The Beautiful Widow. Helen Brooks
can’t all be elderly and destitute,’ Steel commented mildly, seemingly untouched by her anger.
‘No, but they all trusted my husband and were cruelly let down. Betrayed through no fault of their own.’
‘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