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She blinked and looked ahead into the gloom beyond the dazzle of the camera lights. ‘Sorry? Could you repeat the question, please?’
‘Of course. I wondered—’ the voice was leisurely, unhurried. ‘—did you encounter any particular problems in the production of the strip?’
A hand seemed to close around her throat so that for a moment she could hardly breathe, much less answer. There was no mistaking that deep, mocking, husky voice with its hint of Spanish sensuality. ‘No,’ she said sharply, her eyes raking the darkness, trying to locate him.
‘None at all?’
He stepped forward, people standing around the edges of the room beyond the rows of chairs moving aside to let him through. His eyes, bruised and shadowed, burned into hers with laser-like intensity that belied the lazy challenge in his voice, and Tamsin noticed with a thud of sheer horror that in his hand he held the shirt.
The missing number-ten shirt.
The treacherous, sadistic, ruthless, vindictive bastard. For a moment she was speechless with loathing. He was trying to force her to admit, in front of people who were already cynical enough about her ability, that she had messed up.
As if he hadn’t humiliated her enough.
‘No,’ she repeated coolly, lifting her chin and meeting his gaze head-on. ‘I was lucky that the manufacturing team was excellent, and the whole production process was very straightforward. When working with very specialised fabrics like these, technical problems with dye or finishes are almost to be expected, but in this instance I managed to anticipate all potential issues and as a result there were no problems at all.’
There. She stared defiantly at him, daring him to say anything to the contrary. After all, if he did, that would betray the fact that he had inside information, which would be an extremely unwise move to make in front of a room full of journalists.
Tamsin’s heart was pounding. She watched him glance down at the shirt in his hand, and back up again. Back at her. His face was like stone.
‘I see. You had an excellent team. Does that mean that your involvement in this commission was merely nominal?’
‘No, it does not,’ she said in a low, fierce voice. Beside her, Tamsin heard her father make a sharp sound of impatience and disgust, and was aware of him leaning over to whisper something to the RFU official on his other side. She knew that at the smallest signal from her he would summon security to remove Alejandro D’Arienzo from the room, but the knowledge gave her no satisfaction. She didn’t want him to go anywhere before she’d made him see that she was more than just a dizzy, vacant heiress playing at having a grown-up job.
‘In that case,’ said Alejandro smoothly, ‘may I assume that you’re available for other commissions of a similar kind?’
‘What do you mean?’
The rest of the room was watching—waiting with the same morbid fascination that make people slow down when they passed a road accident, Tamsin thought bitterly. She felt like a cat who had been lured into the lion’s cage at the zoo and was about to be devoured in front of a crowd of avid onlookers.
‘Miss Calthorpe—sorry, Lady Calthorpe.’ Alejandro’s voice was husky, seductive, eminently reasonable. Only she could sense the barbs beneath the silk. ‘You’ve convinced us all that you won this contract fairly and have been single-handedly responsible for seeing it through every stage from design to completion. I’m sure I’m not alone in admiring the results of your work.’ There was a murmur of grudging assent from the rows of reporters. Tamsin felt irritation prickle up her spine as she noticed the rapt expressions on their faces as they looked up at Alejandro. ‘I’m one of the sponsors of Los Pumas—the Argentine rugby team,’ he was saying, ‘And I’d like to invite you to redesign their strip for their relaunch next season.’
A moment ago they’d been preparing to lynch her, but one word from their hero and they were rolling over like puppies. It was sickening.
‘I—sorry?’
Tamsin’s head snapped round to look in bewilderment at her father as her mouth opened in astonishment. She should have been paying closer attention. For a moment there she thought he’d just asked her to design the Pumas strip, but surely she’d misheard?
Henry Calthorpe cleared his throat importantly. His voice was utterly dismissive. ‘I’m afraid that would be impossible. Tamsin’s schedule is booked up for months in advance, although I’m sure if you put your request in writing …’
A low, derisive murmur went around the room as the reporters shifted in their seats and looked meaningfully at each other, sensing carnage. But Tamsin was oblivious to everything but Alejandro. His dark, handsome face wore the look of a pirate king who had just forced the damsel in distress to walk right to the end of the plank.
There was nowhere for her to go, and he knew it. It was a case of give in, or give up. If she refused him now, it would make everything she’d just said sound like a lie.
Tamsin didn’t give in easily, but she knew when she was outmanoeuvred. She forced herself to look straight at him, but it was more than she was capable of to manage a smile as well.
‘I’d be absolutely delighted, Mr D’Arienzo.’
So, Tamsin Calthorpe had talent, of that there was no doubt. Whether it extended into the field of design, or was simply confined to deception and dishonesty remained to be seen.
Alejandro pushed through the crowd of journalists, many of whom had now turned in his direction to pick up on the unexpectedly juicy twist the story had just taken. Ignoring them, he made straight for the door through which the RFU officials, with Tamsin amongst them, had just disappeared.
He saw her straight away, deep in conversation with her father at the far end of the room where croissants and coffee were set out on a table. If that severe black trouser-suit was supposed to make her look grown up and professional, she’d got it completely wrong, he thought sourly. She just seemed absurdly young; far too thin and somehow …
Ah. Of course.
Vulnerable.
Silly of him to be so slow on the uptake. That was exactly the effect she must have been going for.
As he crossed the room towards them, he watched her put a hand on her father’s arm, as if restraining him. Deliberately he avoided looking at Henry Calthorpe, instead focusing on his daughter. She was very pale—he’d thought before that was just the harsh TV lighting—but he could see now that she looked as if she were about to pass out. Could it be that he’d finally managed to shake the oh-so-secure world of Lady Tamsin?
Leaving Henry’s side, she came over to him. She was trembling, he noticed with a twisting sensation deep in his gut.
‘I hope you’re satisfied.’
‘Extremely,’ he said in an offhand tone. ‘I’ve just secured the services of an extremely talented designer who’s apparently booked up for the foreseeable future. Now all I need is a cup of coffee and my day would be made.’
Her fine eyebrows rose. He could almost see the sparks of hostility that seemed to electrify the air around her. ‘Secured? I’m sorry—shouldn’t that be blackmailed?’
Alejandro laughed. ‘You’ve been watching too many films. Or did I miss the part when someone held a knife to your throat?’
‘You know what I mean,’ she hissed, looking swiftly around her, as if checking to see if anyone was listening, and taking a step towards him. ‘You know that there’s no way I could refuse out there, with the world’s press just waiting for a chance to tear me to ribbons.’
With some effort Alejandro kept his face and his voice completely blank. Her clean, floral scent as she moved closer gave him a sudden flashback to last night, and how it had felt to kiss her. His lip, swollen and bruised this morning, throbbed at the memory.
‘Refuse? Now why would you want to do that?’
‘Because I cannot and will not work for someone I don’t respect.’
He moved past her, and with complete insouciance began pouring coffee from the cafetière on the table into a china cup. ‘Oh dear,’ he drawled. ‘Well, you’d better get over the artistic-diva tantrums, because by tomorrow morning every paper is going to be carrying the story of how England’s up and coming celebrity designer is off to Argentina to work her creative magic on the Pumas.’ He turned back to her, leaning against the table as he took a thoughtful sip of coffee. ‘Unless of course you’d like me to call some contacts and tell them you’ve reconsidered—’
‘Argentina?’ Her eyes widened in horror, ‘Who said anything about Argentina?’
For a split second she looked so scared that Alejandro almost felt sorry for her. Almost. But the memory of what she’d done to him six years ago burned like his split lip. It was her turn to be sorry now.
‘Did you really think I would bring the whole team over here? That may be how people in Tamsin’s world usually operate, but you’re going to have to get used to a whole new way of doing things, sweetheart.’
Watching her eyes darken from emerald to the dark, opaque green of yew trees in winter, he waited for the storm to break. He had seen from the little firework display last night when she’d tried to hit him that Lady Tamsin had a formidable temper, and wondered what she would do now. Scream? Throw something? Or turn to Daddy for help?
She tilted her chin, her blistering hostility cleverly cloaked in ice-cold nonchalance. Alejandro was grudgingly impressed at her restraint.
‘Why are you doing this to me?’
‘To you?’ he said very quietly. ‘Oh no, Tamsin, I’m doing it for you. I’m giving you a chance to prove yourself. I’m giving you a chance to showcase your talents and seal your reputation. You should be grateful. I thought you liked a challenge.’
She laughed softly then, almost as if she was relieved. It sounded breathy and musical. ‘I get it. You think that I’ve had my hand held and all the hard work done for me here, don’t you? You think that I’m going to be absolutely clueless out there on my own, and you just can’t wait to watch me fail.’ She looked up at him, her soft, pink mouth curved into a smile. ‘Well, Alejandro, I won’t fail. I did it all myself, and I can do it again—better, more easily this time—so, if you’re dragging me over to the other side of the world just so you can have the pleasure of watching me screw up, you’re wasting your time.’
‘Fighting talk. Very impressive,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘But I warn you, Tamsin, this isn’t a game. This isn’t like last night, where you can flirt and seduce your way through when the going gets tough. This is work.’
A rosy tide flooded her cheeks and the smile evaporated instantly. ‘And you’re the boss, right?’ she said with quiet venom. ‘Good. I’m so glad we got that straight, because if you so much as lay a finger on me I’ll have you for sexual harassment faster than you can say “hotshot lawyer”.’
Before Alejandro could respond, a member of the grounds team in an England tracksuit and baseball cap had appeared beside them, looking anxious. ‘Miss Calthorpe?’ he said nervously. ‘The photographer’s ready to start the photo-shoot down on the pitch. But, er, unfortunately we seem to be missing one shirt …’
For a moment she didn’t move. And then, still keeping her gaze fixed to his, she said, ‘Thank you. I’m bringing it right now.’
Alejandro smiled as much as his swollen lip would allow. ‘A car will come for you tomorrow morning,’ he said with exaggerated courtesy. ‘Please be ready by eleven o’clock.’
‘Tomorrow? But—’ She stopped abruptly, visibly struggling to rein in the furious protest that had sprung to her lips. Finally, pressing her lips together, she gave a curt nod and turned on her heel to follow the grounds official.
Alejandro watched her go, her narrow back ramrod-straight, her blonde head held very high. She was hanging onto that fiery temper by a thread, he thought wryly. She seemed very confident that she could handle the professional aspect of the next couple of weeks—but how would she do on the personal? Would the spoiled little diva be able to cope?
He waited until she was almost at the door before calling, ‘Oh—and Tamsin?’
She turned, her face set into a mask of politeness. ‘Yes, Mr D’Arienzo? Or, now I’m working for you, should I call you “sir”?’
‘Alejandro is fine. We’ll be flying on my private jet tomorrow. It’s only a small plane, so bring one bag only, please. I know what women are like for packing ridiculous amounts of unnecessary clothes.’
The look she shot him was ice-cool. ‘You’re saying clothes will be unnecessary? Careful, Mr D’Arienzo—this is business, remember?’
And then she was gone. Alejandro was left staring after her, his coffee cooling in his hand, his mind swirling with disturbing thoughts of Tamsin Calthorpe sprawled naked on the leather seats of his jet, and the unwelcome suspicion that she’d just scored some victory over him.
He’d take her advice. He would be careful.
He had an uneasy feeling that this was going to be a whole lot more trouble than he’d bargained for.
CHAPTER SIX
‘ONE bag! How the hell am I supposed to get everything I need into one stupid bag?’ Wedging the phone against her shoulder, Tamsin picked up a soft jacket, the colour of dark chocolate, and looked at it longingly. ‘Should I take my army coat or the brown cashmere jacket?’
‘Cashmere,’ said Serena firmly. ‘The other one makes you look like you’re in the Hitler Youth. So, tell me, how’s Daddy about all this?’
‘Well, that’s another annoying thing, actually. He’s furious. Which is particularly unfair, considering he knows I had absolutely no choice.’
She squashed the jacket onto the top of her already bulging leather holdall. It was half-past ten, and the bedroom looked like the scene of a police raid, with drawers pulled open and spilling out silken wisps of underwear, cardigans and dresses in every colour.
‘Darling, since when has Pa been rational where his best beloved daughter is concerned? He thought he’d dealt with this problem once and for all, so you can’t blame him for being a bit fed up.’
‘What?’ said Tamsin vaguely, looking around the room. ‘Do you think three sweaters will be enough?’
‘Sweaters?’ There was a long silence at the other end of the phone. Eventually Serena said in a strangled voice, ‘Tamsin, just run by me what else you’ve packed.’
Tamsin picked up a thick leather belt with a heavy jewelled buckle and threw it back into a drawer. ‘Look, I know you’re going to say that I should take lots of dressy stuff, and that Alejandro Playboy D’Arienzo probably holds A-list parties every night or whatever, but I don’t care, because I’m not getting involved in any of that. I’m not interested in him. I’m there to work.’
‘It’s not that. Just tell me you haven’t packed for winter? Darling, it’s the height of summer over there just now. The temperature is in the thirties!’
In the middle of the chaos Tamsin stopped and went very still, her mouth suddenly dry. Her eyes darted to the big, old-fashioned schoolroom clock on the wall by the window, and then to the miserable London greyness outside. She gave a small whimper.
‘Oh, God. Oh, no! I didn’t think …”
‘OK. Don’t panic. Let’s be rational about this. First you have to take everything out of the bag.’
‘Everything out,’ repeated Tamsin desperately, pulling out armfuls of cashmere and wool and trying not to cry. ‘OK. Now wh—?’
She stopped suddenly as she heard the sound of a car engine in the mews below.
He wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes yet, and surely he wouldn’t be so inconsiderate as to—?
A door slammed. Footsteps echoed on the frosty pavement.
‘Oh, Serena. He’s here,’ she whimpered into the phone as the doorbell rang. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘OK,’ said Serena urgently. ‘You’re going to be cool and professional. You’re going to bear in mind at all times that he is absolutely not to be trusted, and most importantly of all—’ the doorbell rang again ‘—you are not going to sleep with him.’ She sighed. ‘But first, you’re going to let him in.’
‘Finally.’ Alejandro walked past her into the narrow hallway and looked around with barely concealed impatience. ‘I was just about to leave. I assumed you’d had second thoughts.’
‘About such a—what was it?—generous opportunity to prove myself?’ Tamsin said sweetly. ‘Now why would I do that?’
‘You tell me,’ he replied with heavy irony. ‘Are you ready?’
She was halfway up the narrow stairs. ‘Nope. Come up.’
Gritting his teeth in irritation, Alejandro followed her, trying not to look at her rear in the skinny black jeans she wore.
‘This better not take long. My driver’s waiting.’
‘Really?’ she said lightly. ‘Can you drive to Argentina? I thought we’d be going by plane.’
He found himself in a large living space with windows all along one wall and warm old pine floorboards. There was a kitchen area at one end with peacock-blue cupboards and an enormous French baker’s rack groaning under the weight of china and pans. The other end was taken up with a huge sofa upholstered in shocking pink brocade and a white furry rug. The whole space was painted in a creamy off-white, and even on the greyest winter morning it was airy and bright.
It was also incredibly messy.
‘Have you been burgled, or is it always like this?’ he asked, looking around. On the table beside the telephone was a pile of unopened brown envelopes, many of them printed in red and marked ‘urgent’.
Stepping over piles of clothes, magazines, discarded shoes and scraps of fabric, he made his way to the door through which Tamsin had just disappeared and felt a dart of heat as he realised it was her bedroom.
‘No, and no,’ she said haughtily, picking up an armful of bulky winter clothes and shoving them into the bottom drawer of an enormous old armoire. ‘It’s like this because some annoying person forced me to travel halfway across the world at a moment’s notice, and then arrived early to pick me up.’
Alejandro glanced at his watch. ‘Ten minutes. That’s hardly early. I assumed you would have packed last night.’
‘Oh, did you?’ she snapped. ‘Well, I think that’s one of the many things I find annoying about you, Alejandro. You have no right to assume anything. How do you know that I didn’t have other plans last night? Why should I turn my life upside down and cancel everything when you snap your fingers?’
Without letting a flicker of the emotion that suddenly licked up through him at the thought of what her ‘other plans’ for last night had been, Alejandro bent down and picked up a scrap of fuchsia-pink silk from the floor beside the bed and held it up. It was a suspender belt.
‘It doesn’t look as if you cancelled anything last night,’ he said sardonically, feeling a twist of grim satisfaction as he watched her eyes widen in outrage. For a moment she stared mutely at him as he turned the delicate band of silk and lace around in his hands before tossing it casually onto the bed.
‘If you must know I spent last night in my design studio, alone, getting together all the stuff I need to bring with me for work. That’s why I haven’t had time to tidy up, or pack, because that’s why I thought you’d hired me—to design your rugby strip for you. If you’d wanted someone with the domestic skills of Snow White, you should have gone to Disneyland.’
