Lee Wilkinson - The Tycoon's Trophy Mistress

Back in New York he had hired Alan Sheering, a discreet London investigator—based, ironically enough, in Baker Street—to dig out everything he could about Charlotte Michaels and any possible boyfriend.

Sheering reported that, apart from her ex-fiancé, he could find no trace of any boyfriends past or present. He had also come up with a goodly amount of general information, including the fact that she had always enjoyed travelling and had expressed a wish to one day visit the States.

Using that as a starting point, Daniel had decided on a plan. A plan that would, if it worked, bring him a step nearer to his goal, by providing a change of scene and distancing both Charlotte Michaels and himself from what had happened in London.

Sounding brisk and businesslike, he had phoned Telford. ‘I’ve decided that, in order to provide firsthand experience of how things are done both in the States and the UK, there should be some exchange of personnel.’

‘What exactly do you have in mind?’ his MD had asked cautiously.

‘As a trial run, say, one of our London-based Research Team changes places with one from New York to study the possible differences in market trends.’

‘For how long?’

‘Six months. A year. We’ll see how it goes.’

‘Have you anyone particular in mind?’

‘From this end an up and coming youngster named Matthew Curtis is eager to give it a try.’

‘And from the London end?’

Bearing in mind that the move had to be voluntary, Daniel suggested as casually as possible, ‘Suppose you see who’s interested?’

If she didn’t take the bait he would have to think of something else.

‘I don’t know how well such a scheme will be received,’ Telford said slowly. ‘You see, the majority of our team are either married or have partners, and as most of them also have young families they’re hardly likely to welcome so much upheaval. Still, I can always circulate a memo and see what response we get.’

‘Do that.’ Daniel crossed his fingers and waited with what patience he could muster.

In the end, only two people put in for the temporary transfer—Paul Rowlands, the newest member of the team and, to both Telford’s and Daniel’s surprise, Charlotte Michaels.

Briefly, Daniel wondered what had made her apply. But, if Sheering was right, there was nothing to keep her in London and perhaps she felt she needed a change of scene, a chance to leave the past behind.

Delighted that things had worked out so well, he could hardly control his impatience. These last weeks had seemed endless, making him feel restless and dissatisfied. Eager as a boy.

‘Are you thinking of interviewing the candidates yourself?’ Telford had asked.

Wanting everything to seem routine and above board, Daniel had answered, ‘No, I’ll leave that to you. All the same, as it’s my baby and I’ve a personal interest in the outcome, I’d like to hold a watching brief, so when you decide on the day I’ll make a flying visit. But don’t advertise it,’ he added crisply, ‘and don’t send the car to the airport. I’d prefer to slip in unnoticed.’

If his MD wondered at these instructions he said nothing.

Now the big day had arrived, and things were going well so far. Telford had talked to Paul Rowlands that morning and been unimpressed, convinced that he was not yet ready to benefit from such a move.

Now, after lunch, it was Charlotte Michaels’ turn.

Waiting impatiently for her to arrive at Telford’s office, Daniel had half wondered if she really was as lovely as he’d first thought her. Suppose on second sight he was disappointed?

But when she finally appeared he sighed. She was even more beautiful than he remembered and, as if he had carried her picture in his mind, oddly familiar.

Though he still didn’t know what kind of voice she had, what her smile was like, or what pleased her most when she was being made love to.

But it would be fun finding out, he told himself with anticipation.

As he watched her through the blind he noticed that she waited quietly for Telford, without fidgeting or showing obvious signs of impatience.

Yet a certain tension in the slim shoulders told him she was nowhere near as calm as she had first appeared. That the outcome of this interview mattered to her.

She glanced down and, with the first hint of nervousness she had betrayed, brushed an invisible speck from the lapel of her charcoal-grey jacket.

Just watching her hand lightly brush the curve of her breast brought a sudden rush of desire that surprised him with its strength and urgency. It sent his blood surging through his veins, clawed at his insides and urged him to walk out and chance his arm at once, rather than have to endure another endless period of waiting.

But at this point, as she had readily walked into the trap he had set with such care, it would be idiotic to risk losing the game. Though when she had officially been offered the transfer it might be possible to hurry things along a bit.

While Charlotte waited for Mr Telford she made an effort to calm her nerves and concentrate on the coming interview. If only she could get this transfer to the States…

After fruitlessly racking her brains for a way forward the memo suggesting the exchange of personnel had come as a heaven-sent opportunity.

Of course she might be nowhere near Daniel Wolfe’s office. She might not even be based in the same building. But, as he lived in New York, she had more chance of meeting him there than she did on one of his infrequent visits to the UK.

She knew when he visited Wolfe International’s London headquarters by the stir his arrival inevitably caused amongst the rest of the staff, but she had never set eyes on him in person. All she had seen were pictures of him in glossy magazines or the society pages.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that curled a little, a bony nose and light, piercing eyes set deep beneath well-marked brows, he was undeniably handsome.

Though not in the film star sense.

His was a lean face, tough and attractive, with a cleft chin and a mouth that had affected her strangely, always managing to send little shivers down her spine.

In the more sensational sections of the press he was often referred to as a latter-day Lothario, and frequent stories appeared about him and his latest ‘conquest’, some of which verged on the scurrilous.

Until a matter of months ago, repelled by such blatant sexuality, her instinct had been to avoid him at all costs.

Now things had altered completely. Meeting him, getting close to him, had become her only aim in life. Her mission.

On his last visit, despite all her efforts, she hadn’t even managed to catch a glimpse of him. When she had finally thought of a reason to go up to the top floor executive suite it was to discover he had just that minute left for the airport.

Instead of making her give up her failure only served to stiffen her resolve.

During the following weeks, while trying to work out some practicable strategy to achieve her goal, she had kept an eye on the papers and learnt all she could about him.

A top-flight Anglo-American entrepreneur from a wealthy background, he was known in the business world for his ability and in the outside world for his philanthropy.

A man who was said to work hard and play hard, Daniel Wolfe was today’s hottest news, the centre of media attention on both sides of the Atlantic.

With an English mother and an American father, he had been educated at Columbia and Cambridge and, after graduating, had taken over the running of his godfather’s ailing software company.

When that was firmly on its feet he had diversified, buying up other rocky companies and doing the same for them.

Now, at barely thirty, he was a multi-millionaire. Admired. Envied. Feared. Respected. Occasionally reviled.