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His voice was low-pitched and attractive, his features clear-cut, but tough and masculine rather than handsome.
‘How do you do?’ Putting her hand into his, and meeting those thickly lashed, forest-green eyes, sent tingles down her spine.
She had expected him to be middle-aged, but he was considerably younger, somewhere in his late twenties, she judged, and nothing at all like the picture Laura had painted of him.
At close quarters, Michael found, she was not merely beautiful, but intriguing. Her face held both character and charm, and a haunting poignancy that made him want to keep on looking at her.
Annoyed by his own reaction, he said a shade brusquely, ‘Won’t you sit down?’
Despite the instant impact he had had on her, she found his curt manner more than a little off-putting, and she took the black leather chair he’d indicated, a shade reluctantly.
Resuming his own seat, he placed his elbows on the desk, rested his chin on his folded hands, and studied her intently.
Her small, heart-shaped face was calm and composed, her back straight, her long legs crossed neatly, her skirt drawn down demurely over her knees.
There was no sign of the femme fatale, not the faintest suggestion that she might try to employ any sexual wiles, which seemed to confirm that she was different from the women who had, in the wake of his divorce, seemed to think he was fair game.
Appreciating the natural look, after all the artificial glamour of the modelling world, he was pleased to note she wore very little make-up. But with a flawless skin and dark brows and lashes, she didn’t need to.
Up close, the impact of those big brown eyes and the wide, passionate mouth was stunning. But though she was one of the loveliest and most fascinating women he had ever seen, it wasn’t in a showy way.
Her hands were long and slender, strong hands in spite of their apparent delicacy, and he was pleased to see that her pale oval nails were buffed but mercifully unvarnished.
On her right hand he glimpsed the gold ring she had worn the previous night, but her left hand was bare.
Becoming aware that she was starting to look slightly uncomfortable under his silent scrutiny, and wanting to know more about her, he instructed briskly, ‘Tell me about yourself.’
‘What exactly would you like to know?’
She had a nice voice, he noted—always acutely sensitive to voices—soft and slightly husky.
‘To start with, where you were born.’
‘I was born in London.’
‘And you’ve lived here all your life?’
‘No. When I was quite small, we moved to the little town of Kelsay. It’s on the east coast…’
With a little jolt of excitement, he said, ‘Yes, I know it.’ The fact that she came from Kelsay seemed to confirm—though he hadn’t really needed any further confirmation—that she was the girl he had seen at the castle.
‘So how come you’re back in London?’
‘When my great-grandmother, whom I was living with, died just a few weeks after I left school, I enrolled at the London School of Business Studies. Then when I had the qualifications I needed, I applied for, and got, a job with Global Enterprises.
‘I started work in the general office, then became PA to Mr Jenkins, one of the departmental heads.’
‘I understand from Paul Levens that Mr Jenkins is retiring, and that the department he ran is being merged with another. Which is why you’re looking for a new position?’
‘That’s right.’
‘He also mentioned that Mr Jenkins spoke very highly of you, praising your loyalty, your tact and your efficiency. All attributes that as far as I’m concerned are essential.’
When she said nothing, merely looked at him steadily, he went on to ask, ‘What, in your opinion, is a PA there for?’
‘I’ve always thought that a good PA should keep things ticking over smoothly and do whatever it takes to keep her boss happy.’
‘Even if it includes running his errands and making his coffee?’
‘Yes,’ she answered without hesitation.
Thinking that after some of the women he had known she was like a breath of fresh air, he asked, ‘You wouldn’t regard that as infra dig?’
‘No.’ Seriously, she added, ‘I’ve always thought of a PA as a well-paid dogsbody.’
Managing to hide a smile, he said, ‘Good. Though the majority of the work would involve taking shorthand then transferring it onto a word-processor, it’s that part that slows me down, I’m looking for a PA who isn’t going to quibble about exact duties.
‘I also need someone who, as well as being efficient, is discreet and trustworthy.’
‘Mr Levens explained that.’
‘And you think you fit the bill?’
‘Yes, I believe I do.’
‘Though the monthly salary will stay the same, between books there may be longish periods when I won’t need a PA at all.
‘But I must warn you that when I am writing, I often work seven days a week, and should I decide to work in the evenings, I’ll expect my PA to be available. Would you be happy with that kind of “all or nothing” arrangement?’
She answered, ‘Yes,’ without hesitation.
Michael was well satisfied with that firm ‘yes’. If he did decide to give her the job, and it was still a big if, it sounded as if she might well take it.
CHAPTER TWO
JUST for a moment the thought stopped Michael in his tracks. Was he seriously considering letting a woman into his life again, even on a purely business basis?
He wished he could come up with a resounding no way! But somehow this woman was different. And he was strangely reluctant to let her walk away from him for a second time.
Glancing up, and finding Jenny was looking at him expectantly, he rounded up his straying thoughts and resumed his questioning. ‘While you’ve been working for Global Enterprises, how many times have you been off sick?’
‘None at all. Luckily, I’m very healthy.’
‘Then we come to the question of salary, and holidays. The commencing salary would be…’
He named a sum so in excess of what she might have hoped for that she blinked.
‘But I expect holidays to be fitted in during the slack periods. Any taken during the busy spells would need to be agreed on well in advance. Does that seem reasonable to you?’
‘Perfectly reasonable,’ she answered steadily.
Running lean fingers over his smooth jaw, he regarded her in a contemplative silence for a moment or two.
She was a very beautiful woman, and, even taking into account a broken engagement, it was hard to believe that there was no current man in her life.
Deciding that that was one thing he ought to establish, he began carefully, ‘Do you live alone?’
‘I have a flatmate.’
‘As distinct from a live-in lover?’
A little stiffly, she objected, ‘I’m afraid I don’t see why my private life is relevant.’
His face cold, he said, ‘It’s relevant on more than one count. Apart from the long hours which this kind of work sometimes involves, when I begin a new book I prefer to leave London and work in comparative isolation, where I can be quite free from any unwanted social distractions.’
‘Oh…’
Deciding to spell it out, he added, ‘Which means I need a PA who is free from any personal commitments or obligations.’
‘I see,’ she said slowly.
‘Is that a problem for you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, not really.’
No nearer to finding out what he wanted to know, he applied a little more pressure.
‘Then you have no ties? For example, no fiancé, who would almost certainly object?’
‘No.’
Well, that seemed decided enough. Though he knew to his cost that, if it suited them, some women could lie with composure.
‘And you don’t dislike the thought of having to leave London?’
‘No, not at all.’
She sounded as if she meant it.
He was oddly pleased.
Claire had hated the thought of leaving the bright lights of London and burying herself in what she referred to as ‘the back of beyond’, and after the first time she had refused point blank to go to Slinterwood again.
To please her, he had tried staying in town to finish writing Mandrake, but after several unproductive weeks he had given it up as hopeless.
With that important deadline fast approaching, she had suggested that he should go to Slinterwood while she remained in London.
Now, in retrospect, he could see that that had been the beginning of the end as far as their marriage was concerned…
Jenny was sitting quite still, but, sensing that she was once again growing uncomfortable with the lengthening silence, he went on, ‘In that case I’m prepared to offer you a month’s trial period.’
He hadn’t consciously made up his mind, and his abrupt offer of a job had surprised even himself.
Jenny, also taken aback by the suddenness of the offer, hesitated, wishing she had more time to think.
Picking up the vibes, and sensing his earlier indecision, not to mention a certain amount of antagonism, she had expected further searching questions, and then a cool promise to ‘let her know’.
She wanted the job, so she really ought to be over the moon, but she had found his attitude, and the intentness of his gaze, more than a little daunting.
But that wasn’t insurmountable, she told herself stoutly. The important thing was that she had been offered the chance to work for a writer she admired enormously, and even if her job was only to transcribe his words she wanted to be part of the creative process…
Now, watching her hesitate, and suddenly concerned that she was about to refuse after all, he asked brusquely, ‘So what do you say?’
Telling herself that if it did prove to be a mistake, it was only for a month, she said, ‘Thank you. I—I accept.’
He nodded. ‘Good. Now the only thing is, how soon can you start?’
‘Whenever you like.’
‘Then let’s say immediately.’
‘You mean Monday?’
Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, he told her, ‘I mean now.’
Sounding a little startled, she echoed, ‘Now?’
‘As I told you, when I begin a new book I prefer to leave London and work in comparative isolation. I was planning to go today. Seeing that you’re free to start at once, it would be more convenient if you travelled with me.’
‘Very well.’
‘If my chauffeur takes you home, how long will you need to get organized and pack enough clothes for…shall we say…up to a month? Then we’ll both be free to reassess the situation.’
‘Half an hour at the most.’
‘Excellent.
‘By the time you get down to the lobby, the car will be outside, waiting. The car will drop you home and when you’ve had time to pack, I’ll pick you up myself.’
‘Thank you.’
Feeling as though she had been caught up and swept along by a tidal wave, she got to her feet and prepared to leave.
Wondering if he’d done the right thing, or if he’d allowed his subconscious feelings to hurry him into something he might regret, Michael rose to accompany her. If he found he had made a mistake he could always pay her for the month but get rid of her straight away.
Once again picking up the vibes, and not altogether at ease, Jenny headed for the door. Though at five feet seven inches she was tall for a woman, he was a good head taller, with a mature width of shoulder, and for once in her life she felt dwarfed, towered over.
As he opened the door the butler appeared as if by magic to escort her to the lift.
