Julia James - Innocent Cinderella

‘I’m looking,’ Lynne said flatly. ‘And I see a sweet and conspicuously innocent girl. Who should not be spending even a moment, let alone two days and nights, with a major predator like Jake Radley-Smith.

‘Separate rooms?’ She shook her head again. ‘I’d prefer you in a separate universe. Because you would not be dealing with a fumbling amateur like that idiot in France.’ She paused. ‘Sweetheart, if you’re worried about money, then stop. I’ll match whatever he’s offering, and you can pay me back as and when you can afford it.’

‘When you’re saving for a deposit on a flat and a wedding?’ Marin bit her lip. ‘Lynne, it’s lovely of you to think of it, but he—Mr Radley-Smith’s already given me five hundred pounds and promised me another two thousand after the weekend.’ She saw Lynne’s eyes widen. ‘If Mrs Ingram fires me, I shall need it. And you couldn’t possibly spare that much.’

‘No,’ her stepsister admitted ruefully. ‘Probably not.’ She sighed. ‘But I still don’t like this—any of it.’ Her eyes glinted wrathfully. ‘And I shall have a few things to say to my esteemed boss tomorrow morning.’

‘No—please.’ Marin was aghast. ‘I made the agreement with him, and I can handle it. There are—ground rules in place.’

She tried to speak more lightly. ‘And, after France, my sense of self-preservation has improved a hundred per cent. So you really don’t have to worry. Because I’m not a child any more.’

‘That,’ Lynne informed her drily, ‘is exactly the problem.’ And she got up to clear the table.

MARIN FOUND IT difficult to sleep that night. She told herself it was because she was dreading the coming interview with Mrs Ingram, but in her heart she knew she was restless because she hadn’t been completely honest with Lynne.

Or, for that matter, with herself.

She turned over, punching irritably at her pillow. In retrospect, she now realised she’d been silly to think that, whatever the reason for it, she could remain totally immune to Jake’s company. Especially that kiss.

I just wasn’t expecting it, she thought defensively. That’s all. Besides, I was off-balance from the moment he walked and caught me in that damned towel. And he made sure I stayed that way.

But now that she knew his potential danger, she would be more on her guard.

Besides, it was a house party, she reminded herself defensively. There would be other people around, and, for at least some of the time, Jake and Graham Halsay would be off talking business, so they wouldn’t be in each other’s pockets.

As for the hours of darkness—well, she would just have to trust that the Halsays’ housekeeper would allocate the usual rooms, giving her privacy if not total peace of mind.

But she couldn’t allow herself to think like that. From here on in, it was going to be strictly business. Forty-eight hours, she told herself. That was all. And when it was over she would never have to see him again, unless it was as a guest at Lynne’s wedding next year.

Just two days and two nights and he would be out of her life.

She awoke later than she’d planned the following morning, to find the flat empty and a note from Lynne on the kitchen counter. ‘You looked as if you needed your rest, it ran. I took some croissants and a loaf out of the freezer earlier, and there’s cereal in the cupboard. Also plenty of eggs. I’ll be back around six.’ And, heavily underlined, ‘Try not to worry.’

Marin scrambled the eggs and ate them with grilled smoked bacon, followed by toast with cherry jam and some strong coffee.

Then, dressed in a neat grey skirt and white blouse topped by a navy jacket, she set off for the Ingram Organisation.

Tina, the office secretary, greeted her wide-eyed. ‘The phone line between here and France was burning up on Friday,’ she whispered, and nodded towards Wendy Ingram’s office door. ‘Go right in. She’s waiting for you.’

Mrs Ingram was on the phone when Marin entered, nodding briskly and making notes on a pad in front of her. She gestured to Marin to take a seat then, her call over, she put down her pen and leaned back in her chair.

‘That’s quite a can of worms you seem to have opened,’ she observed caustically. ‘According to Ms Mason, you’re a home-wrecker—a sex-mad wolf in sheep’s clothing who abused her hospitality, her kindness and her trust.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘So, any comment?’

Marin met her gaze steadily. ‘I think the lady is blaming the wrong wolf,’ she said quietly, and gave a succinct and unemotional account of what had happened. ‘I think, when she decided to hire me, she assumed it would be safe,’ she added. ‘That I wouldn’t be his type.’

Wendy Ingram gave a sharp, angry sigh. ‘I suspected as much. In the heat of the moment, Ms Mason said rather more than she intended. And she is now blacklisted.’ She clicked on her computer and looked at the screen. ‘But it leaves me with a difficulty about you. I have nothing until next week at the earliest, and that would be another residential job, running the admin for a veterinary practice in Essex.

‘Their office manager is the sister of one of the vets, but she’s off to Australia for a month, and her local replacement has broken her right arm quite badly so this is something of an emergency.’

She paused. ‘You’d need to spend a couple of days being shown the ropes, and you’d be using Ginny Watson’s flat.

She sighed. ‘I was sending Fiona, but it seems she doesn’t want to be apart from her boyfriend for four weeks, and this is a busy set-up, hardly likely to want someone moping about the place. So, how does it sound to you?’

Like the answer to a prayer, thought Marin. For so many reasons.

Aloud, she said, smiling, ‘You can safely tell Fiona she’s off the hook.’

She had a rich Bolognese sauce bubbling on the stove when Lynne returned that evening, a pan of water heating for the pasta and garlic bread waiting to go in the oven.

Lynne scented the air appreciatively. ‘I think I’ll hire you myself.’

‘Too late.’ Marin informed her. ‘I’m off to deepest Essex next week to work for some vets. Small animals a speciality, which would seem to cut out wolves.’ She smiled. ‘And, as I’m now working again, I don’t need any more money from Mr Radley-Smith. So next weekend is hereby cancelled.’

‘Ah,’ Lynne said quietly, and paused.

Marin stopped stirring the sauce and looked at her. ‘What’s the matter? I thought you’d be cheering.’

‘I probably would,’ Lynne said grimly. ‘If I hadn’t spent much of the day fielding phone calls from Diana Halsay.’ She shook her head. ‘She’s not giving up without a struggle.’ She gave Marin a long look. ‘I think Rad’s relying on you, babe. In fact, I know he is, because I have orders to take you shopping tomorrow.’

‘The only thing I’ll be shopping for is more jeans and some wellies.’ Marin lifted her chin. ‘Naomi worked for a vet in Norfolk a couple of months back, and she said she spent a lot of time tramping behind him over ploughed fields.’