Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | The Tycoon′s Trophy Mistress

The Tycoon's Trophy Mistress
Lee Wilkinson
Charlotte Michaels has a good reason for wanting revenge and, if she dares, there's one way she can get it–by acting up close and personal with her boss. But Charlotte doesn't realize that she's getting into something way over her head because he already has an agenda of his own….Daniel Wolfe is not a man to be messed with. He desires Charlotte–and wants to know what it is that she's hiding from him. So he decides that a little pillow talk is to be the order of business. Soon Charlotte finds herself being offered an unexpected career move that requires her to work late–as her boss's mistress!



“In the meantime, I thought you could stay at my place.”
“Stay at your place?” Charlotte echoed, knowing she should be pleased, but was momentarily horrified, and sounded it.
“Rather than book you into a hotel, I thought you could stay. Unless, of course, you have any serious objections to living under my roof for a short time?”
“W-well…no.”
“I thought the press might have managed to convince you that no woman is safe when I’m around.”
She didn't need convincing, Charlotte thought bitterly—she already knew that he was a ruthless womanizer.
LEE WILKINSON lives with her husband in a three-hundred-year-old stone cottage in a Derbyshire village in England, which most winters gets cut off by snow. They both enjoy traveling and recently, joining forces with their daughter and son-in-law, spent a year going ’round the world “on a shoestring,” while their son looked after Kelly, their much loved German shepherd. Her hobbies are reading and gardening, and holding impromptu barbecues for her long-suffering family and friends.

The Tycoon’s Trophy Mistress
Lee Wilkinson

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

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE
IN THE London headquarters of Wolfe International the man with the cool grey eyes paced the luxurious private office kept solely for his use, restless as a tiger in a cage.
What would he do if she didn’t show, if she’d changed her mind?
Above the muted but ever-present background roar of Piccadilly’s traffic he heard the high-pitched whine of the lift.
A moment later, pausing by the long narrow horizontal window between the two offices, he saw the door of the outer office open.
Screened by the cream vertical-slatted blind, he watched her walk into the empty outer office and stand by Telford’s large, imposing desk.
A natural redhead, he judged—long-legged, slender and graceful, with an oval face, a straight nose, high cheekbones, a determined chin and a mouth like a young Sophia Loren’s.
Her hair was taken up into a smooth coil which served to emphasize her pure bone-structure, and from his vantage point he could see that her eyes slanted up a little at the outer corners. Disappointingly, he couldn’t make out their colour.
She was so exactly like his dream of a perfect woman that she could have been built to his specification.
Though this woman was far from being a plastic, mass-produced, empty-headed doll type.
A special something—the alignment of her features maybe—made hers a fascinating face rather than merely beautiful. And, judging by the job she did and what he had already found out about her, she had brains and character.
Assets most of the others had lacked.
But until now, avoiding any risk of involvement or emotional blood-letting, he hadn’t been looking for brains or character, merely a beautiful companion to decorate his arm at public functions and a beautiful body to take to bed at night. In short, his physical needs satisfied while his emotions remained placid, undisturbed.
This time, however, his emotions were anything but placid and undisturbed. He had wanted her fiercely, passionately, since the first moment he had set eyes on her some three months previously.
Then he had caught sight of her briefly just as he was about to leave for the airport and, knocked for six, had asked his Managing Director who she was.
‘That’s Tim Hunt’s sister.’
The answer had shaken Daniel Wolfe badly and it was a moment before he said evenly, ‘I wasn’t aware he had a sister.’
‘So far as I know it isn’t common knowledge.’
‘Personnel had no other Hunt listed.’
‘Her name’s Charlotte Michaels,’ Telford told him as the two men took the lift down.
With a sudden stab of alarm Daniel demanded, ‘Is she married?’ He had always avoided married women like the plague.
‘No, she’s single.’
‘Then why the different surnames?’
‘I suppose, to be exact, I should have said she’s Tim Hunt’s stepsister.’
Daniel let his breath out slowly. ‘That would certainly have made things clearer.’ Then, thoughtfully, ‘Have you any idea if she was close to her stepbrother?’
‘I gather they were extremely close.’
‘She wasn’t at the funeral.’
‘Charlotte was away when it happened. Not having had a holiday the previous year she’d taken five weeks off and, by the time she heard the news and flew home, it was all over.’
‘How old is Miss Michaels?’ Daniel pursued as they left the lift and made their way across the sumptuous marble-floored lobby to the main entrance where a limousine was waiting.
‘I don’t remember precisely. Twenty-five or six.’
‘What exactly does she do?’
‘Charlotte works with our main research team, analyzing current market trends and helping to predict future ones.’
‘Been with the company long?’
‘She started at the beginning of last year. Some time in February, I believe.’
‘How about her private life? Any men friends? A live-in lover, for example?’
Telford’s bushy eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘I really don’t know.’ It was obvious that the middle-aged MD disapproved of such a personal question.
‘How does she get on with the men she works with?’
‘Very well. Though she can appear a little aloof, she’s always polite and friendly.’
‘No office romance of any kind?’ Daniel persisted.
‘Not that I’m aware of. In fact, it’s rumoured that since her engagement broke up earlier this year she’s tended to avoid men.’
‘I see. Is she good at her job?’
‘Excellent. I’d say she has one of the best brains in the team. But as well as being clever she’s genuinely nice and caring. She was extremely distressed by her stepbrother’s death.’
Telford held open one of the heavy smoked-glass doors for his boss and, as though by way of warning, added, ‘After reading the reports in the press, and hearing the office gossip, she became very upset and angry. She seemed to think that you were largely to blame for what had happened…’
Someone passed them, coming in, and the MD lowered his voice. ‘She handed in her notice but I didn’t want to lose her, so I told her to take some time off and think things over. I must admit I was both surprised and pleased when she chose to come back.’
Daniel’s grey eyes narrowed.
Most of his previous women had been easy, almost boringly so. Discovering what he was up against told him that this one would be anything but easy. In fact, it might prove to be one of the biggest challenges he had ever taken on.
But it was typical of the man that he never for an instant thought of giving up. He had always been a man who knew precisely how to get what he wanted, and he wanted this woman. Wanted her more than he had wanted anything for a very long time.
And he intended to have her.
He wondered briefly whether to postpone his flight, go back and speak to her now, introduce himself.
If he could bring everything out into the open he would be able to start his campaign immediately, as he was itching to do, rather than wait.
But a sure instinct warned that if he made his move too soon he could spoil everything. It would pay to be patient, to allow more time to elapse. That way heated emotions would have a better chance to cool.
So, reining in his impatience, he handed the waiting chauffeur his small amount of luggage, shook hands with Telford and reluctantly climbed into the limousine to be driven through the sunny September streets to the airport.
Back in New York he had hired Alan Sheering, a discreet London investigator—based, ironically enough, in Baker Street—to dig out everything he could about Charlotte Michaels and any possible boyfriend.
Sheering reported that, apart from her ex-fiancé, he could find no trace of any boyfriends past or present. He had also come up with a goodly amount of general information, including the fact that she had always enjoyed travelling and had expressed a wish to one day visit the States.
Using that as a starting point, Daniel had decided on a plan. A plan that would, if it worked, bring him a step nearer to his goal, by providing a change of scene and distancing both Charlotte Michaels and himself from what had happened in London.
Sounding brisk and businesslike, he had phoned Telford. ‘I’ve decided that, in order to provide firsthand experience of how things are done both in the States and the UK, there should be some exchange of personnel.’
‘What exactly do you have in mind?’ his MD had asked cautiously.
‘As a trial run, say, one of our London-based Research Team changes places with one from New York to study the possible differences in market trends.’
‘For how long?’
‘Six months. A year. We’ll see how it goes.’
‘Have you anyone particular in mind?’
‘From this end an up and coming youngster named Matthew Curtis is eager to give it a try.’
‘And from the London end?’
Bearing in mind that the move had to be voluntary, Daniel suggested as casually as possible, ‘Suppose you see who’s interested?’
If she didn’t take the bait he would have to think of something else.
‘I don’t know how well such a scheme will be received,’ Telford said slowly. ‘You see, the majority of our team are either married or have partners, and as most of them also have young families they’re hardly likely to welcome so much upheaval. Still, I can always circulate a memo and see what response we get.’
‘Do that.’ Daniel crossed his fingers and waited with what patience he could muster.

In the end, only two people put in for the temporary transfer—Paul Rowlands, the newest member of the team and, to both Telford’s and Daniel’s surprise, Charlotte Michaels.
Briefly, Daniel wondered what had made her apply. But, if Sheering was right, there was nothing to keep her in London and perhaps she felt she needed a change of scene, a chance to leave the past behind.
Delighted that things had worked out so well, he could hardly control his impatience. These last weeks had seemed endless, making him feel restless and dissatisfied. Eager as a boy.
‘Are you thinking of interviewing the candidates yourself?’ Telford had asked.
Wanting everything to seem routine and above board, Daniel had answered, ‘No, I’ll leave that to you. All the same, as it’s my baby and I’ve a personal interest in the outcome, I’d like to hold a watching brief, so when you decide on the day I’ll make a flying visit. But don’t advertise it,’ he added crisply, ‘and don’t send the car to the airport. I’d prefer to slip in unnoticed.’
If his MD wondered at these instructions he said nothing.
Now the big day had arrived, and things were going well so far. Telford had talked to Paul Rowlands that morning and been unimpressed, convinced that he was not yet ready to benefit from such a move.
Now, after lunch, it was Charlotte Michaels’ turn.
Waiting impatiently for her to arrive at Telford’s office, Daniel had half wondered if she really was as lovely as he’d first thought her. Suppose on second sight he was disappointed?
But when she finally appeared he sighed. She was even more beautiful than he remembered and, as if he had carried her picture in his mind, oddly familiar.
Though he still didn’t know what kind of voice she had, what her smile was like, or what pleased her most when she was being made love to.
But it would be fun finding out, he told himself with anticipation.
As he watched her through the blind he noticed that she waited quietly for Telford, without fidgeting or showing obvious signs of impatience.
Yet a certain tension in the slim shoulders told him she was nowhere near as calm as she had first appeared. That the outcome of this interview mattered to her.
She glanced down and, with the first hint of nervousness she had betrayed, brushed an invisible speck from the lapel of her charcoal-grey jacket.
Just watching her hand lightly brush the curve of her breast brought a sudden rush of desire that surprised him with its strength and urgency. It sent his blood surging through his veins, clawed at his insides and urged him to walk out and chance his arm at once, rather than have to endure another endless period of waiting.
But at this point, as she had readily walked into the trap he had set with such care, it would be idiotic to risk losing the game. Though when she had officially been offered the transfer it might be possible to hurry things along a bit.

While Charlotte waited for Mr Telford she made an effort to calm her nerves and concentrate on the coming interview. If only she could get this transfer to the States…
After fruitlessly racking her brains for a way forward the memo suggesting the exchange of personnel had come as a heaven-sent opportunity.
Of course she might be nowhere near Daniel Wolfe’s office. She might not even be based in the same building. But, as he lived in New York, she had more chance of meeting him there than she did on one of his infrequent visits to the UK.
She knew when he visited Wolfe International’s London headquarters by the stir his arrival inevitably caused amongst the rest of the staff, but she had never set eyes on him in person. All she had seen were pictures of him in glossy magazines or the society pages.
Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that curled a little, a bony nose and light, piercing eyes set deep beneath well-marked brows, he was undeniably handsome.
Though not in the film star sense.
His was a lean face, tough and attractive, with a cleft chin and a mouth that had affected her strangely, always managing to send little shivers down her spine.
In the more sensational sections of the press he was often referred to as a latter-day Lothario, and frequent stories appeared about him and his latest ‘conquest’, some of which verged on the scurrilous.
Until a matter of months ago, repelled by such blatant sexuality, her instinct had been to avoid him at all costs.
Now things had altered completely. Meeting him, getting close to him, had become her only aim in life. Her mission.
On his last visit, despite all her efforts, she hadn’t even managed to catch a glimpse of him. When she had finally thought of a reason to go up to the top floor executive suite it was to discover he had just that minute left for the airport.
Instead of making her give up her failure only served to stiffen her resolve.
During the following weeks, while trying to work out some practicable strategy to achieve her goal, she had kept an eye on the papers and learnt all she could about him.
A top-flight Anglo-American entrepreneur from a wealthy background, he was known in the business world for his ability and in the outside world for his philanthropy.
A man who was said to work hard and play hard, Daniel Wolfe was today’s hottest news, the centre of media attention on both sides of the Atlantic.
With an English mother and an American father, he had been educated at Columbia and Cambridge and, after graduating, had taken over the running of his godfather’s ailing software company.
When that was firmly on its feet he had diversified, buying up other rocky companies and doing the same for them.
Now, at barely thirty, he was a multi-millionaire. Admired. Envied. Feared. Respected. Occasionally reviled.
In spite of so much coverage, he managed to keep his private life private. So, though Charlotte was soon familiar with his public image, she was able to glean little about the man himself.
In a recent article in Top People he’d been described, more temperately, as an unrepentant bachelor. But a bachelor who liked women. Especially beautiful women.
When, after each London visit, pictures of him appeared in the newspapers, there was always a willowy blonde or a redhead clinging to his arm.
Cursed with the kind of looks that attracted the opposite sex like a magnet, Charlotte had often wished she were plain. It would have saved a great deal of hassle, and made life so much simpler.
Entranced by her face and figure, men had been pursuing her since she was fifteen. Their unwanted, unlooked-for attentions, their sheer persistence, had driven her to hide behind a cool, impenetrable façade that only Peter had ever managed to breach.
And then it had been for all the wrong reasons.
Poor Peter.
But if her despised beauty could seriously attract Daniel Wolfe it would be worth all the problems it had caused in the past.
She had never imagined herself using her looks to try to ensnare a man, but knowing she was the type of woman he went for was an unexpected bonus and helped to bolster her determination.
But if he invariably went in for the kind of casual relationships where no feelings were involved the whole thing might well be impossible.
To succeed in what she was hoping to do, not only had she got to make him want her, somehow she had to make him fall in love with her…
As the office door opened and Mr Telford came in she looked up, a mite flustered, her cheeks growing hot as though he could read her thoughts.
Crossing to his desk, the tall, grey-haired MD said, ‘Charlotte, my dear, do sit down. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I got held up at lunch.’
Taking a seat opposite, she strove to look cool and collected, as though the outcome of the interview didn’t matter all that much.
His light blue eyes kind, Telford asked, ‘So you’re still interested in the move to New York?’
‘Yes.’ She hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.
‘Quite sure? It might mean having more contact with Mr Wolfe.’ It was as far as he could go by way of warning.
‘Absolutely.’ She answered steadily.
It seemed that she had decided to put the past behind her. Relieved, he asked, ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me why?’
She had expected the question and rehearsed her reply. ‘Apart from the fact that a firsthand knowledge of American market trends could prove to be invaluable, it would be a good chance to compare the way different teams work. I understand the New York team are usually extremely accurate with their predictions. I thought I might learn something.’
‘A text-book answer,’ he remarked with a smile. ‘Though I rather suspected you had a more personal reason for wanting this move?’
She froze. It seemed he knew.
But he couldn’t possibly know.
‘How do you mean, a more personal reason?’
A twinkle in his eye, he said, ‘Didn’t you once tell me you’d like a chance to live in New York?’
‘Yes. Yes, I did… I’m just surprised you remembered.’ Then boldly, ‘Does having a personal reason disqualify me?’
‘Of course not. The mere fact that you want to live there is a big plus.’
Her sigh of relief was audible.
‘In my opinion you’re the candidate best suited to the move and, though I’m sure they’ll miss you on the team, I’ll put your name forward to Mr Wolfe.’
‘That’s marvellous.’ She smiled at him brilliantly.
Blinking, he thanked the Lord that he was a very happily married man. Though she had been working for Wolfe International for almost two years, her beauty never failed to move him.
‘If he’s in agreement, which I’m sure he will be, all your travelling expenses will, of course, be met and you’ll have the use of a company flat. Any idea how long it will take you to get organized for the transfer?’
‘I can be ready as soon as you wish.’
The sooner the better.
‘With Christmas less than two weeks away, I imagine some time around mid-January should be fine. Will leaving your present accommodation give you any problems? I mean from a practical point of view?’
‘No. I share a rented flat with an old school friend. Carla should have no trouble finding someone to take my place while I’m away.’
‘Excellent… Then, as soon as I’ve had a word with Mr Wolfe, I’ll let you know.’
‘Thank you.’ Her legs not quite steady, Charlotte made her way back to her own office—one of a row of small offices, little more than cubicles, that made up Research and Analysis—and sat down at her desk.
Her thoughts were chaotic, tumbling over each other like clowns in a circus ring. She had succeeded in taking the first step.
So long as Daniel Wolfe raised no objections…
But why should he? She and Tim had different surnames and, out of the country when it all happened, she hadn’t been involved in any way, so he would have no idea there was any connection.
Charlotte felt her whole body tense as once again the hatred and anger rose up inside, sharp and biting, bitter as gall on her tongue.
After leaving college, and the somewhat wild bunch he had run around with, Tim had seemed to lose a lot of the feckless ways that had so worried her.
Settled in his new job with Wolfe International—a job Charlotte’s recommendation had managed to get him—and confident about the future, he had fallen in love with Janice Jeffries, a pretty young blonde who had worked in the next office.
Janice, in her turn, had been fascinated by the young fair-haired giant with sparkling green eyes and a winning smile.
Discovering that the attraction was mutual, within a very short time they had arranged to move in together and had started to make plans to get married some time in September.
With Tim to support money had been very tight and Charlotte had taken no holidays since starting in her present job. She had five weeks due to her, so when Carla and she were offered a two-berth, last-minute cancellation on a ‘roughing it’ sailing trip around the Greek Islands she had gone off happily, not at all concerned about leaving the young couple.
While they were away it had happened, coming out of the blue swiftly, shockingly, and by the time the news had filtered through to them, and they had arrived back from Athens, it was too late.
Apparently trying to drown his sorrows, Tim had swallowed a lethal cocktail of drink and drugs.
He was dead and buried.
There was nothing anyone could do.
Though the verdict had been an unequivocal Accidental Death, the gutter press had somehow scented a story. Discovering that there had been a fight in one of the offices of Wolfe International between the dead man and Daniel Wolfe himself they were enjoying a field day.
Having managed to dig up the fact that Tim’s fiancée had been involved, they were suggesting a love-triangle and hinting at possible suicide.
Blaming herself, Charlotte had bitterly regretted going away. If she had been at home things might have been different.
No, would have been different. If what the newspapers were suggesting was true, she would have been there for Tim, as she had been every day for the past five years…
The office door opening made her jump. She glanced up, her expression bleak.
‘Don’t look so anxious.’ Mr Telford smiled at her. ‘I’ve spoken to Mr Wolfe and he’s quite willing to go along with my recommendation. There’s only one thing; he’d like you to travel over to the States as soon as possible so you can get settled in before Christmas.’
Charlotte bit her lip to hold back the sudden surge of excitement.
Misreading her reaction, Mr Telford suggested, ‘But perhaps that’s too soon? I’m sure Mr Wolfe will understand if you’d prefer to be at home with your loved ones over Christmas?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve no loved ones left to be at home with. That’s one of the reasons I applied for the move,’ she added quietly.
Recalling not only the break-up of her engagement but what had happened to her stepbrother, and upset by his own unthinking blunder Mr Telford looked distressed. ‘Please forgive me, my dear. I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking.’
‘That’s all right.’ Then, with a determined smile, ‘Christmas in New York should be wonderful.’
‘I hope it will be.’
‘You’re very kind,’ she said warmly.
He harrumphed before asking, ‘How do you stand as far as your work’s concerned? Can some other member of the team take over?’
‘That shouldn’t be necessary. I can finish my latest report this afternoon.’
‘So when do you think you can be ready to travel?’
Adrenalin pumping through her bloodstream, she told him, ‘All I have to do is pack, so I could be ready to leave by tomorrow… If it’s possible to get a flight at such short notice?’
‘Our company have a big stake in one of the transatlantic airlines so that shouldn’t prove to be a problem. I’ll ask Mr Wolfe’s secretary to make all the arrangements. She’ll give you any other necessary information and organize a car to take you to the airport, where a ticket will be waiting for you. Needless to say, the company will be happy to defray any other travelling expenses you may incur, and this month’s salary cheque will be paid into your bank as usual.’
‘Thank you.’
Well aware that she had had to cope with more than enough heartbreak, at the door Mr Telford turned and said, ‘You will take care, won’t you…?’
Though it was, strictly speaking, none of his business, he was uneasy about Daniel Wolfe’s barely concealed interest and his motive for what Telford was beginning to suspect had been a contrived move.
But, knowing how Charlotte felt about Wolfe, common sense told him that she was hardly likely to be in any danger.
Smiling, she answered, ‘Of course.’
‘And don’t forget to come back to us.’
For an instant her smile faltered. She had already faced the fact that it would be impossible for her to return to Wolfe International. That chapter in her life was over.
Whether or not she succeeded in her mission, it would be time to put the past behind her, if she could, and move on…
But she would succeed, she vowed. She had to succeed to make the rest of her life worth living.

The bus, its grimy windows filmed with a fine drizzle, crawled through the heavier-than-usual Thursday evening traffic like a wounded snail.
By the time Charlotte got off at Belton Street and let herself into the Bayswater flat, her first, almost sick, excitement had seeped away.
So had her confidence.
As naturally tidy as her flatmate was untidy, she hung up her coat and suit jacket before going through to the bright little kitchen.
Carla, who looked like a cat, had all the subtlety of a Rottweiler and was fond of quoting platitudes. She was standing by the stove.
Her short black hair standing up in spikes, her triangular face a little flushed, she was stirring a pan of herby-smelling sauce with one hand and feeding long sticks of pasta into furiously bubbling water with the other.
Looking up, she said, ‘I thought we’d have Spag Bol tonight, if that suits you?’ Then, without waiting for an answer, ‘What happened? Did you get it?’
‘Yes, I got it.’
‘Brill! So you’re on course at last. How long will you be away?’
‘I don’t know. It all depends on how things go. The memo said six months, possibly a year… But I’m hoping to be home much sooner than that. I suppose you’ll get someone else to share the rent?’
Carla who, with another friend, Macy, ran a small but very successful boutique, shook her head. ‘I doubt it. It’s not really necessary, and I don’t know how I’d get on living with someone else.
‘Any idea when you’ll be going?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow!’ She sounded staggered. ‘Why so soon?’
‘They want me to get settled in before Christmas. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Of course I don’t mind. To tell you the truth, Andrew has been pressuring me to go up to Scotland with him on the 23rd. His family live in Dundee.’
‘You didn’t mention it.’
‘I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to go.’
Realizing that Carla had been unwilling to leave her, Charlotte could only feel grateful for such a loyal friend.
Knowing from past experience that her flatmate was uncomfortable with any undue display of sentiment, she merely said, ‘But you’ll go now, I hope?’
‘I expect so. Though the shop’s bound to be busy, Macy has offered to hold the fort for a couple of days in exchange for extra time off at New Year.’
Fishing out a strand of spaghetti and pinching it between her finger and thumb, Carla went on briskly, ‘This is done, so I’ll start dishing up. You can fill me in on all the details while we eat, and afterwards I’ll help you with your packing.’
Then with satisfaction, ‘It’s a jolly good job I bullied you into buying all those new clothes in the autumn sale…
‘Tell you what—’ she continued, putting down two steaming bowls ‘—get some wineglasses out and we’ll have a bottle of plonk to celebrate. When you’ve got your claws into Daniel Wolfe and brought him to his knees, we’ll have champagne.’
‘I don’t think I can go through with it,’ Charlotte admitted in a rush.
‘Of course you can go through with it!’ Carla’s dark eyes flashed. ‘That kind of swine ought to get his comeuppance.’
‘But, even if I can attract his attention in the first place, I don’t think I’m a good enough actress to pretend to like a man I loathe and detest.’
‘Certainly you are. Didn’t you play the femme fatale opposite that revolting Keith what’s-his-name when the Sixth Form put on Someone Like You?’
‘This isn’t the same…’
‘You can do it!’
‘I’m not so sure… The thing is, as well as being an extremely wealthy man, Daniel Wolfe’s got loads of sex-appeal, so he’s—’
‘How do you know he’s got loads of sex-appeal?’
‘I’ve seen pictures of him in the papers.’
‘Newspaper pictures can give a false impression.’
‘He’s always got a woman clinging to his arm.’
‘That could be something to do with his money. You know what they say about millionaires—some women will love them if they’re bald and hideous and only four foot two.’
‘He must be at least six foot and he has plenty of hair. Added to that, he’s undeniably attractive.’
‘Close to, I bet you he’s wall-eyed and has halitosis,’ Carla said sourly.
Charlotte smiled fleetingly. ‘Just in case I do manage to get close to him, I rather hope not. But what I’m trying to say is, apart from being rich, he’s clever and intelligent. I don’t know if I can attract someone like that.’
Carla lifted her eyes to heaven as though praying for patience. ‘You’ve been attracting the opposite sex since you were at school, without even trying.’
‘But Daniel Wolfe is different. He lives in a different world and with no lack of women to choose from he may not fancy someone like me.’
‘He’ll be interested.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘He’s a man, isn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘And straight?’
‘Almost certainly.’
‘Then, mark my words, he’ll be a pushover.’

CHAPTER TWO
HER brain stuck on a mental treadmill, thinking, planning, analyzing, unable to rest, Charlotte lay awake for most of the night. She got up the next morning heavy-eyed and headachy, and pulled on her old woollen dressing-gown.
Outside it was grey and gloomy, with lingering patches of mist. Her father would have referred to it as ‘one of the dark days before Christmas’.
When she trailed through to the kitchen Carla, fully dressed and ready for her usual early start, was making toast and coffee.
‘You look like something the cat dragged in,’ she remarked bluntly.
‘I feel like it,’ Charlotte admitted.
‘No beauty sleep?’
‘Not much.’
‘You’ll have to do a lot better than that. If Daniel Wolfe could see you now, he’d run and hide.’
While they ate breakfast together she remarked thoughtfully, ‘I reckon your best bet would be to appeal to his protective instincts, supposing he’s got any. In my experience most macho men like the “wide-eyed and helpless” bit.’
‘I’m not sure I can do wide-eyed and helpless,’ Charlotte objected.
‘Try. It feeds their egos, believe me.’
‘I do believe you, but—’
‘How far do you intend to go? To hook him, I mean. You don’t plan to go to bed with him?’
A shiver running down her spine at the very thought, Charlotte said vehemently, ‘No I most certainly don’t!’
‘Not that you couldn’t use a spot of fun in your life…’
‘That kind of excitement I can do without.’
‘Well, if his reputation is anything to go by, he must be pretty good in bed and in your place I’d give it a whirl.’
‘With a man like that?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, life’s a bowl of cherries. You have to spit out the stones and enjoy the flesh.’
‘I don’t seem able to,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘I often wonder if there’s something wrong with me.’
‘The only thing wrong with you is your pride. And pride builds a lonely house. But a word of caution… If you do mean to keep saying no, just watch yourself. Don’t let the big bad Wolfe get you alone. From all accounts he’s a born seducer and you never know, if he’s used to getting his way, he may turn nasty…’
After issuing a spate of last-minute warnings and advice Carla gave her a quick hug. ‘I’d better go. Fridays are always busy and so close to Christmas it’s bound to be hectic.
‘Oh, by the way, I’ve left your Christmas present on the bookcase. I haven’t had time to wrap it, so you can use it as soon as you like.’
At the door she turned to say, ‘Keep in touch. I’ll miss you.’
When Charlotte went through to the living-room she found one of the boutique’s elegant black and gold bags on the bookcase.
It contained three pairs of pure silk stockings and a bottle of Dawn Flight, her favourite perfume.
Smiling fondly at the other girl’s absurd generosity, she went to fetch the Carillon Trilogy, which Carla had wanted.
Enquiries had proved it to be out of print, but after weeks of searching Charlotte had been lucky enough to find the set in a second-hand bookshop.
After she had showered, made-up with care and twisted her dark red-gold hair into a shining coil, she put on the sage-green suit and oatmeal blouse she had left ready and zipped up her case. Then, feeling tense and jumpy, she went to stand by the window of the basement flat.
She was looking up at the damp street when a sleek dark blue limousine with tinted windows stopped by the spiky wrought iron railings.
A moment later a uniformed chauffeur descended the steps and knocked at the yellow-painted door.
She hurried to open it.
Young and smart, he touched his peaked cap. ‘Morning, Miss Michaels.’
‘Good morning.’
‘May I take your luggage?’
‘Thank you.’
While he dealt with her case, Charlotte locked the door and put the key through the ornate letter-box, before following him up the area steps.
Having closed the boot he sprang to open the door of the limousine.
He couldn’t have been more on the ball if he’d been chauffeuring Daniel Wolfe himself, she thought, secretly amused by his super-efficiency.
Head down, she had started to climb in before she realized that a man with dark hair, wearing a charcoal-grey business suit and a muted shirt and tie was already sitting there.
Surprise making her miss her footing, she stumbled and ended up almost in his lap, her face only inches from his, the warmth of his breath on her lips.
Steadying her until she was properly seated, he picked up the shoulder-bag she had dropped and handed it to her. ‘I’m afraid I startled you.’ He had an attractive voice.
‘I just wasn’t expecting…’ As she realized who her fellow passenger was, the words tailed off.
No, it couldn’t be.
But it was.
Although she had only seen pictures of him, there was no mistaking that tough, charismatic face and the arrogant tilt of that dark head.
In the flesh he was even more sexy than his pictures had led her to believe, and Carla had been quite wrong. His breath was fresh and sweet and the eyes that looked straight into hers were amazing—a brilliant silvery grey, their heavy lids fringed with dense, sooty lashes.
Her heart started to race and her breathing became shallow and impeded, while a quiver of pure hatred ran through her.
She was staring into those handsome eyes as though mesmerized when he reminded her politely, ‘Don’t forget to fasten your seat-belt, Miss Michaels.’
But her brain seemed to have slowed to a standstill and was unable to direct her fingers. When she had made a couple of fumbling, unsuccessful attempts, he leaned over and fastened it for her.
As the car slid smoothly away from the kerb, he felt a boyish urge to punch the air in triumph. After all these months of waiting, here she was at last, sitting beside him.
Close up, she was stunning. Her skin was flawless, a creamy gold, rather than pallid, as some natural redheads were. And those eyes! Daniel had been making bets with himself as to what colour her eyes would be. Probably blue, he’d decided. Blue he could happily live with, but that clear, dark green was absolutely breathtaking.
Not for the first time he found himself regretting what had happened. It could make getting anywhere with this gorgeous woman next door to impossible.
Though she was looking at him in a way that made him strongly suspect she already knew who he was, he decided to take the plunge and bring things into the open. ‘I guess I’d better introduce myself. I’m Daniel Wolfe.’
He held out his hand.
Like someone in a dream, Charlotte took it.
His palm was cool and dry, his handclasp firm, but she would sooner have touched a snake and she was already withdrawing her hand before he said politely, ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Michaels.’
Stunned by this surprise encounter, she made no reply. Her brain seemed jarred, incapable of coming to grips with the situation. All she could think was that it was too soon. She wasn’t ready.
When she continued to sit as still and blank-faced as if she were having a passport photograph taken Daniel held his breath.
If she believed only a fraction of what the gutter press had printed she still had no reason to love him and, his usual confidence deserting him at times, he had wondered uneasily what her reaction would be when they finally came face to face.
Yet it was a hurdle he had to get over, and now the moment had arrived all he could do was wait for the recriminations.
But, apparently thrown by the unexpectedness of the meeting, she remained silent.
Letting his breath out slowly, he went on, ‘As we were travelling at the same time I thought we might as well share a car to the airport…’
Charlotte, who had been struggling to gather her wits, blurted out the first thing that came into her head. ‘I had no idea you were in London… That’s why I was so surprised when you introduced yourself.’
Registering that she had a lovely voice, low and slightly husky, he remarked, ‘I got the impression that you knew who I was before I introduced myself?’
‘Yes, I knew,’ she admitted.
‘But we’ve never actually met.’
‘No,’ she agreed.
‘I presume you’ve seen me at the office?’
‘No.’
‘Out and about, socially?’
Shaking her head, she pointed out, ‘We’re hardly likely to move in the same social circles.’
‘This beats I Spy.’
Momentarily failing to understand, she said, ‘I beg your pardon?’
Straight faced, he explained, ‘As a young child I used to get bored travelling in a car. My mother tried giving me books but looking down made me sick, so we always played I Spy With My Little Eye. I was just remarking that this particular guessing game beats it.’
Annoyed that he was making fun of her, she said crisply, ‘I’ve seen pictures of you in the papers.’
But pictures hadn’t had this impact. Pictures hadn’t prepared her for the man himself.
He sighed. ‘It was just getting exciting, and now you’ve gone and spoilt it.’
‘Well, we can always play I Spy.’
As soon as the words were spoken she wished them unsaid. She was supposed to be trying to charm him, not trying to cut him down to size.
She couldn’t afford to hurt his feelings. Like most men of his ilk he probably had a fragile ego and no sense of humour.
But a split second later he proved her wrong by bursting out laughing. He had a nice laugh, quiet and infectious, not the kind of hearty guffaw she so disliked.
A gleam in his eye, he said, ‘I’m forced to admit that these days I prefer more grown up games.’
‘I’m aware of that.’ She had had tragic proof of his liking for ‘grown up games’, and all at once she wanted to fly at him, to rake her nails down his handsome face until she drew blood.
Regretting the teasing remark that had prompted such an icy response, Daniel sat quite still, watching her intently, braced for the worst.
But, already ashamed of that primitive urge to violence, and reminding herself that if she was to succeed in her campaign he mustn’t know about her connection with Tim, Charlotte reined in her anger.
Making a great effort she added lightly, ‘In every picture there’s been a different woman on your arm, and the papers have frequently referred to you as a latter-day Lothario with a string of notches on your bedpost.’
‘At times their stories have bordered on the libellous. I’ve always deplored that kind of coverage.’
‘Then it wasn’t you who said, “No publicity is bad publicity”?’
Happy to respond to what seemed to be a change of mood, he answered with a grin, ‘What do you think?’
His smile showed the gleam of white, healthy teeth, formed deep creases each side of his mouth and filled his dark face with charm.
Very conscious of his sexual magnetism and hating him for it, Charlotte made an effort to smile back.
She found it easier than she had anticipated. It seemed she was a better actress than she had given herself credit for.
Rocked by that smile, he told her, ‘I’m afraid my present relationship with the press leaves a lot to be desired. After being asked at a recent press conference what I thought of modern journalism, I stated my belief that some journalists not only embroider the truth but fabricate what they don’t know. Since then they’ve been out for blood.’
‘Are they lies?’ The question was out before she could prevent it.
‘Very often they are,’ he said steadily. ‘Though I don’t pretend to live like a monk, most of their stories are just that. Stories. But, unfortunately, when dirt’s thrown some of it’s bound to stick.’
‘But surely you were once the press’s Golden Boy?’
‘I was until I proved to be uncooperative… Which I can never accuse you of being.’ Smoothly he changed the subject. ‘I hope agreeing to make this transfer so soon didn’t cause you too many problems?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘You’re not leaving behind anyone special? A boyfriend, perhaps?’
‘No.’
Only too pleased to have Sheering’s report confirmed, Daniel queried, ‘How did you manage with regard to your flat?’
‘The flat is a rented one I share with an old school friend, so that was no problem.’
‘Most people would have balked at being parted from their families this close to Christmas.’
Her voice under control she said, ‘I have no family to share Christmas with.’
He waited.
When she failed to mention her stepbrother, Daniel wondered why. Even though he was her boss, he couldn’t believe she lacked either the will or the courage to confront him.
Ready to tell her how much he regretted what had happened, to explain his part in it, he asked a number of careful questions, skirting round the family issue, giving her every chance to bring things into the open.
When she failed to do so he was forced to conclude that, for whatever reason, she had made up her mind to say nothing.
Though he himself would have preferred to confront the issue, if she had decided to leave the past behind then, for the time being at least, he would go along with that.
Charlotte, having answered his questions with at least outward composure, was feeling a little more sure of herself. Even so, she seemed unable to get her act together.
Though she knew she might never have this kind of opportunity again, and she should be making the most of it, she could think of nothing sparkling to say, no way to interest him.
When the silence began to stretch, reasonably satisfied with how things had gone so far, Daniel asked, ‘Have you ever been to New York before?’
Relieved to move on to this new subject, she answered, ‘No, I haven’t, though I’ve always wanted to go.’
‘I hope you’ll enjoy the experience.’
‘I’m sure I will.’
Then, seizing the chance to carry on with the conversation, ‘What’s it like, living in New York?’
‘It’s overcrowded, and the traffic is a nightmare. In summer it can be hot and dusty and airless, and in winter cold and bleak and snowy.
‘In common with most cities it has its share of crime and deprivation and weirdos. But in the past it’s always been alive and vibrant. Synonymous with exciting.
‘These days it’s like an old dog that, though it’s been badly beaten, is still brave and beautiful. And you’ll find that most New Yorkers are great. They have the same kind of indomitable spirit that Londoners do.
‘I’ve always thought New York was a wonderful place to be, and I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
‘Having said that, however, I don’t lose sight of the fact that I’m one of the fortunate ones, with a home in a pleasant area and a chauffeur-driven car.
‘When it’s too hot and humid I can move out to the beaches on Long Island, and when it’s miserable and slushy underfoot I can travel Upstate to the virgin snow of the Catskills.’
‘It sounds idyllic.’
‘As I say, I’m one of the lucky ones.’
When she said no more he steered the conversation towards the latest news.
Charlotte followed his lead and until they reached the airport, like polite strangers, they talked about what was happening in the world.
As the limousine drew up outside Departures, with a sinking heart Charlotte realized that her chance to make the right kind of impression on Daniel Wolfe was gone. As soon as the chauffeur had finished unloading their luggage she and her companion would no doubt part company.
The best she dared hope for was that she had made enough of an impact that once in New York he might possibly renew contact to ask how she was getting on.
But when, having smiled and thanked him for the lift, she said goodbye and prepared to go, he shook his head. ‘Stick with me, Miss Michaels.’
‘But I have to pick up my ticket.’
‘That’s all taken care of. We’re both booked on the same plane.’
Before she had got over her amazement he had gathered her up and, a hand at her waist, swept her along with him as though she were his equal rather than his employee.
At five feet seven inches she was fairly tall for a woman, but he must be a minimum of six feet three inches, she guessed, and seemed even bigger because of the breadth of his shoulders.
Focused and powerful, he moved lithely and fast on the balls of his feet, a tight mass of coiled energy, and she found herself almost trotting to keep up with his long strides.
Travelling with Daniel Wolfe, she soon found, was a totally new experience. VIP treatment smoothed their path and added immeasurably to their ease and convenience.
After being whisked through the formalities, they were served with a tray of excellent coffee before boarding the big jet and being shown to a pair of First Class seats.
Charlotte was staggered. Surely it hadn’t happened by chance? She shot him a puzzled glance.
He raised a dark brow. ‘Something wrong?’
‘No…I just didn’t think… I mean, I hadn’t expected that we’d be on the same plane, let alone sitting together.’
His silvery eyes on her face, he queried mildly, ‘I hope the prospect of having me sitting next to you during the flight doesn’t seriously bother you?’
‘N-no, of course not. I’m just surprised.’
‘As we were travelling at the same time, I told my secretary to book adjacent seats. I found the thought of a little company welcome. I hope you do?’
‘Very welcome,’ Charlotte assured him with her most fetching smile.
So was the unaccustomed luxury.
Used to being crowded into economy, she was staggered by how very comfortable and spacious the First Class area was.
In spite of her tension, or maybe because of it, almost as soon as they were airborne she found herself having to stifle a yawn.
‘Tired?’ he queried, proving he missed nothing.
‘I didn’t get much sleep last night,’ she admitted.
‘Over-excited?’
‘Probably.’
‘Then why not have a little nap before lunch?’
She shook her head. ‘I have been known to fall asleep in cars and buses, but never on planes.’
Taking off his jacket he queried, ‘Any particular reason?’
Without intending to she found herself telling him the truth. ‘I can’t relax enough. I’m never really happy flying. My father was killed in a plane crash.’
‘I’m sorry. How long ago was that?’
‘Six years.’
‘I’m sorry. And what about your mother?’
‘My mother died when I was quite young and my father married again.’
‘His dying like that must have been hard on both you and your stepmother.’
Her generous mouth tightening, she said shortly, ‘My stepmother didn’t care.’
‘Oh?’
‘She was playing around with another man when it happened.’
Her companion waited, his eyes on her face.
Though she had had no intention of revealing any more, Charlotte found herself saying, ‘He was an oil company executive and barely a month after my father’s funeral she married him and went to live in the Middle East.’
Knowing Tim Hunt must have been just a schoolboy at the time, Daniel waited for her to go on. But once again she said nothing about her stepbrother.
After a moment, he probed, ‘I guess you were still at college?’
Wondering vexedly why she had told him so much, Charlotte answered briefly, ‘Yes, I was.’
Seeing she didn’t want to carry on the conversation and watching her smother another yawn, he said, ‘Nap time, I think.’
He adjusted the angle of the seats so that they were reclining comfortably and gathered her close.
‘Put your head on my shoulder.’ He settled her head at the comfortable juncture between chest and shoulder, adding, as he might have done to a child, ‘I’ll keep you safe.’
For an instant everything seemed to stop—her heartbeat, her breathing, her very lifeblood—and she froze into stillness.
Then, with a kind of backlash, she felt an almost uncontrollable urge to tear herself away and cry Keep your hands off me, you swine!
But the last thing she must do was let her true feelings show. She had to play-act for all she was worth.
Though for the moment any acting ability seemed to have totally deserted her.
Recalling Carla’s advice, she knew she should be snuggling against him, doing the ‘wide-eyed and helpless’ bit, but somehow she couldn’t.
Breathing in the clean freshness of his shirt, the faint suggestion of shower-gel and the masculine scent of his aftershave, all she could do was stay quite still, every muscle in her body taut.
‘Relax,’ he urged softly.
Only too aware of his overpowering maleness, the firmness of bone and muscle beneath her cheek, the sureness and strength of his arm holding her, she knew it would be impossible to relax.
But after a while, with a weight of warmth and tiredness lying over her body like a cashmere shawl, her tension drained away and she slept.
When she finally stirred and resurfaced for a second or two she had no idea where she was, or who was holding her so closely.
‘Feeling better, Miss Michaels…?’ a pleasant male voice queried.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she mumbled.
Looking into forest-green eyes still dazed with sleep, he added, ‘Or may I call you Charlotte…?’
‘Please do,’ she replied automatically as she gathered her wits and struggled to sit up.
His smile teasing, he said, ‘Somehow, I feel that watching over you while you slept has moved our relationship on to a more…shall we say…personal footing.’
Flustered by the thought of Daniel Wolfe watching her sleep, she drew hastily away.
Removing his arm and readjusting the seats, he pursued, ‘You must have been absolutely shattered. You’ve slept for almost two hours.’
A glance at her watch confirmed the truth of his statement. ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I haven’t been much company.’
In truth, he had enjoyed the chance to just hold her quietly and watch her sleeping face.
When Glenda, his younger sister, married and became a mother, she had once remarked how much time she and her husband had spent just looking at the cherished new arrival.
Finding it difficult to take his eyes off his companion, Daniel now knew exactly what his sister had meant.
Studying that glorious hair, the silky brows and thick, naturally-dark lashes that curled so enticingly, the pure curve of her cheek, he had felt a fierce desire.
Then noticing how, in repose, her soft mouth drooped a little at the corners, as though she’d forgotten how to be happy, he had felt an odd kind of tenderness mingling with desire.
Now seeing her look of genuine concern he shook his head. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry for, I do assure you.’
Tucking in a tendril of silky, red-gold hair that had escaped from its neat coil, Charlotte sighed inwardly. Though he sounded quite laid back about the lack of company she was vexed with herself. She should have been using that time to amuse him, rather than just sleeping.
Once they reached New York and went their separate ways, it would be too late…
‘About ready for some lunch?’ His voice broke into her thoughts.
Finding herself unexpectedly hungry, she nodded.
‘What do you fancy?’ He handed her a menu that bore little resemblance to the kind of airline food she had been served in the past.
Seeing her hesitate, he asked, ‘Something wrong?’
‘I’m just bowled over by the choice,’ she admitted. ‘I usually travel economy class.’
He grinned. ‘Oh yes, I remember it well.’
‘You do?’ She failed to hide her surprise.
With a kind of wry self-mockery he told her, ‘After graduating, to see what I was made of, I spent a couple of years working my way round the globe. At times cash was so tight that even those ubiquitous plastic containers were welcome…’
While they ate a leisurely lunch followed by coffee and brandy they talked about his travels and the various places he’d visited.
‘Have you travelled much?’ he asked at length.
‘Not as much as I would have wished.’
‘Even though you dislike flying?’
‘I wouldn’t have let that stop me. At one time I’d planned to go round the world when I finished college, but…’ She stopped speaking abruptly.
‘But?’
‘I had commitments.’ She still felt unbearably desolate and sad when she thought of Tim. Poor Tim. And it was all this man’s fault.
A fresh wave of anger and hatred shook her.
Watching her, Daniel waited.
When she said nothing he queried carefully, ‘Is there anywhere in particular you’d still like to go?’
Taking a deep steadying breath she answered, ‘Quite a lot of places. But until earlier this year Carla—the girl I share the flat with—has been lighting candles for my financial status.’
‘It doesn’t sound as if we’re paying you enough.’
‘As I said, I had commitments.’
It seemed as if Sheering had been right when he suggested that Charlotte had been supporting her stepbrother, Daniel thought, and once again he waited, hoping she would go on.
But her face had that still, controlled look he was coming to recognize and, sighing inwardly, he decided to back off and change the subject.
Leaving the more emotive topics, he began to talk about international finance and how it affected current business interests.
After a moment, appearing cool and collected now, she joined in and held her own in a conversation that, though general, was deep and wide-ranging.
He moved easily from money issues and world trade to global warming and the preservation of natural resources. All the time testing her knowledge, seeking her reaction, asking her opinion, which, greatly to her surprise, often seemed to coincide with his.
If they touched on a subject that she was more familiar with than he was he saluted her superior knowledge. Generously.
Used to being talked down to by the men on her team who seemed to think brains and beauty were incompatible, she found it stimulating to be taken seriously and treated as an equal.
By the time they reached New York and came in to land at busy JFK Airport she had almost forgotten her reason for being there.
Almost.
Once again, with a light but firm hand at her waist, Daniel Wolfe took charge of everything. In no time at all, it seemed, the formalities were completed and their luggage was being ferried to a waiting limousine by a smartly uniformed chauffeur.
Instead of being dull and damp, as it had been in London, to Charlotte’s surprise there was a fresh cover of snow. Overhead the sky was a cloudless cornflower-blue, and the sun shone coldly bright.
As they drove through Queens, which seemed to be mainly residential, she queried, ‘How far is it?’
‘About fifteen miles to mid-Manhattan. It’ll take about an hour, depending on the traffic.’
Though aware that she should be using the time to advantage Charlotte could think of nothing else to say, and once again very conscious of the man by her side she looked resolutely through the car window.
For his part, his first surging excitement now leashed by his better judgement, Daniel was content to simply have her by his side.
Earlier, on the plane, the urge to hold her in his arms had been so great that he had thrown caution to the winds.
He had felt her momentary withdrawal, her tenseness and, expecting the worst, had braced himself for an open rejection.
When it hadn’t come he had been both pleased and puzzled. Either she had decided to forgive and forget or she was playing some deep game of her own.
Whichever, it seemed that, in the short term at least, life was going to be far from dull.

CHAPTER THREE
AS THEY approached Manhattan, though Charlotte had seen enough pictures to make it reasonably familiar, she still caught her breath at the sight of the city decked all in sparkling white.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she exclaimed.
‘I think so,’ he agreed.
Her reason for being there momentarily forgotten, she turned to him in excitement. ‘I thought I knew what to expect, but I hadn’t imagined anything quite like this.’
Pleased and relieved that she liked his city, he said, ‘New York has so many different faces, so many moods, that it’s always able to surprise even the people who call it home. That’s one of the reasons I enjoy living here.’
His comment reminded her of something she still wasn’t sure about, and she asked, ‘Perhaps you can tell me where I’ll be living? Mr Telford mentioned a company flat, but I’ve no idea where it is.’
‘The company flat is at our headquarters in the Lloyd Wolfe building, which is situated Uptown on Central Park East.’
‘Is that where you live?’
‘No. I live in Lower Manhattan.’
‘Oh!’ It would have suited her purpose better if he’d been living in the same building.
‘You sound disappointed.’
He seemed able to pick up the slightest inflection she thought uncomfortably, and hastened to deny. ‘Not at all. It’s just that for some reason I’d expected you to have a penthouse on Fifth Avenue.’
‘I did for a while but it didn’t really suit me, so I moved… Sure you’re not disappointed?’
‘No, of course not. Why should I be?’ Then, seeing he was far from convinced, she added, ‘I’m just surprised. I can’t imagine anyone not enjoying living on Fifth Avenue.’
‘I did, in a way, but as well as being relatively run-of-the-mill the penthouse always seemed a touch impersonal, like living in a hotel.
‘Now I have a house that’s different, as well as being very personal. It’s in an area usually referred to as The Villages.’
‘The Villages?’ she echoed uncertainly.
‘They’re a collection of neighbourhoods just west of Broadway.’
‘Isn’t that quite a way from your headquarters?’
‘Not too far, as the crow flies.’
‘Do you go in every day?’
‘Yes, unless I’m away on business.’
‘And you don’t find the traffic a pain?’
‘It can be, of course, but a chauffeur-driven car does a great deal to mitigate it.’
‘Is that where I’ll be working?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, if I’m living on the spot I won’t have far to travel,’ she remarked with a smile.
‘Unfortunately, because of the very short notice, the accommodation there is still occupied.’
‘Oh…’
‘It should be vacated in the next two or three days, and then you’ll be able to move in and get settled before Christmas.
‘In the meantime, I thought you could stay at my place.’
‘Stay at your place?’ she echoed, knowing she should be pleased, but momentarily horrified and sounding it.
‘Like most big cities, New York can be a bit lonely and unnerving,’ he went on smoothly, ‘especially if you’re on your own and don’t know the ropes. So, rather than book you into a hotel, I thought you could have the small self-contained suite that my housekeeper used to occupy… Unless, of course, you have any serious objections to living under my roof for a short time?’
Recovering a little, and somewhat reassured that he’d described it as a self-contained suite, she stammered, ‘W-well… No.’
Delighted by the relative lack of opposition, he remarked quizzically, ‘I thought the press might have managed to convince you that no woman is safe when I’m around?’
She didn’t need convincing, Charlotte thought bitterly, she already knew that he was a ruthless womanizer.
Managing to look amused, she said coolly, ‘I don’t believe all I read.’
‘In that case, we’ll call it settled.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s my pleasure, I assure you.’ He smiled into her eyes, a personal communication that emphasized the fact that he was already interested in her as a woman rather than just an employee.
Returning his smile, Charlotte reflected with a surge of triumph that things seemed to be going her way. Thanks to the company flat being occupied, she might have several more days of what should be fairly close contact to try and increase that interest.
His grey eyes were still looking into hers and, afraid he might read her thoughts, she said quickly, ‘Won’t you tell me about The Villages?’
‘They’re wonderful places to live, with first-class restaurants, good theatre and a great variety of night-life. The best known is undoubtedly Greenwich Village, with Washington Square as its heart…’
He talked knowledgeably about The Villages and their history until they reached an area where the streets no longer conformed to the rigid grid system and had a friendly, small-town feel to them.
The main thoroughfare, with its boutiques and cafés, its bookstores and art galleries, was busy and bustling with Christmas shoppers.
Snow was piled along the edges of the sidewalks, white and uneven, like miniature mountain ranges and, despite the sunshine, a row of icicles hung from an upper storey windowsill.
The stores were bright with decorations and tinsel. In one window a red-coated Santa rode on a loaded sleigh pulled by prancing reindeer, while in another elves and furry woodland creatures tied a green scarf around the neck of a carrot-nosed snowman.
Leaving the main shopping centre and most of the traffic behind them, they reached a quieter residential area and turned left into Carver Street.
A cul-de-sac lined with bare snowy trees and elegant brownstones, Carver Street meandered a little, like an amiable drunk.
At the end, standing detached and fronting on to the street, was a small three-storey house with a steeply-pitched roof and overhanging eaves.
It was built of pink and blue bricks in a herringbone pattern and its garden was surrounded by a high brick wall.
Five steps, an iron handrail on their right, led up to a central front door with a black wrought iron lantern hanging over it.
On either side of the door were two long windows with rounded tops and small square panes of uneven glass that picked up the light. Above the polished brass knocker, shaped like a lily, hung a holly wreath with a scarlet bow.
The whole thing was so totally unexpected that Charlotte wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
‘This is where I live,’ Daniel told her. ‘As you can see, it’s really quite small.’
In a city like New York this charming little house should have appeared totally incongruous, an anachronism, but somehow its aura of calm serenity, its air of belonging here, made it look as much at home as the Statue of Liberty.
Stopping by the kerb, the chauffeur sprang to open the car door.
‘Thank you, Perkins.’ Daniel stepped out first into several inches of snow.
Turning to take Charlotte’s hand, he said, ‘Mind you don’t slip.’
She heeded his warning and descended carefully.
The sun had disappeared, leaving a sky of icy pearl, and the air was decidedly chill.
Conditions underfoot serving as a good excuse, he put an arm around her waist while they crossed the sidewalk and climbed the steps.
Just for a moment it gave her the perilous illusion of being cared for.
Taking an ornate iron key from his pocket, he opened the door and, standing aside, ushered her in. ‘Welcome to The Lilies,’ he said with grave courtesy.
‘Thank you.’ She stepped over the threshold and wiped her feet on the doormat.
Ducking his head to follow her, he felt a surge of pure elation. The woman he’d wanted for so long was in his house at last and he couldn’t wait to get her into his bed.
But he couldn’t afford to rush things a warning voice reminded him. In the past it had never mattered if a woman refused—there was always another one in the offing—but Charlotte Michaels was different, and this time it did matter.
As Daniel closed the door behind them Charlotte gazed around the living-room with unfeigned delight. It was old-fashioned and utterly charming, with period wallpaper and white plaster cornices decorated with sheaves of lilies.
The minimum of furniture, all of it glowing with the patina of age, stood on dark oak polished floorboards and on the right a small graceful staircase curved up to the second floor.
A bright fire burnt in the grate of a purply-blue ceramic fireplace adorned with garlands of white lilies, and a thick white sheepskin rug lay in front of the hearth.
Grouped nearby was a trug-shaped log basket, a hexagonal coffee table, a single wing-backed chair and a settee covered in dull gold velvet and piled with cushions.
Various other rugs and curtains tied back with bows picked up and echoed the indigo-blue of the fire-surround.
Between the long windows a tall beautifully decorated Christmas tree with a star on top stood in a tub. It was a fresh one and Charlotte could smell the pungent scent of pine needles and resin.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/lee-wilkinson/the-tycoon-s-trophy-mistress/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.