Miranda Lee - Rendezvous With Revenge

At eight that evening, Abby set about putting her mouth where her vows were. She walked down to the telephone booth on the corner and dialled Ethan Grant’s home number. It killed her to lower her pride this way, but, given that there was no viable alternative, Abby resolved to do it with style—priority number one being that her lordly employer never twig onto her unfortunate weakness in finding him attractive.

‘Ethan Grant speaking,’ he answered coolly, and another of those erotic shivers rippled down Abby’s spine. Damn, but he did have an incredibly sensual voice, once one was attuned to it.

‘Abigail Richmond here, Dr Grant,’ she said as soon as she’d gathered herself.

‘Ah yes, Miss Richmond. I’ve been expecting your call.’

Abby hoped that her counter-proposal would wipe some of the smugness out of that sexy damned voice.

‘I’ve thought about your offer, Dr Grant,’ she said in a marvellously matter-of-fact tone, ‘and I’ve decided I should be able to accommodate you...’ She paused just long enough for his male ego to swell further before adding, ‘For a price, that is.’

His sharply indrawn breath rasped down the line, followed by a few seconds of taut silence.

‘I’ve already offered you two thousand dollars,’ he resumed at last, not a trace of sexiness left in his voice. It was as cold as an arctic blizzard. ‘I would have thought that more than sufficed for the job.’

‘I’m sorry, but it doesn’t.’

‘I see,’ he grated out, with a derisive edge added to the chilly reproach. ‘How much would be enough, then?’

‘Three thousand.’

‘That’s one thousand a day!’

‘That’s my price, Dr Grant. Take it or leave it.’

His laughter surprised then unnerved her. ‘Oh, I’ll take it, Miss Richmond, but only on one condition.’

‘And what condition is that?’

‘I don’t have to change the room booking. Frankly, for reasons which I have no intention of explaining, I would prefer to pretend we were lovers, not just friends. Naturally I do not expect you to sleep in the same bed with me. I will make sure our room has a convertible sofa which will guarantee separate sleeping arrangements.’

‘And if I say no?’

‘Then you say no, and I’ll make other arrangements.’

Abby only had to think of Miss Blanchford’s despairing depression to know that she would never say no. But she detested Ethan Grant for manoeuvring her into a corner like this.

Still, there was no point in prolonging the agony. It would only add to her humiliation. Better to agree immediately, letting him think that she wasn’t at all fazed by this change.

‘All right,’ she said with a superbly blithe offhandedness. ‘I appreciate that for three thousand you can call the shots. But I want it all up front and in advance, as you promised.’

Once again, Ethan fell silent on the other end.

Had she surprised him? Shocked him, even?

Too bad. This was business—the business of healing an old lady’s heart and giving her back a reason to live. She had no sympathy for Ethan Grant’s feelings. Any man who offered money for a woman’s company got what he deserved. Which was nothing.

‘I’ll send you the money by courier tomorrow,’ he said in a faintly sneering tone. Clearly she hadn’t surprised him at all, Abby realised. She’d acted exactly as he expected women of her ilk to act—like a mercenary-minded bitch!

‘Cash, please,’ she snapped, goaded into speaking sharply by a fierce inner fury. Couldn’t he see that he was the more contemptuous person, for offering her money in the first place?

‘Naturally.’

Abby scooped in then let out a shuddering sigh. It was done and couldn’t be undone. God, but she wished that she didn’t feel so low. Anyone would think that she’d just hired herself out body and soul for life, instead of just her companionship for three miserable days.

‘I suppose we should get down to details while we’ve got the opportunity,’ he said abruptly. ‘I don’t want Sylvia to know anything. This is just between you and me. As far as my sister is concerned, I’ll be going to this conference on my own. You must give me your word on that, Abby.’

Abby was thrown for a moment by this second use of her first name. Till she accepted that he could hardly keep calling her Miss Richmond. She wasn’t about to argue about Sylvia not knowing either. Really, the whole situation was a tad tawdry.

And slightly mystifying.

She wondered why Ethan was so keen to have his colleagues believe his companion was his lover. Did he have a reputation as a stud to uphold? Or did he have some other secret reason for such a pretence?

Something—some feminine instinct—rang a warning bell at the back of her mind. There was more to this than met the eye...

But Abby could not allow herself to be swayed by worries and qualms of such an indefinite nature. Three thousand dollars beckoned. Three thousand very real, very vital dollars. Ethan’s motivation for such a sham was his business. All she had to do was collect the money then play the appropriate part.

Maybe what she was really worrying about was how difficult playing that part might be. She hoped she wouldn’t make a fool of herself and betray her own secret. Despite not liking Ethan Grant one little iota on a personality basis, she could not think about him any more without thinking of making love with him.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘FIRST things first,’ Ethan continued abruptly. ‘Your clothes.’

‘My clothes?’ she repeated blankly, her mind still back on her perturbing weakness for the man.

‘You do own something other than that black skirt and white blouse you wear every Friday, don’t you?’

Abby thought of all the designer clothes hanging up in her wardrobe at home in Killara. They wouldn’t really have dated, being timeless classical styles. She didn’t doubt they would still be there either. She would have no trouble getting them if she went during the day, when her father was at the office.

‘Actually, I have quite an extensive wardrobe,’ she replied coolly, resenting both the criticism and scepticism built into his question.

‘Yes, but what type of clothes?’ he countered derisively. ‘You must appreciate any lady friend of mine will be expected to be well dressed. Nothing cheap or flashy.’

‘I am never cheap or flashy.’

‘You’re certainly not cheap, I’ll give you that,’ he muttered drily. ‘And other than one wayward button, you haven’t been flashy either. So far,’ he added cynically. ‘But I wouldn’t like any nasty little surprises once we get down to the hotel. Which reminds me—there’s nothing in your past or present which would preclude you taking this job, is there?’

One very good reason catapulted into Abby’s mind and she gulped. Surely there wouldn’t be anyone at this conference who knew about her trial or her sentence? It had not been in any of the papers. Her father hadn’t been prepared to help her with a decent lawyer, but he had used his influence to suppress any publicity.

‘Such as what?’ she asked, guilt making her sharp.

‘God only knows. You haven’t graced the centrefold of any of the better known men’s magazines, have you? Or any of the lesser ones, for that matter. I’m well aware that Sylvia hired you without checking into your background too extensively. I didn’t come down in the last shower, Abby. When a girl’s hard up for money and has a figure as good as yours, she might be talked into doing things not too savoury.’

Any guilt disappeared as Abby almost blew a gasket. Not too savoury! What in hell did he think she was doing now, going away with him? Lord, who did he think he was, looking down his nose at her when he was the one paying for her dubious companionship? As for her figure... She was fed up with him equating her lush curves with loose morals.