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Though he still didn’t know what kind of voice she had, what her smile was like, or what pleased her most when she was being made love to.
But it would be fun finding out, he told himself with anticipation.
As he watched her through the blind he noticed that she waited quietly for Telford, without fidgeting or showing obvious signs of impatience.
Yet a certain tension in the slim shoulders told him she was nowhere near as calm as she had first appeared. That the outcome of this interview mattered to her.
She glanced down and, with the first hint of nervousness she had betrayed, brushed an invisible speck from the lapel of her charcoal-grey jacket.
Just watching her hand lightly brush the curve of her breast brought a sudden rush of desire that surprised him with its strength and urgency. It sent his blood surging through his veins, clawed at his insides and urged him to walk out and chance his arm at once, rather than have to endure another endless period of waiting.
But at this point, as she had readily walked into the trap he had set with such care, it would be idiotic to risk losing the game. Though when she had officially been offered the transfer it might be possible to hurry things along a bit.
While Charlotte waited for Mr Telford she made an effort to calm her nerves and concentrate on the coming interview. If only she could get this transfer to the States…
After fruitlessly racking her brains for a way forward the memo suggesting the exchange of personnel had come as a heaven-sent opportunity.
Of course she might be nowhere near Daniel Wolfe’s office. She might not even be based in the same building. But, as he lived in New York, she had more chance of meeting him there than she did on one of his infrequent visits to the UK.
She knew when he visited Wolfe International’s London headquarters by the stir his arrival inevitably caused amongst the rest of the staff, but she had never set eyes on him in person. All she had seen were pictures of him in glossy magazines or the society pages.
Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that curled a little, a bony nose and light, piercing eyes set deep beneath well-marked brows, he was undeniably handsome.
Though not in the film star sense.
His was a lean face, tough and attractive, with a cleft chin and a mouth that had affected her strangely, always managing to send little shivers down her spine.
In the more sensational sections of the press he was often referred to as a latter-day Lothario, and frequent stories appeared about him and his latest ‘conquest’, some of which verged on the scurrilous.
Until a matter of months ago, repelled by such blatant sexuality, her instinct had been to avoid him at all costs.
Now things had altered completely. Meeting him, getting close to him, had become her only aim in life. Her mission.
On his last visit, despite all her efforts, she hadn’t even managed to catch a glimpse of him. When she had finally thought of a reason to go up to the top floor executive suite it was to discover he had just that minute left for the airport.
Instead of making her give up her failure only served to stiffen her resolve.
During the following weeks, while trying to work out some practicable strategy to achieve her goal, she had kept an eye on the papers and learnt all she could about him.
A top-flight Anglo-American entrepreneur from a wealthy background, he was known in the business world for his ability and in the outside world for his philanthropy.
A man who was said to work hard and play hard, Daniel Wolfe was today’s hottest news, the centre of media attention on both sides of the Atlantic.
With an English mother and an American father, he had been educated at Columbia and Cambridge and, after graduating, had taken over the running of his godfather’s ailing software company.
When that was firmly on its feet he had diversified, buying up other rocky companies and doing the same for them.
Now, at barely thirty, he was a multi-millionaire. Admired. Envied. Feared. Respected. Occasionally reviled.
In spite of so much coverage, he managed to keep his private life private. So, though Charlotte was soon familiar with his public image, she was able to glean little about the man himself.
In a recent article in Top People he’d been described, more temperately, as an unrepentant bachelor. But a bachelor who liked women. Especially beautiful women.
When, after each London visit, pictures of him appeared in the newspapers, there was always a willowy blonde or a redhead clinging to his arm.
Cursed with the kind of looks that attracted the opposite sex like a magnet, Charlotte had often wished she were plain. It would have saved a great deal of hassle, and made life so much simpler.
Entranced by her face and figure, men had been pursuing her since she was fifteen. Their unwanted, unlooked-for attentions, their sheer persistence, had driven her to hide behind a cool, impenetrable façade that only Peter had ever managed to breach.
And then it had been for all the wrong reasons.
Poor Peter.
But if her despised beauty could seriously attract Daniel Wolfe it would be worth all the problems it had caused in the past.
She had never imagined herself using her looks to try to ensnare a man, but knowing she was the type of woman he went for was an unexpected bonus and helped to bolster her determination.
But if he invariably went in for the kind of casual relationships where no feelings were involved the whole thing might well be impossible.
To succeed in what she was hoping to do, not only had she got to make him want her, somehow she had to make him fall in love with her…
As the office door opened and Mr Telford came in she looked up, a mite flustered, her cheeks growing hot as though he could read her thoughts.
Crossing to his desk, the tall, grey-haired MD said, ‘Charlotte, my dear, do sit down. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I got held up at lunch.’
Taking a seat opposite, she strove to look cool and collected, as though the outcome of the interview didn’t matter all that much.
His light blue eyes kind, Telford asked, ‘So you’re still interested in the move to New York?’
‘Yes.’ She hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.
‘Quite sure? It might mean having more contact with Mr Wolfe.’ It was as far as he could go by way of warning.
‘Absolutely.’ She answered steadily.
It seemed that she had decided to put the past behind her. Relieved, he asked, ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me why?’
She had expected the question and rehearsed her reply. ‘Apart from the fact that a firsthand knowledge of American market trends could prove to be invaluable, it would be a good chance to compare the way different teams work. I understand the New York team are usually extremely accurate with their predictions. I thought I might learn something.’
‘A text-book answer,’ he remarked with a smile. ‘Though I rather suspected you had a more personal reason for wanting this move?’
She froze. It seemed he knew.
But he couldn’t possibly know.
‘How do you mean, a more personal reason?’
A twinkle in his eye, he said, ‘Didn’t you once tell me you’d like a chance to live in New York?’
‘Yes. Yes, I did… I’m just surprised you remembered.’ Then boldly, ‘Does having a personal reason disqualify me?’
‘Of course not. The mere fact that you want to live there is a big plus.’
Her sigh of relief was audible.
‘In my opinion you’re the candidate best suited to the move and, though I’m sure they’ll miss you on the team, I’ll put your name forward to Mr Wolfe.’
‘That’s marvellous.’ She smiled at him brilliantly.
Blinking, he thanked the Lord that he was a very happily married man. Though she had been working for Wolfe International for almost two years, her beauty never failed to move him.
‘If he’s in agreement, which I’m sure he will be, all your travelling expenses will, of course, be met and you’ll have the use of a company flat. Any idea how long it will take you to get organized for the transfer?’
‘I can be ready as soon as you wish.’
The sooner the better.
‘With Christmas less than two weeks away, I imagine some time around mid-January should be fine. Will leaving your present accommodation give you any problems? I mean from a practical point of view?’
‘No. I share a rented flat with an old school friend. Carla should have no trouble finding someone to take my place while I’m away.’
‘Excellent… Then, as soon as I’ve had a word with Mr Wolfe, I’ll let you know.’
‘Thank you.’ Her legs not quite steady, Charlotte made her way back to her own office—one of a row of small offices, little more than cubicles, that made up Research and Analysis—and sat down at her desk.
Her thoughts were chaotic, tumbling over each other like clowns in a circus ring. She had succeeded in taking the first step.
So long as Daniel Wolfe raised no objections…
But why should he? She and Tim had different surnames and, out of the country when it all happened, she hadn’t been involved in any way, so he would have no idea there was any connection.
Charlotte felt her whole body tense as once again the hatred and anger rose up inside, sharp and biting, bitter as gall on her tongue.
After leaving college, and the somewhat wild bunch he had run around with, Tim had seemed to lose a lot of the feckless ways that had so worried her.
Settled in his new job with Wolfe International—a job Charlotte’s recommendation had managed to get him—and confident about the future, he had fallen in love with Janice Jeffries, a pretty young blonde who had worked in the next office.
Janice, in her turn, had been fascinated by the young fair-haired giant with sparkling green eyes and a winning smile.
Discovering that the attraction was mutual, within a very short time they had arranged to move in together and had started to make plans to get married some time in September.
With Tim to support money had been very tight and Charlotte had taken no holidays since starting in her present job. She had five weeks due to her, so when Carla and she were offered a two-berth, last-minute cancellation on a ‘roughing it’ sailing trip around the Greek Islands she had gone off happily, not at all concerned about leaving the young couple.
While they were away it had happened, coming out of the blue swiftly, shockingly, and by the time the news had filtered through to them, and they had arrived back from Athens, it was too late.
Apparently trying to drown his sorrows, Tim had swallowed a lethal cocktail of drink and drugs.
He was dead and buried.
There was nothing anyone could do.
Though the verdict had been an unequivocal Accidental Death, the gutter press had somehow scented a story. Discovering that there had been a fight in one of the offices of Wolfe International between the dead man and Daniel Wolfe himself they were enjoying a field day.
Having managed to dig up the fact that Tim’s fiancée had been involved, they were suggesting a love-triangle and hinting at possible suicide.
Blaming herself, Charlotte had bitterly regretted going away. If she had been at home things might have been different.
No, would have been different. If what the newspapers were suggesting was true, she would have been there for Tim, as she had been every day for the past five years…
The office door opening made her jump. She glanced up, her expression bleak.
‘Don’t look so anxious.’ Mr Telford smiled at her. ‘I’ve spoken to Mr Wolfe and he’s quite willing to go along with my recommendation. There’s only one thing; he’d like you to travel over to the States as soon as possible so you can get settled in before Christmas.’
Charlotte bit her lip to hold back the sudden surge of excitement.
Misreading her reaction, Mr Telford suggested, ‘But perhaps that’s too soon? I’m sure Mr Wolfe will understand if you’d prefer to be at home with your loved ones over Christmas?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve no loved ones left to be at home with. That’s one of the reasons I applied for the move,’ she added quietly.
Recalling not only the break-up of her engagement but what had happened to her stepbrother, and upset by his own unthinking blunder Mr Telford looked distressed. ‘Please forgive me, my dear. I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking.’
‘That’s all right.’ Then, with a determined smile, ‘Christmas in New York should be wonderful.’
‘I hope it will be.’
‘You’re very kind,’ she said warmly.
He harrumphed before asking, ‘How do you stand as far as your work’s concerned? Can some other member of the team take over?’
‘That shouldn’t be necessary. I can finish my latest report this afternoon.’
‘So when do you think you can be ready to travel?’
Adrenalin pumping through her bloodstream, she told him, ‘All I have to do is pack, so I could be ready to leave by tomorrow… If it’s possible to get a flight at such short notice?’
‘Our company have a big stake in one of the transatlantic airlines so that shouldn’t prove to be a problem. I’ll ask Mr Wolfe’s secretary to make all the arrangements. She’ll give you any other necessary information and organize a car to take you to the airport, where a ticket will be waiting for you. Needless to say, the company will be happy to defray any other travelling expenses you may incur, and this month’s salary cheque will be paid into your bank as usual.’
‘Thank you.’
Well aware that she had had to cope with more than enough heartbreak, at the door Mr Telford turned and said, ‘You will take care, won’t you…?’
Though it was, strictly speaking, none of his business, he was uneasy about Daniel Wolfe’s barely concealed interest and his motive for what Telford was beginning to suspect had been a contrived move.
But, knowing how Charlotte felt about Wolfe, common sense told him that she was hardly likely to be in any danger.
Smiling, she answered, ‘Of course.’
‘And don’t forget to come back to us.’
