The Business Arrangement. NATASHA OAKLEY
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