by Liz Fielding
‘Good afternoon, Cinderella,’ he said, extending his arm to return the large, and inevitably yellow, cloth. ‘It appears that your skill with a duster is exceeded only by your tact.’
‘We’re hot on both at Busy Bees,’ she informed him.
‘But not so hot on timekeeping. You shouldn’t be here.’
And neither should you, Mel thought, but being hot on tact she didn’t say so. Not that she had the opportunity.
Caroline, furious that her big moment had been ruined was momentarily unable to disguise the fact. Her comment was brief, but scatological and she glared at Mel as Jack took the opportunity to retreat, tugging at his tie as he disappeared inside.
‘If you’ll excuse me, Caroline, I’ve no doubt you’ve got things to do before you leave for New York and I’ve got to make alternative arrangements for my own trip.’
For a moment Mel lost sight and sound of him, then his feet were clattering up the spiral staircase. He was rapidly followed by Caroline, paler than she had been. ‘Are you suggesting that you’d take someone else?’ she demanded.
‘I explained the situation when I asked you to go with me, Caroline,’ he said, tossing the tie onto the bed and flinging his jacket after it. He began to unfasten his cufflinks. ‘I need a woman with me for camouflage.’
Camouflage? Whatever had happened to romance? Mel wondered.
‘But darling, I look terrible in khaki.’
Caro’s attempt to make him laugh failed. ‘I doubt if you could look terrible in a black plastic sack, but if you’re not available, I’ll have to find someone who is.’
But Caroline wasn’t ready to give up. ‘Look, Jack, can’t we talk about this?’ She indicated Melanie, trapped in the corner by the window, with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Send her away and -’
‘And what?’ he demanded. Melanie began to noisily pack her cleaning stuff back into her yellow carrying box. Neither of them took any notice. ‘I asked you to join me for a few days in the Caribbean. Two days ago you were bubbling over with excitement at the prospect, suddenly you say that it’s impossible.’
‘But I’ve told you why.’
‘Indeed. And since you have more important things to do -’ He lifted the telephone receiver. She had been dismissed, forgotten as he began to punch in a number. Mel, unable to escape, was riveted to the spot by the clash of wills.
Caroline snapped first. ‘More important than sitting about while you’re working on some grubby little scheme to make money.’
His jaw tightened imperceptibly. ‘Hardly, little, darling. And as for grubby - tell me, does the dirt magically rub off when the money crosses the jeweller’s counter?’
Mel, sensing a full scale row brewing murmured that she had some shopping to do. But drawing attention to herself had been a mistake. Jack, dropping the telephone back onto its receiver, reached out and by the simple expedient of fastening his fingers about her wrist, stopped her from going anywhere.
‘No. Don’t go, Mel,’ he said, not taking his eyes off Caroline. ‘I have a proposition for you.’
‘No, really,’ she began, desperate to stop this before it got out of hand. ‘I must go.’
But he didn’t let go. He didn’t even turn and look at her as he put it to her. ‘I’m offering a week in the Caribbean, Mel, with nothing to do but lie in the sun all day. What do you say?’
Say? Say? She was lost for words. She knew he didn’t mean it, that he was trying to force Caroline’s hand, but she refused to be used as a pawn in their games. No way.
‘That’s very kind of you, but I’m not owed any holiday,’ she said, through gritted teeth. Somehow she managed to sound regretful, a remarkable achievement considering she wanted to hit him with her big yellow workbox. Very hard.
‘It won’t be a holiday, Mel. You’ll be working, I’ll be paying the agency for your time.’
His gall stunned her. ‘I doubt if Mrs Graham would consider it - proper,’ she said carefully. ‘If you’ll excuse me?’
He wouldn’t, he didn’t.
‘It’s strictly business, Mel. I’m confident that I can persuade Mrs Graham of the urgency of the situation.’
‘But what about the propriety of it? Could you convince her of that too?’
He turned then to look at her properly. It wasn’t any better, Mel decided. ‘Propriety?’ he repeated. She wasn’t quite sure which surprised him more, the fact that she knew the word, or that she thought it mattered.
‘Correctness of behaviour or morals,’ she supplied, in case he wasn’t sure.
She’d learned more than good manners and how to vacuum a carpet at her mother’s knee. Juliet Devlin had been hot on vocabulary too.
‘I’m aware of the meaning, Mel, but I have no doubt that your character speaks for itself.’
She wasn’t about to argue with that. No matter what she said, he’d claim some kind of victory. ‘Won’t it be terribly expensive?’ she asked, stalling, trying to think.
‘Don’t worry about the expense.’ He smiled faintly at her apparent naiveté. ‘Paying for your time by the hour has got to be cheaper than paying by Caroline’s reckoning.’
Seeing the game slipping away from her, Caro retreated a little. ‘Darling, can’t you see that Cinderella has no desire to go the ball? You’re making the poor creature blush. Let her go and I’m sure we can sort something out.’
Poor creature? Cinderella? And as for blushing...
Heartily sick of playing piggy in the middle she placed her free, less than clean, hand on Caroline’s immaculate cream jacket and forced a sickeningly sweet smile to her lips.
‘Oh, please, don’t worry about me, miss,’ she gushed. ‘If Mr Wolfe can arrange things with Mrs Graham, I’ll be happy to help.’ She pointed to the legend emblazoned on her cap. ‘It’s our motto, see?’ She forced a giggle. ‘And I’ve never been to...’ She turned to Jack Wolfe who was now regarding her through dangerously narrowed eyes. ‘Where was it, again?’
‘The British Virgin Islands.’ And he tilted a brow just sufficiently to suggest that the name positively guaranteed propriety.
Caroline regarded her with open dislike for a moment, then with a small laugh dismissed her, turning back to Jack. ‘Her nails would give her away in a moment, darling. Look, I don’t want to be unreasonable...’
‘But you’re not being unreasonable, Caroline. I’m the one being thoughtless, for which I sincerely apologise. Of course your magazine cover must come first. You mustn’t think of sacrificing your career on my account.’
Caroline Hickey made a brave attempt at a laugh. It wasn’t particularly convincing but considering her carefully laid plans to provoke a proposal had just been sabotaged by the cleaner, Melanie had to give her nine out of ten for effort.
‘All right, darling. You win. Take the poor girl if it pleases you to make a fool of yourself and of her. No doubt she’ll be only too pleased to hang up your clothes, clean your shoes and offer any other little services you ask of her in return for a free holiday.’ Caroline gave her a swift assessing glance. ‘A day at a beauty salon, some decent clothes and who knows, she might convince someone that she’s actually your partner. Who, I couldn’t say. And if she doesn’t,’ Caroline gave a dismissive little shrug, ‘I’m sure that whatever desperately secret takeover bid you’re planning isn’t that important.’ She was too clever to spell out the possibilities, instead leaving the threat dangling. ‘Bye darling. Give me a ring when you get back.’
Her lips lingered for just a moment against his cheek, leaving a waft of Poison to remind him of what he was giving up, then she was gone. A classy exit, Mel had to admit. And doubtless she expected Jack to be regretting his rash decision before she had reached the ground floor.
She might well be right. Jack, with what had undoubtedly been a bluff well and truly called, turned and regarded Mel with what was undoubtedly a frown.
Mel could hardly blame him. Dressed in a uniform with about as much sex appeal as cold porridge, her ill-c
ut wig sticking out from beneath a baseball cap, there was nothing about her to attract a man whose choice in feminine company, like his taste in furniture, favoured the expensive and the beautiful if Caroline was anything to go by.
But if he had hoped to change Caro’s mind by his tactics, he had misjudged the girl.
She wasn’t about to give up the top slot in the cover stakes for less than a wedding ring and who could blame her? She might not be happy about the cleaner taking her place but had obviously decided that it was a whole lot safer than leaving Jack to choose someone more exciting. Someone who might pose more of a threat to her long term plans.
Melanie could almost hear the cogs in the other girl’s mind ticking over. She who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day. And Jack would undoubtedly fall into her arms, chastened and obedient after a week in the enforced company of his charlady.
But left alone with Jack Wolfe, the apartment suddenly seemed very quiet. Why didn’t he say something? That it was all right? That he didn’t mean it? He was going to, surely?
‘Well, that appears to be settled, Melanie. You have a passport I take it?’
He was that desperate? ‘Yes, I have a passport.’
He nodded. ‘If you’ll give me your address I’ll get my secretary to pick you up first thing. She’ll organise a hairdresser-’ This was ridiculous, surely he didn’t expect her to go with him to some place she’d never heard of? ‘-and some clothes.’
‘There’s no need.’ Because she wasn’t going.
‘Indulge me.’
Indulge him? Some devil prompted her to say, ‘I can borrow some clothes.’
‘It might be better-’
‘And I promise I’ll give my nails a good scrub. I had some hand cream for Christmas,’ she added. ‘I expect that will help.’ What on earth was she playing at?
‘Do you think so?’
Jack didn’t think her hands needed any help at all. They were small, he remembered and very white. Or had they already begun to show the wear and tear of her job? Lifting the hand he was still holding he spread her fingers across his palm. Her nails were shorter than Caroline’s and unpainted, but beneath the dust, her hands, like her eyes were unexpectedly beautiful.
What else about the girl would surprise him? He glanced up, as if her unguarded face might tell him more.
Mel was beginning to see through a red mist. How dared he? How dared he be so insensitive? She knew he didn’t want her. To toy with her like this was intolerable. Well, two could play at that game.
‘And of course it will be very good experience for me,’ Mel said, removing her fingers from his hand.
‘Experience?’ He now gave her the full benefit of those slate-dark eyes. ‘What kind of experience?’
She gave a little gasp. He wasn’t playing she realized, he was being totally serious about this. And for a heartbeat she couldn’t decide whether that was better, or worse. Then she knew. It was worse. In fact it was just about as bad as it could possibly be.
‘Acting of course,’ she said, with studied carelessness. ‘If I’m to provide - what was it? Camouflage? That is the whole point of this exercise isn’t it? You need a female companion to cover up your real reason for going to this place. So I’ll have to pretend that I’m in love with you. Just in public of course.’
‘I suppose you will.’ He voice was tight as he said it. He didn’t sound exactly overwhelmed by the idea. Scarcely whelmed, if she was honest with herself. Well, she hadn’t expected him to be. Had she?
‘I could even provoke a lover’s quarrel if you like?’ she offered, prolonging his agony. And hers.
‘Somehow, Cinderella, I have the feeling that you could provoke a war, given sufficient time.’
‘Thank you.’
‘That wasn’t a compliment.’ He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘What about in private? Have you any ideas about how you’ll manage that? Bearing in mind your concern for - what was it? Propriety?’
‘Private?’ She hoped he didn’t detect the slight wobble in her voice as the tables were turned and it was his turn to tease a little.
‘In the intimate seclusion of our suite.’
She was right. This was not a man to be taken in by a bluff. ‘Can’t you afford two bedrooms?’
‘That would rather defeat the point of your presence, I’m afraid.’
Her heart was suddenly beating like a drum. ‘Not even twin beds then?’
‘Just one large, very comfortable four-poster bed.’
She thought it was time she stopped playing games. With him and with herself.
‘I think you’re a bit tall for a sofa, Jack Wolfe. I think perhaps you’d better find someone more accommodating.’
‘You were happy enough to accommodate Tom,’ he reminded her, ‘and all he was offering you was hard work. I’m offering you the chance to lie in the sun and relax and I promise you it will be a lot more fun.’
Melanie, her cheeks painfully hot, suddenly realized just how stupid she was being. She had thought she was in control of the situation, but she wasn’t and remembering Richard’s warning, she felt unexpectedly vulnerable, quite at the mercy of a ruthless man who was capable of using anyone if it suited his purpose.
Well not her. Not her!
‘If you believed that, I wouldn’t be working for you,’ she said, attempting to wrest back her advantage by attack.
‘Really? Are you sure? Maybe it was Tom’s description of your striptease that made you so appealing.’
‘I didn’t-’
‘Strip?’
‘Tease!’ She glared at him. ‘And why all the subterfuge, anyway? Is another poor lamb being prepared for ritual sacrifice on the altar of commerce?’
His expression froze. He didn’t like that. Not one bit. ‘That, Melanie Devlin, need not concern you.’ He raked long fingers through his thick, dark hair. ‘Look, I know this is a little irregular, but I promise you that all you would have to do is look good and enjoy yourself. Or couldn’t an actress of your apparently limited talent manage that?’
‘You don’t think I could do it?’ Reckless, stupid. Anything but careful. Oh, Richard, she thought, is this dangerous enough for you?
‘I don’t know, but I suppose if you were any kind of an actress, Mel, you wouldn’t be cleaning for a living.’
‘There are a lot of good actresses out of work, you know. Would you like an audition? I do a truly amazing Portia. “The quality of mercy is not strained...”‘ she began.
Jack held up his hands in surrender. ‘Enough. I’m convinced. Although I really don’t think this is a job for Portia.’
‘No, neither do I. She wouldn’t approve at all.’ Melanie was horribly, ridiculously close to tears. She shouldn’t have allowed things to go so far, allowed him to get to her. ‘In fact, on consideration it’s not a job for me, either. I suggest you get out your little black book and start dialling,’ she threw at him. ‘I’m sure there are hundreds of women who would just jump at the chance of a few days in the sun with you.’
‘Are you? And just what evidence do you have for thinking that?’
That he was not only rich, but had the kind of looks that would turn any girl’s head. Not just poor Cinderella’s. She considered saying so, but decided she’d already said more than enough.
‘Yes?’ he prompted, then when she still remained silent, he continued. ‘I work for a living, Mel. I don’t have time to run a harem. My threat to call someone else was simply that, a threat. Unfortunately I underestimated Caro’s determination.’
‘Why don’t you give her a call? I’m sure she’s in a forgiving mood.’
‘I’m sure she is. However I am not.’ He gave her a sideways look. ‘I guess it’s you or nothing.’ His lack of enthusiasm was decidedly galling. She wasn’t begging him to take her with him, for heaven’s sake. In fact, it was time to put him straight.
‘Then I guess nothing is what you’ve got.’ She bent and picked up her workbox. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Wolfe,
but I’ve got a hundred and one more interesting things to do this weekend than go to the West Indies with you. Wash my hair. Cut my nails. Defrost the fridge.’ His image swam just a little through her bright, Busy Bees smile. ‘Oh, and since you’ve now had more than two hours of my time you’ll have to shop for your own olives.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
JACK remained perfectly still until the front door banged behind Melanie. Banged hard.
She was angry.
Well, what had he expected? That she would fall into his arms and say “thank you”? She’d known he’d simply been trying to jolt Caroline into changing her mind and no girl with an ounce of spirit would have said yes.
She would have to put up some kind of resistance, no matter how attractive the offer.
Perhaps Melanie was right. Perhaps he should call Caro. She might have come to her senses. Unfortunately for her, he already had.
Besides, the idea of taking Melanie to The Ark, despite every particle of common sense telling him that he was crazy, seemed more and more attractive. He needed someone who looked the part, someone decorative who would lie on the beach all day, dance all evening, giving the casual observer the impression that he had left business behind him to indulge his passion for a beautiful woman undisturbed.
Undisturbed?
He smiled wryly at that. Melanie Devlin could disturb a sloth. She disturbed the hell out of him in a way that Caro could never hope to. But beautiful? No one who paid close attention to such matters, would be convinced.
And, actually, that was the whole point. It had never been his intention to be too convincing.
She would be perfect. If only he could convince her. He glanced at his watch. It was gone five. Would she go straight home, or on to another job? He’d have to speak to Mrs Graham, either way. And then he smiled. That was it. He wouldn’t have to do a thing. He’d leave Mrs Graham to convince her.
He crossed to the phone and picked it up, but his first call was to Mike Palmer.
