The Trouble with Trent!

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here to introduce you.’ She smiled as she went into the room, trying to ignore the fact that her mother looked as if she’d been on a diet of vinegar for a week. Maxine was looking much the same—what on earth had been going on?

‘I was several minutes early.’ Trent had risen to his feet as, in a mustard-shade dress, she’d entered the room. He paused to say hello to Sadie and Georgia, and started to come over to her. ‘I introduced myself,’ he commented easily. But, for all his relaxed manner, he seemed not inclined to delay their departure. ‘Shall we go?’

They said their goodbyes, and Alethea led the way out into the hall, followed by her mother’s sharp warning, ‘Don’t forget you have to be up early for work in the morning, Alethea!’

Oh, grief! She skirted the chest of drawers and heard a thudding sound as Trent didn’t, and just knew that the evening was going to be a disaster before it began.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ she apologised tensely, already guessing that her mother had asked him some pretty pertinent questions and he was probably ready to call the evening off right then and there.

‘Sorry?’ he queried, opening the passenger door of a black, extremely expensive car that suggested that whatever job he did, he was well paid for it.

Loyalty to her family, plus a sudden realisation that, whatever had passed between him, her mother and sister—Maxine had been looking on the sour side too—she did not want to know about it, made her say, ‘At a guess, I’d say you cracked your shin on that chest in the hall.’

‘Is it there as some sort of test you give to all your men friends—to see how brave they are?’

‘You didn’t cry,’ she replied—and suddenly the tension was eased, and they were both laughing.

Miraculously, though she rather knew Trent had a lot to do with it, the evening which she thought had started off badly progressed to a fine start.

He took her to a restaurant which served excellent food. But she had little recollection of what she ate, for he was an excellent dinner companion: witty, serious, knowledgable.

‘Yes, but, Trent—er—Trenton...’ She went on to put forward her point of view, but the subject went straight from her mind. It was the confusion he seemed to have a knack of arousing in her. She started to grow hot at the thought that this astute man who had introduced himself to her as Trent de Havilland might think she had been checking up on him, and had found out his name was Trenton. ‘It’s on file—your name.’ She dug a bigger hole for herself. Oh, Heavens, this was dreadful. ‘I wasn’t checking up on you!’ she blurted out.

‘That’s not very flattering of you,’ he teased.

She started to feel a bit better. Enough, anyway, to be able to explain, ‘I was checking Mr Chapman’s silver wedding celebrations file, ready to finalise everything before putting it to bed. Your name was on the guest list.’

Trent smiled and, as if realising from the gentle tide of pink that had washed her skin that she had been feeling a trifle awkward, he smoothly turned the conversation to enquire, ‘You enjoy working for Hector?’

‘Very much,’ she answered, but felt honour bound to add, ‘Though I’m not his PA. She’s Carol Robinson and I assist her.’ Alethea’s voice started to fade as it suddenly dawned on her that he probably knew that anyway. ‘Didn’t Mr Chapman want to know what you wanted my address and phone number for?’ she asked, and had to admit that she liked the way Trent de Havilland’s mouth quirked at the corners whenever she managed to amuse him.

‘You’re too sharp to be a mere assistant,’ he responded charmingly.

She enjoyed his charm, though she had sense enough to see that it wouldn’t take a genius to guess from where he had obtained the information he needed. Though Hector Chapman giving that information spoke volumes. She knew, indisputably, that Mr Chapman would never have imparted anything about her unless the enquirer was not only very well known to him, but also a man whom he knew to be trustworthy.

Given that she had been brought up to be distrustful of all men, Alethea was feeling more relaxed with Trent than with any man she’d ever known. To suddenly realise, too, that she already had all the evidence she needed, because Trent must be well known to her boss to have been invited to his anniversary celebration, only went to make her feel even more relaxed.

Relaxed, and able to ask him what she considered to be a most natural question, ‘What sort of work do you do?’

‘I’m in science engineering,’ he answered.

‘Well, that leaves me dead in the water,’ Alethea laughed, ‘Science was my worst subject at school.’

‘I’m sure you were brilliant at others,’ he commented. ‘So tell me more about you.’

For no reason, she started to feel tense again. ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she replied.

He wasn’t having that. ‘You live at home with your mother and sister—plus your sister’s children,’ he documented. How much had he guessed? Alethea started to feel wary of him. ‘Are there no men in your household?’ he asked, and Alethea, knowing she was being prickly, but somehow unable to help it, resented his questioning.

‘Are there any women in yours?’ she asked bluntly.

‘I live alone,’ he answered quite openly, adding drily, ‘though it’s true that I have a dear soul who comes in and sets the place to order three times a week.’

There were traces of a smile about his expression, but suddenly the evening was going badly for Alethea and she could not respond. ‘Have you ever been married?’ she asked abruptly.

Trent he Havilland studied her unsmiling face for some seconds, as if trying to gauge what, if anything, lay behind her question. ‘No, never,’ he stated at last. But his eyes were alert, his expression all at once unsmiling. ‘Have you?’

‘Good Heavens, no!’ Alethea exclaimed.

‘You sound as if you find the idea appalling?’ he suggested, his dark eyes steady on her violet ones.

Suddenly her tension vanished, and her sense of humour quite unexpectedly bubbled to the surface. ‘So long as you weren’t asking,’ she replied and, when his eyes remained unflinching on hers, she continued, ‘I should hate to hurt your feelings.’

‘Like hell you would,’ he rejoined.

‘I’d never hurt anyone on purpose,’ she informed him coolly.

Her coolness didn’t so much as touch him. ‘Turn them down gently—is that your motto?’ he surmised, as if he truly thought she must have received several marriage proposals by now. She wasn’t interested in marriage, for goodness’ sake! Nor did she care much for the subject under discussion, she decided. Though, before she could open her mouth to change it, she discovered that Trent had had enough of it too, and was heading in another direction himself to ask, ‘May I enquire after your father?’

Alethea was not sure that she cared for this new subject any better. ‘My father?’ she prevaricated.

‘He doesn’t live at home?’ Trent pursued, not a man to give up easily, even if her look did have a chilly edge to it.

Had her mother told him that? She did not want to think so. But, much as she loved her parent, she was not blind to the fact that her mother could be manipulative when it suited her. She remembered the sour expressions on both her mother’s and her sister’s faces when she had gone into the sitting room. And, even though she had earlier been convinced that she didn’t want to know what had gone on in that room before she had come downstairs, she found she was asking in a rush, ‘What did my mother say to you?’

‘Nothing to cause such distress in those beautiful violet eyes,’ he answered. Quite gently, she thought, but it was a non-answer just the same.

‘So tell me,’ she insisted.

He shrugged, but he was watchful as he revealed, ‘Apparently you’re more interested in your career than you are in men.’

She could cope with that. ‘Anything wrong in that?’ she asked.

‘Not a thing,’ he replied pleasantly. Only, remembering her mother’s expression, Alethea couldn’t leave it there.

‘And?’ she further insisted.

‘You’re a devil for punishment,’ he murmured lightly.

‘So?’

‘At the risk of sounding ungallant, I don’t believe it.’

‘This is like drawing teeth!’ she exclaimed frustratedly. ‘Don’t believe what?’

‘You have beautiful teeth too,’ he said, delaying a moment more. But, having flattered her, he went on to reveal the appalling truth. ‘According to your mother-though I must say she couched it in much better terms... basically what she meant to convey was that you are only going out with me in the interests of career advancement.’

Alethea, innocent of all charges, went scarlet. ‘I... You...’ she tried, but was rendered temporarily speechless. It was left to Trent, his eyes on her unhappy colour, to try to make her feel better.