‘I’ll bet you didn’t!’ Oh, for a meat-cleaver! ‘Stay away from him!’ Carter Hamilton ordered shortly. ‘I’m not having the Hamilton name linked with some sex-scandal hitting the headlines!’
My God! His nerve, his unmitigated nerve! Ashlyn was so flamingly angry with him that she came close to thumping his head. Right there, outside a restaurant frequented by quite a number of newsworthy patrons, she came close to physically attacking him.
Somehow, however, she managed to find a grain of control. But it was with all the vitriol at her command that she tautly replied, ‘Then I suggest, Mr Hamilton, that you curtail your own sexual activities!’
And with that she managed, by supreme effort, to do what she should have done some sixty seconds ago—she turned smartly about and stormed away from him.
All she knew then, as she marched rigid-backed down the street, was that if she hadn’t found the control to walk away from Carter there would have been a very real risk of her giving the headline writers something else to write about. Something like BOARD MEMBER OF HAMILTON HOLDINGS SAVAGES CHAIRMAN! Never had she met such a man who could throw her so out of gear emotionally! Loathsome brute!
CHAPTER THREE
IT TOOK quite some time before Ashlyn came down from the pinnacle of her outrage. She had never hit anyone in her life—but it had been a near thing. He might be the chairman, she fumed as she drove home, but up until his ‘Leave Geoff Rogers alone!’ speech Carter Hamilton had barely said two words to her—she wished he’d kept it that way! Making her sound like some over-sexed trollop! Oh, how she wished she had thumped him!
She was about two miles away from her home when a streak of fairness pushed its unwanted way into her thoughts. So, OK, he was the chairman, and no head of any concern would welcome a scandal, would they? Indeed, wouldn’t any chairman worthy of the title nip anything untoward in the bud, so to speak, at the first suspicion that damage might be caused to the firm he had worked so hard for?
To blazes with being fair, though. This man wanted her out—off the board. Was this the start of him trying to get rid of her?
Ashlyn was both defeated and angry at the same time. Then, as she turned into the gates of her home, she saw her father taking his ease on a garden seat. She had known in advance that he would want her to tell him everything—how on earth was she going to do that?
How, when her father set such store by her being on the board of Hamilton Holdings, could she tell him—leaving out the water episode—that she had been warned off one of the other board members? How, when he had such pride, could she tell him how she had come close to landing one on the chairman—which would have been guaranteed to get her thrown off the board? Oh, what a total disaster the day had been!
As she’d expected, her father was halfway across the lawn as she got out of her car. ‘How did it go?’ He didn’t wait until he was up close to ask.
She could not lie to him, but found it impossible to tell him the truth. ‘Different,’ she hedged. ‘It was different.’
‘I expect it would be different from what you’re used to,’ he agreed a trifle impatiently. ‘But how did you get on? Were they all there?’
If there had been any more they’d have had to find another leaf for the boardroom table! ‘I think so. Sixteen of us and a PA taking down the minutes.’ Oh, Lord, those minutes! She dreaded to think how her water fiasco would look in print. ‘People had flown in from all over. Though not everyone came to lunch with us.’
‘You had lunch with some of the directors?’ Her father looked impressed.
Feeling as if she had just escaped a very tricky situation, Ashlyn explained, ‘We entertained two very nice Americans to lunch, and—’
‘How many were you?’
‘Our two guests, and six others.’
‘But not Carter Hamilton?’
I wish! ‘Yes, he was there...’
‘Really!’ Her father was impressed—and she could not, for the sake of his pride, and hers, tell him the rest of it.
And he was proud. She later heard him talking on the phone to one of his brothers, telling him what a busy morning she’d had at her board meeting. ‘Carter Hamilton insisted that she join a few of them for lunch afterwards,’ she heard him say, and was heartily glad he hadn’t been there to see Carter Hamilton’s hostile expression when Geoff Rogers had asked her to join them. Oh, if only Carter’s arrogance hadn’t pricked her into accepting!
She was at breakfast on Friday morning when the post arrived. Her father brought it into the breakfast room, but instead of taking his chair and sifting through his mail as he normally did he remained standing, a considering look on his face as he studied one envelope in particular.
‘It’s for you.’ He looked up to address her and continued, handing the envelope over, ‘It’s got the Hamilton Holdings crest on it.’
Oh, no—those wretched minutes! Now what did she do? ‘You realise that—er—everything at that meeting I went to on Tuesday was confidential,’ she said in a rush—she who had barely understood one word of it.
Her father looked disappointed that she was not going to share with him the business under discussion. But then he brightened and looked proud again. ‘I’m glad to hear you appreciate that,’ he stated without protest, and she was proud of him.
But although he wasn’t expecting her to show him what was in her letter he still clearly expected her to slit open the envelope and take out its contents. She had hoped to read the minutes in her room.
With a sinking feeling, Ashlyn tore the envelope and, on taking a nervous peep inside, was mystified that instead of there being typewritten matter enclosed there was a cheque, and a compliments slip.
‘It’s a cheque!’ she told her father, her spirits dipping, not knowing the first thing about how one was dismissed from a board, but wondering if this was some sort of severance pay.
‘That’ll be your attendance fee,’ he answered knowledgeably.
‘Attendance fee!’ She blinked, couldn’t believe it, and just had to smile. ‘You mean I get paid for going?’
‘Naturally. I’d be most surprised if you didn’t.’
‘Wow! My first wages!’
She at first thought it funny, then thought it great—and then fell to earth with a guilty bump as she realised how little she had done to earn it. And those accursed minutes were still hanging over her head!
Ashlyn went out with her friend Susannah Veasey over the weekend. But, close friend that Susannah was, somehow Ashlyn felt unable to give her a blow-by-blow account of her entry into the world of big business last Tuesday.
Susannah knew that she had been to the board meeting, though, and wanted to know, ‘Is Carter Hamilton as dishy in the flesh as he looks in the newspapers?’
Ashlyn had instant recall of what Carter Hamilton looked like. In fact the insufferable man, and his insufferable, good-looking face, had returned to haunt her constantly since she’d had the misfortune to meet him.
‘In a word, yes,’ she replied, as in all honesty she had to.
‘Fancy him?’ Susannah asked.
She’d sooner fancy a gorilla! ‘Not my type,’ Ashlyn answered casually—and spent the next week—when she wasn’t thinking about what a swine Carter Hamilton was—wondering what man was her type.
Oh, she had dated. Could have dated more, she supposed. Perhaps the fact that she had six male cousins, was comfortable in male company, and certainly was neither intrigued nor fazed by any of the opposite sex, had made her dates more friend material, than boyfriend material.
Oh, she’d been kissed and had kissed back, but little more than that. She sometimes wondered if she was a bit staid—a few of her friends had relationships. But somehow going to bed with any of the men she knew was something she had never felt was necessary to be a complete being.
She had many friends who were male, and was exceedingly fond of Todd Pilkington, but she’d be embarrassed to death if he made a pass of any sort at her. And he, she was cert
ain, felt likewise.
So, what was her type? she couldn’t help wondering that week. And why wouldn’t Carter Hamilton clear off out of her head? She didn’t like him, never would—so why did she waste so much time seeing his face, his expression, and going through everything over and over again?
Another week passed, and by the following week Ashlyn was on an even keel again, and had realised that Carter need not have got up from the table to open the boardroom door for her the way he had done. Perhaps, noticing her discomfiture, the gentleman in him had got to work. Somebody had kindly sent Ivy too—had it been him?
Ashlyn was back to seeing nothing gentlemanly in his behaviour, however, when a few days later her father handed her another envelope bearing the Hamilton Holdings crest.
‘The minutes, I expect,’ she said lightly—it was a far thicker package than the last one. ‘I—um...’ She wanted to take it away upstairs. But to do so seemed mean—even if she did feel dreadful. ‘I’d—er—better open it.’
‘Would you like my paper knife?’
‘This will do,’ she answered, taking up a knife by the side of her plate.
Having slit open the envelope, she extracted its contents, and noted that she had also been sent an agenda for the next meeting. But she was far more interested in the minutes of the last one.
Hoping her recent penchant for changing colour from pale to scarlet had been a mere phase, Ashlyn quickly scanned the gobbledegook until she came to the part she was so desperately interested in. She felt she’d never survive the embarrassment if every board member read of her aquatic performance. They had been there, of course, but would they treat it as so deadly confidential as she did, or would they tell all and sundry?
She felt quite sick inside when she spotted it right there, in between the lawyer entering the boardroom and leaving. Oh, thank goodness! It could have been so much worse. Much, much worse than the brief notation: ‘Miss Ainsworth was indisposed and left the meeting’.
‘Interesting?’
Ashlyn looked up. She had forgotten her father was sitting there. ‘Absorbing,’ she answered, and quickly shuffled the papers, putting the minutes to the back and the agenda to the front. ‘There’s another meeting next Tuesday,’ she commented, relief rushing in on two counts: despite Carter Hamilton’s threatening statement that ‘the minutes should make some very interesting reading’, the part she had played in the meeting had been dealt with in a very few words. Also, her father, respecting her remark about the meeting being confidential, had not asked to see the minutes. But her relief was short-lived.
‘Ten o’clock, as before?’ he enquired, and Ashlyn, realising he was asking about the next board meeting, knew without question that he fully expected her to attend.
She studied the papers in her hands. ‘Eleven,’ she answered, and changed her mind about going just for the sheer hell of it. ‘It looks as though it will be a shorter meeting than the other one.’ And she added, with her limited knowledge of such matters, ‘It doesn’t look so important either.’
‘Some are, some aren’t,’ her father commented. ‘If it’s to be a shorter meeting, though, I don’t suppose there’ll be as many there as last time.’
Ashlyn perked up—even if she still wasn’t going. ‘You mean Carter Hamilton might not be there?’ Not that she was afraid of him, for goodness’ sake; the man just sort of disturbed her, that was all. She hadn’t known she had such a want-to-kick-his-shins kind of temper before she’d come across him.
‘He doesn’t have to attend every meeting,’ her father stated. ‘He’s a very busy man, so will most certainly have a second in command to stand in for him.’
Ashlyn remembered Bill Trevitt saying how Fitz Unger was his deputy, and supposed that every chairman had one. ‘If he’s not going, then perhaps I needn’t... er...’ Her voice petered out at her father’s sudden and abrupt sharp look.
‘I hope you’re not thinking of letting me down, Ashlyn!’ he rebuked her sternly.
She gave an inner sigh but, looking at her father, she remembered how hard he had worked all his life, how he had seen to it that she and her mother had nothing but the best, and she began to feel exceedingly mean. He had laboured long and hard—all he was asking of her was that she do this job for him. A job that amounted to only a few hours a month. For goodness’ sake, only two hours next time, if they started at eleven and finished at one. And, with luck, he wouldn’t be there on this occasion.
‘Of course I wouldn’t let you down!’ she denied brightly, and, leaving her chair, she went over and gave him a kiss, and then took the agenda and the minutes up to her room.
Half an hour later, she was amazed to realise that after reading through the minutes several times they started to make sense! Chunks of that boardroom meeting played back in her mind, and the mumbo-jumbo, now that it was set down concisely and she had studied it, took shape and began to have meaning.
Ashlyn didn’t know who was responsible for translating the matters under discussion into something intelligible—Carter Hamilton or his PA—but she felt very much cheered that, business-wise, perhaps she wasn’t so dim after all. Who knew, given a little training—well, quite a lot actually—she might be able to contribute something?
The thought amused her. Not at that high-up level, she wouldn’t! Grief—it was only because her father had stuck out for it that she’d been allowed through the hallowed portals of the boardroom anyway. And, as her father had said, if she didn’t do anything they could hardly remove her from the board. Bearing in mind her father’s ‘I hope you’re not thinking of letting me down’, just now she knew that, for his sake, while Carter Hamilton might do everything in his power to get her legally removed, she was going to stick it out and stay there—come what may.
Which was why, the following Tuesday, dressed in a greeny-blue two-piece and with her shining red hair once more in a classic knot, Ashlyn said goodbye to her parents and drove off to Hamilton Holdings.
She owned to having butterflies in her tummy, but she had determined on waking that morning that she was going to think positive. So what if she had come close to belting Carter Hamilton at their last meeting? Thinking positively meant he wouldn’t be at this one. Furthermore, for him to have approved those minutes he must have read them after their set-to outside that restaurant. He might, for all she knew, have instructed his PA that the commotion she had caused was to be set down merely as Miss Ainsworth having left the meeting because she was indisposed.
Ashlyn parked her car at Hamilton Holdings, got into the lift and pressed the top-floor button. Perhaps, despite his warning her off Geoff Rogers, Carter was a gentleman after all.
She recognised two doors on the top floor: one that led to the ante-room and to the boardroom, and one to the ladies’ cloakroom. She nipped into the cloakroom to check her appearance—hair still all right, no long wisps anywhere. Lipstick fine. She squared her shoulders. Think positive! she told herself, and headed for the boardroom.
‘Ashlyn!’ Geoff Rogers, at least, was pleased to see her, and, although her determination to be positive wobbled a fraction, she was glad to see him—a friendly face.
‘How are you?’ she enquired, walking towards him.
‘You know that you’re beautiful, of course,’ he uttered quietly in a ‘just the two of us’ tone, meeting her halfway and taking her right hand. But, instead of giving her a handshake, he held her fast.
She laughed—what else could she do? He was a flirt. He was obvious. But he was also friendly, and she couldn’t see anyone else breaking their neck to rush over and say hello.
The door behind her opened. She half turned—and her stomach somersaulted. The last time she’d seen Carter Hamilton, he’d bluntly told her to leave Geoff Rogers alone. She saw Carter’s glance skim over her. Oh, great! He looked through her; that ‘you don’t exist’ look said it all! Carter Hamilton was not happy to have come into the room to find her laughing and holding hands with the very man he had warned her off!
Ashlyn was still reminding herself to think positive when a general move was made towards the boardroom. Everyone seemed to know their place. Positive thinking. She chose to go to the seat she’d used the last time she’d been there—she was grateful to see that either by luck or someone’s hard work there was no water mark visible on the highly polished table to remind her of her last visit.
‘Good morning...’ And so the meeting began.
Ashlyn did not drift off so much this time. Indeed, she found some bits of the business under discussion quite interesting. But during the parts that weren’t—and when Carter wasn’t speaking—some of the other high-powered executives had the most wearying, droning voices. However, she was determined that even if she did feel like nodding off her hands were not going anywhere near that water carafe.
She glanced around—and suddenly met Carter Hamilton’s gaze full-on. Crazily, her heart fluttered. His expression was, as ever, unsmiling—yet he had such a good-looking face. Grief! What was the matter with her? Abruptly she looked away.
‘And that concludes...’ someone was saying, and the meeting was wound up.
As her heart’s rhythm returned to normal, Ashlyn realised that the meeting was over, and that she had not disgraced herself. She began to feel better. Once a month! Child’s play!
People began putting their papers together, standing up, making a move towards the door. For some odd reason, Ashlyn found she was hanging back. Somehow she just didn’t want to be within range of Carter Hamilton. She wondered what had got into her; for goodness’ sake, she wasn’t afraid of him; he couldn’t hurt her! But she still hung back. She was within hearing range when one of the board asked if Carter was lunching with them.
She saw Carter shake his head. ‘I’m lunching elsewhere,’ she heard him reply, and felt a most peculiar sensation as she translated it to mean that he had a lunchtime date with one of the elegant, not to mention beautiful women she had seen him pictured with in the newspapers.
He then disappeared from view, and Geoff Rogers was by her side. ‘You’re coming with us, aren’t you, Ashlyn?’ he asked.
A Business Engagement Page 4
