Carole Mortimer - Hired For His Pleasure

Those silver-grey eyes were narrowed on her grandfather, hard cheekbones thrown into sharp prominence by the clenching of his jaw, and his mouth was a thin and uncompromising line. His hands too were clenched, into fists at his sides.

Obviously not a happy bunny, either, Stazy recognised ruefully.

Although any satisfaction she might have felt at that realisation was totally nullified by her own continued feelings of horror at her grandfather’s proposal. ‘I believe you will find Mr Wilder is just as averse to the idea as I am, Gramps,’ she drawled derisively.

He shrugged. ‘Then it would appear to be a case of film and be damned,’ he misquoted softly.

Stazy drew in a sharp breath as she remembered the furore that had followed the publication of the unauthorised biography six months ago. The press had hounded her grandfather for weeks afterwards—to the extent that he had arranged for round-the-clock guards to be placed at Bromley House and his house in London. And he had suffered a heart attack because of the emotional strain he had been put under.

Stazy had even had one inventive reporter sit in on one of her lectures without detection, only to corner her with a blast of personal questions at the end—much to her embarrassment and anger.

The thought of having to go through all that again was enough to send cold shivers of dread down Stazy’s spine. ‘Perhaps you might somehow persuade Mr Wilder into not making the film at all, Gramps?’ Although her own behaviour towards him this past hour or so certainly wasn’t conducive to Jaxon Wilder wanting to do her any favours!

Probably she should have thought of that earlier. Her grandmother had certainly believed in the old adage, ‘You’ll catch more with honey than with vinegar …’

The derision in Jaxon Wilder’s piercing grey eyes as he looked at her seemed to indicate he was perfectly aware of Stazy’s belated regrets! ‘What form of … persuasion did you have in mind, Dr Bromley?’ he drawled mockingly.

Stazy felt the colour warm her cheeks. ‘I believe I referred to my grandfather’s powers of persuasion rather than my own,’ she returned irritably.

‘Pity,’ he murmured softly, those grey eyes speculative as his gaze moved slowly over Stazy, from her two-inch-heeled shoes, her curvaceous figure in the black dress, to the top of her flame-coloured head, before settling on the pouting fullness of her mouth.

She frowned her irritation as she did her best to ignore that blatantly sexual gaze. ‘Surely you can appreciate how much the making of this film is going to upset my grandfather?’

‘On the contrary.’ Jaxon deeply resented Stazy Bromley’s tone. ‘I believe that a film showing the true events of seventy years ago can only be beneficial to your grandmother’s memory.’

‘Oh, please, Mr Wilder.’ Stazy Bromley eyed him pityingly. ‘We both know that your only interest in making this particular film is in going up on that stage in a couple of years’ time to collect yet another batch of awards!’

Jaxon drew in a sharp breath. ‘You—’

‘Enough!’ Sir Geoffrey firmly cut in on the conversation before Jaxon had chance to finish his blistering reply. Eyes of steely-blue raked over both of them as he stood up. ‘I believe that for the moment I have heard quite enough on this subject from both of you.’ He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘You’ll be staying for dinner, I hope, Jaxon …?’ He raised steel-grey brows questioningly.

‘If you feel we can make any progress by my doing so—yes, of course I’ll stay to dinner,’ Jaxon bit out tensely.

Sir Geoffrey gave a derisive smile. ‘I believe it will be up to you and Stazy as to whether any progress will or can be made before you leave here later today,’ he said dryly. ‘And, with that in mind, I am going upstairs to take a short nap before dinner. Stazy, perhaps you would like to take Mr Wilder for a walk in the garden while I’m gone? My roses are particularly lovely this year, Jaxon, and their perfume is strongest in the late afternoon and early evening,’ he added lightly, succeeding in silencing his granddaughter as she drew in another deep breath with the obvious intention of arguing against his suggestion.

Jaxon was reminded that the older man had once been in a position of control over the whole of British Intelligence, let alone one stubbornly determined granddaughter! ‘A walk in the garden sounds … pleasant,’ Jaxon answered noncommittally, not completely sure that Stazy Bromley wouldn’t use the opportunity to try and stab him with a garden fork while they were outside, and so put an end to this particular problem.

‘That’s settled, then,’ Sir Geoffrey said heartily. ‘Do cheer up, darling.’ He bent to kiss his granddaughter on the forehead. ‘I very much doubt that Jaxon has any intention of attempting to steal the family silver before he leaves!’

The sentiment was so close to Jaxon’s own earlier thoughts in regard to Stazy’s obviously scathing opinion of him that he couldn’t help but chuckle wryly. ‘No, Sir Geoffrey, I believe you may rest assured that all your family jewels are perfectly safe where I’m concerned.’

The older man placed an affectionate arm about his granddaughter’s slender shoulders. ‘Stazy is the only family jewel I care anything about, Jaxon.’

‘In that case, they’re most definitely safe!’ Jaxon assured him with hard dismissal.

‘And on that note …’ Sir Geoffrey smiled slightly as his arm dropped back to his side. ‘I’ll see both of you in a couple of hours.’ He turned and left the room. Leaving a tense and awkward silence behind him.

Stazy was very aware of the barely leashed power of the man walking beside her across the manicured lawn in the warmth of the late-afternoon sunshine, and could almost feel the heated energy radiating off Jaxon Wilder. Or perhaps it was just repressed anger? The two of them had certainly got off to a bad start earlier—and it had only become worse during the course of the next hour!

Mainly because of her own less-than-pleasant attitude, Stazy accepted. But what else had this man expected? That she was just going to stand by and risk her grandfather becoming ill again?

She gave a weary sigh before breaking the silence between them. ‘Perhaps we should start again, Mr Wilder?’

He raised dark brows as he looked down at her. ‘Perhaps we should, Dr Bromley?’

‘Stazy,’ she invited abruptly.

‘Jaxon,’ he drawled in return.

He obviously wasn’t going to make this easy for her, Stazy acknowledged impatiently. ‘I’m sure you are aware of what happened five months ago, and why I now feel so protective towards my grandfather?’

‘Of course.’ Jaxon gave a rueful smile as he ducked beneath the trailing branches of a willow tree, only to discover there was a wooden swing chair beneath the vibrant green leaves. ‘Shall we …?’ he prompted lightly. ‘I resent the fact,’ he continued once they were both seated, ‘that you believe he might need any protection from me.’

That was fair enough, Stazy acknowledged grudgingly. Except she still believed this man was in a position to cause her grandfather unnecessary distress. ‘He and my grandmother were totally in love with each other until the very end …’

Jaxon heard clearly the pain of loss underlying her statement. ‘I’m not about to do anything to damage either Geoffrey’s or your own treasured memories of Anastasia,’ he assured her huskily.

‘No?’

‘No,’ Jaxon said evenly. ‘On the contrary—I’m hoping my film will help to set the record straight where your grandmother’s actions seventy years ago are concerned. I don’t believe in making money—or in acquiring awards—’ he gave her a pointed look ‘—by causing someone else unnecessary pain.’