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He was waiting in the wide hall when she emerged from the room. He ran another of those appraising glances over her, making her bristle afresh.
‘Neat, and classy too,’ he commented. ‘My mother always did have good taste.’
‘Mrs Sullivan hired me purely on the merits of my qualifications as a secretary, not for my appearance,’ Kerry answered with a coolness she was far from feeling.
One dark brow lifted with a hint of sardonicism. ‘Knowing her rather better than you do, I’d say both. You’ll be working in her private sitting room, where the two of you will be undisturbed. You can use the study to type up the day’s output. There’s a word processor in there with plenty of capacity on disk.’
‘You’re not afraid of me breaking into your private files?’ she asked with deliberation as he led the way.
‘Not at all. They’re safe under personal keycode. One you’d be unlikely to guess if you tried,’ he added. ‘Not that you’d learn anything of any use to you if you did.’
‘Not that I’d want to,’ she countered. ‘Your affairs are strictly your own business.’
A hand on the doorknob of a room towards the rear of the house, he gave her a calculated scrutiny, taking in the antagonistic spark in the green eyes, the jut of her chin. An answering spark leapt in his own eyes. ‘Very much so.’
The message was clear, and not unmerited. Faint though it had been, the innuendo had not been lost on him. Kerry bit her lip as he opened the door and stood back to allow her prior entry, aware of having allowed antipathy to affect her better judgement. Other than where Sarah was concerned, his affairs, business or personal, were of no importance to her.
The room was only half the size of the drawing room where Estelle had interviewed her on Friday, but just as beautifully furnished. The two deep chesterfields flanking the Adam fireplace were covered in blue velvet a shade or two lighter than the thickly piled carpet, with cushions picking up the gold of the curtains. Delicate water colours lined the plain white walls, and a baby grand piano stood across one corner.
‘Do you play?’ asked Lee, following her glance.
‘A little,’ Kerry acknowledged, not about to claim any degree of expertise, and added for something else to say rather than through any pressing interest, ‘Do you?’
He shook his head. ‘My mother’s the musician in the family. If she hadn’t gone into acting she might have made a concert pianist.’
‘She’s very talented.’ The admiration was genuine. ‘A great loss to the theatre.’
‘There’s no reason why she shouldn’t start over. Her agent already found the right vehicle for a come-back.’
‘Perhaps it’s just too soon,’ Kerry suggested. ‘She’s been through a lot.’
The strong mouth took on a slant. ‘More than the media would know, for sure.’
The intimation that she could have little idea herself was like a slap in the face. All she had meant to do was express sympathy. She took the chair he indicated, dismayed when he sat down himself on one of the sofas and lifted one leg comfortably over the other in a gesture that scarcely indicated an imminent departure.
‘I’ll be perfectly all right on my own,’ she repeated. ‘You really don’t have to wait.’
His shrug was easy. ‘I’m in no hurry. I understand your first name is Kerry?’
‘Yes.’ The skirt she was wearing had seemed conservative enough this morning at an inch above the knee, but it had ridden up when she sat down, exposing rather more Lycra-clad thigh than she felt comfortable with right now. She put down a hand to tug at the hem, desisting abruptly as the grey eyes followed her movement—hating the smile that flickered at the corners of his mouth.
‘Nice,’ he commented.
He could have been referring to the name, of course, but Kerry doubted it. There was even a chance that he imagined she was putting on a show for his benefit. Short of getting up again, there was little she could do to cover the exposed leg, which left her with no option but to ignore it.
‘My mother seems impressed with you all round, in fact,’ he went on. ‘On the face of it, I’d go along with her—but, then, face values aren’t always the best criteria.’
‘Helen Carrington at Profiles will have already verified my qualifications and vouched for my character,’ Kerry returned tartly. ‘You don’t need to worry about my stealing the family silver!’
‘That thought hadn’t actually occurred to me.’ He regarded her with quizzical expression, his gaze lingering on the full ripeness of her mouth for a moment. ‘Are you always this hostile, or is it me in particular you’re against?’
Already regretting the momentary loss of composure, she made an effort to sound properly repentant. ‘I apologise. I was out of line.’
‘I didn’t ask for apologies, only explanations.’
‘I don’t have to explain anything,’ she returned on as cool a note as she could conjure. ‘I’m not in your employ, Mr Hartford.’
The glint in the grey eyes became a gleam, infinitely disturbing. ‘You’re in my home. That gives me certain rights, wouldn’t you say?’
He was mocking her again, his whole manner nervejangling. Kerry steeled herself not to react, thankful when Estelle chose that moment to put in an appearance. Whatever her feelings toward the man, she would have done better to keep them under wraps, she reflected wryly.
‘Sorry to be so tardy,’ proffered the older woman. ‘A few things I had to do before we get started. I hope Lee’s been looking after you.’
‘Oh, I have,’ her son assured her. ‘Kerry and I had a very interesting conversation.’ The grey eyes turned her way again, the mockery still evident. ‘You don’t mind my using your first name?’
It took an effort, but she managed to keep her tone level. ‘Not at all, Mr Hartford.’
‘Lee,’ he returned. ‘Let’s not stand on ceremony.’
Estelle looked from one to the other with sudden interest. ‘Am I missing something?’
‘Nothing of any importance,’ Kerry assured her before her son could answer. ‘I’m ready whenever you are, Mrs Sullivan.’
The older woman smiled. ‘As Lee just said, let’s not stand on ceremony. Call me Estelle.’
Kerry smiled back. ‘All right, Estelle.’
The door opened again to admit the housekeeper, carrying a tray. Lee got up to take it from her and deposit it on the table set between the two sofas, looking across enquiringly at Kerry. ‘Black or white?’
It was already gone ten, she realised, catching a glimpse of the mantel clock out of the corner of her eye. By now he should surely be thinking about going to the office? The Hartford Corporation occupied several floors of a city high-rise, with a staff of several hundred; she knew that because she had worked there for a short period a few months back as a fill-in for someone off ill, although she had seen nothing of the company president at the time.
‘Black, no sugar, please,’ she requested.
‘The way I like it too,’ he acknowledged, pouring a cup and handing it to her. ‘So we do have something in common.’
The only thing, she wanted to say, but with Estelle there she contented herself instead with a faint curl of her lip, not caring a damn if he saw it. Too late now, anyway, to pretend indifference. He already recognised her antagonism. If he proved curious enough to question further the source at some point, she might very well tell him!
Estelle took her coffee with a little cream but also refused sugar. Slim and shapely in cream jersey, she looked far from her age. She could play a woman in her thirties without any difficulty, given stage make-up and lighting, Kerry judged.
Her reluctance to return to the theatre seemed strange on the face of it. She had been such a star; she could so easily be one again. Her agent was obviously for it so why the hesitation? Surely not fear of failure? An actress of her calibre could never fail.
It was almost half past ten before Lee made a move at last.
‘I’m playing squash with Phil early evening,’ he announced, ‘so don’t wait dinner. We’ll eat at the club.’
‘Give Phil my love,’ said his mother, ‘and tell him it’s about time he came over.’
‘You could always pay him a visit,’ Lee pointed out mildly.
‘With Renata playing Lady Bountiful?’ She shook her head. ‘Not my scene, darling.’
The shrug held resignation. ‘I’ll convey the message.’ He lifted a brief hand in Kerry’s direction, the twist of his lips conveying a different message. ‘Have a nice day.’
Estelle turned a speculative glance as the door closed behind him, registering the faint colour in Kerry’s cheeks. ‘I’ve a feeling you’re not over-impressed with my son,’ she said mildly.
The colour deepened a little. ‘I’m sorry if that’s how it came across.’
‘You don’t need to be. He can be pretty infuriating when the mood takes him. From the atmosphere when I walked in, I gather the two of you had been sparring?’
Kerry had to smile. ‘I’d scarcely call it that. Just a difference of opinion.’
‘A very big difference to put that spark in his eye. The only other time I see him look like that is when some business battle is about to commence. He thrives on opposition.’
‘I can imagine.’ Kerry reached for her bag and extracted her notebook and pencil. ‘How would you like to start?’
It was Estelle’s turn to smile. ‘You’re right, of course. I’m procrastinating. Are you close enough over there if I stretch out on the sofa here and just start talking?’
‘If I’m not I’ll let you know,’ Kerry promised.
Slipping off her shoes, the older woman settled herself comfortably with her head pillowed on a cushion. ‘You’ve read a lot of biographies,’ she said. ‘Where would be a good place to start?’
Kerry considered for a moment before replying. ‘Personally, I prefer the ones that go straight through from point A to point Z, rather than the flashback type.’
‘From childhood, you mean?’
‘If possible. Where and when you were born, what kind of lifestyle you had, schooldays and so on. Humorous little anecdotes, if you can remember any.’
‘Plenty of those. I was always into mischief of one kind or another. I got myself expelled from my convent prep school for taking other pupils on guided tours of the nuns’ quarters at a penny a time when they were supposedly all busy elsewhere. It was working quite well until we all trooped in on Sister Josephine who’d been taken ill and had had to retire to bed. I can still see her expression!’
“That’s the kind of thing,’ Kerry encouraged, laughing with her. ‘What about your family?’
‘I can’t offer any rags to riches theme, I’m afraid. My father was in banking, my mother something of a society queen. We lived not very far from here in a house not unlike this one.’ Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed, her voice reminiscent.
‘My brother, Robert, was born when I was five. As a girl, I took something of a back seat from then on, I suppose. Not that it worried me too much. I’d had my first experience of facing an audience in the school Nativity play. I knew even then that it was what I wanted to do with my life...’
Kerry’s hand raced over the page, her interest already captured. Later they could go back over it all and perhaps insert a little more detail here and there, but for now it was coming along just fine. She looked forward to hearing more.
Lee Hartford she relegated to the very back of her mind, vowing to keep him there from now on. He would probably be spending little time at home during the day anyway.
CHAPTER TWO
APART from a couple of brief encounters with the master of the house, when little more than a casual good morning was exchanged, that first week went by smoothly enough.
Working mornings only, Estelle was managing a fair output, leaving Kerry the whole afternoon to spend at the word processor putting the memories into readable form. What to keep in and what to leave out would be decided later. In the meantime, she was thoroughly enjoying the job.
She was in the study late on the Friday afternoon when Lee arrived home. With her back to the door and her mind absorbed, she didn’t hear him enter the room, becoming aware of his presence only when he paused behind her to view the computer screen over her shoulder.
‘So how’s it going?’ he asked.
His closeness disrupted her concentration, causing her fingers to stumble on the keys. Cursing inwardly, she deleted the mistyped letters.
‘It was going fine,’ she said pointedly.
He ignored the sarcasm. ‘How do you rate it yourself?’
‘On the basis of what we’ve got up to now, I’d say it stands an excellent chance of becoming a best-seller,’ she answered with truth. ‘Your mother has a way with words.’
‘Part of what makes her such a good actress, I imagine. Words are her stock in trade.’
‘Other people’s words. These are her own.’ Kerry swung her head as he moved to the big mahogany desk a few feet away, meeting the grey eyes with that same involuntary tensing of muscle and sinew. ‘Are you planning on staying?’
Dark brows lifted. ‘Do you object?’
‘Only in the sense that I find you a distraction.’ She could have bitten off her tongue the moment she had said it, seeing his mouth take on the infuriating slant. ‘The same way I’d find anyone a distraction when I’m trying to work,’ she added swiftly. ‘I realise it’s your study, but you did say I could use it.’
‘In your line you should be used to having other people around,’ he returned. ‘I’ve some work of my own to do, but I’m happy enough to have you share the premises.’
With anyone else there would be no difficulty, Kerry acknowledged. The best will in the world couldn’t put her at ease with this man. Standing there in yet another of the beautifully cut suits—blue this time—he radiated a masculine air of command that set her teeth on edge.
‘I’m just about finished for the day anyway,’ she claimed. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
He studied her thoughtfully, dropping his gaze to linger for a deliberate moment on the firm thrust of her breasts outlined against the cream silk of her shirt. ‘We never met before, by any chance?’
She shook her head, making no effort to disguise her contempt. ‘We hardly move in the same circles.’
‘So you’ve based your view of me on what?’
Her chin lifted. ‘You get a lot of publicity.’
‘Oh, I see. My media reputation.’ His tone was dry. ‘You believe everything you read in the newspapers?’
Kerry gave him back look for look. ‘I don’t recall you ever suing any for libel.’
‘So far I never felt any need. The people who matter to me know me well enough to take everything said with a pinch of salt—the rest aren’t important.’
‘In which case,’ she asked, ‘why bother about my opinion?’
His smile was slow. ‘You’re another matter.’
‘Meaning you’re accustomed to instant idolisation from women?’
‘I wouldn’t go quite that far, but I don’t usually elicit instant detestation either. How about giving me the benefit of the doubt and forming your own judgement?’
Kerry curled a lip. ‘You just can’t accept it, can you?’
‘Accept what?’
‘That the woman exists who can find you resistible!’
