Lucy Gordon - Tycoon for Hire

‘Thanks for the tip. I’ll park a few streets away from her house and walk. Now get to bed.’

Her escort was late, which was fine by Jennifer. It gave her time to feed Paws and let her out one last time.

‘Hurry up,’ she said. ‘He’ll be here soon—if I’m unlucky.’

Paws reappeared two minutes later, wet from a puddle, and promptly demonstrated her loyalty by leaping into her new mistress’s lap.

‘Oh, no!’ Jennifer wailed, surveying the marks over her dress. ‘I can’t believe you did that!’

She made a dash for the bedroom, tore off the muddy garment, and began rummaging through her other evening wear, desperately hoping that her worst fears weren’t going to be realised.

But they were. Of two other possible gowns, one was at the cleaner’s and one had a small tear. Bit by bit her options narrowed down until there was only the dark blue satin left.

‘You ungrateful animal!’ she chided Paws. ‘I took you in, and now look what you’ve done to me. Oh, well, I suppose there’s no help for it.’

Reluctantly she drew on the dress, which was even more daring than she’d realised when she’d bought it. To her horror, the lines of her underwear showed. There was only one thing to do, and that was remove every stitch underneath.

When she’d finished she had the perfect, smooth lines that the dress demanded. Its tight contours flattered her tiny waist and flat stomach, but the neckline was scandalously low. She possessed the generous bosom to carry it off, but still, it was going to take nerve. And her nerve was fast slipping away.

Her rich, dark brown hair was swept up in an elegantly ornate style. To go with the dress she donned a necklace and earrings made of glittering diamonds. Now she looked like a sophisticated young woman who could cope with anything life threw at her. She only wished she felt like one.

She finished just in time. The doorbell was shrilling. She put her head up, took a deep breath, and went to answer. And as soon as she opened her front door she knew that she’d made the mistake of her life.

The man’s looks were striking, if not classically handsome. He radiated an air of arrogance and fierce will. In the very first moment, as they stood looking at each other, Jennifer realised that he was appraising her, his eyes taking a leisurely tour of her form.

She began to be self-conscious about the revealing dress. His gaze made her feel naked, and he was clearly enjoying every inch of her, which made her indignant. After all, he was her employee. Worse still, she saw an ironic gleam in his eyes, as though he understood her thoughts and was amused by them.

In short, she’d expected a tailor’s dummy and gotten a man instead.

Embarrassment flooded her. It hadn’t occurred to her that she was exposing herself as a woman who had to pay for an escort. But he saw the truth. She found her voice. ‘Good evening, Mr Harker. You’re a little late, but no matter.’

‘My apologies,’ he said, in a voice that didn’t sound apologetic. ‘I had an emergency to deal with, but now I’m all yours.’ He spread his hands in a gesture that took in his own appearance. ‘All present and correct,’ he announced. ‘Fingernails specially scrubbed for the occasion.’ He offered them to her view, but still with the teasing air that unsettled her.

‘Oh, my goodness!’ she exclaimed suddenly. ‘Those cufflinks.’

She guessed that his ‘dress’ cufflinks were all a failed actor could afford, but they looked cheap and nasty, as if he’d bought them off a market stall.

‘They’re my best,’ the man said brusquely. ‘What’s wrong with them?’

‘Nothing, I—’ Jennifer struggled to find a polite way of saying what she meant. It was hard. ‘They’re not quite—I mean, they don’t really go with—perhaps I could suggest—just a moment.’

She hurried to her room and found the cufflinks she’d bought for David’s upcoming birthday. They were silver, studded with tiny diamonds, and they’d cost her a fortune. She suppressed the little pang they gave her and closed her fingers tightly over them.

Her escort’s strongly marked eyebrows rose in surprise when she asked him to hold out his hands. She removed the cheap items and fitted the luxurious cufflinks in their place. Glancing up, she found his eyes on her, and their cool mockery sent a wave of heat flooding through her body.

He regarded the diamonds on his cuffs, and his eyes gleamed as they appraised the diamonds about her neck and on her ears. ‘I’m glad I go with your jewellery,’ he murmured.

She refused to respond to his mockery. ‘Here are the keys to my car, Mr Harker. Shall we go?’

As she opened the garage door on her sleek, four-wheeled beauty, she began to have qualms. ‘Perhaps I’d better drive,’ she said. She held out her hand for the keys, but Steven didn’t move.

‘Get in the car,’ he said, with a quiet firmness that astonished her. ‘I’m here to escort you, and I’ll do the job properly. It wouldn’t look good for you to be driving. People might guess that you’ve had to hire me.’

She bit back a retort and got into the passenger seat. He began backing the car out as expertly as if he did it every day. She wondered where he’d learned that deft handling of a powerful vehicle. It had taken her a week before she was as skilled.

‘Which way?’ he asked.

‘Central London. Go to Trafalgar Square and I’ll direct you from there.’

When they were on the road he said casually, ‘So, what story do we tell people?’

‘Story?’

‘About us. If someone asks, we have to say the same thing. When did we meet?’

‘Oh—last week.’

‘That’s a bit recent. Why not last month?’

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘Not as long ago as that.’

‘I see. You were going out with someone else then? Why aren’t you with him tonight?’

‘Because we—we had a disagreement.’

‘Who dumped who?’

‘We separated by mutual consent,’ she said stiffly.

‘You mean he walked out on you?’

‘I mean no such thing.’

‘Will he be there tonight?’

‘Possibly.’

‘Then you’d better tell me his name, just in case.’

‘His name is David Conner,’ she said stiffly.

‘Have you worked out how we met?’

‘No—I don’t know—I’ll think of something,’ she said distractedly. She was growing more unhappy by the minute.

‘I’m surprised to find you so disorganised. We’re nearly at Trafalgar Square. Direct me.’

She complied, adding, ‘We’re going to Catesby House for the London Society of Commerce Banquet. Careful!’

‘Sorry! My hand slipped on the wheel,’ Steven said hastily. In fact, he’d had a nasty shock. There would be people there who knew him. He made a rapid decision.

‘You’d better know,’ he said, ‘my real name isn’t Mike Harker.’

‘You mean it’s a stage name?’

‘No, I—Never mind. My name is Steven Leary. We’re nearly there. Quickly, tell me something about yourself.’

‘My name is Jennifer Norton. I’m the granddaughter of Barney Norton of Nortons Distribution—’

‘Nortons Distribution?’ Steven echoed. ‘Trucks and depots?’

‘Yes,’ she said, surprised to find him so knowledgeable. ‘Our organisation is the best of its kind in the country, and we’re rapidly expanding in Europe.’ She suddenly remembered who he was. ‘Never mind that.’

‘Yes, don’t say anything too complex,’ he said affably. ‘My one braincell might not be able to cope.’

She refused to let him needle her. ‘Take this next turning and you’ll find a car park.’

As he switched off the engine Jennifer went to open her door. ‘Wait,’ Steven ordered calmly. He walked around the car and opened the door for her, holding out his hand to assist her. ‘After all, this is what I’m here for,’ he said, with a grin.