The Business Arrangement. Natasha Oakley
window with a cricket ball and had persuaded her not to tell. Her lips twitched. ‘More.’
‘More what?’ he asked, confused.
‘Don’t stop there. I’m enjoying seeing you beg.’
‘If that’s what it takes I will.’ He smiled slowly, the grooves in his cheeks deepening. ‘Sweet Amy—’
‘Don’t overdo it. I’m beginning to feel queasy.’
Hugh relaxed back in his chair, evidently certain of success. ‘As soon as Seb suggested it I knew you’d be perfect. And before you get angry again he wasn’t thinking about it as a job opportunity. It’s more…about protecting me.’
‘From what?’ As if she needed to ask. Hugh’s problems only ever involved women and this would be no exception. ‘If you want my help you’re going to have to tell me what’s really going on. Go on, tell the truth.’
‘The truth?’
She folded her arms in front of her. ‘If you can manage it. Look, if you just needed a secretary while your PA’s away you could ring an agency or borrow someone from another department. I’m not a complete idiot.’
He smiled. ‘I never thought you were. The truth is…sensitive information.’
‘Surprise me.’
‘If I get someone in from an agency I can’t rely on them not to…gossip.’ Hugh paused again, unusually having to search for his words.
‘About?’ she prompted, watching his face closely. Normally Hugh was the archetypal Mr Smooth. Always in control. But something had really got to him this time.
‘I’m hoping to avoid anyone knowing…’ He petered out again, his eyes flicking past her to look down the long cottage garden.
‘About?’ Amy repeated without relenting.
‘About…a woman—’
‘Ah.’
He shot her a look of irritation. ‘I don’t know what you mean by “Ah”. There’s no “Ah” about it. This has never happened to me before and I’m running out of ideas on how to contain…the problem.’
‘A problem with a woman?’ Amy leant forward and gracefully crossed her legs, mockingly adopting the pose of a therapist. It was getting better every moment. It was about time some woman somewhere managed to strike a blow for the rest of their kind.
She liked Hugh. She’d always liked Hugh. He was great fun. Interesting to talk to. But he treated women with all the careless contempt given to a disposable tissue and there was something truly satisfying in seeing him rocked off balance. She nodded with her head tilted onto one side. ‘How surprising. Go on.’
Hugh rubbed his left shoulder in a vain attempt to ease the knotting muscle forming there. When Seb had first mooted the idea of his sister taking the temporary vacancy in his office he’d conveniently forgotten how exasperating Amy could be.
She could type, she was loyal and she was almost family, for heaven’s sake. They were all great credentials for what he needed, but he’d completely overlooked her irritating habit of laughing at him. All the time. And this situation with Richard’s wife was becoming anything but funny.
On the other hand Amy was still his best option. In fact, she was his only option. He took a deep breath. ‘This…woman telephones, sends…letters and…gifts to me at the office. She’s m—’
‘Married! I can guess,’ Amy interrupted, standing up swiftly. ‘I’m not doing it! You get yourself out of your own muddles. I’m not sitting about your office lying for you.’
‘I—’
‘You should have known I wouldn’t do anything to help you break up anyone’s marriage. After everything I’ve seen—’
‘Will you shut up and listen? It’s difficult enough without you interrupting all the time. Sit down and let me explain.’
‘Go on, then,’ she said ungraciously, sitting back down in a chair opposite him and tracing the pattern on the carpet with the edge of her shoe.
‘That’s why I need your help. I’m not doing it either.’
She looked up, a slight frown between her eyebrows. ‘Not doing what? I don’t understand. Wh—?’
‘Married women have never been my thing, Amy. And even if they were there’s no way I’d be tempted by this one.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
His blue eyes met her brown ones. ‘Trying to get Sonya Laithwaite to accept the fact,’ he stated baldly, watching closely for her reaction.
Amy’s lips opened and closed a couple of times before she managed to repeat, ‘Sonya Laithwaite?’
Hugh sat back. At least he’d finally got her attention.
Hell, this was so much more awkward than he’d ever imagined. He hated even saying the woman’s name. Hated thinking what it would do to Richard if he discovered what his wife was up to—and with whom. He doubted his relationship with the older man would survive it.
And that mattered to him. Richard was so much more than his employer. He’d been there at all the difficult turning points of his life, helped guide his future, and as Hugh had grown to adulthood they’d become friends. Nothing could have been more calculated to hurt Richard than what Sonya was doing.
Hugh watched Amy’s mouth move pointlessly a couple more times before saying dryly, ‘Stop doing a fish impersonation. This is serious, Amy. I really do need your help.’
It brought her up short. ‘Sonya Laithwaite? My godfather’s wife?’
Hugh nodded.
‘B-but…but they only married last May.’
‘And she’s bored already and looking for entertainment,’ he said, standing up and pacing towards the window. He could feel her eyes on his back watching him. Judging him. ‘Honestly, Amy,’ he said, turning suddenly, ‘as God’s my witness I’ve not done anything to encourage her…’ He trailed off and thrust an angry hand through his hair.
Without any difficulty Amy conjured an image of Sonya in her mind’s eye. Apart from the wedding itself, when she’d worn a white puff-ball dress with far too much diamante, the one and only time Amy had seen her had been at her father’s house-warming party the previous autumn and she’d made a colourful impression.
A full-frontal assault of a redhead in baby pink with a bust that could take your eye out if she turned suddenly and you hadn’t seen her coming. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d need much encouragement for anything, judging from the way she’d danced with Seb. But even so there must have been something. Something Hugh’d done to convince her he was interested.
It didn’t bear thinking about. He owed Richard Laithwaite so much. When Hugh’s father had died it had been Richard, a childhood friend of both their mothers, who’d come alongside the bewildered twelve-year-old boy and filled the void. How could Hugh even think of repaying him like that?
‘You can’t have an affair with Sonya. You can’t do that to Richard. He believed in you, mentored you in the beginning. I don’t believe even you would sink so low.’
‘Exactly. That’s what I’ve been saying. I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t,’ he said, meeting her eyes with a steely determination.
She pulled at the gold chain round her neck. ‘You don’t want to?’
‘No.’
His reply had been unequivocal but she looked a little doubtful. Men did go for women like Sonya, after all, and Hugh was more easily distracted by the next pair of legs than most. ‘You’re not even a little bit tempted?’
‘Of