The Playboy's Ruthless Pursuit

Madge looked as close to sheepish as he’d ever seen her. ‘Right. Well, it’s being held in the ballroom of the Chelsea Hotel, and it’s to raise funds for the women’s refuges in the inner-city area. There’s a sit-down dinner before the auction, which I’m assured will have quality food and which should raise a good sum of money since it costs a small fortune per head. I gather the place is going to be full of society’s finest. Kenneth was to be the auctioneer, the last prize being the privilege of the winning bidder having their name used as a character in his next book. It’s been done before, of course, by other authors. But never by Kenneth. The poor fellow is quite disappointed, as well as worried about letting Alice down. She’s the girl who’s organised everything. Anyway, I told him that you would do it in his stead.’

Jeremy pretended to look displeased. ‘Oh, you did, did you?’

For a split second, a worried frown formed on Madge’s high forehead. But then she smiled.

‘You’re just joking, right?’

Jeremy grinned.

Madge flushed with relief and pleasure. She adored Jeremy, envying his mother for having such a warm and wonderful son. He might be a devil where the ladies were concerned—or so she’d been told—but he was a good man and a great boss. Smart, sensible and surprisingly sensitive. She didn’t doubt that one day he’d fall in love and settle down.

‘You are a teaser,’ she said. ‘Now, do you want me to ring Alice and tell her you’ll do the job as auctioneer? Or do you want to ring her yourself?’

‘What do you think, Madge?’

This was another thing she liked about her boss. He often asked her opinion. And usually took it.

‘I think you should ring her yourself,’ she said. ‘It would put her mind at rest. She seemed rather stressed. I gained the impression she was new at this job.’

‘Right,’ he replied, nodding. ‘You’d better get me her number, then.’

Madge already had it in hand, of course.

‘You are a very devious woman,’ he said as she gave it to him.

‘And you are a very sweet man,’ she returned with a smug smile before turning and leaving him to it.

Jeremy found himself smiling as he keyed Alice’s number into his phone.

‘Alice Waterhouse,’ she answered immediately, her voice crisp and very businesslike, its cut-glass accent betraying an education at one of those private girls’ schools that turned out girls who invariably worked in jobs such as PR or fund-raising for charities before marrying someone suitable to their class.

Jeremy wasn’t overly keen on girls from privileged backgrounds, which was rather hypocritical of him, given his own background. There’d been a time when he hadn’t cared about such things. If a girl was pretty and keen on him, then he didn’t give their character—or their upbringing—much thought. He bedded without bias or prejudice. But nowadays, he found the girls he dated who’d been born rich were seriously boring, both in bed and out. He disliked their innate sense of entitlement, plus their need to be constantly complimented and entertained. Perhaps it was the attraction of opposites, but there was something very appealing about girls who had to work for their living, who didn’t have the fall-back position of Daddy’s money.

He imagined that the plummy-voiced Alice Waterhouse was just such a daddy’s girl.

‘Jeremy Barker-Whittle,’ he replied, well aware that whilst his own voice wasn’t overly toffee-nosed, it was deep and rich and, yes, impressive. Alex and Sergio used to tell him he could have made a fortune on the radio. People who first met him over the phone were often surprised by the reality of him in the flesh. They clearly expected someone older, and possibly more rotund, with a big chest and stomach. Like an opera singer.

People did make the wrong assumptions at times.

He wondered if he was wrong about Alice Waterhouse. Then decided he wasn’t.

‘I’m the publisher of Kenneth Jacobs’s books,’ he informed her. ‘It seems I’m to be your stand-in auctioneer tonight.’

‘Oh, that’s wonderful,’ she said, not gushing but obviously relieved. ‘Madge said you might do it. I have to confess I was beginning to panic. Thank you so much.’

Against his better judgment, Jeremy found himself warming to her.

‘It’s my pleasure,’ he said. ‘Truly.’ Jeremy had always fancied himself a bit of a showman. He would actually enjoy playing auctioneer tonight.

‘You can bring a partner, if you wish,’ Alice offered. ‘I allocated two places for Mr Jacobs at the main dining table. He said he didn’t have anyone to bring so I was going to sit with him.’

‘I won’t be bringing anyone with me, either,’ Jeremy admitted. He might have brought Ellen, a lawyer he dated on and off, and whose company he enjoyed. But she was overseas in Washington, working, at the moment. ‘I’m a crusty old bachelor too,’ he added, amused by this description of himself. ‘So perhaps you would do me the honour of sitting next to me at dinner tonight.’

‘That would be my pleasure,’ she returned.

‘I presume it’s black tie?’

‘Yes, it is. Is that a problem?’

Jeremy smiled wryly. ‘No. No problem.’ If there was one thing for which Jeremy could be relied upon it was to show up at social functions, properly attired. He loved fashion, and took pride in his appearance. His wardrobe held a wide array of clothes from casual to formal. His dinner suits were the best money could buy, the one he’d worn to Sergio’s wedding made by one of the top tailors in Milan. He’d wear that one tonight.

When she started thanking him again, he cut her short by asking when and where they could meet up tonight. Once he had the details in hand, he said goodbye, hung up then called out to Madge.

She popped her head through the door straight away.

‘Everything settled?’ she asked.

‘Fine. Just tell me one thing. Have you actually met this Alice?’

‘No. I only talked to her over the phone.’

‘So what PR company does she work for?’

Madge looked puzzled. ‘She doesn’t. I mean...didn’t I tell you? She works as a counsellor at a couple of the women’s refuges.’

‘No, Madge, you didn’t mention that.’

‘Sorry. Bit flustered today. Anyway, Alice explained when she first rang that they couldn’t afford the fees of professional fund-raisers so she was doing it all herself. Not an easy job, I can assure you.’

‘No,’ Jeremy said thoughtfully. Damn, but he hated it when he was wrong about someone. He supposed it wasn’t impossible that the daughters of wealthy men could be born with social consciences, plus the desire to make a difference to those less fortunate than themselves. But in his experience, it was rare.

Jeremy was impressed, and resolved to do everything in his power to make tonight’s auction a success.

‘I’d better get back to work,’ he said, but his mind remained elsewhere. He was definitely looking forward to finding out tonight all about the enigmatic and intriguing Alice Waterhouse.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_14db1966-f0b1-5ba0-8c46-be2e4ad24ebb)

‘THANK YOU FOR lending me this lovely cocktail dress, Fiona,’ Alice said as she inspected herself in the cheval mirror. The dress was black and sleek and strapless, with a matching coat that would protect her from the chill night air till she could get inside the air-conditioned hotel. Despite summer being just over a month away, London was in the grip of a cold snap.

‘My pleasure,’ her flatmate replied, the words reminding Alice of the conversation she’d had earlier today with Kenneth Jacobs’s publisher. What a nice man he was. And what a lovely voice. He would make a much better auctioneer than Mr Jacobs.

‘I seriously wish I was going to your do tonight instead of having dinner with Alistair’s parents,’ Fiona added. ‘But it’s his mother’s birthday...’ Her voice trailed off as she shrugged resignedly. ‘Never a good idea to get on the wrong foot with one’s future mother-in-law.’

‘I would imagine not,’ Alice agreed, glad that she’d never have to worry about such matters. No way was she ever going to get married.

‘You look lovely,’ Fiona said. ‘I wish I had your figure. And your height. And your hair.’

Alice was taken aback by the compliments, thinking there wasn’t anything special about her figure, though she did have nice hair, naturally blonde and easy to style. As for her height, she wasn’t that tall. Just under five eight. Admittedly, Fiona was on the short side. Despite that, she was a strikingly attractive girl with thick dark hair, big brown eyes and the kind of voluptuous body that men lusted after. Not that Alice wanted to be lusted after. It was the last thing she wanted.