The Business Arrangement

She sat down with her back against the broad trunk of the horse-chestnut tree and shut her eyes against the image of Hugh.

‘You look tired,’ he remarked as he handed her a glass.

‘I am.’ Her fingers tingled at the slight contact of his.

Surely she’d outgrown this? She was so foolish to allow herself to be affected by Hugh Balfour. He had a girlfriend who could have been lifted from the pages of a magazine about to join them any minute. And that wasn’t unusual. He always had some impossibly beautiful woman in his life. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Men like Hugh Balfour went for long slithers of women who looked great in clothes and made other men envy them. Witness Calantha. They did not, she reminded herself forcefully, go for height-challenged women whom they’d known since before adolescence.

And that was just as well. She couldn’t cope with Hugh. She wasn’t resilient enough. ‘Seb and I loaded up the car this morning at about five. I’m not used to those hours any more.’

‘Were you ever?’ he asked, sitting down beside her, his legs stretched out in front of him, his fingers curling casually around the stem of his glass.

‘Just before Mum died she had problems sleeping. I got used to waking up when she did.’ She sipped her wine, trying to ignore the way her stomach nervously twisted itself in knots just because he was there. ‘It didn’t seem to affect me then—how much sleep I had or didn’t have—but I’m shattered today.’

‘It’s motivation,’ he said, leaning his head back on the trunk. ‘She was lucky to have you.’

Amy looked down self-consciously. ‘I was lucky to have her,’ she countered.

‘Why can you never take a compliment?’ Hugh asked, looking across at her curiously. ‘Not many people would put their lives so completely on hold.’

‘For their mum they would.’

‘Seb and Luke didn’t.’

‘No.’

He took a sip of wine. ‘Neither did your father.’

‘He’d gone to Spain by then. When the business went bankrupt he didn’t focus on anything much except that. And then he wouldn’t have been able to cope with seeing Mum like…well, like she was at the end, even if they’d been together.’

Hugh reached out to brush a wavering strand of hair away from her hot face. ‘And you could?’ She looked away, obviously uncomfortable. Her blush spread in a mottled effect across her neck. It was fascinating. Other women couldn’t cope with being ignored, but Amy was embarrassed by attention. ‘For once in your life you’d better hear the truth about yourself. You were amazing to put off going to university to care for her. At eighteen. It was too much responsibility for someone so young.’

‘I loved her,’ she said simply.

‘And that’s all that matters?’

‘Of course.’

She made it all sound so simple. She’d no idea how rare a quality she possessed. There’d never been a time when she hadn’t put other people before herself. No wonder his mother adored her. ‘Seb doesn’t have any idea just what he has in you,’ Hugh said with a smile before pulling himself to his feet. ‘Do you want some more wine? It’s your birthday, after all.’

She’d been about to refuse, but she allowed him to refill her glass. The power of his words coursing through her veins was far more intoxicating than mere alcohol. The trouble with Hugh was, just when you thought you’d finally understood how shallow he really was, he was nice.

It was as if some shining god had suddenly turned round and noticed a lesser mortal. You. It kind of took your breath away for a moment—but then you had to remember this was Hugh. And he was a god with feet of clay.

‘How come your father hasn’t helped you out if you’ve got into debt?’ he asked as he sat back down. ‘He seems to be doing fairly well again now.’

She shrugged. ‘He’s under new management.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

Her fingers picked at the grass. ‘When Dad remarried, Lynda gently suggested they ought to concentrate their financial resources on building up the new business. She convinced him I’d be able to get a good job when I graduated and could use the government loan in the meantime.’ His face remained blank and she managed a smile. ‘It’s not that bad. You don’t need to pay it back until you’re earning. Lots of students have them.’

‘But not many people who have a parent as wealthy as yours,’ he said dryly. ‘Does Seb know about this?’

‘Of course he does. There’s nothing he can do about it. Or Luke either,’ she said, thinking of her other brother.

‘You don’t seem angry about it.’

‘I’m past that. It won’t change anything, but Seb feels guilty.’

‘I imagine he might. He was bailed out several times,’ Hugh said, remembering two colourful incidents during their university career.

Amy smiled. ‘Dad hadn’t lost his money then. Seb knows it’s pointless talking to him, but he still minds he can’t help me himself. He’s ploughing everything he can back into his own new business.’

‘Yes, I know, but—’

‘So even if he offered I wouldn’t accept. It’s not his problem.’

‘What about Luke? He must be earning enough in medicine.’

Amy shook her head at the thought of her other brother helping financially. ‘He’s practically working for just board and lodging at the moment. He’s employed by a charity and based at a remote hospital in Africa.’

‘I didn’t know.’

She looked up at him. ‘Didn’t you? He flew out eighteen months ago.’

‘Not about Luke. About you. I’d no idea Lynda was like that.’

‘Don’t say it like that. She’s not a bad person. She’s just not used to the concept of family. She’s an only child herself, never been married before, never had any children of her own, and at forty-seven it all came as a bit of a shock to her. Besides, it’s not just her. Dad doesn’t like parting with money any more than she does. Not now. Not after the bankruptcy. He’s irritated we got Mum’s cottage.’ She smiled up at him. ‘It’s not your problem.’

‘It ought to be Seb’s. Can’t he speak to your dad?’

‘I’d rather he didn’t. Besides, Luke, Seb and I do own the cottage. It was always kept in Mum’s name so it didn’t go with everything else and she left it to us. When we sell it I can clear all my debts, but none of us want to put it on the market just yet.’

‘Why? Seb could do with an injection of cash and so could you.’

‘It’ll take time to sell and until I find myself a job I don’t have the money to rent a flat.’

‘Ah.’

‘It’ll work out. Hopefully I’ll find something while I’m staying with you. I hope I won’t let you down,’ she said, deliberately changing the subject. ‘I’ve only done the odd temp job, you know?’

‘Keep me out of Sonya’s clutches and I won’t complain.’

‘Even if I wipe a vital document off your computer system?’

He smiled, wicked laughter in the depths of his blue eyes. She felt her stomach twist over at the blatant sexiness of it. Irresistible. He was irresistible—almost.

She just had to keep reminding herself of his track record with women. One at a time, one after another. A serial monogamist who never risked allowing anyone close enough to touch the core of him.

‘Then I’ll kill you,’ he whispered softly, and she smiled as he’d intended she should.

‘I’m scared. Tell me about Harpur-Laithwaite. Is it all carpet pile and pot plants? What kind of things do the women wear?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Don’t believe you haven’t noticed, Hugh,’ Amy teased, and chuckled at the look he threw her. ‘You’re going to have to be a bit more helpful than that. Is it a jeans-and-casual-top sort of place or smart suits?’

She knew Harpur-Laithwaite was an investment bank and that Hugh advised traders on what to trade on, but it was scarcely a lot to go on.

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.’

He laughed. ‘Have you had time for a drink?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Come on,’ he said, leading her down the corridor, pausing only to throw his jacket over the banister rail, ‘I need something now. My throat’s parched.’

The kitchen was square with a slate floor and pale maple units. ‘I love the granite,’ she said, running her finger along the cold worktop. ‘Very nice.’

Hugh looked in the fridge. ‘What do you want? Fresh orange? Tea? Coffee?’ he asked, turning to look at her. She had her hands pushed down into her jeans’ back pockets and the pale pink T-shirt pulled tight across a bra-less chest, nipples clearly showing through the fabric. Unbelievably he felt a sudden urge to rub his thumb across each protruding nub. Wondered what it would feel like to let his hand wander up beneath her top and feel the soft, shower-cooled skin beneath.

‘Orange, I think.’

‘Right,’ he said, turning back to the fridge. Stunned. This was Amy. What was he thinking of?

He poured the orange into a glass and handed it across, but he hadn’t been mistaken. Beneath the baggy, shapeless clothes he’d always seen her in was something infinitely more interesting. His eyes helplessly returned to those nipples. He felt like some adolescent schoolboy suddenly caught looking at something he had no right to. ‘Do you want to find some shade in the garden?’

‘Whatever.’

He poured himself a glass of orange and turned to open the doors into the garden. ‘There’s some shade at the end.’

Amy peered curiously out. It was a small town garden but had obviously been designed in such a way as to give distinct areas. In the far corner there was a seat beneath a pergola dripping with clematis. ‘Are you coming?’ she asked, looking back at him.

‘Lead the way.’

Inevitably his eyes followed the way her hips swung, followed the firm, rounded curve of her buttocks. Something about the heat must be getting to him. Amy was almost an honorary kid sister. It felt like a betrayal to be thinking about her in this way—particularly when she was only here to do him a favour. He sat down on the wooden seat and shifted uncomfortably. ‘Have you bought yourself any clothes yet?’

‘Can’t you tell? This T-shirt is new.’

The pride in her voice only made him feel worse. ‘It’s great.’ It was more than great. It was a simple T-shirt and it was single-handedly changing all his preconceptions about her.

‘I may have overspent, Hugh,’ she said, sipping her orange. ‘I was doing fine until I caught sight of a suede suit I had to have. If it’s too much I’ll pay you for it once I’m paid, but don’t make me take it back.’

He laughed and forced his equilibrium to settle. ‘I don’t think that’s likely. A few outfits aren’t going to ruin me and I’m too grateful you’re here to complain.’

‘How grateful?’ she asked over the rim of her tumbler. ‘There were some shoes…’

‘Witch! I never had you down as a clothes woman.’

‘Never had the opportunity.’

‘I still don’t get that,’ he said, forcing his mind back to something he could genuinely feel disgust about. ‘Surely your dad doesn’t keep you as short of money as all that? Not now.’

‘He doesn’t see it like that. He sees it as “making my own way”.’ He went to speak, but she forestalled him. ‘Leave it, Hugh. Let’s talk about something else.’ She drained the last of her orange. ‘I hope I don’t let you down. I’m a bit nervous about tomorrow.’

‘There’s no need to be.’

‘I know you, Hugh. You’ll go ballistic at the first mistake I make.’

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