The Tycoon's Delicious Distraction

‘So tell me, Katherine with a K, what impulse led you into doing this kind of work?’

‘I decided to do it because I like helping people.’

‘And what qualifications do you have?’

The question didn’t faze her, even though she’d often regretted her lack of opportunity to study for a profession. But with a mother who was often in financial trouble because she didn’t have a clue how to manage money Kit had had no choice but to start work at sixteen so that she could contribute to the household income and help pay the rent.

‘Do you mean professional qualifications?’

He nodded.

Pursing her lips for a moment, Kit quickly gathered her thoughts. ‘I’ve done some fairly intensive first-aid training courses and completed a carer’s certificate. But what I lack in professional qualifications I make up for by having plenty of “hands-on” experience in helping to take care of people. If you speak to Barbara—the manager at the agency—she’ll clarify what I’ve said. I’ve been with her for the past five years and my record is exemplary. The agency standards are extremely high, and she wouldn’t keep me on if I didn’t help her live up to that.’

Her heart was thudding a little as she finished speaking, because Henry’s expression had at first been perturbed and then somewhat amused. Was he perhaps thinking she must be crazy if she thought he’d seriously consider taking on someone with minimal qualifications to work for him? Kit hoped he would at least give her a chance to demonstrate her competence. Inexplicably, the thought of travelling up to Scotland tomorrow had strangely lost its appeal.

‘It’s lucky for you that I’m a risk-taker. Other people might call it reckless, but fortunately I don’t much care what other people think. Okay, Ms Blessington, when can you start?’

He was going to give her a chance? Secretly elated, but careful not to show it, Kit strove for her usual composure. ‘Are you saying that you’d like to offer me the job, Mr Treverne?’

He immediately combed his fingers through his unruly dark hair and scowled. ‘Isn’t that why you’re here...because you want to work for me?’

‘Yes, I am. But—’

‘Firstly, don’t call me Mr Treverne. It’s far too formal. You can call me Hal. I’m sure you can guess that’s not an invitation I extend to many, but for the purpose of ease of communication I’m extending it to you, Kit. And, yes...I’m offering you the job and I’d like you to start tomorrow. My sister assures me that the agency you work for does indeed have a good reputation for employing reliable and competent people—people who know how to employ discretion and respect confidentiality. That’s especially important for businessmen in the public eye like me, as I’m sure you’re aware? And, by the way, there’s a confidentiality clause in the contract that I’ll need to get you to sign. I trust you’re okay with that?’

‘Of course.’

Emitting a relieved sigh, Hal nodded. ‘Then you can arrive tomorrow, just after breakfast. Depending on what kind of night I’ve had, I usually endeavour to have toast and coffee at around eight. There’s one more thing...I have an appointment at the hospital at ten. You’ll have to drive me.’ Looking thoughtful, he paused, narrowing his chameleon-like gaze. ‘I presume you’d like to accept the position?’

‘Yes...yes, I would.’ Rising to her feet, Kit walked towards him, her smile perhaps a little more cautious than usual. Henry Treverne was a commandingly attractive man and she wouldn’t be truthful if she didn’t privately admit that it worried her. It had never happened before but she’d often feared that if she fell for a man she worked for it would be the ruination of all her dreams and plans. Add to that the fact that he was still very much an unknown quantity with regard to what he would be like as an employer, she sensed, going by his brusque manner, that she would have her work cut out in proving to him he’d chosen the right person for the job.

‘Thank you...thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down.’

‘I sincerely hope you won’t. The thought of having to interview prospective employees again fills me with horror after the parade of too-earnest applicants I’ve seen today.’ Hal’s lips shaped an ironic smile. ‘Barring yourself, of course. If you’re at all too earnest about having this job you hide it well. Would you like to see your room now?’

‘Yes, I would.’

‘Then follow me. In light of my accident, I thank God I chose an apartment that doesn’t have stairs. For convenience, the room I’ve allocated you is next door to mine.’ His hands resting lightly on the tyres of the wheelchair, Hal paused as another thought struck him. ‘I won’t give you a key because the revolving doors downstairs are never closed, and Charlie is usually there on the front desk if there’s a problem. Plus, if you’re out then that means I’m in, and all you need to do is get Charlie to buzz me to let me know you’ve returned. Okay?’

‘But what if you’ve fallen asleep and don’t hear the buzzer?’

‘Unless I’ve been clubbed over the head by a particularly vindictive burglar you don’t need to be concerned about that. I don’t easily fall asleep—at least certainly not during the day. But, just to reassure you, Charlie has a spare key for emergencies.’

‘That’s good to know.’

‘Then let’s go and look at your room, shall we?’

CHAPTER TWO

IT HAD BEEN a hell of a day, Hal reflected, positioning his wheelchair in front of the bathroom mirror in order to brush his teeth. Although it was practically unheard of for him to turn in before midnight, since returning home from the hospital he’d cultivated the habit of retiring early in the hope of getting some longed-for rest. The irony was, no matter how early he went to bed, his sleep was unfailingly broken. First by episodes of agonising pain in his leg that meant he had to rise in order to take some pain relief and then by the inevitable visits to the bathroom—which was no easy feat when he had to hoist himself into his wheelchair to get there.

The one light on the horizon was he’d been advised that from tomorrow he could start using crutches. But he knew it would still be a fiasco, endeavouring to do all the commonplace things that he’d been used to taking for granted. Rubbing a hand round his dark stubbled jaw, then peering closer to examine the shocking bruised shadows beneath his eyes, he felt frustration and fury bite into him with all the force of a serrated steel clamp. Was it usual to feel this fatigued after an accident? And was it normal that his emotions should be so tightly wound that he could scarcely contain them?

His highly esteemed surgeon had assured him that it was...except the confirmation didn’t help him to accept the fact. Thank God Sam had persuaded him to hire some practical help and companionship, with the aim of alleviating some of the frustration he felt round his compromised mobility and also to counter the boredom of being forced to spend so much time on his own.

If Sam hadn’t been the manager of a busy psychology practice she would have willingly been there for Hal night and day if necessary. But she also had a husband with a demanding job, and Greg was surely entitled to spend his precious free time with his wife. As for Hal’s so-called ‘friends’...they were busy with their own demanding careers and pleasurable pursuits—and anyway none of them were the type to give up their time willingly for an invalid.

Appalled that he had begun to think of himself in such a scornful way, he quickly brushed his teeth, turned off the light, then returned to his bedroom grimly to face another disagreeable and painful night with nothing but his steadily worsening thoughts to keep him company.

As he lifted his hard-muscled frame out of the wheelchair and manoeuvred himself onto the bed he found himself fervently hoping that the feisty Kit Blessington’s presence would at least be bearable. Perish the thought that she might be the type of woman who chattered incessantly about inconsequential things and would very quickly get on his nerves, making him bitterly regret hiring her—even if her practical skills should prove to be as competent as she’d indicated.

* * *

Hal was having an early-morning cup of coffee with his sister when, true to her word, Kit Blessington arrived at the agreed time. Sam had dropped in on her way to work, determined to meet Hal’s new hired help as soon as possible, so she’d told him, her cat-like green eyes formidably serious. He knew it mattered to her a great deal that the woman passed muster because she adored her ‘little’ brother. He might resent her acting like his mother from time to time, but he didn’t deny it felt good to have her unstinting regard and concern. Especially when the only communication he’d had from his father since the accident was a curt e-mail that had included the line, ‘Didn’t I always tell you that pride comes before a fall?’

Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you? Hal had thought bitterly.

Tall and slender, with a gamine short hairstyle, his sister Sam looked as chic and sophisticated as always that morning in an elegant trouser suit. When Kit arrived the younger woman’s bohemian, far more relaxed mode of dress couldn’t have been more of a contrast. When he opened the door to let her in he saw that today her glorious red hair was precariously arranged up in a loose topknot that suggested it might easily topple at any moment, such must be the weight of the waving strands. Wearing a mint-green baggy knitted sweater beneath a man’s battered tan flying jacket, along with a pair of slim-fitting caramel cords, she was transporting what looked to be a fairly hefty brown suitcase.

Hal immediately told her to put it down before she dislocated her shoulder, adding, ‘What have you got in there? The kitchen sink?’

Flushing, she retorted, ‘You did say that this was a live-in position? All I’ve brought with me are the strictest essentials, Mr Treverne.’

‘Well, clearly they must indeed be essential if you’re trying to lug that beast around,’ he commented dryly.

Sam stepped up beside him and once Kit had sensibly lowered her suitcase down onto the parquet floor she leaned towards the younger woman to shake her hand.

‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Ms Blessington. You’ve arrived just in the nick of time. Henry’s got to get to grips with using his crutches today, so your presence will undoubtedly be appreciated. I’m Samantha Whyte, by the way—Henry’s sister.’

‘Hello. It’s nice to meet you too, Ms Whyte. It’s good to know that your brother has a close relative living nearby. It must be very reassuring for him in light of what he’s coping with.’

‘I don’t live that near, but I’m close enough to call in whenever I can to check that he’s okay. I have to warn you—Hal doesn’t take to being confined very easily. Hal is what family and friends call him, by the way. He’s apt to be like a bear with a sore head most days.’

‘Do you two mind not talking about me as if I wasn’t here?’ Biting back an angry expletive, Hal violently reversed his wheelchair and headed back towards the kitchen.

‘Don’t mind him,’ he heard Sam say soothingly behind him to Kit. ‘As I said, he’s a bit more irritable than usual since he broke his leg, but—’

‘Don’t you dare tell her that underneath my tetchy, disagreeable exterior I’m a veritable pussycat!’ he yelled. ‘Because I’m certainly not!’

His heart thumping hard inside his chest, Hal steered the wheelchair into the kitchen and straight away moved across to the oblong glass dining table to retrieve his rapidly cooling mug of coffee. He knew he was behaving like the worst bore in the world but he couldn’t seem to help it. Tonight, before bed, he might just have to succumb to taking those sleeping pills his doctor had prescribed. Right now he’d probably take the strongest ones he could lay his hands on if they would help him get at least an hour of unbroken sleep. ‘A bear with a sore head’ didn’t come anywhere near to describing the infuriated way he felt.

‘...and you’ll need to consult with Hal’s doctor today, when you take him to the hospital for his check-up, to get some advice on how best to help him.’ Sam’s voice carried clearly as she and Kit came down the hallway towards the kitchen. ‘His knee joint and muscles were damaged when he broke his femur, and there’s a certain process you have to know. Don’t worry—it’s not difficult. I think it’s called the RICE technique, which stands for—’

‘Rest, ice, compression and elevation,’ Kit cut in quietly. ‘I’ve been studying quite a comprehensive first-aid book since I was told that Mr Treverne had a broken femur. I’ve also spoken to one of my trainers at the centre where I took my first-aid courses.’

She’d been studying a first-aid book? Even though he was irritated at being discussed as though he were a recalcitrant schoolboy who’d complained about having to miss his school’s sports day because he’d contracted chicken pox, Hal owned to feeling mildly surprised that his temporary employee would go to such lengths even before she knew if she had the job or not.

‘I’m impressed.’ Sam’s voice contained the suggestion of a smile.

‘Please don’t be. My intention is simply to do a good job. It’s no more than I would normally do when the person I’ve been hired to help is either recovering from an illness or an injury, Ms Whyte.’

‘Please—call me Sam. At any rate, I’ve spoken to Hal’s consultant about talking to you, so he’s expecting you to ask.’ They came into the kitchen. ‘You can also check with the nurse who comes in once a week to visit him. Oh, and one more thing—there’s also a cleaner who comes in twice a week to give the place a good going over. Mrs Baker is her name. So you won’t have to spend too much time doing housework. My brother’s welfare is your main priority. If he wants you to spend the entire day watching films or listening to music with him, then please don’t hesitate.’

‘Are you quite finished? Only I’m beginning to feel like some expendable extra in a hospital soap opera!’ Scowling, Hal returned his mug of coffee to the table with a heavy slam, so that the now tepid beverage slopped over the lip and splashed onto his arm.

Without preamble, Kit moved across to the sink at lightning speed and grabbed the kitchen cloth that was folded over the tap. Then she hurried over to him, expertly dabbing the cloth on his exposed forearm and drying the spill. It was fortunate that he’d rolled up the sleeves of his cashmere sweater earlier, he thought wryly, because the blue was a favourite of his. But he guessed that, if required, his efficient new helper would no doubt have a handy solution for removing coffee stains from delicate fabrics too.

‘Thanks,’ he murmured when she had finished the clean-up.

‘You’re welcome.’

Her blue-eyed smile was fleeting, but with a jolt of surprise Hal straight away intuited that when she smiled properly—for instance when and if something pleased her—the gesture would light up her face and render her almost bewitching...

‘Can I make you a fresh cup of coffee, Mr Treverne?’ she asked.

Briefly catching his sister’s amused glance over her shoulder, Hal shrugged. ‘Yes—why not? I guess I’ll be even more like a bear with a sore head if I don’t have my usual quota of caffeine.’

‘How do you take it?’

‘Black with one sugar. You should make one for yourself too.’

‘Thanks—I will. By the way, what time do you need to get to the hospital for your appointment?’

‘Ten o’clock.’

‘Of course. I remember that now.’ The redhead gave him another fleeting smile. ‘That gives us some time to have a general chat about things. For instance, you’ll need to tell me what car I’m driving. Is it big enough to accommodate your wheelchair? Because if you’re not used to using your crutches yet you’re going to need it.’

Not wanting to contemplate the possibility of not being immediately expert at using crutches, Hal was terse. ‘If it should transpire that I need the wheelchair—and I very much doubt it—then no doubt the hospital will supply one for my visit. The car you’ll be driving me to my appointment in has plenty of leg room and is easy to drive...that is as long as you’re a good driver?’

Again, if he’d thought to disconcert Kit then he was disappointed. With a confident toss of her head she moved over to the coffee machine and threw over her shoulder, ‘I took my advanced driving test last year and passed with flying colours...so you can rest assured that I’m a good driver, Mr Treverne.’

‘I thought we’d agreed you could call me Hal?’

‘Do you mind if I call you Henry instead? Only using your friends’ name for you sounds a little too over-familiar.’

Seeing the lightly mocking glint in his sister’s eyes, Hal inwardly squirmed. No doubt his clever sister was thinking he’d met his match in the redoubtable Kit Blessington. But he would make it his mission to prove her wrong...see if he didn’t!

‘Well.’ Sam leant down and dropped an affectionate peck on his cheek. ‘I’ll be off now. I’ll leave you to the tender ministrations of Ms Blessington.’ Her mouth curved into a satisfied and humorous grin.

‘I’m not looking for her ministrations to be “tender”,’ he snapped. ‘A decent level of competence will be enough.’

‘A typical Hal response,’ his sister remarked cheerily, winking at the other woman as she transported a mug of fresh coffee over to her brother. ‘By the way, Kit, if you need me for anything...anything at all...you’ll find my phone numbers on the noticeboard in Hal’s study. You’ll find that just to the side of a poster of the latest scantily clad supermodel. Look after him for me, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

Unable to suppress a grin at his sister’s amusing parting shot, Hal murmured, ‘Bye, sis. Go easy with those wounded patients of yours, won’t you?’

‘What a lovely woman,’ Kit remarked when Sam had departed.

‘She is.’ As he tunnelled his long fingers through hair that hadn’t seen a comb for more days than he cared to mention, Hal’s smile was unrestrained. ‘I agree. She’s certainly one in a million.’

Momentarily dazzled by the twinkling hazel eyes and curved masculine mouth before her, Kit shrugged off her heavy jacket and arranged it on the back of one of the shaker-style dining chairs positioned around the table. Then she curled a stray strand of copper hair round her ear and in a brisk but friendly tone asked, ‘Shall I help you get to grips with your walking aids now? We’ve got some spare time for you to practise before we leave for the hospital.’

Even though his smile had all but made her catch her breath she hadn’t missed the fact that her employer’s skin looked almost grey with tiredness, and her heart couldn’t help but go out to him. More importantly, she reminded herself, she was there to do a job and help ease his burden and she was anxious to make a start.

‘Wouldn’t you like to take your luggage to your room first and unpack?’

Touched by his unexpected thoughtfulness, Kit shook her head.

‘I can do that later. I’d rather help you first.’

Underneath what she guessed was a complexion that was far paler than usual, Hal flushed visibly.

‘Crutches it is, then. You do realise you’re going to have to let me lean on you a little while I get my balance?’

‘That won’t be a problem. I assure you that I’m much stronger than I look.’

‘Why did I know you’d say that?’

For a second time Henry Treverne’s devastating smile came very close to turning Kit’s knees to water. She fervently reminded herself to be on her guard round that killer smile. It would be extremely foolish to trust it. Once before she’d been beguiled by the smile of a handsome man and against her better judgement, had fallen into a brief affair with him. When the man in question had turned out to be married, Kit had been devastated. Not just because he had lied to her about being free, but because it had struck at the very core of her ability to trust herself. There’d been no excuse. After seeing what her mother had gone through with mendacious faithless men she ought to have known better. One thing was certain: she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice...

Assuming the best ‘head girl’ tone she could muster, she said firmly to Hal, ‘Well, I suppose we’d better get on with it, then.’

* * *

There was no disputing her new employer’s indomitable spirit, Kit mused as, with her help, Henry carefully lowered himself onto a comfortable padded seat in the plush waiting room. But neither had it been hard to detect his frustration at not being able to master the use of his walking aids as smoothly and as effortlessly as he might have wished. Once again the sweat that had broken out on his brow had illustrated the effort it had taken him to get this far. They’d only walked the short distance from the car park, but it had clearly been a struggle for Hal. It made her even more determined to help him achieve the goal of being confident with the aids.

Leaning towards him, Kit freed his hands from holding the crutches and carefully leaned them against the wall behind him.

‘You’d better go and tell the receptionist that I’m here.’

The sudden command sounded like a snarl of anger and resentment—a bit like a wounded animal. But she wasn’t about to take Hal’s surly mood personally. In her time working for the agency she’d encountered several ‘tricky’ customers and had soon learned how best to handle them. People were dealing with all kinds of challenges. Not just physical and mental ones, but also more commonplace dilemmas, like bereavement and loneliness and sometimes the heartache caused by a failed relationship.

Even though her mother had tested her patience to the nth degree, Kit was a naturally compassionate person, and it helped her more easily cope with the frayed tempers and impatience of some of the clients she cared for and not let their volatile reactions undermine her.

‘Okay, I’ll go and get you booked in. Do you have a patient card or a letter with your hospital number on?’

Hal sucked in a breath and blew it out again, as if even more exasperated. His eyes glinted, warning her that his temper was hanging by the slimmest of threads.

‘Why? Do you think they don’t know who I am?’ he snapped.

Mentally taking a deep breath of her own, Kit said calmly, ‘I’m sure the Queen herself has a patient number, and everybody knows who she is.’

‘Never mind the backchat, Ms Blessington. Just go and tell them I’m here, will you?’

Had she imagined it or had that handsome carved mouth of his twitched ever so slightly with amusement? Acutely aware of the pretty young receptionist, who was gazing across the room at Hal as though he were some sublime visitation from heaven, Kit went to the desk.

‘I’m here with Mr Henry Treverne. He has a ten o’clock appointment with his consultant Mr Shadik.’

Reluctantly withdrawing her gaze from Hal, the girl answered, ‘I’ll let him know that Mr Treverne is here right away.’

‘Thank you.’

Returning to sit beside her brooding charge, Kit proffered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘Hopefully you won’t have too long to wait.’

His dark eyebrows beetling together, Hal growled, ‘However long the wait, it’s far too long for my liking.’

‘Don’t you want help to get better?’

When he turned his head towards her she was treated to the full force of his powerful gaze.

‘You may have noticed that asking for help and accepting it is not something that comes naturally to me.’

‘Then perhaps when you’re back to full strength again it might be something you could start to cultivate?’

‘Yeah—and my father might train to climb Mount Everest!’

‘I take it he’s not a keen climber like you are, then?’

‘The only thing he climbs are walls—especially when he hears of another “foolhardy escapade” of mine that he despairs of. That’s why he didn’t visit me in the hospital when I had this blasted accident. He’s a man who’s always erred on the side of safety. The only risks he ever takes are ones that he’s sure will preserve the legacy of Falteringham House for the generations of the Treverne family to come.’