Книга - The Business Arrangement

The Business Arrangement
NATASHA OAKLEY


HE'S NEGOTIATED HER SERVICES FOR TWO WEEKS!Amy has known–and been in love with–Hugh Balfour for as long as she can remember. Her strategy has been to avoid him at all costs. But now Hugh needs Amy's help–he needs a secretary and only Amy will do!BUT ARE HIS TERMS STRICTLY BUSINESS?With a bit of a makeover–courtesy of Hugh's generous allowance–Amy is the epitome of a cool, calm professional, at least on the surface. But what Hugh didn't tell her is he expects twenty-four-hour attention from his secretary–especially as he's now looking at his old friend in a very different light….









“Amy,” Hugh said softly, touching her arm. “Wake up. It’s late. It’s time you were in bed.”


She stirred slightly. The only sign she’d heard him was a faint fluttering of the dark eyelashes resting on her pale cheeks. “Amy…”

This time she mumbled and tried to turn over. Sleepy brown eyes looked up into his face. “Hugh,” she said with a soft smile lighting up her face. “You’re back.”

And he wanted to kiss her.

What was happening to him? He’d known Amy for years and never felt the slightest inclination to do anything of the sort. He’d picked her up when she’d fallen off her horse at fourteen and broken her wrist without the slightest stirring of the emotions troubling him now. Even when he’d held her while she sobbed at her mother’s funeral he hadn’t felt the stirrings of any attraction. This was Amy.







From city girl—to corporate wife!

Working side by side, nine to five—and beyond…. No matter how hard these couples try to keep their relationships strictly professional, romance is definitely on the agenda!

But will a date in the office diary lead to an appointment at the altar?

The Corporate Marriage Campaign

by Leigh Michaels

Harlequin Romance #3857




The Business Arrangement

Natasha Oakley












www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE (#ua34908e3-8acd-50e7-aa02-465fcb7a7bd3)

CHAPTER TWO (#ufc8175f6-de91-53e0-bf23-48a4271c8297)

CHAPTER THREE (#u1d11d28c-7457-5478-b9a3-662958d9eb44)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE


‘WHAT do you mean “no”? Come on, Amy,’ Hugh coaxed, stretching his arm out along the back of the floral-patterned sofa. ‘I need your help.’

Amelia Mitchell scarcely looked up from the book she was reading, merely pulling her legs tightly under her and snuggling deeper into the cushioned window-seat. ‘I’m sure you don’t. Not really. There must be someone else you can ask.’

‘I’ve asked you.’

‘Sorry, no can do.’

‘Why can’t you? You’re not working at the moment.’

‘That’s not the point, though, is it?’ she replied, risking a look up at Hugh Balfour’s confidently smiling face. The assurance in his voice had been irritating, but his expression made her angry. Clearly he felt he needed only to exude some of his well-documented charm and she’d crumble. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’d hate it. You’d be horrid. I’d be bored. If I wanted to be your secretary I’d apply for the job.’ She uncurled and threw her book to one side. ‘Actually I can’t think of anything worse. I’m angry with Seb for having suggested it.’

‘He was trying to help.’

‘Help who exactly?’ she asked, turning to face him, all five feet two inches bristling with indignation. This was just typical! ‘I know you two go back a long way, but I’m his sister. You’d think he’d put me before his friend.’

Even as she said it she knew it was nonsense. Seb wouldn’t see anything wrong in offering his sister’s help to his best friend, however inconvenient it might be to the sister. She loved him to pieces, but he’d never yet considered her feelings or appeared to notice any of the sacrifices she’d made.

It hadn’t even occurred to him that he ought to let his sister know he was coming to stay this weekend for the annual regatta. If challenged, he would, no doubt, say he’d a perfect right to be there since he owned a third share in their mother’s Henley-on-Thames cottage. But it would have been nice if he’d made a courtesy telephone call. Remembered the seventeenth-century cottage they’d inherited was her home.

Hugh’s long fingers traced a small circle on the mahogany table by his side; he was completely unfazed by her outburst. ‘It’s only for a couple of weeks. Think of the money. I’ll pay well.’

‘Don’t need any.’

‘You must be the first student to say so.’

‘I’m not a student any more. Fully fledged BA (Hons)—’

‘Currently unemployed.’

She shot him a look of dislike. ‘With no ambitions to be a secretary and certainly not yours.’

‘Amy, please. I really do need your help,’ he said, flashing her a crooked smile, his eyes lighting up with an irrepressible glint of pure sex appeal.

As her stomach twisted in recognition it crossed her mind to wonder whether anyone had been able to refuse Hugh Balfour anything. His mother certainly hadn’t. He was her shining blue-eyed boy, one without blemish.

Amy could have enlightened her, as could the numerous ex-girlfriends he’d dumped with ruthless expediency at the first hint of boredom. Six feet high with the muscle tone of a natural sportsman and the kind of charisma that made everyone follow his lead, Hugh was blessed with more gifts than it was fair for one man to possess.

Nevertheless he’d some serious character flaws. Flaws encouraged, no doubt, by getting his own way on practically every occasion since birth. It was just difficult to remember them when you faced the full force of Hugh’s charm—particularly when he normally reserved it for women with legs up to their armpits and a chiselled bone structure.

Which actually made this whole situation rather funny when she came to think about it. Hugh must really be desperate if he was spending so much time on Seb’s little sister. He hadn’t done that since he’d broken the Rev. Adderton’s window with a cricket ball and had persuaded her not to tell. Her lips twitched. ‘More.’

‘More what?’ he asked, confused.

‘Don’t stop there. I’m enjoying seeing you beg.’

‘If that’s what it takes I will.’ He smiled slowly, the grooves in his cheeks deepening. ‘Sweet Amy—’

‘Don’t overdo it. I’m beginning to feel queasy.’

Hugh relaxed back in his chair, evidently certain of success. ‘As soon as Seb suggested it I knew you’d be perfect. And before you get angry again he wasn’t thinking about it as a job opportunity. It’s more…about protecting me.’

‘From what?’ As if she needed to ask. Hugh’s problems only ever involved women and this would be no exception. ‘If you want my help you’re going to have to tell me what’s really going on. Go on, tell the truth.’

‘The truth?’

She folded her arms in front of her. ‘If you can manage it. Look, if you just needed a secretary while your PA’s away you could ring an agency or borrow someone from another department. I’m not a complete idiot.’

He smiled. ‘I never thought you were. The truth is…sensitive information.’

‘Surprise me.’

‘If I get someone in from an agency I can’t rely on them not to…gossip.’ Hugh paused again, unusually having to search for his words.

‘About?’ she prompted, watching his face closely. Normally Hugh was the archetypal Mr Smooth. Always in control. But something had really got to him this time.

‘I’m hoping to avoid anyone knowing…’ He petered out again, his eyes flicking past her to look down the long cottage garden.

‘About?’ Amy repeated without relenting.

‘About…a woman—’

‘Ah.’

He shot her a look of irritation. ‘I don’t know what you mean by “Ah”. There’s no “Ah” about it. This has never happened to me before and I’m running out of ideas on how to contain…the problem.’

‘A problem with a woman?’ Amy leant forward and gracefully crossed her legs, mockingly adopting the pose of a therapist. It was getting better every moment. It was about time some woman somewhere managed to strike a blow for the rest of their kind.

She liked Hugh. She’d always liked Hugh. He was great fun. Interesting to talk to. But he treated women with all the careless contempt given to a disposable tissue and there was something truly satisfying in seeing him rocked off balance. She nodded with her head tilted onto one side. ‘How surprising. Go on.’

Hugh rubbed his left shoulder in a vain attempt to ease the knotting muscle forming there. When Seb had first mooted the idea of his sister taking the temporary vacancy in his office he’d conveniently forgotten how exasperating Amy could be.

She could type, she was loyal and she was almost family, for heaven’s sake. They were all great credentials for what he needed, but he’d completely overlooked her irritating habit of laughing at him. All the time. And this situation with Richard’s wife was becoming anything but funny.

On the other hand Amy was still his best option. In fact, she was his only option. He took a deep breath. ‘This…woman telephones, sends…letters and…gifts to me at the office. She’s m—’

‘Married! I can guess,’ Amy interrupted, standing up swiftly. ‘I’m not doing it! You get yourself out of your own muddles. I’m not sitting about your office lying for you.’

‘I—’

‘You should have known I wouldn’t do anything to help you break up anyone’s marriage. After everything I’ve seen—’

‘Will you shut up and listen? It’s difficult enough without you interrupting all the time. Sit down and let me explain.’

‘Go on, then,’ she said ungraciously, sitting back down in a chair opposite him and tracing the pattern on the carpet with the edge of her shoe.

‘That’s why I need your help. I’m not doing it either.’

She looked up, a slight frown between her eyebrows. ‘Not doing what? I don’t understand. Wh—?’

‘Married women have never been my thing, Amy. And even if they were there’s no way I’d be tempted by this one.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

His blue eyes met her brown ones. ‘Trying to get Sonya Laithwaite to accept the fact,’ he stated baldly, watching closely for her reaction.

Amy’s lips opened and closed a couple of times before she managed to repeat, ‘Sonya Laithwaite?’

Hugh sat back. At least he’d finally got her attention.

Hell, this was so much more awkward than he’d ever imagined. He hated even saying the woman’s name. Hated thinking what it would do to Richard if he discovered what his wife was up to—and with whom. He doubted his relationship with the older man would survive it.

And that mattered to him. Richard was so much more than his employer. He’d been there at all the difficult turning points of his life, helped guide his future, and as Hugh had grown to adulthood they’d become friends. Nothing could have been more calculated to hurt Richard than what Sonya was doing.

Hugh watched Amy’s mouth move pointlessly a couple more times before saying dryly, ‘Stop doing a fish impersonation. This is serious, Amy. I really do need your help.’

It brought her up short. ‘Sonya Laithwaite? My godfather’s wife?’

Hugh nodded.

‘B-but…but they only married last May.’

‘And she’s bored already and looking for entertainment,’ he said, standing up and pacing towards the window. He could feel her eyes on his back watching him. Judging him. ‘Honestly, Amy,’ he said, turning suddenly, ‘as God’s my witness I’ve not done anything to encourage her…’ He trailed off and thrust an angry hand through his hair.

Without any difficulty Amy conjured an image of Sonya in her mind’s eye. Apart from the wedding itself, when she’d worn a white puff-ball dress with far too much diamante, the one and only time Amy had seen her had been at her father’s house-warming party the previous autumn and she’d made a colourful impression.

A full-frontal assault of a redhead in baby pink with a bust that could take your eye out if she turned suddenly and you hadn’t seen her coming. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d need much encouragement for anything, judging from the way she’d danced with Seb. But even so there must have been something. Something Hugh’d done to convince her he was interested.

It didn’t bear thinking about. He owed Richard Laithwaite so much. When Hugh’s father had died it had been Richard, a childhood friend of both their mothers, who’d come alongside the bewildered twelve-year-old boy and filled the void. How could Hugh even think of repaying him like that?

‘You can’t have an affair with Sonya. You can’t do that to Richard. He believed in you, mentored you in the beginning. I don’t believe even you would sink so low.’

‘Exactly. That’s what I’ve been saying. I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t,’ he said, meeting her eyes with a steely determination.

She pulled at the gold chain round her neck. ‘You don’t want to?’

‘No.’

His reply had been unequivocal but she looked a little doubtful. Men did go for women like Sonya, after all, and Hugh was more easily distracted by the next pair of legs than most. ‘You’re not even a little bit tempted?’

‘Of course not. She’s Richard’s wife. I do think he’s been a complete idiot to marry a woman twenty-seven years younger than himself—particularly one like Sonya. I also believe she’ll find someone who’ll eagerly take up her offer sooner rather than later. But I’m equally certain it won’t be me. You must have a really low opinion of me to think I’d even contemplate treating him like that,’ he said on a final, sudden spurt of anger.

Amy was unmoved. She smiled sunnily across at the harsh expression on his handsome face, finally convinced. ‘When it comes to women it couldn’t be lower. I’d have thought Sonya’s obvious attractions might hold some fascination for you,’ she said angelically, thinking of the bouncing thirty-four DDs the redhead displayed in dresses apparently spray-painted on.

‘Would you?’ he bit out dangerously.

Amy stopped her laugh in her throat and it came out as a husky chuckle. ‘Obviously not. Truthfully I’ve never given your preferences much thought. A leg man, are you?’ she quipped, faltering slightly beneath the quelling look in his eyes. ‘Have you considered just telling her you’re not interested? You know, just saying it straight out?’

His eyes conveyed eloquently what he thought of that suggestion. ‘Sonya believes I’m being noble.’

‘Then she doesn’t know you very well!’ she cut in, trying to stop the bubble of amusement bursting out of control.

‘Stop it, Amy. It isn’t funny. She’s convinced herself I feel guilty about Richard. That the only thing stopping me grabbing what’s on offer is fear of what other people think.’

‘There’s a fair bit to grab.’ She couldn’t resist chipping in with a swipe at the woman’s cosmetically enhanced assets before adding carelessly, ‘Oh, just tell her you don’t go for married women. Tell her it’s too complicated to get involved with your boss’s wife.’

If only it had been that simple. Hugh thought back over the numerous conversations he’d had with Sonya and wondered how much of them to tell Amy. He turned back from the window and sat down. ‘It’s not that easy. If I speak to her she takes it as encouragement. Whatever I’ve tried has been a disaster. She doesn’t give up.’

Amy frowned at the suddenly weary tone in his voice, her desire to laugh evaporating. ‘Are you trying to tell me she’s stalking you?’

‘I’m not sure how you define “stalking”,’ he hedged. ‘I don’t imagine she’s dangerous, but what I’m trying to say is she’s making my life a damned misery. My PA’s been fantastic. When we’ve known Sonya’s in the building Barbara’s worked late so we could leave together. If I’m in the office all day she’s brought sandwiches to eat at her desk. Just brilliant. With her away, I’m just too vulnerable.’

‘Couldn’t an agency temp do all that?’ Amy asked, biting on her finger.

‘Only if I explained what was happening. Sonya’s the chief executive’s wife, for heaven’s sake. She’s in the building all the time. What possible excuse could I give for not wanting to be left alone with her?’

Amy blew her fringe off her face. There wasn’t one. There was no plausible explanation except the truth, and if he confided in a temporary secretary it would probably travel round Harpur-Laithwaite like wildfire. ‘How long has it been going on?’ she asked at last.

‘Just a couple of months. Three perhaps. I didn’t think too much about it at first. There was nothing for a few days and then maybe two small incidents in the same day. She’s always been a bit…overt.’

‘I can imagine.’ Her voice was dry. ‘Go on. There must have been a trigger. Something that started it all getting more serious.’

He’d thought along those lines himself, going back over the occasions he’d been in Sonya’s company and trying to pinpoint the moment she’d begun to pursue him with the tenacity of a terrier.

But there was nothing. Nothing concrete anyway. His suspicions were all based on conjecture and almost unthinkable.

‘I can’t think of any one single incident to explain it. I think she must feel trapped. Perhaps she sees my lifestyle and wants it.’

Amy’s mouth twisted in wry humour. Somehow she doubted Hugh’s lifestyle was the draw. Richard Laithwaite was a lovely man. He’d been a part of Amy’s childhood since she could remember, always an unfailing source of ice-cream and surprisingly able to read Winnie the Pooh better than anyone else she knew. But marriage to him? No! It wasn’t something she’d ever have contemplated.

No one had been in any doubt why Sonya had chosen to marry him—money. Years and years of focusing exclusively on the acquisition of it had made Richard fabulously wealthy. Why he’d suddenly decided to abandon his single life was more of a mystery.

And now Sonya was bored. She had the designer clothes, the beautiful car, the Elizabethan manor house in Oxfordshire and it wasn’t quite enough. And then there was Hugh. However much Amy would like to bring Hugh Balfour down a peg or seven she had to admit he was a tempting alternative. Young and gorgeous with incredible eyes. Deep, deep blue with a hint of devilment. Pure sex and almost irresistible. To be immune to Hugh you had to know him very well indeed.

Poor Richard. Her heart ached for him when she imagined the pain he’d go through if he discovered how Sonya felt about Hugh. He loved Hugh like the son he’d never made time to have. It would be the ultimate betrayal.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked quietly.

‘Wait. Just for a while. I’m confident I can sort it, but I need Richard to be safely away from office gossip and that’s why I need you.’ Hugh allowed himself a half-smile. ‘Sonya’s dubbed Barbara my “Rottweiler” and convinced herself I’m inhibited by my PA’s antagonism.’

‘And you think I’d make a good guard dog? Thanks, I think.’

Hugh’s smile widened as he took in the determined tilt of her chin completely undermined by a freckle-covered nose and the strands of fine, flyaway hair escaping from her pony-tail. ‘I think you’ve got potential as a Rottweiler pup. More importantly I trust you not to say anything.’ He hesitated before adding, ‘And if I’m going for complete honesty here, it’s not just Richard’s feelings I’m worried about.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think Sonya has it in her to be vengeful. I’m going to have to be quite brutal with her in the end, and if I’m alone with her at all there’s the danger of people believing anything she might choose to say about me. Even if she weren’t believed implicitly there’d be the assumption I must have encouraged her. Much as you thought—and you know how much I think of Richard.’

‘I didn’t say that exactly.’

‘Yes, you did. Anyway, it’s a risk I don’t want to take. Not if I can help it. And until Richard has retired I want to play it softly. I don’t want him hurt and I don’t want my reputation mired up with anything quite so distasteful.’

Amy struggled to take it all in. She pushed up the sleeves of her jumper and hugged her knees. Her knowledge of Sonya was scanty, but she was unquestionably the type to be vindictive when she realised that Hugh, who seemed to have slept with half of London over the years, was drawing the line at her. ‘I can see you need someone,’ she said doubtfully. ‘I just don’t think I’m a very good idea. I’m not a properly trained secretary.’

Hugh jumped at the blatant sign of weakening and pushed home his advantage. ‘It’s only for two weeks.’

She sighed. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to, Hugh. It’s…’ Amy trailed off hopelessly. It was difficult to put into words exactly what were her objections.

Everything came so easily to Hugh. Exams, women, success in business, everything he wanted had always plopped on his plate as though some benevolent god were smiling on him. Any small hiccup in his plans had always been carefully smoothed and now it was her turn to be useful. Good old Amy! Except that ‘good old Amy’ didn’t relish being suddenly noticed because she could be useful. Particularly today. Her birthday.

‘Just two weeks,’ he coaxed, watching her face closely. ‘At least it will tide you over while there’s nothing else in the pipeline—’

‘How do you know that?’ she cut across him, her eyes narrowing astutely. ‘I suppose I don’t need to ask where you got the impression I’d be grateful for anything. It can only have been Seb. I suppose that explains why it’s all been left to the last minute.’

‘He only said things were a bit quiet for you.’

‘And how would he know?’ she asked indignantly. ‘He’s not been down here for weeks. I’ve put in loads of applications to television companies. It might be very difficult for me to put my own life on hold.’

Seb pushed open the door with his bottom, perilously carrying three mugs of tea while ducking under the low cottage beam. ‘But you will, won’t you?’ He smiled ingratiatingly across at Amy. ‘You’re the one with the flowers on it.’

‘Sexist!’ Amy retorted as she cleared the table of the Sunday newspapers and magazines.

Seb shrugged. ‘Mum’s taste in mugs, not mine, and if you will have sugar in your tea—take the consequences. How else do you expect me to remember which one’s yours?’ He handed a mug across to Hugh. ‘Of course she’ll do it.’

‘Of course she won’t! Not just like that.’ She shot a look of pure dislike back at her favourite brother. ‘I want to be a researcher, I don’t want to be a secretary and even if I did I’d never choose to work for Hugh.’

‘No, hideous prospect,’ Seb agreed, flinging himself down in a leather club chair. ‘Shouldn’t care to do it myself, but think of your debts, little sister. Hugh’s desperate. Name your price.’

Amy tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and turned her attention back to Hugh. ‘What kind of things does Sonya do?’

‘Do?’

She nodded. ‘Is she aggressive? Does she cry? If I agree I want to know the kind of things I’d have to protect you from.’

‘It’s nothing like that. She’s calmly confident. Totally convinced there’s a sexual attraction between us.’

‘Even without encouragement?’ she asked incredulously.

‘She imagines there is. She’s in no doubt I want her.’

‘She’s certainly persistent and becoming less subtle,’ Seb cut in as he passed across a packet of biscuits. ‘Tell her about Friday’s package.’

‘In the morning mail was a small parcel—’ Hugh began reluctantly, before stopping as the telephone rang from the depths of the hallway.

Seb grunted. ‘Just when it’s getting spicy. Hold the thought. I’ll be back in a moment.’

‘So?’ Amy queried as the door closed gently behind him.

‘She sent a packet of condoms, together with a hotel address, date and time.’

Amy, in the act of sipping, spluttered. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Neither did Barbara.’

‘That’s so…so…tacky.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Hugh agreed.

Seb opened the sitting-room door. ‘Hugh, it’s Callie. She wants a word.’ Mutely he held the door open until Hugh obeyed the summons. Seb sat back down in the chair he’d vacated and picked up his mug. ‘Did I miss much?’

‘Nothing you don’t know. I can’t believe she sent Hugh a packet of condoms at work.’

‘Variety condoms,’ Seb added irrepressibly.

‘Does that make a difference?’

‘It does to Hugh’s secretary. You haven’t met her, but she is an absolute “spinster of this parish” type, probably never seen a condom in her life, let alone a variety pack. I know it’s not funny, but I can’t get rid of the picture of Barbara Shelton opening the parcel. Can you imagine any temp keeping something like that quiet? That’s why I thought of you.’

Amy sighed as she felt the net tighten about her. It didn’t matter how much she resented Seb’s cavalier attitude to her time, he was right. She’d seen enough of the pain of marriage breakdown to last her a lifetime. Her mother had never really recovered from her father’s leaving. The betrayal had scored in deep and left a wound that had festered until the day she’d died. If chaperoning Hugh would prevent her godfather being hurt, there was no way she could refuse.

‘Poor Richard,’ she said, watching the apricot roses softly bobbing at the window. It was so sad how everyone’s lives went wrong. Richard had waited such a long time before deciding to marry, and then he’d gone and fallen for someone like Sonya. For someone whose business acumen was a byword in the City it was a strange anomaly he’d made such a poor choice in his personal life.

‘Feel sorry for Hugh too. I know you don’t like him much, but it’s actually getting quite serious.’

She turned back to look at her brother. ‘It’s not that I don’t like him.’

‘Approve of him, then. He likes his women, but this isn’t in the usual run of things. I know I’m trying to make light of it, but she’d be giving me the creeps. It doesn’t matter what he says to her, she keeps coming on to him.’

‘But—’

‘There isn’t any “buts”. He needs someone to shield him until his PA gets back. It doesn’t seem too much to ask. You know Mum would have forced you out the door if she was still alive.’

‘It’s not fair to use Mum,’ she protested without much conviction, knowing her mother would have been among the first to volunteer the services of her daughter. She sighed and replaced her empty mug on the small table. ‘I suppose I’m just finding it difficult to believe Hugh can’t manage it all himself. I’ve watched him jettison women with a total disregard for their feelings since he turned about eighteen. Probably before that, but I was too young to notice.’

‘Sonya’s got the hide of a rhino. She’s not even deterred by Callie and she’s scary.’

‘The woman on the phone?’

He nodded, pushing off his brogues with his toes and putting his socked feet up on the table. ‘Calantha Rainford-Smythe. Hugh’s latest. Money and connections oozing from every pore. Didn’t you meet her at Christmas?’

It was difficult to forget a woman like Calantha. She was a tall streak of elegant blonde perfection who’d managed to see off any competition that evening by dint of clinging like a limpet. A typical Hugh appendage. ‘I think so,’ she said blandly, walking over to the piano. ‘Jewellery designer, isn’t she?’

His brown eyes crinkled. ‘She likes to think so. In reality other people do the work and she puts her name to it.’

‘What does she say about all this Sonya business?’ she asked, drawing her finger along the dust on the piano lid.

‘You can ask her yourself unless she’s ringing to say she can’t make it. She’s supposed to be coming down.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ Amy said, looking up.

‘She was supposed to be in Brussels, but on balance Callie decided she couldn’t miss Henley Royal Regatta. A great opportunity to see and be seen. Her business depends on it,’ he said, mimicking her flat vowel sounds. ‘All that champagne and old money about the place. Not to mention the risk that Hugh might meet someone else.’

Amy smiled. ‘You don’t like her, do you?’

‘Not my type. I don’t know what she thinks about Sonya, though. Hugh’s never said. You’ll have to ask him.’

‘About what?’ Hugh said, opening the sitting-room door.

‘Callie’s opinion of Sonya,’ Seb said, lifting his feet off the table to let him pass. ‘How did she know you were here?’

‘She’s just arrived at my mother’s,’ he said, sitting back down on the sofa. ‘I’ll finish my tea and head back. I need to pick up my blazer and tie and I think Jasper and Ben are meeting us there as well. I don’t know what time they planned on getting here.’

‘What does she say about Sonya?’

There was a small beat before he answered. ‘Callie doesn’t know about Richard’s health problems or really understand my relationship with him. Her perspective on it is therefore…different,’ he said carefully.

‘Meaning?’

Hugh’s glance flicked across at Seb before he continued blandly, ‘Meaning she thinks I should tell Richard what’s going on. If the marriage is doomed there’s no point prolonging it.’ He picked up his mug and drained the last of the tea.

‘Oh,’ Amy said inanely into the silence. There was no compassion in that. No empathy. Richard had been foolish, but he didn’t deserve to be so publicly humiliated by the people he loved. If—or rather when—the split came it would be so much better for it to have nothing to do with Hugh. ‘Will Sonya and Richard drive over for the regatta?’

‘Richard’s not well enough this year. His angina has caused him a lot of discomfort recently—for all he doesn’t want to admit it.’

‘Are you going to do it, imp?’ Seb asked, smiling at his sister’s expression.

She chewed at her bottom lip. Her brother knew her too well. ‘In theory…I suppose I could. But just for two weeks…and I’m going to charge you a ludicrous amount of money.’

‘Excellent,’ Seb said buoyantly. ‘I knew you’d do it.’

‘In theory. It’s not as simple as you two make it sound. I don’t think my overdraft is going to stretch to a bed and breakfast anywhere.’

‘Who said anything about that? You can stay at my place,’ Hugh said decisively as he stood up.

‘I can’t stay with you!’

‘Of course you can. I’ve got plenty of room.’

Which rather missed the point she was trying to make. ‘And Calantha? What will she think about that?’

Hugh frowned. ‘Why should she think anything? It’s the obvious thing to do. We can settle the final details later.’ He turned to Seb. ‘I do need to head back. Are you walking over to the house later?’

‘Give us an hour. There’s no desperate hurry. I drove the picnic over to the cricket pitch before any decent human being should be awake so we’ve bagged our spot.’

Amy let the conversation carry on without her as she slipped out of the door and up the narrow cottage stairs to her bedroom at the back of the house. Unobserved and unremarked upon, she thought, flopping on the black antique bed covered with the patchwork quilt her mum had finished the summer before she’d died.

Twenty-three today and unemployed—as Hugh had said. It was actually a bit depressing. Except not unemployed any longer. Somehow she’d agreed to become Hugh’s PA and anything more degrading she could scarcely imagine. If he imagined for one moment she was going to make his tea and field telephone calls from would-be girlfriends, he was going to be disappointed.

But protect him from Sonya? Yes, she would do that.

She looked up at the crack in the low ceiling. And she’d have to stay in his home. There was no choice. The sofa bed in Seb’s flat wasn’t very appealing and her bank balance wouldn’t stretch to the cost of commuting.

It would be nice to think Calantha wouldn’t like it. It wasn’t at all flattering for Hugh to be so completely unaware of her as a woman. She obviously hadn’t registered on his antennae as anything other than ‘little Amy, Seb’s kid sister’. Which shouldn’t bother her at all—but did. Obviously.

Jumping off the bed, she lifted the latch on the cupboard door where she kept her clothes and looked despairingly at the meagre contents. The cheque her father had sent for her birthday might have been used to buy something with ‘wow’ factor for the regatta, but it had arrived this morning and there hadn’t been time.

The dress code was so specific: no trousers, no skirts with a split, not even the kind that wrapped around. The tiniest hint of a thigh had been known to cause apoplexy in the Stewards’ Enclosure and would certainly result in being refused entrance. But then what did you expect when the rules had been created in the nineteenth century? All of which left her with no choice. The only dress she possessed that fell below the regulation knee length was a recent charity-shop buy in beige. It was pleasant, it was boring and it was as unremarkable as she was.

And who was she kidding? Hugh just had to sit there in his immaculately cut trousers and fix his deep blue eyes on her and she forgot he was shallow and arrogant with an appalling attitude to women.

Immune to Hugh? Of course she wasn’t! Never had been.

She should be immune to him, should be completely inured to his sexy eyes and throaty laugh—but she wasn’t. But at least she could make a fantastic job of making sure he didn’t suspect it.

Amy threw the dress on the bed and swiped at the fly buzzing about the room before watching it bash itself against the small glass window-pane. That just about covered how she felt about herself. Damn.




CHAPTER TWO


CALANTHA RAINFORD-SMYTHE was everything she remembered.

Amy stood next to her, completely dwarfed and feeling more sparrow-like than even she’d anticipated. There was some small consolation in watching the difficulty Calantha was having in preventing her spiky stiletto heels sinking into the soft grass of the Champagne Lawn. It made her grateful for her own flat pumps.

But there was no consolation to be found in the matter of Calantha’s soft coral dress. It fell to the regulation below-knee length but the back looped so low you knew she couldn’t be wearing a bra and the silk fabric skimmed her bottom so closely it suggested she couldn’t be wearing knickers either.

Amy sipped at her chilled fizzy alcohol and watched Calantha’s possessive hand, beautifully manicured, move to rest gently on Hugh’s cream blazer. She’d seen Hugh with beautiful women so many times over the years, but there was something about this one that really set her teeth on edge. She was so self-assured. So perfect. So…unlike her, she thought with a wave of inadequacy.

‘Hugh and I went to the Maldives this February. We had a simply marvellous time, didn’t we, darling?’ she said with a turn of the head that set her earrings swinging, drawing attention to a long and impossibly graceful neck. ‘We stayed at Kanuhura, which is only about forty minutes by seaplane from Male.’

It was obvious what Hugh saw in her. She was stunning to look at. She probably looked great in a bikini on a beach in the Maldives, but Calantha was still a condescending snob with a sweet, sickly voice that personally made Amy feel nauseous.

‘We stayed in a water villa. Totally fabulous. They’re built on stilts with steps that lead directly into the water,’ she continued, with an expressive wave of her manicured hand.

Amy looked away. Standing around eavesdropping on Calantha’s conversation wasn’t her idea of a great way to spend a birthday. Her eyes scanned the sky and watched ominous grey clouds blow across. They’d be lucky if the rain held off. She pulled her cardigan closer round her shoulders and wondered how Calantha could stand there looking elegant in practically nothing. The wretched woman didn’t even seem to have a goose-pimple anywhere.

Looking back at her, she caught Hugh’s eyes watching her. They twinkled engagingly as though it were a shared moment of amusement. Her mouth instinctively twitched as she felt his boredom radiate across the gap between them.

She allowed herself a small smile and gave half an ear to Calantha’s eulogising about other perfect holiday destinations. Ben appeared to be enthralled and Jasper’s girlfriend was gamely trying to outdo the blonde beauty in gushiness.

Seb touched her gently on the arm. ‘When you’ve finished your drink, shall we go back to the car and set up the picnic? Ben wants to be back here by two to watch some friends row.’

‘Do you need some help with that?’ Hugh asked, cutting across Calantha.

‘If you like,’ Seb agreed. ‘Amy’s not much use lifting out the hamper.’ He took her empty glass out of her hand and passed it to Ben. ‘Find somewhere to leave this. Give us half an hour and follow on. Same pitch as last year.’

Amy allowed herself to be propelled by a firm hand in the small of her back. Anything would be preferable to standing around listening to a boring conversation about places she couldn’t afford to visit and people she’d never met.

Last year she’d quite enjoyed Henley Royal Regatta—but then last year Hugh hadn’t been able to leave London. He’d been busy with a party of friends over from the States and had rung Seb to cancel. She’d quite enjoyed a day people-watching: handsome, athletic men wandering around and foolish ones drinking far too much. Ben, by virtue of now living in the quintessential English town of Henley, had become an associate member of the world-famous Leander Club and had taken them to tea. It had been pleasant.

This year, Hugh held court. When he was home everything always revolved around him and it irritated her. Even as she agreed to fall in with whatever he suggested it bothered her he should lead everyone so effortlessly. As soon as he said he was going to set up the picnic she could see the sparkle leave his girlfriend’s conversation.

‘Are you sure Calantha can spare you?’ she asked pointedly as Hugh joined them.

His eyes gleamed with amusement, evidently aware of the waspish edge to her voice. ‘I’m sure she’ll manage,’ he responded blandly.

‘Did you ask if she wanted to be left with people she scarcely knows?’

‘Do you think I should go back and ask her?’

Amy pulled her cardigan further onto her shoulders. ‘Do what you like. It’s none of my business.’ She looked back towards the group, now rudderless. Calantha’s long blonde hair blew in the breeze and the silk fabric outlined the shape of her legs. Into the silence she couldn’t stop herself asking, ‘How come she doesn’t freeze in that dress? It’s hardly a balmy summer day, is it?’

‘It’s cold, but women do that kind of thing.’

‘But not our Amy,’ Seb cut in, putting his arm around his sister.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve dressed for comfort.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she asked, shaking off his patronising arm.

‘Nothing.’

‘Just that I’m not dressed like Calantha.’

Seb looked surprised. ‘Well, you’re not, are you? I’ve never seen you wear anything like Callie chooses.’

Amy glanced down at her offending simple tunic dress with its demure circular neckline. If it had been made for a petite frame it would have been more flattering, but she was acutely aware how out of proportion it was on her. Certainly it would never be described as glamorous. She felt the sting of female pride behind her brown eyes and lifted her chin defiantly.

How dared Seb do this to her?

Unthinkingly cruel. She looked like what she was—someone who’d been eking out her existence on a student loan. What did Seb expect her to wear? He knew she’d had no financial help from their father at all with her degree. Being so much younger than him, she’d felt the full force of their father’s bankruptcy whereas he’d been cosseted through his degree and launched on the London job market.

‘Shut up, Seb. She looks fine.’

Hugh’s intervention just made her feel worse. She supposed he meant it kindly, but ‘fine’ was scarcely the way she wanted to be thought of. She knew her tunic dress did nothing for her figure. It flattened her breasts to practically nothing and made her legs look too thin.

‘She doesn’t look fine,’ Seb said with a searching look at her. ‘You know, Hugh, it’s not going to work. This thing about Amy going up to London with you. It’s a great idea, but it’s not going to work unless we do something about her clothes. If you think this dress is bad, you should see the other things she wears.’

Both men turned to look at her as they walked and their scrutiny wasn’t flattering. If the floor could have opened up and swallowed her she’d gladly have disappeared. Her embarrassment, humiliation and total mortification were paralysing. It was all the worse for being true. Seb’s words continued to whirl about her with a hateful accuracy.

‘She can’t go into an office dressed like that. I’ve never seen any woman walk around Harpur-Laithwaite dressed like that. And while we’re at it she’d better do something about her hair. She looks about sixteen.’

‘She does look young,’ Hugh agreed, looking thoughtful.

‘You needn’t talk about me as though I’m not here.’

‘If she’s going to be any kind of a match for Sonya, she ought, at least, to look the part,’ Seb continued relentlessly. ‘Chief Executive’s wife and all. She’ll walk straight past her.’

The pain in her chest was becoming uncomfortable as she tried to keep up. She wasn’t part of their conversation, but since she was the subject of it she felt they should show more consideration of her. ‘Can you walk a little slower?’

‘Sorry,’ Hugh said, immediately slackening his pace. ‘We were just saying it’s a pity you don’t look older.’

Amy forced a smile to her face, but the hurt radiated from her. ‘Can’t do much about that.’ She turned to look at Seb. ‘You know perfectly well I don’t have any money. What I do have is plenty of debts.’

He had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself. ‘There’s no need to get defensive, Amy. I’m only saying it like it is.’

‘Are you?’ she said dangerously.

Seb huffed. ‘Well, it’s true. You will need to power-dress for Harpur-Laithwaite. Hugh will have to buy you something to wear.’

‘How kind of him. Do I get to choose my clothes myself or will they just arrive?’

Hugh’s soft laugh only made her feel more irritated. This was personal. This hurt.

Seb laughed back at him and placed a heavy arm around her shoulders. ‘Stop acting like a ruffled pigeon. It isn’t like you to get moody.’

She shook him off. ‘Only if I have extreme provocation. It might have something to do with the fact it’s my birthday today and, please—’ she held up a hand to stop him speaking ‘—don’t even begin to tell me you forgot because I’ve already worked that out for myself.’

His expression was comical and the look of total horror on his face went some way to assuaging the cold, resentful feeling she’d had since breakfast. She heard the small, muttered expletive and saw the look of entreaty he cast at Hugh.

‘Look, Amy, I’m sorry,’ Seb began with a nervous laugh. ‘I’ve got a hell of a memory.’

‘Fine. But I think the least you can do is not annihilate me completely. I’m perfectly aware I’ve nothing to wear. Believe me, it’s very boring dragging on the same pair of jeans each day and feeling grateful for the odd charityshop find.’ There was silence and Amy felt vaguely pleased at herself. ‘Now, let’s just set up this picnic and let the subject drop.’

She was aware of the closet glances passing between the two men, but she decided to ignore them. If they felt uncomfortable—good. She demanded very little of her brother, but his reminding her how unsuitably dressed she was for Henley’s stylish regatta was a cut too much.

It wasn’t as though she’d particularly wanted to go this year. It had been a casual assumption she’d join them and truthfully the alternative was worse. No one wanted to spend a birthday alone. She felt the hot prick of emotion behind her eyes and brushed away such foolish weakness with her hand.

Hell. This was embarrassing. In front of Hugh. She never cried. Certainly not over a lack of dresses or money. Just today she felt unbelievably lonely. One small, insignificant little boat cast adrift on a very big sea.

Hugh quietly passed her his handkerchief. She glanced up at him, surprised. His expression was soft and, for once, he wasn’t smiling. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘It’s not that. Not exactly. I’m just…well, I don’t know. Missing Mum, I suppose.’ It was true. Her birthday, her mum and Henley Regatta were all firmly entwined in her memory. When first Luke and then Seb had rowed here their mum had loved coming to watch them. Been so proud. Amy sniffed into the hanky. On certain days, on her birthday, the pain of being without her was still very raw.

Hugh didn’t say anything. Instead he put his arm around her tense shoulders and pulled her into his hard, lean body. She could smell his distinctive aftershave and feel his comforting warmth. Just being held by him made her feel better. Not small or insignificant any more. Nonsense, of course. He was just being kind.

‘Did anyone remember your birthday?’ Hugh asked softly as she relaxed into him.

She blew her nose in a small, defiant gesture. ‘Of course. I’m not completely unpopular.’ She could feel his fingers inadvertently touching her hair. He didn’t know, didn’t have any idea of how being with him was making her feel.

‘I wasn’t suggesting—’

She rushed on. ‘Some of my friends from uni sent me cards. So did your mother, actually. She always sends a card because it’s the same day as your aunt Mary’s in Brighton.’

She could feel the sympathy emanating from him and she didn’t want that. It was galling to have him feel sorry for her. She lifted her chin a little higher. ‘And Dad and Lynda sent me a cheque for my birthday.’

‘Enough to clear your debts?’

Amy let her laughter bubble up. ‘Hardly. Enough to buy a few centimetres of the silk in your girlfriend’s dress. Richard bought me these,’ she said, pushing back her hair to show the twisted gold knots in her ears. ‘They match the necklace he gave me at Christmas.’

‘They’re beautiful.’ And then, ‘I’m sorry about your birthday. We both are, aren’t we, Seb?’

She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does. I can’t believe I didn’t remember,’ Seb said with real bemusement.

It was funny to watch him. Suddenly it didn’t seem to matter so much. With a half-laugh, half-sniff, she finally tucked Hugh’s handkerchief into her cardigan pocket. ‘I’d better wash this before I give it back to you.’ She put her hand out to catch Seb’s. ‘You never do remember. Not since Mum died and there’s been no one to remind you. Come on, let’s get this picnic sorted.’

Picnic was scarcely the word to describe what she’d put together. By the time they’d assembled everything onto tables covered with starched linen tablecloths it looked more like something from a film about an Edwardian shooting party than anything twenty-first century.

‘I can’t believe I got you to do this on your birthday,’ Seb remarked as he carried a large Brie to the table. ‘Damn! I forgot the keys.’

‘What?’ she asked, taking it from him.

He didn’t answer her, turning back to Hugh. ‘The folding chairs are in the back of Jasper’s Bristol. I’ll have to walk back and get his keys. Stay and help Amy with the drinks.’

Amy calmly made more space on the table for the cheese. ‘There’s a crate of wine on the passenger seat,’ she said, indicating back to Seb’s MG, ‘and that’s it, really. We’re done. Do you want to walk back and find Calantha?’

‘I’ll stay and talk to you,’ Hugh said, carrying the crate out of the low-slung car and putting it down beneath the shade of the tree. ‘They won’t be long.’

‘No.’

‘Do you want a glass of wine now?’

‘Why not?’ she agreed, looking about her for somewhere to sit. There wasn’t anywhere obvious. The ground was still very damp from the morning rain. She rummaged about in the boot to pull out the plastic sheeting Seb used to protect it. ‘We’ll have to sit on this until Seb gets back with the keys.’

Hugh picked up the corkscrew and carelessly lifted a bottle of white wine from the crate. His movements were so smooth and unconscious it looked as if he opened a bottle every day of his life. He probably did, Amy thought, spreading the sheet out. Not for him would there be little bits of cork floating in the wine.

She sat down with her back against the broad trunk of the horse-chestnut tree and shut her eyes against the image of Hugh.

‘You look tired,’ he remarked as he handed her a glass.

‘I am.’ Her fingers tingled at the slight contact of his.

Surely she’d outgrown this? She was so foolish to allow herself to be affected by Hugh Balfour. He had a girlfriend who could have been lifted from the pages of a magazine about to join them any minute. And that wasn’t unusual. He always had some impossibly beautiful woman in his life. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Men like Hugh Balfour went for long slithers of women who looked great in clothes and made other men envy them. Witness Calantha. They did not, she reminded herself forcefully, go for height-challenged women whom they’d known since before adolescence.

And that was just as well. She couldn’t cope with Hugh. She wasn’t resilient enough. ‘Seb and I loaded up the car this morning at about five. I’m not used to those hours any more.’

‘Were you ever?’ he asked, sitting down beside her, his legs stretched out in front of him, his fingers curling casually around the stem of his glass.

‘Just before Mum died she had problems sleeping. I got used to waking up when she did.’ She sipped her wine, trying to ignore the way her stomach nervously twisted itself in knots just because he was there. ‘It didn’t seem to affect me then—how much sleep I had or didn’t have—but I’m shattered today.’

‘It’s motivation,’ he said, leaning his head back on the trunk. ‘She was lucky to have you.’

Amy looked down self-consciously. ‘I was lucky to have her,’ she countered.

‘Why can you never take a compliment?’ Hugh asked, looking across at her curiously. ‘Not many people would put their lives so completely on hold.’

‘For their mum they would.’

‘Seb and Luke didn’t.’

‘No.’

He took a sip of wine. ‘Neither did your father.’

‘He’d gone to Spain by then. When the business went bankrupt he didn’t focus on anything much except that. And then he wouldn’t have been able to cope with seeing Mum like…well, like she was at the end, even if they’d been together.’

Hugh reached out to brush a wavering strand of hair away from her hot face. ‘And you could?’ She looked away, obviously uncomfortable. Her blush spread in a mottled effect across her neck. It was fascinating. Other women couldn’t cope with being ignored, but Amy was embarrassed by attention. ‘For once in your life you’d better hear the truth about yourself. You were amazing to put off going to university to care for her. At eighteen. It was too much responsibility for someone so young.’

‘I loved her,’ she said simply.

‘And that’s all that matters?’

‘Of course.’

She made it all sound so simple. She’d no idea how rare a quality she possessed. There’d never been a time when she hadn’t put other people before herself. No wonder his mother adored her. ‘Seb doesn’t have any idea just what he has in you,’ Hugh said with a smile before pulling himself to his feet. ‘Do you want some more wine? It’s your birthday, after all.’

She’d been about to refuse, but she allowed him to refill her glass. The power of his words coursing through her veins was far more intoxicating than mere alcohol. The trouble with Hugh was, just when you thought you’d finally understood how shallow he really was, he was nice.

It was as if some shining god had suddenly turned round and noticed a lesser mortal. You. It kind of took your breath away for a moment—but then you had to remember this was Hugh. And he was a god with feet of clay.

‘How come your father hasn’t helped you out if you’ve got into debt?’ he asked as he sat back down. ‘He seems to be doing fairly well again now.’

She shrugged. ‘He’s under new management.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

Her fingers picked at the grass. ‘When Dad remarried, Lynda gently suggested they ought to concentrate their financial resources on building up the new business. She convinced him I’d be able to get a good job when I graduated and could use the government loan in the meantime.’ His face remained blank and she managed a smile. ‘It’s not that bad. You don’t need to pay it back until you’re earning. Lots of students have them.’

‘But not many people who have a parent as wealthy as yours,’ he said dryly. ‘Does Seb know about this?’

‘Of course he does. There’s nothing he can do about it. Or Luke either,’ she said, thinking of her other brother.

‘You don’t seem angry about it.’

‘I’m past that. It won’t change anything, but Seb feels guilty.’

‘I imagine he might. He was bailed out several times,’ Hugh said, remembering two colourful incidents during their university career.

Amy smiled. ‘Dad hadn’t lost his money then. Seb knows it’s pointless talking to him, but he still minds he can’t help me himself. He’s ploughing everything he can back into his own new business.’

‘Yes, I know, but—’

‘So even if he offered I wouldn’t accept. It’s not his problem.’

‘What about Luke? He must be earning enough in medicine.’

Amy shook her head at the thought of her other brother helping financially. ‘He’s practically working for just board and lodging at the moment. He’s employed by a charity and based at a remote hospital in Africa.’

‘I didn’t know.’

She looked up at him. ‘Didn’t you? He flew out eighteen months ago.’

‘Not about Luke. About you. I’d no idea Lynda was like that.’

‘Don’t say it like that. She’s not a bad person. She’s just not used to the concept of family. She’s an only child herself, never been married before, never had any children of her own, and at forty-seven it all came as a bit of a shock to her. Besides, it’s not just her. Dad doesn’t like parting with money any more than she does. Not now. Not after the bankruptcy. He’s irritated we got Mum’s cottage.’ She smiled up at him. ‘It’s not your problem.’

‘It ought to be Seb’s. Can’t he speak to your dad?’

‘I’d rather he didn’t. Besides, Luke, Seb and I do own the cottage. It was always kept in Mum’s name so it didn’t go with everything else and she left it to us. When we sell it I can clear all my debts, but none of us want to put it on the market just yet.’

‘Why? Seb could do with an injection of cash and so could you.’

‘It’ll take time to sell and until I find myself a job I don’t have the money to rent a flat.’

‘Ah.’

‘It’ll work out. Hopefully I’ll find something while I’m staying with you. I hope I won’t let you down,’ she said, deliberately changing the subject. ‘I’ve only done the odd temp job, you know?’

‘Keep me out of Sonya’s clutches and I won’t complain.’

‘Even if I wipe a vital document off your computer system?’

He smiled, wicked laughter in the depths of his blue eyes. She felt her stomach twist over at the blatant sexiness of it. Irresistible. He was irresistible—almost.

She just had to keep reminding herself of his track record with women. One at a time, one after another. A serial monogamist who never risked allowing anyone close enough to touch the core of him.

‘Then I’ll kill you,’ he whispered softly, and she smiled as he’d intended she should.

‘I’m scared. Tell me about Harpur-Laithwaite. Is it all carpet pile and pot plants? What kind of things do the women wear?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Don’t believe you haven’t noticed, Hugh,’ Amy teased, and chuckled at the look he threw her. ‘You’re going to have to be a bit more helpful than that. Is it a jeans-and-casual-top sort of place or smart suits?’

She knew Harpur-Laithwaite was an investment bank and that Hugh advised traders on what to trade on, but it was scarcely a lot to go on.

He rested his head back on the tree trunk. ‘Somewhere in between smart and casual. Barbara, my PA, wears a jacket, but you don’t have to.’

‘Good. I don’t have one.’

‘Not at the moment, maybe, but we’re going to have to do something about your clothes. Seb’s right about that.’

‘You can’t buy my clothes.’

‘Of course I can. If I’m asking you to play the part of my PA, it’s my responsibility to kit you out appropriately. Just try and buy something that reflects my importance and social standing.’ He glinted.

‘I can’t—’

‘You don’t have a choice since you’re cash-poor. If you feel an attack of scruples just remind yourself you’re doing me a favour and I’m grateful.’

She looked at him with wide eyes, knowing she ought to refuse, but the temptation was just too great. ‘How much…how much do you want me to spend?’

He scarcely gave it a thought before stating a figure that made her head swim. She hadn’t had anything to spend on clothes for the past seven years and suddenly it felt as if she’d entered fairy-tale land. ‘Buy what you need.’

‘I won’t need all that.’

‘Then buy something for fun.’

‘What are you trying to do? I feel like you’re playing Fairy Godmother to my Cinderella.’ She laughed in an attempt to cover her embarrassment.

He leant over and kissed her cheek. ‘Godfather. Take it as a birthday present. Just make sure you take care in picking Prince Charming.’

As if there were any difficulty about it at this moment—given the choice. ‘Promise,’ she whispered, feeling the imprint of his lips where they’d touched her cheek.

With a feeling of unreality she watched as the others began to walk towards them. The short birthday idyll was over and she was back to the tedium of reality. She fixed a bright smile to her face as Jasper came towards her. ‘Seb’s just told us,’ he said, pulling her to her feet. ‘Happy birthday.’

But when he kissed her cheek it didn’t work the same magic.




CHAPTER THREE


AMY was quietly pleased. Two wolf whistles and one improper suggestion and she’d only been in London for a couple of hours. But then that was London’s tube network for you. That, plus a great haircut and some new clothes. This kind of feeling could become addictive. It didn’t matter that the weather was humid and the heat was bouncing back off the city pavements.

She crossed the road and peered at the piece of paper in her hand. This was it. Hugh’s house. She was no expert but the façade looked to be Georgian with a grand, symmetrical arrangement of windows. It was gorgeous. Hugh could have looked like the back end of a bus and you’d be tempted for a place like this.

Fitting the key in the lock, she felt a vague sense of surprise when the door opened. This really was going to be her home for the next couple of weeks. The inner sanctum of the spider’s lair. Amazing. ‘Hugh? Hugh, are you here?’ she called tentatively into the echoey silence of a cavernous hall.

There was no answer. Amy pulled her bag into the hallway and closed the door behind her. ‘Hugh?’

Still silence, except for the sound of her heels on the hardwood floor. Gingerly she pushed open the door immediately to her left and took in the muted colours and antique furniture. She let out a low whistle. Classy. It put his mother’s words into a whole new perspective.

‘I do hope he’ll look after you properly, Amy,’ she’d said the previous afternoon over a cup of tea and some home-made cupcakes. ‘He lives in a strange old place right near a busy road and he’s scarcely got a stick of furniture. Nothing to make it homely.’

Amy smiled gently to herself. Hugh’s mother would hate this restrained elegance, with every piece of furniture chosen to make an impact. Not a floral Austrian blind in sight. It was simply a million miles away from his mother’s taste for frilly, soft furnishings and accumulation of clutter. She quietly shut the door behind her.

He’d told her she’d find her room ‘up the stairs and the first door on the left’. Picking up her bag, she followed his instructions and found a note stuck on the door. ‘Hi. I’ve put some towels on the bed. Help yourself to the wine in the fridge,’ she read, smiling as she pulled the note off the creamy-white woodwork. Trust Hugh to think of wine when any sensible woman would be dying for a cup of tea.

Her room was light and fresh with a feel of Pride and Prejudice about it and, as he’d said, fresh towels were temptingly piled on the bed. It was just fantastic. Nothing like she’d imagined. She thought he’d have gone for a modernistic bachelor pad but this was totally ‘Hugh’ too. The antique furniture gleamed and smelt of beeswax. Compared with the house she had shared while at university, this was pure fantasy land. In fact everything about the whole situation was like something lifted out of a novel.

Amy shook her hair in the mirror, still fascinated by the way it framed her face and made her eyes suddenly appear enormous. Maybe the scissor-wielding genius was right and her eyes were her best feature. At any rate he’d squeezed her in on a Saturday morning and had done all he’d promised and more.

What would Hugh make of her new image? It would be nice to think he’d take one look at her and be staggered by her transformation. Perhaps he’d even fall at her feet and swear undying love on account of her beauty.

Of course, if he did that would make him very shallow. She plonked down her bag and grabbed one of the white towels before heading towards the en suite. But then he was shallow, wasn’t he? Even so, it wasn’t likely she was going to suddenly become the object of his desire. Which was good, she reminded herself.

Anyway, Hugh didn’t swear undying love. It wasn’t in his make-up. The best he’d ever offer would be an affair for as long as it felt good. Getting involved with Hugh would be like hitting a self-destruct button. And she wasn’t that stupid.

But she was in London. She did have new clothes. Life was going to get better, she thought buoyantly, before needing to concentrate on how Hugh’s up-to-the-minute design-statement shower head actually worked.

Later, fantastically cool with wet hair bundled up turban style in a towel, she padded back to the bedroom to answer the persistent bleep of her mobile. ‘Hello.’

‘Amy?’

‘Yep.’ She sat down on the edge of the bed feeling strangely breathless, as if she’d been caught somewhere she’d no right to be. It was so strange being in Hugh’s house. Touching his things.

‘You sound guilty. What are you up to?’ Hugh’s warm voice teased. ‘Are you on your way?’

‘No, I’m here.’ She heard her voice quaver and bit her lip. ‘Just had a shower to cool off and am dripping on your rug.’

‘You managed the tube okay?’

Amy curled up more comfortably on the bed. ‘I’m not a complete country bumpkin. I did experience momentary panic when the ticket thing ate my card, but it spat it out straight after. On the whole I managed fine.’

‘Have you found everything you need?’ he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

‘Yep. I love your house. It’s gorgeous.’

He laughed. ‘Make yourself at home. I should be back in about twenty minutes. Maybe less.’

‘Twenty minutes?’ She looked down at her towel-wrapped body.

‘Put the kettle on,’ he said just before the soft click ended the connection.

Twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes was no time at all. Impossible to even attempt putting back together the transformed image she’d arrived with. The lady in the shop had been very encouraging, but she doubted the aubergine eyeliner was as easy to apply as she’d made it sound.

With a sense of urgency she pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt. There was no time to find a hair-dryer so she made do with twisting her hair out of the way and holding it in place with a plastic clip. It was scarcely the fairy-tale transformation she’d played out in her imagination, but maybe this was better. Just play it cool.

Bare-footed, she ventured downstairs in plenty of time to be waiting to meet him as he opened the front door.

‘Did you have a good day at the office, darling? You really shouldn’t be working on a Sunday you know.’

Hugh’s face crinkled with amusement. ‘It was important. Hell, it’s hot out there,’ he said, loosening his tie. ‘What time did you arrive?’

‘About three,’ she said, offering a cheek for him to kiss. Dressed in a sharp city suit, he looked like a stranger, but the scent of his aftershave was reassuringly Hugh. ‘It was easy to find. I walked around with my A-Z like a tourist and managed beautifully.’

He laughed. ‘Have you had time for a drink?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Come on,’ he said, leading her down the corridor, pausing only to throw his jacket over the banister rail, ‘I need something now. My throat’s parched.’

The kitchen was square with a slate floor and pale maple units. ‘I love the granite,’ she said, running her finger along the cold worktop. ‘Very nice.’

Hugh looked in the fridge. ‘What do you want? Fresh orange? Tea? Coffee?’ he asked, turning to look at her. She had her hands pushed down into her jeans’ back pockets and the pale pink T-shirt pulled tight across a bra-less chest, nipples clearly showing through the fabric. Unbelievably he felt a sudden urge to rub his thumb across each protruding nub. Wondered what it would feel like to let his hand wander up beneath her top and feel the soft, shower-cooled skin beneath.

‘Orange, I think.’

‘Right,’ he said, turning back to the fridge. Stunned. This was Amy. What was he thinking of?

He poured the orange into a glass and handed it across, but he hadn’t been mistaken. Beneath the baggy, shapeless clothes he’d always seen her in was something infinitely more interesting. His eyes helplessly returned to those nipples. He felt like some adolescent schoolboy suddenly caught looking at something he had no right to. ‘Do you want to find some shade in the garden?’

‘Whatever.’

He poured himself a glass of orange and turned to open the doors into the garden. ‘There’s some shade at the end.’

Amy peered curiously out. It was a small town garden but had obviously been designed in such a way as to give distinct areas. In the far corner there was a seat beneath a pergola dripping with clematis. ‘Are you coming?’ she asked, looking back at him.

‘Lead the way.’

Inevitably his eyes followed the way her hips swung, followed the firm, rounded curve of her buttocks. Something about the heat must be getting to him. Amy was almost an honorary kid sister. It felt like a betrayal to be thinking about her in this way—particularly when she was only here to do him a favour. He sat down on the wooden seat and shifted uncomfortably. ‘Have you bought yourself any clothes yet?’

‘Can’t you tell? This T-shirt is new.’

The pride in her voice only made him feel worse. ‘It’s great.’ It was more than great. It was a simple T-shirt and it was single-handedly changing all his preconceptions about her.

‘I may have overspent, Hugh,’ she said, sipping her orange. ‘I was doing fine until I caught sight of a suede suit I had to have. If it’s too much I’ll pay you for it once I’m paid, but don’t make me take it back.’

He laughed and forced his equilibrium to settle. ‘I don’t think that’s likely. A few outfits aren’t going to ruin me and I’m too grateful you’re here to complain.’

‘How grateful?’ she asked over the rim of her tumbler. ‘There were some shoes…’

‘Witch! I never had you down as a clothes woman.’

‘Never had the opportunity.’

‘I still don’t get that,’ he said, forcing his mind back to something he could genuinely feel disgust about. ‘Surely your dad doesn’t keep you as short of money as all that? Not now.’

‘He doesn’t see it like that. He sees it as “making my own way”.’ He went to speak, but she forestalled him. ‘Leave it, Hugh. Let’s talk about something else.’ She drained the last of her orange. ‘I hope I don’t let you down. I’m a bit nervous about tomorrow.’

‘There’s no need to be.’

‘I know you, Hugh. You’ll go ballistic at the first mistake I make.’





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