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Fighting to breathe, her body racked with gigantic shudders. She cried until there were no tears left. Her throat was sore and aching, but was nothing like the ache in her heart. Still the words of Solo and Tina, their shared laughter, echoed in her head like some horrific nightmare that would not go away. Her dreams of love and marriage completely shattered—it had just been an illusion created by the deceit of one man.
Solo had considered marrying her; in that she had been right. But he did not want her, did not love her, never had. It had all been a sophisticated game, a plan to acquire her acceptance for the changes in store at Haversham Park, and as the knowledge sank into her tortured mind she heard her heart break.
Penny slipped from her hiding place and stared at the softly flowing water, and wanted to die; she could not bear the pain. Lifting her head, she looked up at the clear blue sky, the only sound an occasional bird song and the gentle flow of the water over the stones. But as she stood there with the water swirling around her the familiar beauty of the place touched her soul, and she realised life was too precious to let a womanising devil of a man like Solo Maffeiano destroy her.
Slowly Penny walked back across the fields towards the vicarage. She couldn’t go home yet… She could not face Solo.
She needed to build up her courage to dump the swine, and face her father. She could not bear the thought of him actually going into business with Maffeiano, and selling the house even though he had every right to do so, and if her rejection of Solo spoilt her dad’s plans, tough… But she could see Veronica’s hand behind this.
Penny consoled herself with the thought that at least her father had got the money for the land. He and Veronica would have to be happy with that. She was almost at the front door of the vicarage when it flew open and Simon appeared.
‘What the hell happened to you?’ he demanded. ‘You look as though you have been dragged through a hedge backwards.’
Penny looked up into his friendly face and she could not help it, she threw herself into his arms. ‘Oh, Simon, Patricia was right about the man I thought loved me—he doesn’t at all. I am in a hell of a mess, and I dare not face Solo Maffeiano.’
‘Hey, don’t be upset. Your honorary brother is here to help.’ His strong arms closed firmly around her, and he tilted her chin up to his. ‘Jane told me you were involved with a man.’
‘Not any more—I never want to see him again,’ Penny said bitterly.
‘This Solo wouldn’t be a tall, dark, good-looking dude…?
‘Yes, why?’
‘He’s walking up the drive, probably looking for you. Follow my lead and your troubles will be over. He looks the jealous type. Kiss me and make it look good. Then tell him you were waiting for me, your boyfriend.’ Simon pressed his lips to hers and Penny wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him…
CHAPTER ONE
‘I REALLY don’t feel like socialising, Jane.’ Penny made one last effort to get out of accompanying Jane to her firm’s dinner-dance as they got out of the taxi outside an exclusive London hotel.
‘Yes, you do.’ Jane grabbed Penny’s arm and almost frogmarched her into the impressive entrance foyer. ‘After the shock you have had today you need company. Relax, forget your worries and act your age for once, instead of like an old spinster.’
‘But I feel half naked in this dress.’ Jane had insisted on lending her the dress, when Penny had tried to use the excuse of having nothing with her to wear. ‘I never wear red,’ Penny wailed as they handed their wraps in to the cloakroom attendant.
‘You look great. Stop moaning and enjoy yourself.’
Solo Maffeiano walked out of the lounge bar and stilled, tension in every long line of his superb body. He looked and looked again at the lady in red. His grey eyes flared in shock: it was Penelope Haversham in person. But not a side of Miss Haversham he had ever seen before… which was hardly surprising as she had played the young innocent for him. It still rankled that she had managed to fool him.
But there was no mistaking the delicate profile. Her pale hair was swept up into an intricate twist on the top of her head. Her translucent skin. Though tonight there was a lot of bare skin, he thought with a cynical twist of his hard mouth. The slight coltishness of youth had gone and she had grown into a strikingly sensual woman. The shimmering red dress clung to her every curve; it was cut low at the front and even lower at the back. With her high, full breasts, a tiny waist and firmly rounded bottom, she had the perfect hourglass figure. Add shapely legs and the fact that she moved like a dream oozing sex appeal, and she became every red-blooded male’s fantasy female. Nothing like the demure bridesmaid in the photograph Solo had first noted.
But what was she doing in his hotel? Had she come looking for him? Perhaps she thought she could seduce him into doing what she wanted more easily in the intimate surroundings of his suite, rather than waiting until their official appointment tomorrow. The thought was seductive, and she was certainly dressed for the part.
Then he spotted her friend Jane and the direction they were heading. He realised it was pure coincidence after all as the two women were swept up in a crowd entering the ballroom, and he felt the sudden jolt of desire again.
Damn it to hell! She still had the same effect on him. Even though he knew her for the two-timing, scheming little bitch she was. Red was a very appropriate colour for her type. His grey eyes narrowed menacingly, the anger was buried deep, but it was still there…
For a moment he was tempted to follow Penny and make his presence felt, but cynically decided not to. It would be interesting to see which Penny would appear in his office tomorrow—the-butter-wouldn’t-melt-inher-mouth Penny, or the sexy lady-in-red Penny.
Four years later he still smarted from the blow to his pride Penelope Haversham had inflicted. Since the age of twelve, no woman had ever turned Solo Maffeiano down, and no woman had deceived him so thoroughly then dumped him. No other woman had even tried, only Penelope, and she had succeeded.
His memory of their brief, disastrous affair four years earlier still had the power to make his blood boil. It had not even been an affair, because being an idiot he had never taken her to bed. For the first time in his life he had decided to commit to one woman for life and got stamped on for his pains. This time would be different, he vowed with a chilling smile that never reached steel-grey eyes. He spun on his heel and re-entered the bar. He had not expected to see her here tonight, and he needed a drink.
Enjoy herself? If only she could, Penny thought, a prickling sensation bringing her out in goose-bumps. Convinced someone was watching her, she glanced swiftly around and felt a fool. Her nerves must be getting the better of her—it was only a dinner-dance. Get a grip, she told herself as they walked into the ballroom.
As for fun, there had been very little in Penny’s life recently. Her father and Veronica had been involved in a rail crash nine months ago. Veronica had died instantly, and her father two days later without ever regaining consciousness, and it had changed Penny’s life.
She had graduated from university last year with Jane. Jane had got a job in the legal department of a finance company, and rented a tiny two-bedroom terraced house in London. Penny had planned on joining her, having secured a job in the British Library, but the accident that had killed Julian and Veronica had also killed her plan to live in London.
Instead Penny had stayed at home to look after her brother James, and grieved, while still having to deal with all the details of two deaths and the ongoing accident investigation.
Today Penny had come up to London on business and to stay with Jane for two days. Jane’s family was looking after James.
In a buoyant mood, Penny had actually thought she was beginning to get over the worst of her grief and feel hope for the future. It had been a perfect May morning when she had set off for her meeting with her publishing house, and to her delight she had signed a contract for four more children’s books. The first was already at the printers’.
It had been James who had given her the idea. By the age of three he had already learnt to read simple books, and when Penny was at home he loved her telling him bedtime tales, that were often based on historical fact. She had looked for some early learning books on history and been unable to find any.
So she had written and illustrated one. James had loved it, and after her final exams were over last June, she had sent it to a publishing house. With the death of her father and Veronica, she had forgotten all about it, until she had received a letter saying they liked it and were going to publish it and suggested she wrote a whole series.
In the afternoon she had had an appointment with Mr Simpson, her father’s lawyer. Thinking the will had passed probate, she had walked into his office, happier than she had been in months, and hoping for more good news.
Mr Simpson had gone over the will again. He had informed her Mrs Brown’s pension was secure and there was a reasonable amount of cash divided between Penny and James equally, and in the event of Veronica’s death Penny would be James’s legal guardian. Penny had been aware of all this, and she’d already known Haversham Park was hers, because he had read the will out after the funeral.
‘Now we come to the hard part, so to speak,’ Mr Simpson said gruffly. ‘Your father was a lovely man, but paperwork was not his forte. Another document has come to light, perfectly legal and above board, but the actuality is you only inherit a half-share in Haversham Park. It seems your father sold the other half to a third party.’
The news came as a complete body-blow to Penny. She could not believe it. ‘What?’ she exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror. ‘A third party, I don’t believe it! Daddy would have told me.’ Someone else owned half her home! The thought was mind-boggling. What was she supposed to do—share her home, or split the house down the middle? She had the hysterical desire to laugh—the whole idea was ludicrous. But one look at Mr Simpson’s serious face and she knew he was not joking.
Penny paled as a premonition that worse was to come filled her mind. She had to ask the question, but her mouth was suddenly dry.
‘I don’t know why he didn’t,’ Mr Simpson continued. ‘But I have to tell you the inheritance tax on the value of your father’s estate is quite considerable.’ He mentioned a figure that had her mouth falling open in shock. ‘If you don’t sell your share of Haversham Park you can’t pay the inheritance tax and you will eventually be declared bankrupt, and the house will be sold anyway by the Inland Revenue.’ Things could not get worse, but they did…
‘But it is not all bad. I have spoken to the other party.’
‘Who is the other party?’ Penny asked hoarsely, finally managing to speak.
‘Well, that is the good news. He is an Italian gentleman, a Mr Solo Maffeiano.’
At the mention of Solo, the little colour left in Penny’s face drained away, her stomach heaved. Solo Maffeiano owned half her home. No, no, no, she screamed silently. Life could not be so cruel. But as Mr Simpson’s voice droned on she was forced to accept it could.
‘He tells me you know each other, and he is quite agreeable to talk over the options available. You sell to him or you put the place on the open market and share the proceeds. Either way, Penelope, you will be all right.’ Mr Simpson actually smiled.
Penny shivered, nausea clawing at her stomach, and she could not respond.
‘You can buy a smaller place, much more sensible for you and James. The inheritance tax can be paid, and you will still have enough to live on plus the money to set up a trust fund for your brother’s education.’ Mr Simpson beamed and looked at Penny and he realised his client was far from happy. She looked terrified, as though the weight of the world had just fallen on her shoulders.
He stood up from behind his desk and walked around to Penny, putting a fatherly hand on her drooping shoulder. ‘I realise it has come as a shock to you, my dear. But, believe me, selling is the sensible solution, the only solution.’
Penny shook her head, and dragged herself up on shaking legs. ‘There must be something I can do,’ she pleaded, ‘Rather than involve Mr Maff… eiano.’ She choked on his name. To have to sell her home was horrific, but not half as bad as the thought she might have to see Solo again. He had hurt her so much in the past she couldn’t bear to face him. ‘If I must sell the house, please, you arrange it for me, Mr Simpson.’
‘Don’t worry, Penelope, it is all in hand. I have taken the liberty of setting up a meeting for you tomorrow at noon at Maffeiano’s London office.’
‘Please could you go for me? Whatever you arrange I’ll accept, but keep me out of it.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. Mr Maffeiano has insisted on dealing with you personally. But it will work out fine, I’m sure.’ Mr Simpson pressed a card with the address on it into her hand. ‘Now, why don’t you run along and do some shopping, cheer yourself up?’
Mr Simpson looked pleased, while Penny looked sick when she had finally left the lawyer’s office. She could not believe what had happened; it was her worst nightmare realised. She was dreading having to meet Solo again, but she had no choice.
She could vividly remember the horrendous scene when Solo had caught her in the arms of Simon. Incredulous anger had been followed by a tirade of what had sounded like curses in Italian and then, as if a switch had been thrown in his brain, he’d stepped back, coldly remote and in complete control.
Acting for all she was worth, Penny had told Solo she was sorry if she had given him the wrong impression, but Simon had always been her boyfriend, and she had only dated Solo because Simon had been away.
Even now she still shivered when she remembered the look of icy contempt Solo had slashed at her, before in the next moment Simon had played his part.
‘Penny and I have been a couple for ages, and I know her well. When her stepmother asked her to be nice to you she was too soft-hearted to say no—she doesn’t like to hurt people. You do understand, sir,’ and the sir had simply accentuated the age difference.
‘Yes, I understand perfectly,’ Solo had drawled. His handsome face devoid of all expression, and his grey eyes cold and hard as the Arctic waste, had frozen her to the spot. ‘Congratulations, Penny, I do believe Veronica has finally met her match.’ And swinging on his heel, he had stalked off.
After the fatal day when she had lied to Solo and he had left, life had never been quite the same at Haversham Park. Her father had told her Solo had called but had had to leave in a hurry. Her father had continued saying he was sure Solo would be in touch as he was very fond of her.
Penny had responded, lying through her teeth, ‘Maybe, but he is far too old for me, and I’m going to university with Jane. We are really looking forward to meeting other young people, laying the groundwork for a good career.’
Her father had looked shocked, and then worried, before sighing and saying, ‘You’re very young; I should have expected it.’
Three weeks later when Penny had left for university and there had been no contact with Solo, Veronica had realised something was wrong, and accused Penny of destroying the best chance her father had ever had of making a fortune.
‘It was obvious Solo fancied you. You should have given him more encouragement. What girl needs an education when they can hook a millionaire like Solo Maffeiano? You’re an idiot.’ Which had summed up Veronica’s slant on life, Penny had thought dryly.
‘For heaven’s sake, cheer up, woman,’ Jane’s voice cut into her troubled thoughts. ‘Sell the mouldering old pile and get a life like me.’
For the next couple of hours Penny did try. But the thought of the meeting tomorrow prevented Penny relaxing and she was glad when the evening was finally over and they returned to Jane’s house.
At five minutes to noon Penny walked into the building that housed the London offices of the Maffeiano Corporation. She glanced across the marble-floored foyer to where a smart brunette sat at a long, curved desk, bearing the word ‘Reception’ on a gold plaque.
Taking a deep breath, Penny pulled the jacket of her black suit down to her hips and walked to the desk. ‘Excuse me, I have an appointment with Mr Maffeiano.’
The receptionist’s gaze slid over Penny’s slender figure dressed in the neat black suit, with the white blouse beneath, the blonde hair scraped back in a bun, and the pale face. ‘You have an appointment with Mr Maffeiano?’
Bristling, Penny affirmed with a nod, ‘Yes.’ So she didn’t look like his usual model woman, so what! At college she’d had no trouble fighting off a succession of young men more interested in her looks than her brain. Then during nine months as a mother to James she had developed a firm belief in her own intellectual talents, and ability to cope with any eventuality. This was business, strictly business, and she could handle it.
‘I’ll call his secretary. Take a seat.’ The girl gestured to a seating arrangement surrounding a table holding magazines.
Penny was glad to sit down because her legs were suddenly weak. If the girl did but know Penny did not want to be here, only the decision had been taken out of her hands. She had not slept a wink last night, the enormity of what had happened was almost destroying her.
Over and over again she asked herself why her father would have done such thing, but could not find an answer. The only certainty was that she had lost the family home. The only decision left was where the house would go—to Solo or to a stranger—and that was not up to her, but to Solo. She dreaded the prospect of meeting him again.
‘Miss Haversham.’ A grey-haired lady in her fifties approached Penny. ‘Will you come this way, please?’
‘Thank you.’ Penny tried a smile and followed the lady down a long, carpeted corridor.
The secretary opened a door at the end, and gestured Penny to enter before her. ‘You can wait here. Mr Maffeiano is delayed, but he won’t be long. Help yourself to coffee,’ she said, indicating a coffeemaker that stood on a small table in one corner of what was obviously an office. The woman took a seat behind a large computer desk. ‘You look as though you need a fix, my dear,’ and she smiled, suddenly looking very human.
‘No… No, thank you.’ Penny returned the smile, her head turning when a double door that she surmised led to the inner sanctum was opened and a woman walked out. Penny stifled a silent groan. Tina Jenson…
‘Hello—well, if it isn’t little Penny Haversham,’ the tall redhead drawled, then added, ‘I’m surprised you have the nerve to face Solo after the stroke you pulled.’
‘And hello to you too.’ Penny said dryly. Why should she be surprised to see Tina? The woman was Solo’s Personal Assistant and long-time lover. If any stroke had been pulled, it had been by Solo Maffeiano on her father, she thought angrily. Her father had been no businessman, Penny would be the first to admit. Solo had to have tricked him, anything else she could not contemplate. She had adored her dad; still did, she thought sadly.
‘You have nerve, I’ll give you that,’ Tina said shortly, and, with a goodbye to the secretary, swept out of the office.
Penny watched her leave with mixed feelings. It was only the second time she had met the woman, but Tina did not improve on acquaintance, she thought bitterly. Obviously Tina and Solo were still together, and Penny refused to believe the slight pain in her heart was anything other than a touch of heartburn. She had not eaten anything since yesterday.
Penny glanced at the coffee but dismissed the idea, and sat down on one of the chairs provided. All she’d had for breakfast were three cups of black coffee, and she was nervous and angry enough without having another shot of caffeine. She clasped her hands around her purse in her lap in a deathlike grip and waited.
‘He will see you now,’ the secretary announced as a green light on the console flashed, and, indicating the door to Penny, she added, ‘But please make it quick, he does not have much time. His meeting with Mrs Jenson took longer than expected.’
I’ll just bet it did! Penny thought unkindly. A kiss and a cuddle, or maybe more had delayed him! Rising to her feet, Penny straightened her shoulders and with a brief, ‘Thank you,’ in the secretary’s direction she walked into Solo’s office.
Warily she glanced around the elegant room. Dark panelling, a polished wood floor with what looked like a very expensive carpet, a black leather sofa and chair, and by the massive window that filled almost a whole wall was an enormous mahogany desk and a high-backed chair. But no Solo Maffeiano!
She walked slowly into the room, her heart racing. It was hot. May and the central heating was still on. Not a luxury Penny could afford at Haversham Park, she thought wryly. She unfastened the jacket of her suit, and pulled at the collar of her blouse.
Maybe it was deliberate. Solo Maffeiano was the sort who would like to make a client sweat, she thought bitterly, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling before she forced her feet onwards to the desk. She stopped at the edge, at a loss as to what to do next. She tried a polite cough, her throat tightening in the process.
Slowly the chair swung around and she saw Solo and her breath stuck in her throat. Their eyes met and she almost passed out. It was the fiercest electric connection she had ever experienced in her life. She blinked, and when she looked again, like a replay of her eighteen-year-old self, she was totally intoxicated by the sheer animal magnetism of the man that the years in between had done nothing to dispel.
To disconcert her even more Solo was lounging back in the chair, his jacket and tie discarded, the tailored white shirt fitting his broad shoulders to perfection, the collar open at the neck to reveal the strong, tanned throat and a glimpse of black chest hair. Her pulse raced, and her mouth went dry; she could not have spoken to save her life.
‘The honourable Penelope Haversham,’ he drawled sarcastically. ‘Allow me.’ He rose to his feet and walked around the desk.
She watched him move, six feet three of stunningly attractive male. She had forgotten quite how tall Solo was, and how he projected a power, a raw sexuality that made her stomach muscles clench in helpless response. From the top of his dark head, to the broad shoulders, to the dark pleated trousers that settled on his lean hips and long legs, he was the epitome of predatory male and she could not help staring.
Her fascinated gaze watched as he took a chair from against the wall and placed it beside her. Realising she was staring, Penny jerked back her head and felt a painful tide of red wash over her face. She was ogling the man like an idiot.
‘Sit down,’ Solo commanded coldly.
She was glad to oblige, as her legs were shaking. ‘Thank you, Mr Maffeiano,’ she murmured politely, and was aware of him resuming his seat at the opposite side of the desk.
‘Mr Maffeiano,’ he drawled mockingly. Ice-grey eyes cut like a laser into hers, then slowly swept over her slender body with a frigid disdain that even now, after so many years had the power to make her cringe. It was the exact same look he had given her when he had caught her kissing Simon, as though she was beneath contempt.
‘Surely you and I are on first-name terms at least, Penny?’
She blushed even redder. ‘Yes, of course, Solo,’ she muttered, her tongue sticking to the roof of her dry mouth.
She was behaving like a fool. She was no longer a naive young girl, with a head full of romantic ideals of love and marriage, an easy conquest for a ruthless, sophisticated man of the world like Solo. She should be thanking her lucky stars that she had seen through the devil in time, instead of sitting here, trembling and blushing like a schoolgirl.
‘Well, let’s get down to business—I haven’t much time to spare.’ His deep voice was curt. ‘I have a luncheon engagement at one.’
Warily she watched him as he shoved his chair back a little, and flung one arm casually over the back. Nervously she straightened the hem of her skirt over her knees.
His grey eyes followed the movement of her hands and narrowed to linger on her legs, and the charged sexuality of the knowing look he swept slowly over her body made heat surge in her face, and, to her shame, another more intimate place. The shockingly helpless flare of response made her press her knees together, her body became taut, and she wanted to curl up and hide.
