The Business Arrangement

He rested his head back on the tree trunk. ‘Somewhere in between smart and casual. Barbara, my PA, wears a jacket, but you don’t have to.’

‘Good. I don’t have one.’

‘Not at the moment, maybe, but we’re going to have to do something about your clothes. Seb’s right about that.’

‘You can’t buy my clothes.’

‘Of course I can. If I’m asking you to play the part of my PA, it’s my responsibility to kit you out appropriately. Just try and buy something that reflects my importance and social standing.’ He glinted.

‘I can’t—’

‘You don’t have a choice since you’re cash-poor. If you feel an attack of scruples just remind yourself you’re doing me a favour and I’m grateful.’

She looked at him with wide eyes, knowing she ought to refuse, but the temptation was just too great. ‘How much…how much do you want me to spend?’

He scarcely gave it a thought before stating a figure that made her head swim. She hadn’t had anything to spend on clothes for the past seven years and suddenly it felt as if she’d entered fairy-tale land. ‘Buy what you need.’

‘I won’t need all that.’

‘Then buy something for fun.’

‘What are you trying to do? I feel like you’re playing Fairy Godmother to my Cinderella.’ She laughed in an attempt to cover her embarrassment.

He leant over and kissed her cheek. ‘Godfather. Take it as a birthday present. Just make sure you take care in picking Prince Charming.’

As if there were any difficulty about it at this moment—given the choice. ‘Promise,’ she whispered, feeling the imprint of his lips where they’d touched her cheek.

With a feeling of unreality she watched as the others began to walk towards them. The short birthday idyll was over and she was back to the tedium of reality. She fixed a bright smile to her face as Jasper came towards her. ‘Seb’s just told us,’ he said, pulling her to her feet. ‘Happy birthday.’

But when he kissed her cheek it didn’t work the same magic.

CHAPTER THREE

AMY was quietly pleased. Two wolf whistles and one improper suggestion and she’d only been in London for a couple of hours. But then that was London’s tube network for you. That, plus a great haircut and some new clothes. This kind of feeling could become addictive. It didn’t matter that the weather was humid and the heat was bouncing back off the city pavements.

She crossed the road and peered at the piece of paper in her hand. This was it. Hugh’s house. She was no expert but the façade looked to be Georgian with a grand, symmetrical arrangement of windows. It was gorgeous. Hugh could have looked like the back end of a bus and you’d be tempted for a place like this.

Fitting the key in the lock, she felt a vague sense of surprise when the door opened. This really was going to be her home for the next couple of weeks. The inner sanctum of the spider’s lair. Amazing. ‘Hugh? Hugh, are you here?’ she called tentatively into the echoey silence of a cavernous hall.

There was no answer. Amy pulled her bag into the hallway and closed the door behind her. ‘Hugh?’

Still silence, except for the sound of her heels on the hardwood floor. Gingerly she pushed open the door immediately to her left and took in the muted colours and antique furniture. She let out a low whistle. Classy. It put his mother’s words into a whole new perspective.

‘I do hope he’ll look after you properly, Amy,’ she’d said the previous afternoon over a cup of tea and some home-made cupcakes. ‘He lives in a strange old place right near a busy road and he’s scarcely got a stick of furniture. Nothing to make it homely.’

Amy smiled gently to herself. Hugh’s mother would hate this restrained elegance, with every piece of furniture chosen to make an impact. Not a floral Austrian blind in sight. It was simply a million miles away from his mother’s taste for frilly, soft furnishings and accumulation of clutter. She quietly shut the door behind her.

He’d told her she’d find her room ‘up the stairs and the first door on the left’. Picking up her bag, she followed his instructions and found a note stuck on the door. ‘Hi. I’ve put some towels on the bed. Help yourself to the wine in the fridge,’ she read, smiling as she pulled the note off the creamy-white woodwork. Trust Hugh to think of wine when any sensible woman would be dying for a cup of tea.

Her room was light and fresh with a feel of Pride and Prejudice about it and, as he’d said, fresh towels were temptingly piled on the bed. It was just fantastic. Nothing like she’d imagined. She thought he’d have gone for a modernistic bachelor pad but this was totally ‘Hugh’ too. The antique furniture gleamed and smelt of beeswax. Compared with the house she had shared while at university, this was pure fantasy land. In fact everything about the whole situation was like something lifted out of a novel.

Amy shook her hair in the mirror, still fascinated by the way it framed her face and made her eyes suddenly appear enormous. Maybe the scissor-wielding genius was right and her eyes were her best feature. At any rate he’d squeezed her in on a Saturday morning and had done all he’d promised and more.

What would Hugh make of her new image? It would be nice to think he’d take one look at her and be staggered by her transformation. Perhaps he’d even fall at her feet and swear undying love on account of her beauty.

Of course, if he did that would make him very shallow. She plonked down her bag and grabbed one of the white towels before heading towards the en suite. But then he was shallow, wasn’t he? Even so, it wasn’t likely she was going to suddenly become the object of his desire. Which was good, she reminded herself.

Anyway, Hugh didn’t swear undying love. It wasn’t in his make-up. The best he’d ever offer would be an affair for as long as it felt good. Getting involved with Hugh would be like hitting a self-destruct button. And she wasn’t that stupid.

But she was in London. She did have new clothes. Life was going to get better, she thought buoyantly, before needing to concentrate on how Hugh’s up-to-the-minute design-statement shower head actually worked.

Later, fantastically cool with wet hair bundled up turban style in a towel, she padded back to the bedroom to answer the persistent bleep of her mobile. ‘Hello.’

‘Amy?’

‘Yep.’ She sat down on the edge of the bed feeling strangely breathless, as if she’d been caught somewhere she’d no right to be. It was so strange being in Hugh’s house. Touching his things.

‘You sound guilty. What are you up to?’ Hugh’s warm voice teased. ‘Are you on your way?’

‘No, I’m here.’ She heard her voice quaver and bit her lip. ‘Just had a shower to cool off and am dripping on your rug.’

‘You managed the tube okay?’

Amy curled up more comfortably on the bed. ‘I’m not a complete country bumpkin. I did experience momentary panic when the ticket thing ate my card, but it spat it out straight after. On the whole I managed fine.’

‘Have you found everything you need?’ he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

‘Yep. I love your house. It’s gorgeous.’

He laughed. ‘Make yourself at home. I should be back in about twenty minutes. Maybe less.’

‘Twenty minutes?’ She looked down at her towel-wrapped body.

‘Put the kettle on,’ he said just before the soft click ended the connection.

Twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes was no time at all. Impossible to even attempt putting back together the transformed image she’d arrived with. The lady in the shop had been very encouraging, but she doubted the aubergine eyeliner was as easy to apply as she’d made it sound.

With a sense of urgency she pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt. There was no time to find a hair-dryer so she made do with twisting her hair out of the way and holding it in place with a plastic clip. It was scarcely the fairy-tale transformation she’d played out in her imagination, but maybe this was better. Just play it cool.

Bare-footed, she ventured downstairs in plenty of time to be waiting to meet him as he opened the front door.

‘Did you have a good day at the office, darling? You really shouldn’t be working on a Sunday you know.’

Hugh’s face crinkled with amusement. ‘It was important. Hell, it’s hot out there,’ he said, loosening his tie. ‘What time did you arrive?’

‘About three,’ she said, offering a cheek for him to kiss. Dressed in a sharp city suit, he looked like a stranger, but the scent of his aftershave was reassuringly Hugh. ‘It was easy to find. I walked around with my A-Z like a tourist and managed beautifully.’