Lucy King - The Best Man for the Job

And for some reason Marcus found himself inwardly cursing while now feeling like the biggest jerk on the planet. She might be a pain in the neck, but he knew how difficult she found her father and he knew how much she loathed him, which meant that she was desperate.

And maybe a little vulnerable.

‘Look, sorry,’ he muttered, frowning slightly at the flare of a weird and deeply unwelcome kind of protective streak, because Celia was the last person who needed protecting and the last person he’d ever consider vulnerable. ‘I can do small talk.’

She stopped mid-turn and looked up at him. ‘Really?’

‘Of course.’

‘What do you want in return?’

‘Nothing.’

She arched an eyebrow sceptically, switching back to the Celia he knew and could handle. ‘Seriously?’ she said.

‘Seriously.’

‘Then thank you,’ she said a bit grudgingly, which he supposed was only fair.

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Celia,’ boomed her father behind her and he saw her jump. Wince. Brace herself.

But she recovered remarkably well and after taking a deep breath turned and lifted her cheek for her father’s kiss. ‘Dad, you remember Marcus Black, don’t you?’ she said, stepping back to include him in the conversation.

‘Of course,’ said Jim Forrester, flashing him a smile that was probably calculated to be charming but in a couple of years could easily stray into sleazy, and holding out his hand. ‘How are you?’

‘Good, thanks,’ said Marcus, shaking it and then letting it go. ‘You?’

‘Excellent. Great speech.’

‘Thank you.’

‘So how’s business?’

‘Quiet.’

Jim’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I heard it was doing well. So what happened? Hard times?’

He smiled as he thought of the relief he’d felt when he’d signed those papers and released himself from the company that he’d devoted so much of his time and energy to. ‘Couldn’t be better.’

‘Marcus sold his business, Dad,’ said Celia.

‘Oh, did you? Why?’

‘The thrill of beating the markets had worn off,’ he said, remembering the strange day when he’d sat down in his office, stared at the trading screen flickering with ever-changing figures and, for the first time since he’d set up the business, just couldn’t be bothered. ‘It was time to move on.’

‘You burnt out,’ said Celia, looking at him in dawning astonishment, as if she couldn’t believe he was capable of working hard enough to reach that stage.

‘Nope,’ he said. ‘I decided to get out before I did.’

‘So what are your plans now?’ asked Jim.

‘I have a few things in the pipeline. Some angel investing. Some business mentoring. I’d also like to set up a kind of scooping-up scheme for able kids who slip through the system and are heading off the rails, which gives them opportunities other people might not.’

He caught the flash of surprise that flickered across Celia’s face and a stab of satisfaction shot through him. That’s right, darling, he thought dryly. Not partying till dawn with scantily clad women. At least, not only that. And perhaps not every night.

‘Philanthropic,’ said Jim with a nod of approval. ‘Admirable.’

It wasn’t particularly. It was just that he’d been given a chance when he’d badly needed it and he simply wanted to pay it forward. ‘I’ve done well,’ he said with an easy shrug, ‘and I’d like to give something back.’

‘Let me know if I can help in any way.’

Jim had a divorce law practice so it was doubtful, but one never knew. ‘I will, thanks.’

‘I’m up for partnership, Dad,’ said Celia, and Marcus thought her voice held a note of challenge as well as pride.

‘Are you?’ said her father, sounding as if he couldn’t be less interested.

‘I’ll know in a few months.’

‘That’s all very well and good,’ Jim said even more dismissively, ‘but shouldn’t you be thinking about settling down?’

Marcus felt Celia stiffen at his side, and guessed that this was a well-trodden and not particularly welcome conversation. ‘I enjoy my job, Dad,’ she said with a sigh.

Her father let out a derisive snort. ‘Job? Hah. What nonsense. Corporate lawyer indeed. There are enough lawyers already, and I should know. You should be married. Homemaking or whatever it is that women do. Giving me grandchildren.’

Dimly aware that this was in danger of veering away from small talk and into conversational territory into which he did not want to venture, moment of chivalry or no moment of chivalry, Marcus inwardly winced because, while he hadn’t seen Celia’s father for a good few years, now it was coming back to him that as far as unreconstructed males went one would be pushed to find one as unreconstructed as Jim.

Going on what Dan had said over the years their father had never had much time for Celia’s considerable intellect or any belief in her education, as had been proven when Dan had been sent to the excellent private school Marcus had met him at while she’d been sent to the local, failing comprehensive.

Now it was clear that Jim had no respect for the choices she’d made or the work she did either, but then over the years Marcus had got the impression that the man didn’t have much respect for women in general, least of all his wife and daughter. He certainly didn’t listen to either.

‘And one day I’d like to be doing exactly that,’ she said, pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin, ‘but there’s still plenty of time.’

‘Not that much time,’ said Jim brutally. ‘You’re thirty-one and you haven’t had a boyfriend for years.’

Celia flinched but didn’t back down. ‘Ouch. Thanks for that, Dad.’

‘How are you ever going to meet anyone if all you do is work? I blame that ambition of yours.’

‘If my ambition is to blame then it’s your fault,’ she muttered cryptically, but before Marcus could ask what she meant Jim suddenly swung round and fixed him with a flinty look that he didn’t like one little bit.

‘You married?’ he asked.

Marcus instinctively tensed because for some reason he got the impression that this wasn’t merely a polite enquiry into his marital status. ‘No.’

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Not at the moment.’

‘Then couldn’t you sort her out?’ said Jim, with a jerk of his head in his daughter’s direction.

Celia gasped, her jaw practically hitting the ground. ‘Dad!’

Marcus nearly swallowed his tongue. ‘What?’ he managed, barely able to believe that this man had basically just pimped out his daughter. In front of her.

‘Take her in hand and sort her out,’ Jim said again with the tact and sensitivity of a charging bull. ‘Soften her up a bit. You have a reputation for being good at that and with the business gone and your future projects not yet up and running you must have time on your hands.’

‘Stop it,’ breathed Celia, red in the face and clearly—and understandably—mortified.

Not that Marcus was focusing much on her outraged mortification at the moment. He was too busy feeling as if he’d been hit over the head with a lead pipe. He was reeling. Stunned. Although not with dismay at Jim’s suggestion. No. He was reeling because an image of taking Celia into his arms and softening her up in the best way he knew had slammed into his head, making his pulse race, his mouth go dry and his temperature rocket.

Suddenly all he could think about was hauling her into his arms and kissing her until she was melting and panting and begging him to take her to bed, and where the hell that had come from he had no idea because she didn’t need sorting out. By anyone. Least of all him. And even if he tried he’d probably get a slap to the face.