The Beautiful Widow

‘As you were.’

Toni blinked. She had been set to walk out a second ago, now she didn’t know what to do. The way he’d said the last words had brought the traitorous tears close to the surface again.

‘Sit down and finish your coffee and cake,’ he said very softly, and when, after a second’s hesitation, she complied he continued to observe her.

Behind the cool, unruffled exterior Steel’s mind was racing. For once he found himself at something of a loss and he didn’t like that. When he had first walked into the room and seen the young woman in the pistachio-green coat standing by the window his male antenna had responded with appreciation to the womanly shape topped by a mass of dark brown hair.

Toni George was attractive, very attractive. Not beautiful, he qualified, although many a model would have killed for her cheekbones, but she had something, something indefinable. When he had relieved her of her coat he’d caught the scent of her perfume and it had caused his loins to tighten. Ridiculous, but he’d found himself wishing she wasn’t a married woman …

Be careful what you wish for because it might just come true. Who’d said that? Whoever, they were dead right, he thought with dark amusement, because any involvement with a widow with two young children—a definitely damaged and troubled widow at that—spelt nothing but disaster.

Becoming aware where his thoughts had led, he mentally shook his head. What the hell was he playing at? This young woman had come to see him about a job, that was all, and with what she’d been through in the last months she’d no more be looking for anything of a romantic nature than a trip to the moon. And someone in her position—no matter how attractive they were—could never feature on his agenda. She was as different from the kind of woman he dated as chalk from cheese.

Steel reached for the folder on the table between them, opening it and taking out the neat pages it contained. Swiftly he scanned the facts and figures within. Personal details were at a minimum.

Her velvet-brown eyes were waiting for him when he looked up and he was aware she was jumpy. It had no relevance to what he’d just been reading but, because he wanted to know, he said, ‘How long have you been widowed?’

She shifted slightly in the seat. ‘Nearly four months.’

Four months of hell, if the look on her face was anything to go by. To his amazement, he heard himself say, ‘Were you happy with him? Before he died and you discovered the debts?’

She stiffened and he waited for her to tell him to mind his own business. He wouldn’t have blamed her.

Instead, after a long ten seconds had ticked by, she lowered her head so the sleek thick curtain of shoulder-length hair swung to conceal her expression. ‘No, I wasn’t happy.’

There was a red light burning bright and hot in his mind. Obeying it, he turned his concentration to her CV, talking through a couple of points with her. Then he looked at her portfolio. It was impressive, as he’d expected it to be; he wouldn’t have wasted his time granting her an interview otherwise.

She was confident and enthusiastic when discussing her work, metamorphosing into a different person in front of his fascinated gaze. This is what she would have been like when she met that louse she married, Steel thought with a bolt of quite unreasonably vicious hatred for the dead man. Energised, self-assured, dauntless. And he’d been wrong earlier. She was beautiful. Enchantingly so.

It was close to half-past six when he asked her if she’d like to see the plans and photographs of the project thus far. When, nearly an hour later, he noticed her glance surreptitiously at her watch he couldn’t believe how the time had flown. ‘I’m sorry, do you need to be somewhere?’ he said as her colour flared, indicating she was aware he’d caught her checking the time.

‘No, no, of course not.’ Toni knew she should have left it at that in view of the fact she’d previously assured him the twins wouldn’t be an issue regarding her working late. Instead she found herself continuing, ‘It’s just that it’s the girls’ bedtime and I always ring them if I’m not there to tuck them in.’

Steel straightened. He didn’t want to think of her as a mother, which in itself indicated a mental step backwards away from this dark-haired woman with the huge eyes and delicious body was called for. He smiled thinly. ‘Go ahead.’ He gestured at the telephone on a glass table next to an enormous bowl of hothouse blooms. ‘I need to call the hospital again anyway.’

‘I’ve got my mobile …’

She was fumbling in one of the huge handbags women seem to favour these days and he was suddenly intensely irritated without knowing why. ‘No need. I’ll use the other line in my study,’ he said coolly, walking to the door as he spoke and shutting it firmly behind him once he was in the hall. He stood there for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

What was the matter with him, for crying out loud? He breathed deeply, his nostrils flaring. So she was phoning her kids. So what? He knew she wasn’t first and foremost a career-motivated Barbara with her own flat and sports car and intrinsically selfish life that meant she could do what she wanted, when she wanted and how she wanted. And with whom. He hadn’t even known she existed until a day or two ago. She meant nothing to him. Nothing beyond a potential employee, that was. If he should choose to give her the job.

He walked into his study and reached for the telephone on the massive curving desk in front of the window. It was only then he acknowledged there was no if about it. She’d had the job from the minute he’d laid eyes on her.

He shook his head at himself. Steady, boy, steady, he cautioned silently. Big step backwards here. He didn’t do impulsive. Every decision he made was logical and thought out, even ruthless at times. It was how he had created a thriving little empire in just under twenty years. Sentiment and emotion were all very well but they had no place in business.

He was frowning as he rang Jeff’s mobile, but after talking to his brother-in-law for a couple of minutes and finding out Annie was no worse his expression cleared.

Toni George would be just another employee. Anything else was not acceptable. Decision made, he stood up, flexed his broad shoulders and left the room.

CHAPTER TWO

TONI’S MOTHER ANSWERED the telephone. Toni could hear shrieks of laughter and high squeals in the background as she said, ‘Mother? It’s me. I’m not going to be back for a while yet—the interview still hasn’t finished. I was ringing to say goodnight to the girls. Are they ready for bed?’ Their bedtime was seven-thirty but if she wasn’t around to enforce it, it could be any time, which invariably meant two tetchy little girls the next day. Not good for them or anyone around them!

‘Oh, yes, love. They’ve had their bath and they’re in their pyjamas,’ Vivienne Otley said fondly.

Hating to be critical, but knowing how long it took the twins to calm down once they got excited, Toni said carefully, ‘I thought we’d agreed seven was the deadline for reading stories in bed so they can wind down?’

‘Well, you know what your father’s like with them. He’s the big bad wolf and they’re the little pigs. I’m a little pig too.’

Toni stifled a sigh. She adored her parents and would be eternally grateful for the way they’d immediately opened up their home and hearts to her and the twins when the full horror of the mountain of debts came to light, but she was fighting a losing battle against the girls being spoilt rotten.

Having tried unsuccessfully for a child for years, her parents had long since resigned themselves to being childless when she’d made her appearance on her mother’s forty-second birthday thirty years ago. Her mother’s favourite story was that for the first six months of pregnancy Toni had been dismissed as the onset of the menopause. It had only been when she gave a hefty kick one day that her mother had realised the flutters and discomfort she’d put down to her age and flatulence were, in fact, a baby. A nine-pound baby as it turned out.

Toni had always known she was her parents’ sun, moon and stars, but in spite of their joy in their beloved daughter they had never spoiled her. Just the contrary in fact. But with the twins … Suppressing another sigh, she said meaningfully, ‘Put them on the line, would you, and I’ll make it clear they’re straight to bed. They’ve got that nursery trip tomorrow to the safari park and they’re going to be exhausted if they’re up late.’

Amelia came on the phone first, as Toni had expected. The older twin by minutes, Amelia led and Daisy followed. ‘'Lo, Mummy,’ Amelia said brightly. ‘Grandad’s pretending to be the wolf and he’s put those big teeth in we got in a cracker at Christmas. He’s nearly swallowed them once.’ Lowering her voice, she whispered, ‘We’re acting scared but we aren’t really.’

Toni had to smile. ‘Hallo, honeybee,’ she said softly. ‘I’m not going to be able to get home to put you to bed so I’m sending a big kiss and hug down the phone, OK? And I want you to promise you’ll go straight to bed now and Grandma will read you one story. You’ve got your trip tomorrow, haven’t you? And you don’t want to miss anything because you’re too tired.’

It worked. ‘All right, Mummy,’ Amelia said at once, handing the phone to her sister before Toni could say goodbye.

‘'Lo, Mummy,’ Daisy lisped, her voice softer and more babyish than Amelia’s. ‘When are you coming home?’

‘Soon, darling, but Grandma’s going to read your story tonight and tuck you in because Mummy’s trying to get that job I told you and Amelia about. Remember? Be a good girl for Grandma, won’t you? Go straight to sleep, promise me?’

‘Yesp.’ A tiny pause. ‘I lub you, Mummy.’

‘I love you, sweetpea.’ Swallowing the lump in her throat, she added, ‘I’ll come and kiss you when I get home, but I want you to go straight to sleep after your story.’

Her mother came on the line. ‘She’s nodding to whatever you just said, bless her. And I’m sorry, love. I forgot about that nursery trip. It’s gone clean out of my mind.’

Toni felt instantly guilty. Why should her parents have to remember about things like nursery trips at their age? They were in their early seventies; they should be enjoying the grandchildren visiting every so often for a few hours, not being with them full time. Richard hadn’t paid the rent on the flat they’d been living in for a while before he’d died, but even if they’d been up to date there was no way they could have continued to live there on what she could earn. A basic bedsit would be all she could afford and it would mean she wouldn’t be able to save anything towards paying off the mountain of debt Richard had left. Her parents continued to insist they loved having her and the grandchildren and wouldn’t hear of her moving out, but their small two-bedroomed terrace was bursting at the seams with the children’s paraphernalia. She slept on a sofa bed in the sitting room at night and she knew her parents’ calm, orderly life had been turned upside down. But what was the alternative?

Wearily she brushed a strand of dark brown hair laced with copper behind her ear. She was tired. Mentally and emotionally worn out, and she couldn’t think beyond this present moment or she’d lose any faint hope she had of landing this job. James had assured her Steel would pay well, exceptionally well if he thought she was the right person for the job. Steel’s employees rarely left the firm, he’d said drily, in spite of his reputation of being an exacting employer. An excellent salary and a generous package of benefits bought loyalty.

When Steel returned to the room she was sitting primly on the sofa, her manner one of cool composure. This lasted all of one moment due to him saying smoothly, ‘Maggie assures me there is more than enough dinner for two, Mrs George, and, as we haven’t finished the interview yet and I’m hungry, it seems sensible to kill two birds with one stone. Unless you have any objection, of course?’

Plenty, but she couldn’t very well say so. For a second or two she sat there dry-mouthed, his impossibly light eyes seeming to pin her to the spot. It took some effort to pull herself together but her voice was gratifyingly steady when she said, ‘That’s very kind of you, Mr Landry. Thank you.’

‘Maggie will call us when the meal’s ready but in the meantime can I offer you a drink?’ He was walking across to the beautifully made glass cocktail cabinet in a corner or the room as he spoke. ‘I usually have a cocktail about this time of night if I’m not driving, but there’s red, white or rosé wine, along with various spirits and mixers, sherry, martini …’

‘A cocktail would be lovely.’ She was glad now she’d eaten the slice of cake Maggie had pressed on her. The day had been hectic and after she had dropped the twins off at their nursery she’d rushed from pillar to post and skipped lunch. Without the cake any alcohol would have gone straight to her head, but she felt Steel Landry would expect a sophisticated career woman to have a pre-dinner aperitif.

She watched as he prepared the cocktails, and as he carried two glasses back to where she was sitting she took one with a smile of thanks. ‘What is it?’

‘A Moscow Mule.’

He smiled, and her heart did a pancake flip. She took a tiny sip and the zingy concoction exploded on her taste buds and then left a warm glow where it travelled.

‘Despite its name it was invented in a Sunset Strip bar in 1940s Hollywood,’ Steel said lazily, sitting down opposite her once more and loosening his tie as he undid the top two buttons of his shirt.

It made concentrating on what he was saying hard, doubly so as he crossed one leg over the other knee and settled back comfortably. It was crazy, ridiculous, but every nerve in her body was registering his smallest action and she didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because he was the most aggressively masculine man she’d ever met, and his voice—deep, smoky, compelling—added to the dark sexual appeal.

Summoning her thought process, Toni said weakly, ‘What’s in it? It tastes pretty powerful.’

He nodded his agreement. ‘Russian wheat vodka, lime juice and ginger beer. Apparently a spirits distributor was having trouble getting the Americans to buy his Russian vodka so he thought up a new drink with a barman who made his own, equally poorly selling, ginger beer. Enterprising, especially as it lives up to their marketing of having a kick like a mule.’

And Steel Landry was a man who would appreciate enterprise and initiative, she thought. Did he realise how intimidating he was? Probably. It was a tool that would serve him well in the cut-throat world of business. Wishing her neatly tailored, pencil-slim skirt were a couple of inches longer—although its knee-length had never bothered her before—she covertly tugged at it and readjusted her position before taking another sip of the cocktail.

‘Kids OK?’ he asked softly.

Startled, she met his gaze. ‘Yes, they’re fine.’

‘Then could you try to relax a little?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Painfully aware she’d turned an unflattering shade of crimson, Toni didn’t know where to put herself. ‘I am perfectly relaxed, thank you.’

‘You, Mrs George, are like a cat on a hot tin roof,’ he drawled slowly, ‘or maybe little Miss Riding Hood in front of the big bad wolf would be a better analogy. Whatever, I’m not going to try to seduce you over drinks and dinner.’

‘I never thought for a moment you were,’ she said hotly, such transparent honesty in her voice he couldn’t fail to believe her.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Then why so tense?’

She shrugged. How could she say she was desperate for the job? That it would make all the difference in the world to her if he paid half as well as James had intimated he might? She had enjoyed her time working for James’s practice; preparing the sketches and ideas for quotation and then, if the practice won the contract, putting together more detailed specifications and working drawings and getting approval for them. Once she’d put out the contract for the actual work—the decorating, furniture, coverings, etc.—to tender, she had been responsible for supervising it and seeing schedules were kept and problems solved. It had been tough sometimes when things went wrong but she’d been good at it and she knew she could handle anything Steel Landry might ask of her. The alternative was trying to pick up some freelance work or another job, both of which were in short supply to someone who’d been out of the running for the last four years.

She didn’t regret her time at home with the twins. Richard had had a very good job as a sales executive for a large pharmaceutical company and they should have been able to manage perfectly well until the twins started school and she went into the workplace again. She had been very careful to shop wisely and make a penny stretch to two, making the most of two-for-one offers and learning how to cook the cheaper cuts of meat until they were as tender as anything offered at the best restaurants. Most of the girls’ clothes she’d made herself, copying the latest designer fashions with such success she’d earnt a little extra for the family finances when friends had asked her to do the same for them. She hadn’t realised at the time that her efforts were pointless and that Richard’s double life was about to blow their family apart. She’d been so gullible and stupid.

‘Mrs George?’

The deep, slightly husky voice brought her out of the darkness. She blinked. He wanted an answer to his question. Following on from her thoughts, she said hesitantly, ‘I—I suppose I’m out of practice regarding interviews and selling myself.’

Even if she hadn’t realised instantly the last words weren’t the best she could have chosen, the way the carved lips twitched slightly would have told her, but his voice was soothing when he murmured, ‘Not at all. You’ve done an excellent job.’

Her soft brown eyes sharpened. She didn’t know how to take that. She didn’t know how to take him. When James had rung her she’d done a little research of her own on the powerhouse that was Steel Landry. She’d wished she hadn’t afterwards; it had made her more nervous. A human dynamo. Hard but fair. Relentless and unmovable when he wanted something. Severely lacking in the milk of human kindness. Admittedly that last had been from a disgruntled ex-employee who hadn’t been up to the position for which he had been employed, but nevertheless it had been unsettling.

‘Drink your cocktail, Mrs George,’ he said smoothly, ‘and stop worrying. You’ve got the job if you want it, OK?’

‘I have?’ Her eyes opened wide with startled pleasure. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much, Mr Landry.’

‘You accept?’ he asked, as though there had ever been a chance she might refuse. ‘Good. In that case we can do away with the Mr Landry and Mrs George. The name’s Steel.’

‘But—’ She stopped, not knowing how to continue.

‘What?’

‘You—you’re my boss,’ she stammered stupidly.

The crystal eyes crinkled. ‘Did you call James by his surname?’ he asked mildly, finishing his cocktail.

‘No, but—’ She paused. ‘That—that’s different.’

‘Why? He was your boss, wasn’t he?’

Yes, but James hadn’t been the head of a small empire worth umpteen millions, and neither had he been drop-dead gorgeous. ‘Things were quite informal at James’s practice,’ she said weakly.

He nodded. ‘And my employees who work closely with me enjoy that same privilege; my secretary, for example, and my financial director to name but two. This is a new project and I’ll want to be involved at every stage so you’ll be working particularly hand in glove with me. Steel and Toni will do just fine.’

Toni was kicking herself for objecting. Whatever must he be thinking? He’d just surprised her, that was all. Pulling herself together, she said quickly, ‘Of course. Thank you. Thank you so much. I won’t let you down, I promise.’

‘Believe me, Toni, if I had any doubt about that I wouldn’t be offering you the job.’

She did believe him, and strangely his belief in her was both uplifting and scary at the same time. Uplifting because her self-confidence had taken the mother and father of a knock over the last months, scary because the pressure to show him he’d been right to give her the job had suddenly increased a hundredfold just with hearing him say her name. Silly. Irrational. Emotions a man like Steel Landry would despise.

She raised her chin in a businesslike manner and assumed a look she prayed was professional. ‘When would you like me to start?’

‘We’ll discuss the details over dinner, including salary,’ he said gently.

The reminder that she hadn’t even asked the basics before accepting the position brought telltale colour to her cheeks again, but this time she didn’t falter. She even managed to inject a suggestion of sophisticated amusement into her tone when she said, ‘I’ve always adhered to the idea you get what you are prepared to pay for in this world.’

‘Is that so?’ he said silkily, his eyes intent on her flushed face. ‘Then I hope your salary buys everything I need from you, Toni …’

CHAPTER THREE

TONI WAS ETERNALLY grateful that Maggie chose to knock on the door and announce dinner was ready the moment after Steel had spoken. She wasn’t sure if he’d put a different connotation to her words than that which she’d intended—it could just be her fevered imagination—but as he rose and ushered her out of the sitting room with a cool hand in the small of her back she knew her cheeks were burning afresh.

She had expected to eat in a formal dining room, so when he led the way out onto a spectacular roof terrace she caught her breath in surprise. The terrace was laid out as a dining room and living space with stylish furniture; olive, eucalyptus and silver birch trees in huge white pots surrounding the perimeter all underplanted with a mix of grasses, lavender, iris, allium and other plants creating a vista reminiscent of woodland and Mediterranean scenes. The glass balustrade kept the space serene and light-filled as well as enabling the view to be appreciated, a view that seemed to take in the whole of Kensington. The dining table had been made from a slab of white Carrara marble and was a thing of beauty in itself, and the exterior sofas and easy chairs on the other side of the terrace to the dining suite were grouped round a marble coffee table with a builtin fireplace.

Toni stood, completely stunned, her artistic antenna quivering as her mind and senses struggled to take in what she was seeing. ‘This is beautiful.’ She breathed out the words slowly. ‘Absolutely beautiful. Who designed it?’

His smile had a self-mocking edge. ‘I did.’

‘You?’

Her amazement wasn’t exactly complimentary but fortunately he seemed more amused than offended. ‘I can appreciate beauty as much as the next man,’ he murmured as he pulled out one of the dining chairs for her to sit down, ‘in spite of being that most crass of creatures, a property developer.’

‘But if you can do this why wouldn’t you want to plan and carry out your own ideas on this new venture?’ she asked, stroking the fine marble under her fingers. The table was set for two with silver cutlery and crystal galore, a bowl of white lilies scenting the warm evening air.

He didn’t answer immediately, walking round to the other side of the table and reaching for the wine in the ice bucket. ‘I thought champagne was in order as this is a celebration.’ He passed her a glass full of the sparkling liquid and poured one for himself, raising it as he said, ‘To a long and happy working relationship.’

She could second that. ‘Thank you.’ She didn’t actually like champagne, she’d always found it too much on the dry side for her taste buds, but as she took a sip of the effervescent bubbles she realised there was champagne and champagne, and this one was like nothing she’d tasted before. Honey, strawberries, summer days and lazy nights, they were all there in the delicious and no doubt wildly expensive wine.