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She added a liberal amount of cream and sugar to her own coffee before sitting down in the chair opposite his; she was one of those people lucky enough to be able to eat and drink anything without putting on weight.
‘So, Mr Richmond,’ she murmured after taking a sip of her own coffee, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘Well, you can call me Luke, for a start,’ he bit out tersely. ‘“Mr Richmond” makes me sound like Methuselah!’
It also kept him on a formal level—which was exactly where Leonie wanted to keep him!
His gaze was narrowed as he looked round the room. ‘This is rather nice,’ he finally murmured admiringly. ‘Who was your interior designer?’
‘Leonora Winston,’ she answered with a derisive twist of her lips. ‘Interior designer’, indeed!—was this man on the same planet as her? As if she could afford an interior designer!
But then, Luke had been born to a mother who was one of the highest-paid actresses in the world, must have lived with her in Hollywood for most of his childhood, and the house Leonie had visited in Hampshire yesterday, although extremely comfortable and beautifully decorated, was more like a mansion than a family home…
Luke looked at her with glacial green eyes. ‘It wasn’t my intention to be insulting,’ he rasped.
‘I know that,’ Leonie sighed, putting down her empty coffee-cup. ‘And no insult was taken. It must be difficult for you to understand—well, just difficult,’ she amended awkwardly as she realised she was the one being insulting now.
‘I can assure you I haven’t always lived with a silver spoon in my mouth,’ Luke said.
‘No?’ Leonie prompted interestedly.
‘No,’ he confirmed dryly, adding nothing further to the statement.
Deliberately so, Leonie was sure, intriguing her in spite of herself…
‘Mr Richmond—’
‘I thought we had agreed on Luke—Leonie,’ he added pointedly.
She drew in a sharp breath. ‘All right—Luke.’ She nodded impatiently. ‘Did you just come here to comment on my decor and drink coffee, or are you going to tell me the reason why you’re here?’ she prompted agitatedly.
Luke looked at her consideringly, somehow managing to look relaxed and comfortable despite the fragility of the chair he sat in. Leonie found herself shifting uncomfortably under the full impact of that piercing gaze.
’Does intimidation usually work?’ she finally snapped irritably.
‘“Intimidation”?’ he repeated slowly, seeming to savour the word before giving a shake of his head. ‘I’m merely looking at you, Leonie.’
It was the way he was looking at her that was so unnerving—just like a professor she had once worked with who had liked to study antiquities minutely under a microscope!
‘You’re a very beautiful woman.’
Now he had unnerved her! What did the way she looked—or didn’t look—have to do with anything?
‘Mr Richmond—’
‘Ah-ah—Luke,’ he corrected lightly, hard amusement in those pale eyes now.
Leonie stood up impatiently, glaring down at him. ‘Would you stop playing games with me and just get to the point?’ she bit out angrily.
This sort of word-game might work with impressionable—and no doubt ambitious!—actresses, but it left Leonie cold. She was much more used to being treated with a certain amount of awe by her students, respect from her colleagues, and warm affection from her family; this man gave every impression of a cat playing with a mouse. And she was the mouse!
He was still looking at her consideringly. ‘Why do you play down your looks?’ he prompted curiously.
She gasped. ‘I—’
‘Your hair, for instance,’ he continued just as if Leonie hadn’t spoken. ‘It’s the most glorious colour, would look wonderful cascading down your back, and yet you choose to cut it so short it’s almost boyish.’ His gaze was narrowed on her thoughtfully. ‘You also have absolutely flawless skin. As for those eyes…!’ He shook his head. ‘A little make-up to enhance those looks and—’
‘When you have quite finished, Mr Richmond!’ Leonie cut in indignantly, colour high in those ‘flawless’ cheeks. ‘I’m a university lecturer, not some bimbo you—’ She broke off as she saw what she already knew to be a tell-tale narrowing of his eyes, breathing in deeply to quell her own anger. ‘I prefer to look exactly what I am, Luke,’ she said more calmly. ‘Which is a historian.’
‘Like your grandfather.’ He nodded, sitting forward. ‘What are you trying to prove, Leonie?’ The words were launched at her with the speed of a whiplash.
Leonie grew suddenly still, the colour fading from her cheeks, her chin high as she looked at him challengingly. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she murmured warily. How had he guessed? How?
Luke looked at her wordlessly for several long moments, and then he grinned.
A grin that owed very little to humour, and much more to a rather large feline who had just spotted his prey—Leonie!
‘You really mustn’t mind me, Leonie.’ Luke relaxed back in the chair with a suddenness that made the cane creak. ‘My mother, along with most of the fashionable set in Hollywood thirty years ago, sent her child to all sorts of therapists in an effort to ensure that I wouldn’t grow up with any sort of—hang-ups about who I was.’ His mouth was twisted derisively. ‘In the end I became almost as practised as they were in pushing the right buttons to elicit a reaction.’ He shrugged.
Leonie couldn’t help but feel a certain sympathy for those therapists; she didn’t doubt that Luke Richmond had proved a most uncooperative subject! Or that he had deliberately been ‘pushing her buttons’.
‘Your mother should have saved her money,’ she dismissed dryly, inwardly thinking it would have been better spent on teaching this man some manners!
He gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘That’s exactly what she finally did.’ He smiled humourlessly. ‘And you already know the reason I’m here, Leonie.’ With a suddenness that totally threw Leonie offguard, he finally answered the question she had asked him five minutes ago.
Which, she was sure, was exactly what he’d meant to do.
She closed her eyes, shaking her head. This man was a nightmare, an absolute, unpredictable nightmare!
‘Oh, but you do, Leonie.’ He misunderstood the reason for the shake of her head, his voice hardly accusing.
Leonie drew in a deep breath before looking at him, feeling a shiver down her spine as he calmly returned her gaze. But, she suddenly realised hollowly, she had no idea whether that shiver was one of apprehension—or one of total awareness of him as a man!
Don’t be ridiculous, Leonie, she instantly admonished herself. This man might be as handsome as the devil himself but that was all he had to recommend him. Luke Richmond was cold, rude and, she didn’t doubt, completely ruthless if the situation warranted it.
Did this particular situation warrant it…?
Leonie had no idea!
‘I’m sure we’re both well aware by now that your mother has approached me with the idea of my writing her—’
‘Approached you?’ Luke cut in forcefully, once again sitting forward in his chair. ‘Don’t you have that a little mixed up, Leonie?’ he challenged accusingly.
‘Actually, no,’ she answered with something approaching gentleness; obviously whatever conversation this man had had with his mother since Leonie’s visit yesterday, it hadn’t included Rachel telling her son that she had been the one to do the approaching! ‘I very much doubt you’re going to believe me, but—your mother was the one who contacted me, Luke,’ she told him huskily.
He stood up abruptly, his face slightly pale as he strode over to the window that looked out on the little handkerchief of garden that was Leonie’s. Although Leonie very much doubted that he actually saw the small bushes or the pebbled square that made up that tiny garden…
‘What the hell is she playing at? What on earth, after all this time, does she hope to achieve?’ he muttered.
To himself, Leonie surmised, deciding that no answer was necessary. After all, she had no idea of Rachel Richmond’s motives, either. The truth concerning Rachel’s past had remained a secret for so long now, Leonie could see no reason herself why Rachel would suddenly want to change that…
Luke turned back sharply, narrowed eyes that were pale, icy green. ‘Exactly what did my mother say to you yesterday?’ he demanded coldly.
Leonie frowned. ‘Only that she thought it time the innuendos stopped…’ She trailed off as Luke’s expression darkened ominously.
‘In favour of…?’ he rasped harshly.
She grimaced. ‘The truth, I suppose,’ she revealed reluctantly, knowing that had to be the last thing this man wanted made public.
His mouth tightened angrily. ‘We’ll see about that!’ he snapped before striding across the room, turning to look at Leonie even as he wrenched the door open. ‘I would advise you not to hold your breath concerning this biography, Leonie!’ he rasped savagely in parting, the front door closing with a slam seconds later as he let himself out.
Whew!
Leonie sank down further into her own armchair, feeling suddenly exhausted, as if she had just escaped the eye of a hurricane.
A hurricane, she didn’t doubt, that was now on its way to Rachel Richmond…
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_0217feb4-d006-5137-aca0-0d48bd8321e9)
‘YOU’LL have to excuse Luke, I’m afraid, Leonie,’ Rachel told her ruefully, the two women sitting in the older woman’s comfortable sitting-room six days later drinking coffee together. ‘He can be very protective.’
In this case Leonie wasn’t sure whom Luke was being protective of: himself or his mother. But at least Rachel seemed aware of Luke’s visit to Leonie the previous weekend…
‘He doesn’t appear—keen, on your biography being written.’ Leonie chose her words carefully, only too aware of how strongly against the idea Luke was. ‘I have to say, after thinking about it,’ Leonie continued evenly, ‘that I’m not—’
‘I know exactly what you’re going to say, Leonie,’ the actress gently interrupted her, placing her hand warmly on Leonie’s arm. ‘In the circumstances, I can’t exactly blame you.’ She gave a grimace. ‘But I can assure you I do have my reasons for doing what I’m doing,’ she added huskily.
Leonie couldn’t for the life of her imagine what they were. And she was equally sure that Luke didn’t appreciate what they were, either…
‘I’m sure you do.’ She nodded frowningly. ‘But I’ve thought over your—suggestion, and I don’t feel I could do you credit.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sure that someone else—’
‘No one else, Leonie.’ There was a steely edge to Rachel’s voice now, those green eyes bright as emeralds. ‘I happen to have settled on you.’
Leonie looked questioningly at the other woman. So far in their short acquaintance Rachel had been the height of graciousness, totally warm and extremely friendly. But obviously there was another side to this beautiful woman, a side that could be as forceful as her arrogant son…
Leonie sighed. ‘I’m fully aware of the compliment being paid me,’ she began firmly.
‘Not at all, Leonie,’ Rachel assured her smoothly.
‘But at the same time I feel it only fair to tell you—’ She broke off abruptly as the door was suddenly thrust open, Luke Richmond now standing in the doorway. Really, did the man never just come into a room—knock, even…?
She tensed expectantly, knowing from the furious look on that arrogant face that this situation hadn’t yet been settled between mother and son. In the circumstances, she doubted that it ever would be!
Couldn’t Rachel see what this suggested biography was doing to her son? Leonie couldn’t believe a woman as warm as Rachel could be that insensitive. So why was the other woman being so adamant?
One thing Leonie was all too sure of—she did not want to get caught in the firing line between mother and son!
‘Mr Richmond,’ she greeted lightly before either of the Richmonds could speak. ‘You’re just in time to hear me tell your mother—’
‘What a nice surprise, Luke,’ Rachel cut smoothly across Leonie’s reassuring words, standing to reach up and kiss her son warmly on the cheek. ‘I thought you were away this weekend.’
’Obviously,’ he drawled dryly, shooting Leonie a pointed glare. ‘This all looks rather cosy.’ He raised dark brows in the direction of the used coffee tray on the table.
‘The coffee is still fresh, I’ll ring for Janet and ask her to bring in another cup.’ His mother smiled, moving towards the bell beside the fireplace.
‘Really, Rachel, I’m sure Janet has enough to do.’ Luke rasped reprovingly.
Leonie looked at him curiously.
‘You’re very grouchy today, darling,’ his mother teased affectionately. ‘I’m sure Janet wouldn’t mind in the least.’
‘I mind,’ he bit out harshly. ‘Besides, I don’t want any coffee.’
‘Darling, why didn’t you just say that in the first place?’ Rachel sighed, resuming her seat, crossing one silky knee over the other.
The answer to that was all too obvious to Leonie; Luke just wanted to be difficult. In truth, she felt extremely uncomfortable at being a witness to this sharp exchange between son and mother.
She felt even more uncomfortable as she suddenly found herself the focus of those pale green eyes. ‘So we meet yet again, Dr Winston,’ Luke bit out dryly.
Making it obvious that, if there were any pleasure in this meeting, it certainly wasn’t on his side!
Well, she had news for him; it wasn’t on hers, either. She had decided through the week as, in fairness to Rachel, she’d weighed up the pros and cons of writing her biography that any pros she might be able to find were far outweighed by Luke Richmond’s complete aversion to the project. After all, as the other woman’s son, he would be one of Leonie’s main sources of research. A very uncooperative source!
She met his gaze unblinkingly. ‘So we do,’ she returned evenly. ‘In fact, you’re just in time to—’
‘You really have been very naughty, Luke,’ his mother admonished with light reproval. ‘In fact, I do believe you’ve succeeded in frightening poor Leonie off writing my biography.’
‘Really?’ Luke murmured with amusement, shooting Leonie a mocking glance before lowering his long length into one of the armchairs. ‘Good,’ he added with satisfaction.
Leonie had stiffened resentfully by this time, glaring across at the obviously self-satisfied Luke Richmond. ‘Frightened her off’, indeed! She didn’t like Luke Richmond, or his arrogance, but she most certainly was not frightened of him!
She turned to smile at Rachel. ‘I don’t believe I actually said that,’ she said dryly.
‘As good as,’ the other woman dismissed impatiently. ‘It really is too bad of you, Luke.’ She frowned across at her son, who looked totally unrepentant at the accusation. In fact, a cat that had just lapped up the cream better described his expression of self-satisfaction!
‘No, Rachel, you’re wrong,’ Leonie put in firmly. ‘I was merely pointing out the drawbacks of such a biography, not refusing to write it,’ she told the actress determinedly. ‘In fact, it might be rather fun, at that,’ she added dryly.
‘Fun!’ Luke echoed harshly, no longer relaxing back in his chair but sitting forward tensely as he glared across at Leonie. ‘This isn’t some damned game!’ he added furiously.
Leonie was well aware of that, but if Rachel was determined to do it anyway… ‘Tell me, Rachel—’ she turned to the older woman ‘—if I don’t agree to work with you on this, are you going to ask someone else to do it?’
The other woman met her gaze levelly for several long seconds, her gaze searching. ‘I do believe I am,’ she finally answered slowly.
‘That’s what I thought.’ Leonie nodded before looking across at Luke. ‘Which would you prefer, Luke—me, or some other biographer you don’t actually know?’
‘You already know the answer to that—neither option is acceptable to me!’ he ground out harshly.
‘But given a choice?’ she persisted.
