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‘My car still bears the imprint of you looking after yourself,’ he said with a silkiness that disguised pure steel.
As Daisy’s mouth came open in a little O of surprise and indignation he continued looking at her steadily, and then, as she spluttered a bit and searched frantically for a retort that would be adequately scathing, he smiled, his teeth showing white and strong against the tanned skin of his face.
‘Look, we seem to have got off on the wrong foot again.’
His voice was smooth and assured and she didn’t trust him an inch—which was awful really, she told herself in the next instant, when he had been nothing but kindness itself. Installing her in this fabulous room, offering to pay for her stay, expressing concern for her welfare… Her sense of unease grew and it wasn’t helped by the overwhelming sense of vulnerability she was feeling. He was so big and dark and masculine, and as she was lying here, virtually helpless, his virility and devastating magnetism were more than a little threatening.
‘Of course we haven’t got off on the wrong foot.’ She was lying through her teeth and they both knew it. ‘It’s just that I prefer to be independent and pay my own way—’
‘How do you intend to do that without a job and in your present condition?’ he interjected coolly.
If he did that one more time she would let him know exactly what she thought of his high-handed arrogance, Daisy told herself furiously as she struggled to keep calm and answer him. Not that there was an answer as such…
‘I have a little money put by,’ she said stiffly through clenched teeth, ‘and the doctor has advised me it will only be a matter of a few weeks before I am fit again. Once I get work I shall start reimbursing you,’ she assured him firmly.
‘I understand you work with children?’ In contrast to her taut body and tight voice he was utterly relaxed, his voice soft and low as he watched every expression on her face.
Daisy nodded, her eyes wary. The nurse really had been a little mine of information to her employer! ‘I’m a qualified nursery nurse,’ she affirmed quietly, ‘and I’d been at my last job for two years before the—’ She stopped abruptly. ‘Before I decided to leave and come to London,’ she continued quickly.
The dark eyes had narrowed slightly at her hesitation but he made no comment, merely nodding slowly. ‘And of course you have references, certificates, that sort of thing?’ he asked easily.
‘Of course.’ Where was this leading? Daisy had the impression this conversation was more than mere social intercourse and she felt very uneasy now.
‘This is good.’ And he smiled slowly.
For a moment the slight accent she had detected before was more evident, increasing the impression of foreignness his terminology had caused. Daisy didn’t smile back.
‘Is it?’ She stared at him. ‘Why?’ she asked bluntly.
‘I have a problem you might be able to help me with, Daisy,’ he said coolly, ‘and it would be a means of solving the present dilemma in a way that would suit us both. You seem determined to repay me—although it is not at all necessary—is that correct?’ He raised dark eyebrows as he waited for her reply.
‘It certainly is,’ she said firmly. He was the last man in all the world she wanted to feel an obligation to, and this room must be costing a small fortune. The accident had been all her fault, totally, and she wasn’t at all sure she hadn’t caused some damage to his car—although no doubt that would be covered by insurance. Nevertheless, she was deeply in his debt and it made her want to squirm. Oh, boy, didn’t it just!
‘I thought so.’ Black eyes met honey-brown. ‘Then perhaps if I outline the situation as I see it we can go from there?’ He didn’t wait for a response from her before he continued, ‘You are going to be somewhat incapacitated for two or three weeks, and, however large your nest-egg, rent and other living expenses will soon make a hole in your capital. Agreed?’
Capital? She wouldn’t exactly call her four hundred pounds capital, Daisy thought bleakly. She had paid the rent on her minute bedsit three months in advance—thank goodness—but a few weeks with no salary would soon make her destitute.
‘Agreed?’ he persisted smoothly as she stared at him without speaking, her brain trying to assimilate what he was saying.
Daisy nodded stiffly. She had the feeling he had made a pretty good guess as to the state of her bank balance.
‘Which brings us to my problem.’ He settled himself more comfortably on the chair and she tried to ignore what the movement did to her nerve-endings as the dark power of his masculinity became tangible.
‘I have an apartment in London, but my main home is in Italy,’ he continued quietly, ‘and that is where my family live.’
His family? A little dart of something, something she didn’t want to examine, brought Daisy’s eyes wide. She hadn’t had him down as a family man somehow, but the Italian connection explained both the dark good looks and the accent.
‘My mother is Italian but my father was English,’ he continued as though in explanation of her thoughts. ‘I lived in England for the first twenty years of my life but then when my father died and my mother moved back to her own country my life became a little more complicated. I took over my father’s business interests here but spent a good deal of time with my mother’s people; my wife’s family is part of the far-reaching clan.’
He was married. Well, hadn’t she sensed it the moment he had mentioned family? Daisy asked herself silently. And of course a man like him wouldn’t remain single for too long—some enterprising female, more beautiful and tenacious than the rest, would have been sure to have snapped him up. And she was welcome.
The last thought was unexpected but carried a wealth of bitterness that surprised her in spite of herself. But he was too good-looking, too charismatic, too dynamic to make a comfortable partner to be with, she affirmed to the accusing voice in her head that said she was being unfair. And if anyone should know she should. She’d had enough of good-looking men to last her a lifetime.
‘My wife was reluctant to live in England so we made our home in Italy and I continued to divide my time between the two countries.’ If Slade noticed the shadows in her eyes he made no comment on it, and his voice was cool and matter-of-fact as he said, ‘When my son was born Luisa became even less inclined to travel. In fact she became almost phobic about her home.’
‘You have one child?’ Daisy asked carefully.
He nodded. ‘Francesco is six years of age,’ he said quietly, his voice softening on the name. ‘The accident which took his mother’s life was also the cause of putting him in a wheelchair eighteen months ago.’
Daisy was too shocked to do more than gasp.
‘He is walking again now,’ Slade said quickly, ‘but he is a difficult little boy. I feel this is less to do with his mother’s death than the outrageous spoiling he receives at the hands of his maternal grandparents and aunties and uncles. Of course it is understandable—’ this last was said in a tone which suggested Slade did not understand or accept it at all ‘—but it cannot continue. When Luisa died her mother undertook the task of hiring a nanny and nurse for Francesco when he came out of hospital. I let her do this because she was still devastated by Luisa’s death and needed something to occupy her mind, but it was a mistake. The nurse left once Francesco was walking again, six months later, but Luisa’s mother is at the house most days and the nanny is completely under her influence.’
‘And your mother?’ Daisy asked quietly, totally immersed in the story. ‘Does she live near you?’
‘She married again four years ago and now lives in Madesimo, which is a village high in the Spluga Valley close to the border of Switzerland. It is far enough away from Merano to prevent daily visits,’ he added drily. ‘Now Francesco’s nanny is getting married and leaving my employ it is time for someone to take a firm hand with Francesco when I am not around to do so, and I intend to see that this happens. I also feel it is time for my son to develop his English heritage, and to that end I have had it in mind to advertise for an English nanny. You have saved me the trouble, maybe?’ he added with a wry twist to his lips.
‘Me?’ Daisy squeaked nervously. He had to be joking! It appeared he was not.
‘There is a reason why this would be impossible?’ he asked steadily, the brilliant gaze hard on her flushed face.
Too true, and it was sitting a foot or so away from her, Daisy thought desperately. But she couldn’t very well say so.
‘You have no commitments to keep you in England from what the nurse tells me,’ Slade said calmly, ‘and you have recently come to London to begin afresh.’
Daisy hadn’t told the nurse what she wanted to get away from and Slade Eastwood didn’t enquire either. She wouldn’t have told him anyway, and perhaps he had sensed that? She asked herself.
‘That being the case, one place is as good as another. Francesco’s nanny told me of her impending marriage at the weekend and wishes to leave my employ in three months’ time.’ His mouth tightened. ‘My wife’s mother is not getting involved this time,’ he added grimly. ‘Not in the smallest way.’
‘But…but you don’t know me,’ Daisy murmured helplessly. This was crazy, surreal; it couldn’t be happening.
‘I know your circumstances make it possible for you to get to know Francesco well before Angelica leaves,’ Slade said coolly, ‘and I have learnt more about you than I would glean at an interview. You are not easily intimidated and you are both honest and brave, as your insistence to reimburse me proves,’ he added drily. ‘All those qualities would be essential when dealing with the household in my absence. If your qualifications and references are satisfactory then I think we could look on our meeting as fate?’
Fate her foot! Daisy broke from the power of the dark gaze and lowered her eyes to hide her thoughts. She couldn’t work for this man, see him every day when he was at home, live in his house! She just couldn’t. ‘The thing is, Mr Eastwood, working as a nanny has never appealed,’ she said slowly as she looked at the bright poppies on her bedcover. ‘I’ve always worked in a classroom environment with twenty or so children.’
‘Then working with one would be easy,’ he countered swiftly. ‘And how do you know you wouldn’t like it until you have tried? We could make the position temporary—say, a trial period of three months at first, to make sure both parties feel it is successful. I am prepared to pay you a retainer for the next few weeks while you recover from your injuries and settle your affairs in England—’ he mentioned a sum that made Daisy’s mouth fall open for a second ‘—and then, once you are fit again, you could fly out to Italy and have the latter half of Angelica’s notice with her and my son. It would work very well all round.’
She lifted her gaze now and the piercing black eyes were waiting for her, their power immediately mesmerising.
‘My son has a private tutor at home so you would not be required to undertake his schooling beyond encouraging him at his lessons of course; your contribution would be in the capacity of a mother figure providing discipline, control and restraint.’
Discipline, control and restraint? Daisy thought bemusedly. It sounded to her as if he was looking more for an army corporal than a nanny. This just had to be a total non-starter.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Eastwood,’ she began politely, wondering if it was she who was crazy or he, ‘but I’m sure when you’ve had time to consider this properly you will see that it just wouldn’t work. Of course I am very grateful for all your kindness—’
‘Prove it.’ It was straight for the jugular and totally unexpected. ‘And I would just make the point that you would have your own suite and the door has a bolt,’ he added pointedly, ‘and my housekeeper and her husband live on the premises.’
She stared at him as a flood of scarlet stained her skin. She hadn’t thought he was suggesting anything improper! Not for a second! How dared he assume that? Her voice was very tight when she said, ‘I didn’t think for a moment that this was anything other than a job offer, Mr Eastwood.’
‘No?’ It was lazy and slightly amused.
‘No!’ she snapped back hotly.
‘This is good.’
No, this was bad. Very bad! In fact this was the last thing in the world that she needed after the horrendous agony of the last year or so, Daisy thought desperately. She had come to London to bury herself in the uncaring pace of the big city, where no one cared very much about anyone else. She could lick her wounds in comfort here, without well-meaning friends dropping by to ‘cheer her up’.
If she had got the job she was going for on the morning of the accident it would have been perfect. A straightforward nine-to-five existence, then home to her tiny bedsit where she could please herself. If she hadn’t wanted to see another soul out of work hours she wouldn’t have had to. But this… This was impossible. She didn’t want to be a mother figure to anyone—in fact she didn’t want to get close to anyone ever again.
‘Look, I really don’t want this kind of job.’ She tried again.
‘Think about it.’ It was an order but spoken in a silky tone that made it difficult to fire back as she would have liked to. ‘This way all your debt is wiped out, you get the chance to see new horizons whilst earning an excellent salary and it won’t look bad on your CV either.’
‘But I don’t understand. Why me?’ she asked helplessly, her huge honey-brown eyes with their thick brown lashes open wide and her silver-blonde hair falling about her shoulders in gleaming waves.
Slade Eastwood looked at the slender young woman in the bed. If he answered that truthfully he had about as much chance of persuading her to take the job as making snowballs in hell, he thought ruefully, and how could he explain what he didn’t understand himself anyway? He just knew he couldn’t let her walk out of his life, not yet. That was all.
‘Why you?’ He smiled coolly, his thoughts hidden. ‘Why not? You were in the right place at the right time, perhaps?’
‘Hardly.’ Daisy thought of her sore arms and legs and her ribs throbbed their protest at his statement.
‘Like I said, think about it.’ He rose, and she felt the movement in every fibre of her being. She didn’t like the effect this man had on her; he was hypnotising.
‘My son is very important to me, Daisy.’ He was halfway to the door when he turned to face her again, and now the brilliant eyes were very black and very steady. ‘I want the best for him, as does every father for his son, and I won’t let anything or anyone stand in the way of that.’
Daisy just looked at him—she couldn’t think of a thing to say and she wasn’t at all sure exactly what he was getting at.
‘I want Francesco to grow up with certain standards, principles, and he needs to imbibe those at an early age. At the moment he is vulnerable, he is getting a great deal of sentimental, indulgent love which is without solid foundation and this will not do. I cannot be with him every minute of every day and due to the influences I have mentioned when I am with him there is inevitable confrontation. This must stop.’
Daisy nodded but still didn’t speak. If he thought this was persuading her to take the position as nanny he couldn’t be more wrong, she thought weakly. He was positively terrifying, and all her sympathy was with his son and his mother-in-law!
‘I will return tomorrow evening when you have had time to give the proposal further thought, and in the meantime I will arrange to have a contract delivered for your perusal, stating the terms of employment and your salary and so on should you decide to accept the post.’
This was ridiculous. She had to tell him right now that there was no way she would consider working for him. ‘Mr Eastwood, I really don’t think there is any likelihood of my leaving England and working in Italy,’ Daisy said as firmly as she could considering the dark gaze was burning her face.
‘No? I disagree.’ His tone had altered and it brought her chin up in unconscious preparation for battle. ‘By your own decision, when you leave this establishment you will be some thousands of pounds in my debt,’ he said coolly. ‘It will clearly take you months, maybe much longer, to pay that back, even supposing you are fortunate enough to step into employment immediately you are well. Unless you are prepared to reconsider and allow me to cancel the debt?’ he added softly.
‘There is no question of that,’ she bit back quickly.
He shrugged slowly. ‘Then my offer seems a very sensible solution,’ he suggested sardonically. ‘Added to that, you are free from all ties now, and Italy is even better than London for forgetting the past and forging a new life.’
‘What?’ She stared at him, too shocked to say any more.
‘I told you, I love my son, Daisy.’ It was cold and clipped. ‘You do not think I would make you the sort of offer I have suggested without making sure you are a suitable companion for him?’
‘You’ve had me checked out?’ If she had ever been this mad before she couldn’t remember it.
‘Of course,’ he said smoothly. ‘You are twenty-four years of age, born and raised in England, and you have two younger sisters. When your family moved to the States four years ago you stayed behind and married a Ronald McTavish a year or so later. Your divorce became final two weeks ago, at which point you moved to London. Correct?’ The dark eyes narrowed questioningly.
‘Correct.’ He could just say ‘correct’ like that, when her life had been wrecked and devastated and she still didn’t know how she was ever going to make anything concrete out of the debris. Her chin rose higher. She would not, she would not betray anything of what she was feeling to this cruel, unfeeling monster.
She nodded tightly. ‘You have been busy.’
‘I am a businessman in a cut-throat world,’ he said calmly. ‘It is often necessary to make sure I am fully acquainted with all relevant data and to know from whom I can obtain it.’
‘You mean you have contacts you pay for information,’ Daisy stated icily. ‘People who poke and pry to get you what you want.’
‘And you disapprove of this?’
‘When it affects me, yes.’ She was glaring at him now. ‘What else did your spies unearth?’ she bit out testily.
‘What else should they have discovered, Daisy?’ he asked easily, his cool, implacable expression giving nothing away.
She was aware he had purposely thrown the ball back in her court and that she was dealing with a master of manipulation and it checked the angry retort she was about to make. She wouldn’t gain anything by losing her temper, she warned herself silently. Not with this man. She forced herself to shrug casually and not wince when the movement twanged sore muscles and aching ribs. ‘I think you’ve covered the basics,’ she said in as bored a tone as she could manage.
He’d give her ten out of ten for sheer guts. Slade stared across at the ethereal girl in the bed as his mind raced behind its cold fa?ade. Whatever had put that haunted look in her eyes had been bad, very bad, he thought grimly, and the marriage had clearly been anything but a bed of roses. As she’d said, his data was pretty basic—too basic, he decided suddenly. He had ascertained she was damn good with children and that there was no mud clinging to her name, although his informant had indicated that the husband had played around a bit, and that had seemed enough initially.
But he wanted to know more now. In fact he wanted to know everything there was to know about Daisy Summers. He smiled once, nodded, and left the room.
CHAPTER TWO
HOW dared he, how dared he poke and pry into her private life like that? Slade Eastwood was a stranger; he was nothing to her; he had no right to hire other strangers to find out her personal circumstances. It was nothing short of outrageous.
For a long time after Slade had left Daisy sat—her eyes burningly dry and her mouth a tight white line in the paleness of her face—and brooded on their conversation.
She just couldn’t believe anyone would have the nerve to do something like that and then brag about it, she told herself bitterly, although she shouldn’t be surprised at anything the male sex was capable of if she thought about it.
The thought brought her mind focusing on Ronald and immediately she pushed him away. Not yet; she couldn’t think of him yet, not without wanting to die or kill him or both, and the bitterness and rage were weakening and she needed all the strength she had right at the moment if she was going to get out of this hospital.
She had to leave this place in the morning whatever the doctor said. She had asked the nurse earlier that afternoon just how much it was costing Slade Eastwood for her to stay here, and if she hadn’t been lying down she would have fallen down when the woman had told her. And each day was upping the bill by as much money as she could earn in a month. Hot panic caused her to take too deep a breath and pain from her ribs sliced through her.
‘Steady, girl, steady.’ She spoke out loud into the tranquil surroundings, the beautiful furnishings and hushed luxury mocking her. Why, oh, why had he insisted she be brought here, instead of allowing her to be taken to a National Health hospital? she asked herself desperately. She would give the world to be in a noisy, utilitarian ward with no frills and fancies right now! But she would leave in the morning—she would—no matter what the medical staff advised.
The decision brought a measure of comfort and she lay back in the bed with a tired sigh. She could phone Stephanie, she thought suddenly. Her friend had been brilliant over the last sixteen or so months, unswervingly loyal and totally committed to her even though Stephanie’s husband had been Ronald’s best friend, and she had promised the other girl she would let her know how the interview had gone when she had spoken to her three nights ago. Stephanie must be wondering why she hadn’t phoned the following night.
Stephanie answered on the second ring and on hearing the familiar voice Daisy suddenly had the ridiculous urge to cry. She breathed in slowly and then exhaled, gripping the receiver tightly as she said, her voice bright, ‘It’s me, Steph.’
‘Daisy? Oh, Daisy, where’ve you been? I’ve phoned the house several times over the last two days and each time someone different has answered and said there’s no reply from your room. I’ve been so worried,’ Stephanie said plaintively.
‘It’s all right.’ Daisy felt immensely cheered by the naked concern in her friend’s voice. ‘I haven’t thrown myself off London Bridge yet.’
‘Don’t joke; I’ve had all sorts of crazy thoughts,’ Stephanie said weakly. ‘You’ve gone through so much and been so brave, but everyone has a breaking point. Did you get the job?’ she added as an afterthought. ‘The one you mentioned when we last spoke?’
‘Not exactly.’ This bit was going to be difficult; Daisy wouldn’t put it past Stephanie to come hurtling down to London in an effort to persuade her to go back home with her. ‘Now, don’t panic, but I’ve got something to tell you…’
Stephanie listened in absolute silence while Daisy filled her in on all that had happened, finishing with, ‘But don’t worry because I really am fine. You ought to see this room, Steph. It’s beautiful. I’ve never been so cosseted in my life.’ Daisy glanced about her as she spoke, her eyes rueful.
‘Oh, Daisy.’ There was a snuffle and sniff before Stephanie continued, ‘You’re the nicest person I know and for this to happen after everything else that’s gone wrong—it just doesn’t seem fair. And he jolly well should be taking care of things in my opinion!’
