately, if you recall.’

‘I’m not likely to forget,’ she said scornfully. ‘I’d have said you’d totally forfeited any right to enquire into my private life. And while we’re on the subject, how did you get hold of my phone number? I’m ex-directory.’

‘Let’s say a little bird told me,’ he said. ‘You seem rather besieged at the moment. I thought you might welcome a friendly call.’

‘Then you miscalculated,’ Ashley said bitingly. ‘I don’t need your interest in my affairs, business or personal. In future, kindly leave me alone.’

Jago gave her a meditative look, his eyes hooded. ‘That isn’t as easy as it sounds. I’d say we were bound to run into each other in a place this size. Don’t you think we should at least practise being civil to each other?’

Ashley tried to quell the inner dismay his words evoked. He seemed to be confirming that he would not, after all, be returning to the States, just as Henry had suggested.

‘It’s a small town indeed,’ she said.’ And rather limiting, I’d have thought, for someone of your ambition. I imagine you can’t wait to go back to America.’

‘Then your imagination is playing you tricks,’ he said pleasantly. ‘I’ll be happy to discuss my plans with you, Ashley, but now is not the time. I didn’t ask you to dance in order to have a serious talk.’

‘No? Then I can only assume you intended to annoy me.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Jago. The most I can call on where you’re concerned is indifference. If anyone’s suffering from any kind of aggravation here tonight, then it’s probably your cousin Erica.’

‘Oh, I think Witham is managing to keep her entertained,’ he said casually. ‘Although he’s a bit of a dull stick.’

‘He’s a decent person,’ Ashley said levelly. ‘Although I suppose decency is a quality that couldn’t be expected to have much appeal for you.’

‘Or to you, my sweet vixen.’ His mouth curled. ‘But I asked you to dance, Ashley, to find out if the change in you is any more than skin deep.’ His hand at her back increased its pressure suddenly, forcing her towards him across the slight decorous distance that separated them. Bringing her body into intimate, objectionable contact with his.

Ashley gasped, her eyes flashing green fire at him, as she tried unavailingly to pull away. Her lips parted in a protest which was fated never to be uttered as Jago’s mouth came down on hers, warm, firm, and shamelessly sensual.

Her senses reeled under the suddenness of the onslaught. Her body seemed to be melting, her legs no longer able to support her properly, the blood in her veins moving slowly, thick and sweet as honey, as she fought for control.

The kiss seemed endless and she had to curb the instinct to yield, to respond, to explore his mouth as avidly as he was seeking the secrets of hers. It was a temptation that had to be resisted at all costs, and she knew it, even though her body was overwhelmed, trembling with the surge of unsatisfied longing within her.

But she had to remember that he cared no more for her now than he had three years ago, a small desperate voice in her head warned her. He was trying to score points, that was all. To let the eyes watching them know that the breach between them, once a nine-day wonder, was either healed or no longer important.

When at last he took his mouth from hers, it was with open reluctance. The music had stopped, and only a smattering of applause from the other dancers filled the amazed and questioning silence around them.

Still dazed, Ashley let Jago lead her back to the table, aware of the barrage of fascinated and curious looks and murmured remarks following them. She was aware too that the couple awaiting them at their table didn’t share that general fascination and curiosity. Martin looked bemused and sullen, and Erica was plainly furious, although she was smiling graciously enough.

Muttering an excuse, Ashley grabbed her bag, and made her way to the refuge of the powder room. Luckily it was deserted, and she sank down on one of the padded stools in front of the mirror and stared at herself. Her eyes looked twice their normal size, and she hadn’t a scrap of colour left. She touched the bare, swollen outline of her mouth with fingers that shook slightly.

Jago had made no concessions at all, either to the passage of time which had separated them, or to the fact they were in a public place. His behaviour, by any standard, was unforgivable. She opened her bag, fumbling a little as she retrieved her compact and lipstick and tried to repair some of the damage he had wrought, while shame and anger built up inside her.

How dare he behave like that! she raged inwardly. His arrogance was appalling. But so, honesty reminded her, had been her own reaction.

She couldn’t go back in the dining room, she thought restlessly, to face the stares and speculation, and Jago’s silent triumph. She would have to get a message to Martin, telling him she had a headache and wanted to go home.

But when she emerged, she found Martin waiting for her.

She pinned on a smile. ‘Ready to go?’

‘More than ready.’ His voice was pettish, and she smothered a sigh. His hand gripped her elbow almost painfully as they walked to the car park, but he said nothing more until they were in the car, and on their way.

Then, ‘What was that all about?’ he wanted to know restively.

‘Do we have to discuss it now?’ Ashley stared in front of her.

‘I’d say so. I don’t appreciate being made to look a fool in public.’

‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t think that was the main intention.’ Ashley bit her lip. ‘Jago was trying to—prove a point, and he chose a rather drastic way of doing it, that’s all.’

‘Old acquaintances, he said.’ Martin’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘It seemed more than that to me.’

His tone demanded an explanation. Ashley hesitated for a moment, then said reluctantly, ‘As it happens, Jago Marrick was the man I was engaged to a couple of years ago.’

‘Good God!’ Martin, always the most careful of drivers, actually took her eyes off the road to gaze at her while he assimilated the information. ‘I hadn’t the slightest idea …’

Ashley sighed. ‘I thought someone would probably have mentioned it.’

‘I suppose everyone assumed you would have told me yourself.’ Martin sounded injured. ‘Didn’t you think I’d want to know you’d been—involved with one of our top clients?’

Ashley looked down at her interlaced fingers. ‘Frankly it was a period of my life I preferred to put out of my mind altogether. Jago was in America, and Giles Marrick could have lived for another thirty years, as far as I knew.’ She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘But what does it matter, anyway? It’s over, and has been for a long time.’

After a long pause, Martin said carefully, ‘A casual observer tonight might query that.’

Ashley forced a smile. ‘I think tonight was a cross between Jago’s idea of a joke, and his wish to tell the world there’s no longer any bad feeling between us.’

‘And is that the case?’

She bent her head in affirmation, trying to push out of her mind the memory of that cynically passionate kiss, and her unsought reaction to it.

He said judiciously, ‘Well, it’s never easy to get over these things, as I know to my cost. Were you very much in love with him, darling?’

‘I’m not sure I even knew what love was,’ Ashley said tonelessly.

He seemed content with that, and to her relief, didn’t insist on accompanying her into the flat as she had half-feared. He accepted her excuse that she was still dog-tired after her flight, and went off, promising tenderly to phone her the next day.

Ashley fell into bed like an automaton, but still she couldn’t sleep. She lay for what seemed like hours, staring into the darkness. Didn’t she have enough problems? Jago’s re-entry into her life was a complication she didn’t need.

Or perhaps the trouble she felt brewing through him was simply a figment of her overcharged imagination. He had his own life and responsibilities now, with Erica not the least of them, judging by tonight’s showing. He wouldn’t have time, let alone the inclination to bait his ex-fiancée.

Surely their lives could run on parallel lines, never crossing the path of each other. And on this comforting reflection, she finally dozed off.

She was woken the next morning by the prolonged ringing of her doorbell. Groggily, she pushed back the covers and grabbed for her robe, trying through the clouds of sleep to remember if the milkman needed paying.

As she opened the door, she stiffened, her whole body taut with outrage as she recognised her visitor.

‘You again!’ she exclaimed furiously, and tried to slam the door in his face, but Jago was too quick for her. His arm clamped round her waist, lifting her totally off her feet as he stepped into the narrow hall. As he set her down again, the door was already closed behind him.

Ashley gritted between her teeth, ‘There’s really no end to your presumption! May I know how you discovered my address—or have I the same little bird to thank?’

Jago tutted. ‘You sound very crotchety, my sweet. I don’t think late nights agree with you. Are you alone, or should I lurk discreetly in the sitting room while Witham makes his escape?’

‘If there’s any vanishing to be done, you’ll do it,’ she said tersely. ‘Get out!’

‘When I’ve said what I came to say.’ The hazel eyes looked her over mockingly. ‘Or did you think last night was all there was to it?’

‘It seemed more than enough for me,’ Ashley snapped. She caught sight of the long case clock in the corner. ‘My God,’ she said falteringly, ‘it isn’t even eight o’clock yet! What the hell …’

Jago produced a carrier bag, ‘I thought we’d have a working breakfast,’ he said briskly.

‘You thought what?’ Words failed her.

‘A working breakfast,’ he repeated kindly. ‘They have a lot of them in the States. I’m supplying the food.’

‘Well, don’t expect me to cook it. I never eat breakfast anyway.’

‘Then you should.’ He gave her another more searching look, and her hands moved instinctively to tighten the already secure sash of her robe. ‘It occurred to me last night, you can’t afford to lose any more weight. Will you show me where the kitchen is, or shall I find it by trial and error?’

‘You’ll get out of here now!’ Ashley raged. ‘And take your lousy food with you!’

‘Your ways of expressing yourself don’t seem to have improved over the years,’ Jago said coolly. ‘The food is fresh—grapefruit, eggs and bacon, and bread for toast. You don’t have to lift a finger. Just eat—and listen to what I have to say.’

‘There’s nothing you have to talk about that I want to hear.’ Eyes sparkling ominously, she faced him, her head held proudly high.

‘Not even when the subject under discussion is Landons—and its questionable future?’ he asked.

‘There is no question about Landons’ future,’ Ashley denied sharply.

‘Now there we differ,’ he said quite gently. ‘I’d say that without some pretty fancy footwork on your part, Marshalls are going to snap you up, and cheap at the price. Is that what you want?’

‘Of course not,’ she said impatiently. ‘But it’s no concern of yours.’

‘It’s my concern.’ There was no amusement in his face. The hazel eyes were cold and inimical as they rested on her. ‘Silas was my good friend, remember?’

‘I’m hardly likely to forget. I’ve often thought it a pity you couldn’t marry him yourself.’

‘And I’ve often thought it a pity you weren’t smacked, as a child, until you couldn’t sit down for a week,’ Jago said bitingly. ‘Now go and get dressed, unless you want to spend the morning in that travesty of a dressing gown. I’ll call you when the food’s ready.’

She said shakily, ‘If I were a man, I’d throw you out.’

‘Don’t be silly, Ash.’ He tapped her hot cheek lightly with his forefinger. ‘If you were a man, I wouldn’t be here, period.’

She wanted to tell him not to call her ‘Ash’, but it suddenly seemed infinitely safer to go to her room, and put some clothes on as he’d suggested.

She dragged on jeans, not new, and a sweater which had seen better days, dragging a comb ruthlessly through her black hair. Cosmetics she left severely alone. Jago was not to think she had taken any trouble with her appearance on his account, she told herself vehemently.

The kitchen was full of the scent and crackle of frying bacon and percolating coffee, and in spite of her anger, Ashley’s nose twitched in appreciation as she entered. Jago was standing by the hob, slicing tomatoes. He too was wearing jeans, she noticed, the close-fitting denim accentuating the length of his legs and the leanness of his hips. The cuffs of his shirt were unbuttoned and turned casually back revealing tanned forearms. He made her trim kitchen seem cramped, Ashley thought resentfully as she unwillingly took a seat at the small breakfast bar.

‘Here.’ He poured coffee into a mug and pushed it across the worktop to her.

‘Thank you,’ she acknowledged stiffly.

‘And three bags full to you.’ He gave her a long look. ‘Unless you relax your attitude, lady, and fast, we’re going to get nowhere.’

‘Well, that suits me down to the ground,’ said Ashley coldly. ‘As I haven’t the slightest wish to make any kind of progress with you.’

‘So, hurt pride and resentment still rule, O.K. You aren’t prepared to swallow either or both for the sake of Landons?’

‘I’d give whatever I had to in order to save the company,’ Ashley retorted. ‘I’ve already given the last couple of years of my life. Apparently for some of the board, this isn’t enough. I don’t know what more they want—blood, presumably.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘I think they want the assurance that Landons will continue to be the dynamic, thrusting concern that Silas made it.’

‘You seem very well informed,’ said Ashley coldly, gritting her teeth, as she complied with his signal to start on her grapefruit. ‘Perhaps you’re also aware that Landons had a record profit last year.’

‘That’s true,’ he admitted. ‘But accrued from the projects that Silas set up. You’ve kept the company ticking over, and you’ve delivered the goods, as no one could wish to deny. But your forward planning is lousy. There’ve been a number of tenders you should have gone for—and got—but haven’t. Silas went out and sold Landons in the market place. He was the arch-instigator of all time. Those new civic buildings in town were a case in point. The council never thought on that scale until Silas sold them the idea. Now no one can imagine how they ever did without them. And you can repeat that story over and over again up and down the length of the country.’

‘We have plenty of work,’ Ashley protested indignantly.

‘For the time being—but how much of it is new? How many of your present contracts have you fought for and won?’ He shook his head. ‘This is what concerns the majority of the board, Ashley, and in their place, I’d probably share that concern.’

Ashley bit her lip, looking with disfavour at the plate he was setting in front of her. ‘I can’t possibly eat all that,’ she protested.

‘You’ll eat it if I have to hold your nose and force-feed you,’ Jago told her forthrightly. ‘You’re going to need all your strength, lady, and besides, we have other more important issues to argue about than food.’ He took his place beside her and began to eat with relish as she registered with annoyance. His presence in her flat, his intrusion into her life was an outrage, but he seemed unconscious of the fact.

‘So why are you interfering?’ she asked sulkily, cutting into her bacon, and noting crossly that it was done to a crisp, just as she liked it. ‘I suppose you’ve come here to give me some good advice. Well, let me tell you, I don’t need …’

‘Mere advice won’t get you out of the hole you’re in.’ He reached for a piece of toast. ‘I think the situation calls for rather more drastic action.’

‘And you, of course, know exactly how to cope with the crisis,’ she said derisively.

‘I could get rid of Marshalls for starters.’ Jago bit into his toast.

‘How?’ His confidence needled her.

He sighed. ‘By persuading the board to reject their offer.’

Ashley put down her knife and fork. ‘But why should they do any such thing, particularly on your say-so?’ she demanded heatedly. ‘My God, you’re not even a member of the Landons board!’

‘But I could be.’ The hazel eyes looked coolly and directly into hers. ‘In fact I could be chairman—if you and I were married.’