The night was silky dark, and quiet apart from the endless shrill song of the cicadas. The sky above her head was a vault of black velvet, the stars closer than she had ever seen them before.

‘Tired?’ he asked.

‘A little,’ she admitted.

He reached for the robe she had discarded earlier, and wrapped it around her. ‘In that case…’ Taking her hand, he led her towards the Jacuzzi.

It was screened from the house and terrace by a waist-high semicircular stone wall, but the front was open to what, in daylight, would be a pleasant view over the gardens.

As they approached, Perdita could hear the faint bubbling sound of water and see wisps of steam rising from the surface. A nearby alcove held a neat pile of towels.

Slipping the robe from her shoulders, he said, ‘This is what you need.’

A broad seat made a horseshoe round the tub, and when she had descended the steps she sat down, submerged up to her shoulders.

The gentle, erotic swirl of hot water around her weary limbs felt lovely, and she was just starting to relax when Jared enquired, ‘Mind if I join you?’

Her breath caught in her throat.

Lee Wilkinson lives with her husband in a three-hundred-year-old stone cottage in a Derbyshire village, which most winters gets cut off by snow. They both enjoy travelling, and recently, joining forces with their daughter and son-in-law, spent a year going round the world ‘on a shoestring’ while their son looked after Kelly, their much loved German shepherd dog. Her hobbies are reading and gardening, and holding impromptu barbecues for her long-suffering family and friends.

Recent titles by the same author:

CAPTIVE IN THE MILLIONAIRE’S CASTLE

THE BOSS’S FORBIDDEN SECRETARY

MISTRESS AGAINST HER WILL

Claiming His Wedding Night

by

Lee Wilkinson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Other Books By

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

Chapter One

IT WAS a lovely early June day. After a miserably cold spring, a cloudless blue sky hailed the start of summer in the city.

The dust and heat and the oppressive air that trapped and held the exhaust fumes hadn’t yet built up. Instead, a light balmy breeze played hide and seek, fluttering flags and awnings, and giving London the air of being en fête.

In spite of the financial problems that at present beset JB Electronics, the bright sunshine lifted Perdita Boyd’s spirits and put a spring in her step as she walked along Piccadilly.

Tall and slender, with a natural grace of movement, even in a business suit, her hair in a no-nonsense coil, she turned male heads.

Considering herself to be somewhat nondescript, with eyes of palest turquoise and hair the bleached gold of ripe corn, she would have been surprised had she known what an impact she made.

Even the elderly, and somewhat crusty, bank manager she had been to see earlier that morning, whilst refusing to give JB Electronics a loan, had smiled at her and sighed for his lost youth.

After leaving the bank, attempting to gather herself and regain some shred of optimism, she had called in at the nursing home where her father was recovering from recent heart surgery.

John Boyd had been sitting by the long windows that looked out over the well-kept grounds.

He was a tall, nice-looking man of just turned fifty five, with a good head of thick grey-blond hair and a slight gap between his top middle two front teeth that gave him a boyish appearance.

As she’d crossed the room to kiss him, he had queried, ‘No luck, I take it?’

Sitting down opposite, she shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. While the bank manager was sympathetic, he was also adamant that they could offer neither a loan nor a bigger overdraft.’

John sighed. ‘Well, as the Silicon Valley set-up is in an even bigger mess than we are, that means we’ve no alternative but to negotiate with Salingers.’

‘It won’t be easy. They’re a tough lot. They have us over a barrel and they know it.

‘Even so, we can’t afford to let them have the controlling interest if we can possibly help it. We need to keep it down to no more than forty-five per cent of the shares.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Go up to fifty per cent if you have to. When are you going to see them?’

‘I’m going to their Baker Street offices first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘That’s good, we’ve no time to spare. Who will you be seeing?’

‘I’ve an appointment to see a Mr Calhoun, one of their top men.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard of him. He’s a tough nut to crack, by all accounts.’

Wanting to take the worried look off her father’s face, Perdita hastily changed the subject. ‘Oh, by the way, Sally mentioned that she’d like to pop in later, if that’s all right with you?’

‘It’s fine by me.’

‘She said something about getting her own back.’

He grinned. ‘She has a pocket chess set, and the last game we played, I beat her.’

Then seriously, ‘I take it she’s looking after you all right?’

‘Can you doubt it?’

‘Not really. Sometimes I wonder how we ever managed without her.’

When their previous housekeeper had left to get married, Sally Eastwood, an attractive English widow of forty-five, home from the States after her American husband died, had taken the post.

Hard-working and sunny-natured, in the ensuing six months Sally had proved to be an absolute gem. Born and bred in Lancashire, she had soon become part of the family.

A tap at the door announced the lunchtime trolley.

‘Well, I’d better be on my way,’ Perdita said, stooping to kiss her father’s cheek.

‘The best of luck for tomorrow, lass,’ he said, touching her hand.

Then, obviously trying to hide his anxiety, ‘I don’t hold out much hope of reaching an agreement straight away though, heaven knows, we need to.’

‘If there does seem to be any chance of an agreement, will you need to consult Elmer first?’

‘No. He’s given me carte blanche to do whatever is necessary to save the company.’ Then, quickly, ‘When you’ve been to see Calhoun, you’ll let me know how things are going?’

‘Of course.’

She and her father had always been very close, and Perdita knew how much he hated being hors de combat at this crucial time.

Her face soft and concerned, she went on, ‘I know you’d much rather you or Martin were doing this negotiating, but—’

‘That’s just where you’re wrong, lass,’ he broke in firmly. ‘You’ve got what it takes, and I think your chances of pulling it off are appreciably better than mine. Or Martin’s, for that matter.’

Martin, who lived with them in London and ran the Technical Information side of the company, was the only son of Elmer Judson, John’s American business partner. As well as being the apple of Elmer’s eye, Martin was also a lifelong favourite of John’s, taking the place of the son he had never had.

So for him to say that she had a better chance of pulling it off than either himself or Martin was high praise indeed.

Pleased by his vote of confidence, Perdita had walked back through the park. Feeling hungry, and lured by the sight of an empty bench in the sun, she had sat down to eat the sandwiches that Sally had packed for her, before continuing back to work.

Once back at the company’s Calder Street offices, she would grab a quick cup of coffee before starting the afternoon’s work.

While her father was convalescing, and Martin was in Japan on urgent business, Perdita was to all intents and purposes, running the firm.

Whilst coping with the extra pressure of work, she was struggling to make the final preparations for her wedding to Martin, which was now only six weeks away.

He had bought her a beautiful diamond solitaire, and their engagement had been officially announced early that spring, bringing in its wake an absolute whirl of activity.

But things were finally coming together. The church and the caterers had been booked, her dress was being made by Claude Rodine, and yesterday, after consulting her father, she had made the final arrangements for a marquee to be erected on the lawn of their home in Mecklen Square.

Now, all that still remained to be done was…

Her train of thought was suddenly and violently derailed by the sight of a tall, well-built man with dark hair leaving a taxi that had just drawn up outside Piccadilly’s Arundel Hotel.

Brought up short by the shock, Perdita stopped dead in her tracks, scarcely aware that another pedestrian following on her heels had to sidestep abruptly to avoid walking into her.

No! It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t! She had to be mistaken.

But, as the man paid the driver and turned to head for the hotel entrance, she knew that she had made no mistake. She could have picked out that clear-cut, handsome profile from a million others.

‘Oh, dear God,’ she breathed.

Jared.

Jared who, after all this time, still had the power to stop her heart.

He had reached the entrance when, as if sensing her presence, he paused and looked back.

Always in the past, on entering even a crowded room, he had known precisely where she was without having to look.

Now, as he turned his head and their eyes met, she felt as if she had been kicked in the solar plexus.

While she stood and gazed at him, rooted to the spot, he smiled slowly, mirthlessly.

That smile made her blood run cold. The moment she had dreaded, and felt in the depths of her being was inevitable, had arrived.

Adrenalin surged through her and, though she knew it was hopeless, knew he wouldn’t let her go so easily, she turned blindly to run.

As he moved to intercept her headlong flight, a taxi that had pulled up alongside her to drop a fare started to draw away.

Dragging open the door, she scrambled in anyhow and, weak-kneed and trembling, her heart thumping like a sledgehammer, sank onto the seat.

‘Where to?’ the driver asked laconically, swinging out into the traffic stream.

Though all her attention was fixed on the man standing gazing after them, instinctively cautious, she answered, ‘The top end of Gower Street.’

For the entire length of Piccadilly the traffic was heavy and slow-moving and, as the taxi crawled along, the blood drumming in her ears, she kept glancing over her shoulder.

There was no sign of any pursuit but, even so, it was a few minutes before her heart stopped pounding and she could breathe properly again.

She was safe.

At least for the time being. But suppose he had finally managed to track her down? Suppose he knew exactly where to find her?

She shuddered at the possibility.

Still, if he had, she thought, rallying a little, what could he possibly do?

But, recalling his smile, cold chills began to run up and down her spine, and she was forced to admit that her attempt at bravado had failed miserably.

The Jared she had fallen in love with had been passionate and caring, with a strong sense of justice and fair play. Even then, however, he had been quite capable of setting aside conventional or so-called ‘ethical’ standards and being ruthless.

She shuddered again as the word ruthless brought a return of her previous panic.

Gritting her teeth, she told herself firmly that she mustn’t lose her head. It would all depend on why Jared was in London. It might have nothing to do with her.

He might be over from the States on a business trip of some kind. Or perhaps he was here on holiday? His mother had been born in Chelsea and he had always had a soft spot for London.

But neither option seemed logical. The Arundel was the haunt of the rich, and the last time she had had news of him he had been virtually penniless.

Of course he might not be staying at the Arundel, but just lunching there.

She took a deep steadying breath. And it was quite possible that seeing each other had been merely an unlucky chance. A case of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

If she hadn’t been passing the hotel at that precise moment she would no doubt have remained in blissful ignorance of Jared’s presence in town.

But, even more important, he wouldn’t have known for sure that she was living here.

Three years ago, when she and her father had returned home from California, John had taken every precaution to keep their exact whereabouts a secret.

He had changed both the name and address of the company, bought a different house in a different location, and had their home telephone number listed as ex-directory.

In short, he had made it as difficult as he could for Jared to find them.

Difficult, but not impossible…

‘This OK?’ The driver’s voice cut through her jumbled thoughts.

‘Oh, yes…fine, thanks.’

Gathering herself, she paid him, added a tip and climbed out.

As he drove away, she started to walk on. It was about a quarter of a mile to the Calder Street offices, but she had been afraid to be dropped any closer in case Jared had managed to get the number of the taxi.

Her legs still felt shaky, and she wished Martin was here in London rather than in Japan.

Whilst she had struggled to forget Jared and all the pain his perfidy had caused, Martin had been her anchor, her safe harbour, and she missed his reassuring presence.

He was an attractive man, tall and sturdily built, with fair hair and cornflower-blue eyes. A man she felt sure would make a good husband and father.

Even so, it had taken three years of patient, undemanding devotion on his part to finally get her to accept his proposal of marriage.

Now she would be glad when the wedding was over and they were man and wife. She would feel safer. Be—almost—able to believe that she had finally managed to escape from the past.

But though Martin had admitted that he had first fallen madly in love with her when she was just seventeen, she knew she would never again feel the kind of passionate love she had felt for Jared.

Nor did she want to. It was too traumatic. It had brought nothing but bitter disillusionment and heartbreak.

Or so she told herself.

In truth, it was simply that having once given her heart she had nothing left to give, just a void where her heart should have been.

All she felt for Martin was gratitude for his unfailing support, and an almost sisterly affection.

But, even so, he still wanted her and she was satisfied that she could make him happy and, while he would never rock her world, neither would he cause her pain.

When John and Elmer were told the news the two men had been highly delighted.

‘I’ve always known how he felt about you,’ Elmer had told her, ‘so I wasn’t surprised when he decided to follow you to England. I’m just pleased that his tenacity has finally paid off. There’s no one I’d sooner have for a daughter-in-law.’

While her father had said gladly, ‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’ve finally decided Martin’s the man for you. Dangerfield couldn’t be trusted and would never have amounted to anything; I was beginning to think you’d never get over him.’

Only Perdita knew in her heart of hearts that she hadn’t got over Jared, and she never really would. Hadn’t she spent the last three years trying?

Reaching the glass and concrete tower block that housed JB’s suite of offices, Perdita exchanged greetings with the security guard before taking the lift up to the second floor.

In the outer office, Helen, their attractive blonde secretary-cum-PA, glanced up from her computer to ask hopefully, ‘Did you have any luck?’

Perdita shook her head. ‘Unfortunately not.’

Helen, who’d been with them for the past three years, sighed. ‘How did your father take it?’

‘Very well, really. I think he’d resigned himself.’

‘So now your only hope is Salingers?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Then you’ll just have to charm their Mr Calhoun.’

‘I didn’t manage to charm the bank manager,’ Perdita said wryly.

Helen grinned. ‘Perhaps you just weren’t his type.’

Once in her own office, Perdita disposed of her handbag and hung up her jacket before sitting down at her desk.

But, though she had a great deal of administrative work to get through, try as she might, she couldn’t concentrate. Jared was once again occupying her thoughts to the exclusion of all else.

She found herself rerunning the little scene outside the Arundel over and over again in her mind, wondering how it might have ended if the taxi hadn’t been there at just the right moment.

But it was, she told herself sternly, so she must avoid dwelling on other possibilities and try to dismiss all thoughts of Jared from her mind.

Only that was easier said than done.

His dark face and the memories it brought flooding back refused to be banished and by four-thirty she had achieved very little in the way of work.

She had just decided to give up and go home when the phone rang and Helen told her, ‘Mr Calhoun’s secretary would like to speak to you. She’s on the other line.’

‘Thanks.’

Fearing the worst, Perdita picked up the receiver and said, ‘Perdita Boyd speaking.’

A woman’s voice, sounding cool and efficient, responded, ‘Miss Boyd, I have a message for you. Unfortunately, Mr Calhoun has been forced to cancel your appointment.’

Knowing only too well how urgently they needed the lifeline Salingers had appeared to be holding out, Perdita’s heart sank like a stone.

Trying to keep her voice level, she asked, ‘Can you tell me the reason?’

‘Mr Calhoun needs to fly to the States tomorrow morning,’ the secretary told her crisply. ‘The only way he can find time to see you is if you can meet him at the airport and talk to him over breakfast.’

Unable to hide her eagerness, Perdita agreed, ‘Yes. Yes, I can do that.’

‘In that case, if you’ll give me your home address I’ll arrange for a car to pick you up at six-thirty tomorrow morning.’

Perdita gave her the address and thanked her before ringing off.

Feeling like a condemned woman who had been granted a last-minute reprieve, she phoned her father to tell him of the change of venue.

Then, having pulled on her jacket, she collected her bag and made her way through to the outer office, where Helen was just preparing to leave.

‘Problems?’ the other woman enquired, her face sympathetic.

‘Just a change of plan, thank the Lord.’

Perdita explained briefly what that change of plan involved, adding, ‘So it could have been worse. I only hope he’s not in too much of a hurry to really listen to me.’

‘Amen to that. Well, if you want to get off, I’ll lock up.’

‘Thanks. See you sometime tomorrow.’

The phone call had temporarily driven thoughts of Jared from the forefront of Perdita’s mind but, as she started to walk home, memories of the past came flooding back in a relentless tide.

She had been born in the States, but her American mother had died soon after and her distraught father had taken her back to England with him.

After she’d left school, in order that she should see something of the country of her birth, her father had taken her over to California for a prolonged visit.

Elmer, who owned a large house near Silicon Valley, had insisted that the pair of them stay there with himself and Martin.

Perdita had been in San Jose for only a matter of days when she and Jared had met at a party. She had fallen in love with him at first sight—love like a deep, fast-flowing river that she had plunged straight into without stopping to ask herself if she might drown.

Right from the start, it had been like sharing a self with him. They had completed each other, filled each other’s lives and hearts. She had thought of them as soulmates.

But in the end that whole concept of closeness, of belonging together, had proved to be just an illusion. A lie.

He was tall, dark and handsome—a hackneyed phrase but a true description—a charismatic man who had always attracted the opposite sex like buddleia attracted butterflies.

But, with eyes only for her, he had never seemed to notice them. Even so, in the early days of their relationship she had had to struggle hard to hide her jealousy when one of them had touched him or smiled at him.

When one day she had admitted as much, he had kissed her and said, ‘There’s no need to be jealous, my love. I’m a one woman man, and you’re that woman. There’ll never be anyone else for me.’

Wanting desperately to believe him, she had almost succeeded, until that awful night in Las Vegas and the nightmare that had followed.

She remembered his tight-lipped silence when her father—who was still recovering from his recent heart attack—had called him a swine and a heartless Casanova, and peremptorily ordered him out of the house in San Jose.

Remembered only too well how Elmer Judson and Martin, both big, heavily built men, had advanced on him threateningly when he had refused to leave without her.

But, even then, Jared hadn’t said what she had dreaded him saying, the one thing that would have shocked her father and stopped the other two men in their tracks.

Perhaps he had expected her to say it.

But she hadn’t.

And a melee had ensued.

Jared was young and fit and more than able to defend himself, she knew, but, with a bruised cheek and a split lip, he had never once hit back.

Even so, it had taken the combined efforts of both Elmer and Martin to throw him out, while she had stood like a statue, tears spilling out of her eyes, and watched, ignoring his repeated pleas of, ‘Come with me, Perdita.’

The final blow had been when her father had reneged on a promise to help finance Dangerfield Software through a crisis.

That last minute failure to honour an agreement that had been previously signed and settled had forced Jared into near bankruptcy.

Even then he hadn’t stopped trying to get her back. After weeks of unanswered letters and phone calls, he had appeared in the Silicon Valley offices of Judson Boyd and asked to speak to her in private.

Still raw and bleeding from his betrayal, and knowing only too well that there was nothing he could say that would alter things, she had shaken her head and asked him to leave.

Standing his ground, he had once again sworn he was innocent and accused her of refusing to listen to him, of lack of trust, of never really loving him.

The latter had brought stinging tears to her eyes. But, fighting against the surge of emotion, and flanked by her father and Martin, she had told him that he was wasting his time, that she never wanted to see him again.

When he would have argued further, he had been ‘escorted’ from the premises.

The last few bitter words they had exchanged had been over the phone.

When she had felt able to, she had rung him to repeat that everything was over between them, that she wanted to be free of him, and that she and her father were leaving the States for good.

It was then he had warned, ‘Don’t think I’m letting you go so easily. Sooner or later I’ll find you, wherever you are.’

Now, just thinking about it, made her shiver.

But, though it was still so vivid in her mind, it had been almost three years ago. Surely after this length of time he would have moved on?

In all probability he was married. When they had once talked about their future together, he had said he wanted children so he might even have started a family.

She could only hope that his life was now settled and stable, and that he had forgotten the past.

But suppose he hadn’t? Suppose he was here in London because of her? Suppose he had finally managed to track her down?

Becoming aware that her unhappy thoughts had gone full circle, she brought herself up short. It was high time she stopped thinking about Jared and started to concentrate on tomorrow, and what was bound to be the most important meeting of her life.

The next morning, after a virtually sleepless night when she had spent hours lying awake trying not to think about the past, Perdita was up at five-thirty.

Her head throbbed dully and she felt like death warmed up—an expression of her father’s that until that minute she hadn’t fully understood.

Glancing at herself in the bathroom mirror, she grimaced. Just when she had wanted to look her best and radiate an air of efficiency and confidence, she looked like something the cat had dragged in.

Oh, well, she would just have to see what ravages a spot of make-up could hide.

Showered and dressed in a smart charcoal-grey business suit, small chunky gold hoops in her neat lobes, her blonde hair taken up into a fashionable knot, she checked her appearance in the cheval glass in her bedroom.

Her skin was flawless, so normally she needed very little in the way of cosmetics. Now, just a light coat of foundation hid the slight shadows beneath her eyes, while a pale lip gloss and a hint of blusher bestowed a healthy glow.

Her brows and lashes were naturally darker than her hair and needed only a touch of mascara to define them even more.

After a critical survey could find no real fault with her appearance, she picked up her bag and headed for the stairs, just as Sally’s voice called, ‘The car’s here now.’

‘Coming.’

The housekeeper, who had insisted on getting up to see her off, was waiting in the hall. With a quick hug, she said, ‘I only hope everything goes well.’

Then, looking oddly flustered, she added, ‘I really do have your best interests at heart.’

Returning the hug, Perdita said, ‘Thanks. I’ll give you a ring and let you know how it goes.’

A little awkwardly, Sally told her, ‘I won’t be home. I promised I’d pop over and have breakfast with your dad. I thought it might help to take his mind off things. Or, at the very least, give him someone to talk to. I hope you don’t mind?’

Touched by her concern, Perdita said warmly, ‘Of course I don’t mind. On the contrary, it sounds like a great idea.’

Outside, it was another lovely sunny day, the air as cool and sparkling as champagne. At that time in the morning the square was still quiet and in the central gardens dew sparkled on the grass and the beds of early summer tulips.

A dark blue limousine was drawn up by the kerb with a uniformed chauffeur waiting to open the door. As she crossed the pavement, he said a cheerful, ‘Good morning, miss.’

Perdita returned his greeting and, trying not to feel like someone about to try and successfully negotiate a minefield, climbed in and fastened her seat belt.

Traffic was very heavy and the journey seemed to be taking so long that she began to worry about being late. If she missed this appointment, the consequences would be disastrous.

On tenterhooks, she breathed a cautious sigh of relief when they finally reached the airport environs and a few minutes later drew up in an area she didn’t immediately recognize.

A smartly dressed sandy-haired young man was waiting for them.

Before turning to lead the way into the terminal building, he greeted her with a smile and a courteous, ‘Good morning, Miss Boyd. My name’s Richard Dow and I work for Salingers.

‘I’m pleased you were able to make it in time,’ he went on as they crossed the VIP lounge. ‘The traffic seems to get worse.’

To her surprise, Perdita found herself escorted through heavy glass doors and out onto the tarmac apron where a private executive jet stood close by, its immaculate white and blue paintwork gleaming in the bright sunshine.

As though sensing her surprise, Richard Dow said, ‘Didn’t Mr Calhoun’s secretary mention that Salingers executives usually have breakfast on the plane?’

‘No. No, she didn’t…Not that it matters,’ Perdita added hastily. ‘It’s just that I was expecting…’ The words tailed off as they reached the plane and she was ushered up the steps.

A white-coated steward was waiting in the doorway to welcome her aboard. ‘Good morning, Miss Boyd. My name is Henry. If you’d like to follow me?’

Short and nimble, his black slicked-back hair gleaming, he led the way through to a small but luxuriously furnished lounge where a table was set for breakfast with damask linen, crystal glasses, a bottle of Krug on ice and a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice.

Pulling out a chair, he deftly settled her at the table. ‘If you would like a glass of champagne and orange juice while you’re waiting? Or a coffee, perhaps?’

Her head still aching and intent on keeping a clear brain, Perdita said, ‘A cup of coffee would be nice, thank you, Henry.’

Having assembled brown sugar and cream, the steward took a glass jug of coffee from a hotplate and filled her cup.

Then, indicating a nearby bell push, ‘If you require anything further, Miss Boyd, just ring for me.’

She thanked him and, silent-footed, he disappeared through a sliding door in the bulkhead.

Relaxing a little now that she was sure the meeting was going ahead, she sipped her coffee and surveyed the quiet luxury that surrounded her.

There were two soft leather armchairs, several bookcases, a comprehensive in-flight entertainment centre and a small leather-topped desk.

Salingers did their top men proud, she thought, taking in the sumptuous carpeting and the two striking paintings by Joshua Lorens that she recognized as originals rather than prints.

With this kind of money at their fingertips, they should have no trouble bailing out half a dozen struggling companies. So all she had to do was persuade them that buying into JB Electronics would be a good investment in the long run…

Deep in thought about the coming meeting, it was a moment or two before she realized that the plane was moving, taxiing slowly across the apron.

Perdita had half risen to ring for the steward before it occurred to her that the area was getting busy and the pilot was probably just moving up to accommodate another plane.

Sinking back into her seat, she picked up her cup and was about to take a sip when the bulkhead door slid aside and a well dressed man walked in. A tall, broad-shouldered, handsome man with crisp dark hair and silvery-grey eyes.

Every trace of colour draining from her face, leaving the blusher standing out like a circus clown’s make-up, she set down the cup with a clatter, splashing coffee into the saucer.

Staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless, she wondered wildly if all the strain of her father’s heart surgery and the company’s financial problems, coupled with the little scene outside the Arundel, had affected her brain and she was imagining the whole thing.

‘Hello, Perdita,’ he said softly.

Though she hadn’t heard him speak for three years, she would have known that deep, attractive voice anywhere. It could have called her from the grave.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked hoarsely.

‘Standing in for Sean Calhoun.’ Jared’s tone was neutral, almost pleasant, but his grey eyes were as cold as the Atlantic in winter. ‘So, if you want to save your father’s company, you’ll have to negotiate with me.’

Chapter Two

PERDITA jumped to her feet and, her heart racing, scarcely able to breathe, stammered, ‘I…I don’t understand. Do you mean you work for Salingers?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Then what is this?’ she demanded raggedly. ‘Some kind of joke?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘I don’t believe you. If you don’t work for Salingers—’

‘I don’t actually work for them, but you could say I’m here on their behalf,’ he broke in smoothly.

She shook her head. ‘No, no…Even if it means waiting, I’d prefer to deal with Mr Calhoun. I don’t want to talk to you.’

‘I’m afraid you have no option. As I said before, if you want to save your father’s company you’ll have to negotiate with me.’

Clutching her bag, she moved a step or two towards the door, desperate to escape. But, tall and dark and dangerous, he was effectively blocking her way.

Hearing the panic in her own voice, she said, ‘I want to leave.’

‘Giving up so easily?’ he taunted.

‘Not at all,’ she denied jerkily. ‘I’ll talk to Salingers. Explain to them. Ask to see someone else.’

‘I’m afraid it won’t be any use.’

‘Why won’t it?’

‘Because I own the company.’

‘You own Salingers?’ she said through dry lips.

‘That’s right.’ Smiling a little at her shocked face, he went on, ‘So I suggest you sit down again and we’ll talk over breakfast, as planned.’

Shaking her head, she insisted, ‘No, I want to go now. There’s absolutely no point in staying. I know perfectly well that you’ve no intention of helping.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’m quite sure we could come to some kind of agreement that would satisfy both of us.’

It was a trick, and she knew it.

‘No, I don’t trust you.’

‘You can’t afford not to,’ he pointed out laconically. ‘Without my help JB will go under, and you know it.’

It was the truth. But she couldn’t believe that he really intended to help.

There was a series of slight bumps, and part of her mind registered that the plane was still moving away from the terminal building.

Getting more anxious by the moment, she repeated hoarsely, ‘I want to leave.’

When he made no attempt to move, taking her courage by the scruff of the neck, she advanced towards him purposefully. ‘If you don’t let me pass, I’ll be forced to scream.’

‘Dear me,’ he said mildly. ‘We can’t have that. Though Henry may look a little like a gigolo, he’s really quite sensitive and easily upset.’

Knowing he was laughing at her, Perdita gritted her teeth. ‘I mean it.’

Without moving, he queried, ‘How is your father’s health these days?’

‘What?’

‘I understand he’s recently undergone delicate heart surgery. Can he afford any further stress?’

When, white to the lips, she merely stood and stared at him, he went on, ‘So suppose you take the sensible option and stay and talk to me?’

‘It wouldn’t do any good.’

‘Let’s have breakfast and see, shall we?’

While he was speaking there was a knock, the door slid aside and the steward put his head round. ‘Excuse me, sir, but the Captain asked me to let you know we have a slot and will be taking off in a minute or so.’

‘Thanks, Henry.’

As the man disappeared, Jared turned to Perdita. ‘It looks like breakfast will have to wait until we’re airborne.’

Airborne.

Her paralyzed brain clicking into gear, she tried to push past him. ‘I must leave before it takes off. I must!’ she cried frantically.

Catching her wrist, not hurting, but keeping her where she was, he said, ‘I’m afraid you’ve left it much too late.’

‘No, no, you have to let me get out! I can’t possibly go with you!’

‘Once again, you have no option. The outer door’s secured and we’re at the top of the runway. We need to be seated for take off.’

As she strove to come to terms with this latest development, Jared urged her into the small forward cabin, where the steward was already buckled into one of the jump seats.

Recognizing the futility of arguing, she submitted to being pressed into one of the seats. Then Jared fastened her belt and tightened it, before taking his place beside her.

A few moments later the plane began to move down the runway, gathering speed.

Take-off seemed quick and effortless and, as soon as they had climbed steeply to the required height and levelled out, the steward disappeared through a curtained doorway.

Perdita, who had sat like a statue, her thoughts in chaos, burst out, ‘I don’t know what you hope to achieve by this—’

Jared put a finger to her lips, stopping her breath and sending a shiver running through her. ‘I’ll tell you what I hope to achieve as soon as we’ve had breakfast, but in the meantime we don’t want to upset Henry.’

He unfastened their seat belts and shepherded her through to the lounge area.

‘I really don’t want to eat,’ she protested. ‘In the circumstances, I’d prefer to know just what you’re playing at.’

His voice holding a quiet authority, he said, ‘I’ll be happy to tell you, once breakfast is over.’

When, biting her lip, she was once again seated at the table, he stood for a moment or two looking down at her before taking the chair opposite.

He was dressed in oatmeal-coloured trousers and a well-cut lightweight jacket, with a navy-blue silk shirt and a matching tie loosened at the neck. His crisp dark hair was parted on the left and cut and styled conventionally.

But even as the thought struck her, she knew there was nothing remotely conventional about Jared.

Unable to look away, she found herself staring at his handsome face. He was the same, yet not the same. Any trace of the younger, carefree Jared she had first met was gone. This man was altogether harder, tougher, with a mature width of shoulder and lines of pain etched beside his mouth.

Meeting those brilliant eyes and glimpsing a cold purpose in them, she shuddered and tore her gaze away just as the steward wheeled in a breakfast trolley loaded with several silver dishes.

He was about to serve them when Jared said briskly, ‘Thank you, Henry. We’ll help ourselves. But perhaps you’d be good enough to fetch Miss Boyd a clean cup and saucer?’

‘Certainly, sir.’ The dirty crockery was whisked away and immediately replaced by fresh. Then, with a slight inclination of his gleaming head, the steward withdrew silently.

‘Coffee?’ Jared enquired politely.

Subduing a sudden desire to laugh hysterically, Perdita answered with equal politeness, ‘Please.’

He filled both their cups before lifting the lids of the various dishes and enquiring, ‘What’s it to be? Bacon and eggs? Sausages? Kidneys? Mushrooms?’

‘Nothing, thank you. I couldn’t eat a thing,’ she told him stiltedly.

‘Try. You’re too thin as it is.’ Looking at her set face, he added, ‘Starving yourself isn’t going to solve anything and, if I remember rightly, you used to enjoy bacon and eggs.’

She sat in tight-lipped silence while he served her with a generous amount of crisp bacon and fluffy scrambled eggs before helping himself to the same.

Then, his eyes fixed on her face, he waited.

His willpower proved to be stronger than hers—as it always had been—and finally she gave in and picked up her knife and fork.

He waited until she put the first forkful of food into her mouth before starting on his own.

Once Perdita began to eat, in spite of all the trauma, she found that her normal healthy appetite was back and she cleared her plate.

Jared made no comment, but he swapped the plate for a clean one and put the toast-rack within easy reach.

When she sat unmoving, he helped himself to some toast and spread butter and marmalade on it in a leisurely fashion.

Seeing he had no intention whatsoever of saying anything until he was good and ready, she threw in the towel and followed suit.

She had just taken her first bite when, with a glance from beneath long dark lashes, he remarked slyly, ‘The last time we had breakfast together like this, we were in Las Vegas.’

Her eyes on her plate, she kept chewing in silence.

‘But perhaps you don’t remember?’

She remembered only too well.

All her life Perdita had been cosseted and cared for, guarded as well as any chaperoned miss from the Edwardian era.

Naturally quiet and a little shy, and loving her father as much as he loved her, it had never occurred to her to feel caged and stifled by so much care and affection.

That was, not until she met Jared and wanted enough freedom to spread her wings.

At first everything had gone well. Her father had been prepared to both like and respect him until Martin had mentioned that Jared had a bad reputation with regard to women.

Suddenly waking up to the fact that his beloved daughter might be in danger, John had ordered her to give, ‘that young Dangerfield’ a wide berth.

She would certainly have rebelled but, as her father had recently suffered his first heart attack and his doctors had warned against worries or stress of any kind, she had, outwardly at least, complied.

For several months she and Jared had been forced to meet in secret, snatched moments together that had left both of them dissatisfied and bitterly unhappy.

He had begged her to marry him and present her father with a fait accompli, but she had been afraid to chance it while his recovery was still uncertain.

Then, while Elmer was away in New York, John had had to go into Mardale, a Los Angeles hospital, for a week of special and extensive tests.

Perdita had made up her mind that if the results were good and showed that her father was more or less recovered, she would tell him the truth.

When the time had come for John to go to Los Angeles, he had refused to let her accompany him, saying there was no point in her simply hanging around a hospital all that time. She would be much better off at home.

‘After all,’ he had added, ‘it’s not as if you’ll be on your own. Martin will be there.’

Truth to tell, she had been pleased to stay behind. It had given her a few precious days to be with Jared.

That sudden taste of freedom had gone to both their heads, and when he had suggested a trip to Las Vegas she had eagerly agreed.

All the tawdry glitter of that city in the desert had seemed to be right and romantic, and she had been blissfully happy to be with the man she loved, with no idea how it was all going to end…

Feeling suddenly chilled through and through, Perdita snapped off the thought and brought her mind back to the present.

What had made him mention Las Vegas? she wondered. She didn’t for a moment believe it was just an idle remark. Jared never did or said anything without a good reason.

Which meant it would only be playing into his hands to ask.

Holding on to her facade of composure as best she could, she ate her toast in silence while she waited for him to finish his coffee.

As soon as he had, she gathered her courage and said, ‘Now perhaps you’ll be kind enough to tell me what all this is about?’

‘All what?’ he asked innocently.

‘This…whole thing.’

‘You mean our meeting? But surely you—’

‘Don’t try to play games with me,’ she broke in angrily. ‘This must have been planned right from the start.’

‘That’s quite true,’ he admitted.

‘So it was you who made sure Salingers approached my father to suggest they might have a solution to all his company’s financial problems?’

‘Right.’

‘Why?’

‘Why do you think?’

‘You planned to wait until the very last minute and then withdraw your offer of help.’

‘Wrong.’

‘I don’t believe you…Your intention was to watch JB Electronics go down.’

‘Now why should I want to do that?’

‘Revenge.’

‘Ah…I can’t deny revenge is sweet.’

‘But after three years! Surely you’ve moved on? Forgotten the past?’

‘Have you?’

Watching all the colour drain from her face, he said, ‘It wouldn’t appear so.’

‘Even if things aren’t forgotten,’ she argued desperately, ‘surely they cease to hurt so much? Anger cools…’

‘I’m not so sure about that.’

Though his tone was quiet, almost pleasant, she began to shiver.

Seeing that slight betraying movement, he smiled a little. ‘Though I am sure of one thing. As the old saying goes, “Revenge is a dish best served cold”.’

‘So I was right,’ she choked. ‘You are planning to stand by and gloat while Dad’s company goes under?’

‘You’re quite mistaken.’

He sounded as if he meant it and, brought up short, she gazed at him, perplexed.

‘Then what are you planning? There has to be some reason for…’ The words tailed off as a frightening thought struck her.

‘For you being here?’ He smiled coldly. ‘Oh, yes, there’s a reason. More than one, in fact.’

With a boldness she was far from feeling, she demanded, ‘Well, are you going to tell me? Or would you prefer me to guess?’

‘What is your guess?’ he asked interestedly.

Her throat dry, she said, ‘That I was right about you wanting revenge…I just got the wrong person.’

When he made no attempt to deny it, she swallowed convulsively. ‘So this whole thing was set up just to lure me to the airport and on to the plane…Well, it can’t possibly work!’

‘It’s worked so far,’ he pointed out.

‘But it’s kidnapping! And, in case you haven’t realized, kidnapping is against the law.’

Her attempt at sarcasm only made him smile.

‘How can you call it kidnapping? You got on the plane of your own free will.’

‘But when I wanted to get off, you wouldn’t allow me to.’

‘My dear Perdita, surely you realize that people can’t just get off a plane and start wandering about on the runway.’

Realizing it was fruitless to keep arguing, she relapsed into silence.

If luring her here was so he could extract some kind of revenge—and he had failed to deny her accusation—how far did he mean to go? Was it his intention simply to scare her? Give her an uncomfortable couple of hours before letting her go?

Or could he have something altogether more sinister in mind?

No, surely not.

She had accused him of kidnapping without seriously believing it. All the indications were that he was now a wealthy and respectable businessman with a position to maintain. Not some kind of criminal.

But, whatever, it would do no good to let him see how rattled she was.

Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘Very well, you’ve won so far. But now what? If I don’t get back to the office soon they’ll wonder where I’ve got to, and if Dad doesn’t hear from me before too long he’ll start to worry.’

‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t phone him. And the office too, if it comes to that.’

‘You won’t try to stop me?’

‘Certainly not. After all,’ he added sardonically as she reached for her bag, ‘we can’t have your father worrying about you.’

His words echoing in her head, she froze. What could she possibly tell her father that wouldn’t worry him half to death?

Watching her, well aware of her dilemma, Jared suggested, ‘Perhaps it would make more sense to talk business first? That way, if you can convince me that the company is worth saving, you’ll have something positive to report.’

Though she deeply mistrusted him and was convinced that any discussion would be futile, seeing nothing else for it, she agreed, ‘Very well.’

‘Before we start, it might be an idea to move to somewhere more comfortable.’

Rising to his feet, he pulled back her chair and seated her in one of the soft leather armchairs, before summoning the steward to clear away the remains of breakfast.

As soon as Henry had cleared the table and whisked away the trolley, Jared moved to join her.

Settling himself opposite, he stretched his long legs negligently and, his eyes on her face, waited.

When she said nothing, he invited, a shade mockingly, ‘Go ahead.’

But the reasoned arguments and the facts to support them that she had previously rehearsed had fled and, faced with a mental block, she hesitated.

Apparently appreciating her difficulty, he suggested, ‘Why not pretend I’m Sean Calhoun and tell me why I should buy into JB Electronics?’

His words provided a key to the block. Taking a deep breath, she began by explaining what had caused the company’s present difficulties before going on to outline exactly what was needed to restore the balance and make them really profitable once more.

He listened without interrupting, his almond eyes fixed on her face. Extraordinary, handsome eyes, long-lashed and heavy-lidded, with jet-black pupils and silvery-grey irises.

Eyes that in the past had, depending on his mood, made her think of cold winter moonlight, or the dangerous gleam of rapiers, or the brilliance of summer lightning…

Dragging her recalcitrant thoughts back to the task in hand, she went on a shade unsteadily, ‘We have several excellent new projects in the pipeline which, once they’re properly funded, should be winners. In other words, the company is well worth saving.’

‘Eloquently put,’ he applauded. ‘But presumably your bank is unwilling to either provide a loan or extend your overdraft?’

Convinced that he already knew she’d tried and failed, and was relishing it, she said tightly, ‘That’s right.’

‘As JB Electronics is an Anglo-American concern, I take it that the present problems aren’t confined to the UK, but affect the company as a whole?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted with a sigh. Even Elmer’s big house in San Jose—the house that she and her father had stayed in when they were in the States—was very heavily mortgaged.

‘So, to get a rough idea of how things stand overall, how much does the company owe the banks?’

She told him.

‘And how much are you in debt to your suppliers?’

When she had told him that too, he asked, ‘What about your workforce?’

‘Up until now we’ve managed to pay them.’

‘How?’

Wondering exactly what he was getting at, she sat in tight-lipped silence.

When she failed to answer, he remarked smoothly, ‘I understand that your house in Mecklen Square is mortgaged up to the hilt?’

She had opened her mouth to deny it when the obvious truth of his statement hit her like a blow over the heart.

It explained so many things. Things John hadn’t wanted to discuss or had hedged over.

As she stared at Jared in horror, he said, ‘I see you didn’t know.’

Why on earth hadn’t her father told her? she wondered despairingly.

But even as she posed the question, she knew the answer. Only too aware that she had enough worries and unwilling to spoil her forthcoming wedding, he had deliberately kept it from her.

‘How remiss of your father to send you to negotiate without telling you the full facts,’ Jared remarked silkily. ‘It leaves you at a disadvantage.’

Angered by his obvious satisfaction, she demanded sharply, ‘How come you know so much?’

‘Past mistakes have convinced me that it’s preferable to negotiate from a position of strength, so I made it my business to find out.’

‘Well, bully for you,’ she said bitterly.

‘Now we come to the question of assets…’

It took a moment or two to gather herself before she admitted, ‘As no doubt you already know, at present we have no viable assets.’

‘Hmm…’ He ran long, lean fingers over his smooth, freshly shaven chin while he sat and studied her heart-shaped face in silence.

She was still as lovely as ever, he thought, with her pure bone structure and pale blonde hair, her flawless complexion and those fascinating eyes, the clear greeny-blue of turquoise.

But it was more than the high cheekbones, the wide passionate mouth and the cleft in her softly rounded chin that made her beautiful. It was the character in her face, the warmth and individuality.

As the silence lengthened, well aware that this was torture by hope, teeth clenched together, she waited, determined to show no sign of impatience.

Only when her nerves were stretched almost to breaking point did he stir himself and say briskly, ‘Right. If my auditors’ report agrees with what you’ve just told me, I’m prepared to buy into JB Electronics and provide as much money as it takes to put it back on its feet.’

She released the breath she had been unconsciously holding. It sounded like the answer to all their prayers, but Jared was an unlikely, not to say unbelievable, saviour and she recalled one of her father’s pet sayings. ‘If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.’

She took a deep steadying breath. ‘And, presumably, for that kind of outlay, you’d want to take over and run the entire company?’

‘No.’

‘Then what would you want?’

‘Fifty-one per cent of the shares.’

‘That would give you overall control.’

‘Nominally. Though I would be quite happy to leave the running of the company in your father’s hands.’

Given that kind of reassurance, had it been anyone other than Jared, she felt sure she could have agreed, with her father’s blessing.

After all, what choice did they have?

But, with all that had happened in the past, none of them would trust Jared an inch.

‘I could never agree to fifty-one per cent,’ she said through stiff lips.

‘So what would you agree to? Forty-five, fifty, if it proved to be really necessary?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But certainly not more.’

‘Pity. I could save JB. Make it profitable again. But of course it’s your choice.’

A choice between the rock and the whirlpool. A choice she couldn’t possibly make alone.

Her greeny-blue eyes clouded with worry, she said, ‘I’ll have to talk to my father.’

‘But you don’t think he’d trust me enough to agree to fifty one per cent?’

‘He’d be a fool if he did.’

Jared laughed as though genuinely amused. ‘Well, I’m pleased to see you haven’t lost all your spirit. It’ll make things more interesting.’

She was wondering what he meant by that cryptic remark when he reached over and took her hand. ‘In view of the fact that in the past you and I—’

The shock of his touch made her stomach clench and, pulling her hand free, she cried jerkily, ‘The past’s dead and done with.’

‘Now that’s where you’re wrong. What’s happened in the past makes us what we are today.’

The fact that she knew it to be true only served to make her distrust him even more.

‘But, as I was saying, taking into account that in the past you and I were lovers, I might be prepared to negotiate.’

Just for a split second hope flickered into life, then almost immediately died. Why should he negotiate when he so assuredly held the whip hand?

Showing he never missed a thing, he remarked with a slight smile, ‘You don’t appear to be overjoyed at the prospect.’

‘I don’t believe for a minute that you mean to budge,’ she said flatly.

‘You’ll never know for sure until you try.’

As she began to shake her head, he advised evenly, ‘In view of what the outcome might be if you refuse, perhaps you should take a minute to think about it.’

Reminded of the dread consequences, she bit her lip. Then admitting defeat, she said heavily, ‘I don’t have any option.’

‘Exactly.’

His voice holding the merest hint of triumph, he added, ‘As any negotiations are going to take time, I’ve a suggestion to make…’

Eyes on his face, she waited.

‘And it’s this, that you speak to your father and tell him that, though things are looking hopeful, there’s still a long way to go.

‘However, while the negotiations are under way, as a gesture of goodwill, Salingers will put in place a financial package that will pay wages, hold off your creditors and keep things ticking over.’

Had the offer been made by anyone other than Jared she would have regarded it as a lifeline, but, as it was, she strongly suspected that in reality it was a carefully baited trap.

She was even more convinced when, looking at her from beneath long thick lashes, he added, ‘It might be as well to keep my name out of it and let your father think that you’re dealing with Calhoun.’

‘But that would give him a totally false picture,’ she protested.

Jared lifted broad shoulders in a slight shrug. ‘It’s up to you, of course. If you think he can stand the additional stress and worry, tell him the truth by all means…’

As she reached for her phone, he added casually, ‘There’s just one more thing. Tell him that I have to be in the States for the next ten days or so, and that I’ve invited you to join me there while further discussions take place—’

‘I don’t know what you expect to gain by this,’ she burst out, ‘but if you think for one minute that I’d go anywhere with you, you’re mad!’

He sighed theatrically.

‘Oh, yes, I know,’ she cried, her voice bitter, ‘I don’t have much option.’

‘In view of the fact that we’re already over the Atlantic, you don’t have any option.’

As she bit her lip, he added, ‘Now, as time is flying, your father must be getting anxious to hear from you…’

He would be, she knew, and over the past weeks his hypertension and the amount of stress he was under had proved to be a big concern for his doctors.

But what was she to say to him?

A few seconds’ thought convinced her that it would be far too risky to tell him the truth. He was bound to find out sooner or later, of course. But for the moment at least, she would go along with Jared’s scenario, while she tried to put in place some kind of damage limitation.

Taking a deep breath, she strove to steady herself. Her father knew her well and, as the news she was about to give him would appear to be as good as anyone had dared hope, she mustn’t allow him to pick up any signs of distress.

As she brought up the number of the nursing home, Jared rose to his feet and, showing the kind of supreme confidence that made her grit her teeth, said, ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ and disappeared into the forward cabin.

At the first ring, her father’s voice asked eagerly, ‘Perdita?’

‘Yes.’

‘I was just starting to get worried. How are things going? Any hope of saving the company?’

Trying to sound positive, she said, ‘Yes, I think there might be.’

‘So what does Calhoun want?’

She hesitated, then went along with it. ‘He started off by asking for fifty-one per cent of the shares.’

‘Just as I thought,’ John said grimly.

‘But when I told him you wouldn’t agree to that, he said he might be willing to negotiate.’

‘The trouble is, negotiations like that could take weeks, and we just don’t have the money to keep going in the meantime.’

‘He’s offered us a way round the problem.’ Perdita explained about the immediate injection of cash.

She heard her father’s sigh of relief before he remarked, ‘In the circumstances, that’s extremely generous. I mean, Salingers must know they have us right where they want us.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘But of course it could well prove to be a two-edged sword, as it will effectively put us in debt to them.’

As soon as the words were spoken, she bit her lip, realizing just how worried and despondent she must have sounded.

‘Well, in the circumstances, we haven’t much choice,’ John said practically. ‘And I’m only too relieved and thankful that you’ve done so well. I always knew I could rely on you.’

When, pierced to the heart by such undeserved praise, she remained silent, he added, ‘Look at it this way; we’ve got a stay of execution while the negotiations take place, so there’s still a chance.’

Trying to sound cheerful, she agreed, ‘Of course.’

Chapter Three

‘SO WHERE are you now?’ John asked. ‘On your way back to the office?’

After a moment’s panic, Perdita lied, ‘No. I’m still at the airport.’

‘But Mr Calhoun’s gone, I imagine?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘I thought he was planning to leave early?’

‘Yes, he was, originally.’

Then, trying to sound calm and matter-of-fact, she went on, ‘But things have changed. You see he’s due to be in the States for the next ten days or so, which means the face-to-face negotiations he prefers would be held up…’

Her voice not quite as steady as she would have liked, she went on, ‘So he’s suggested that I go with him, as his guest.’

‘To New York, presumably?’

Though she didn’t know for sure, it seemed easier to answer, ‘Yes.’

‘And you’ve agreed, of course?’

‘Well, I…’

‘Don’t worry about the office,’ John said eagerly. ‘Apart from anything else, a few days in New York might prove to be a nice little break for you.

‘I understand Salingers have a couple of hospitality suites at their Fifth Avenue headquarters that are on a par with the Plaza.’

When she didn’t immediately answer, he repeated, ‘Don’t worry about this end. I’m quite sure Helen can hold the fort until Martin comes back. It’s much more important to get these negotiations over and done with successfully.

‘I presume Salingers have their own plane?’

‘Yes. I’ve just had breakfast on board their executive jet.’ It was such a relief to be able to speak the truth that she added, ‘And pretty luxurious it is, too.’

She heard her father’s chuckle before he remarked, ‘Well, at least you’ll be travelling in style.’

Then, as she hesitated, wondering just what to tell him, he queried, ‘I take it Salingers’ car will be running you back home to pick up your passport and some clothes?’

His words sent her into a spin. Of course! She would need a passport! Why hadn’t she thought of that straight away?

Because Jared’s presence, plus all the stress and worry, had effectively scattered her wits.

But why hadn’t Jared himself realized that she couldn’t land in the States without a passport?

She felt a little thrill of satisfaction and triumph. Whatever he’d been hoping to achieve, his plan had backfired.

‘Are you still there?’ John enquired.

‘Yes, yes, I’m still here.’

‘I was saying, I assume that Salingers’ car will be running you back home to pick up some clothes and your passport?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Then, afraid her father might suggest that she popped in to see him, she added hastily, ‘But I’ll be very pushed for time.’

‘I don’t doubt it. Well, have a safe journey, lass, and let me know when you get there.’

‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Take care of yourself.’

She ended the call, feeling oddly shaky. It had gone much better than she had dared hope. Though she dreaded to think what the future held, for the moment, at least, her father had sounded more relaxed than he’d been for some time.

She tried to hold on to that comforting thought.

A quick calculation told her that it should be early evening in Tokyo but, feeling very alone and vulnerable, she hesitated to phone Martin in case she weakened and poured out all her worries and fears.

After all, there was nothing he could do, so what was the point of upsetting him?

The same applied to Helen.

When the other woman answered the phone, Perdita steadied herself and reeled off a brief version of the same story she had told her father.

‘It sounds hopeful,’ Helen commented. ‘And, whatever you do, don’t worry about this end. I can cope. By the way, have you talked to Martin yet?’

‘I had so much on my mind last night, I forgot to recharge my phone,’ Perdita said, glad of an excuse, ‘so my battery’s low. Will you ring him for me and explain that I’m going to the States as Mr Calhoun’s guest? Tell him I’ll be in touch later.’

‘Of course. Well, the best of luck.’

‘Thanks. I may need it.’

Aware of how heartfelt that must have sounded, Perdita sighed and dropped the phone back into her shoulderbag.

Barely a moment later the door slid aside and Jared strode in, giving the impression he always gave of having abundant energy and vitality.

Just the sight of him jolted her, making her heart pick up speed and her breath catch in her throat.

‘You’ve spoken to your father?’ he enquired with the air of a polite host.

‘Yes.’

‘I do hope you managed to reassure him?’

The false concern grated and she said coldly, ‘Why should you care?’

‘Oddly enough, I would prefer not to have his death on my conscience.’

‘Then can I suggest that trying to kidnap his daughter is going the wrong way about it.’

‘I don’t know why you insist on referring to it as kidnapping. You’re simply accompanying me as my guest, albeit a somewhat unwilling one.’

‘Guests, even “somewhat unwilling ones”, usually have some clothes with them.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said airily. ‘From past experience I know what a beautiful body you have, and I much prefer you without clothes.’

Watching the hot colour pour into her cheeks, he added, ‘And there’s sure to be plenty of nice warm sunshine in California.’

‘California!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why California?’

‘Because I still live there.’

Just those five little words made her feel as though she were in a lift that had dropped too fast.

‘After a refuelling stop in Boston,’ he continued evenly, ‘we’ll be flying on to San Francisco…’

Then, seeing her dismay, ‘Where did you think we were going?’

‘I…I didn’t know for sure. I suppose I’d presumed it would be Salingers’ headquarters in New York.’

‘Is that what you told your father?’

‘It’s the conclusion he jumped to.’

Then, unable to keep the satisfaction out of her voice, she went on, ‘Not that it makes a great deal of difference. Wherever we’re heading for, I won’t be able to get off the plane.’

‘Really?’ he queried interestedly. ‘Why not?’

Triumphantly, she pointed out, ‘Because I can’t land in the States without my passport.’ Sweetly, she added, ‘And I’m afraid I don’t have it with me. Which leaves you with a bit of a problem.’

‘Not really.’

‘What do you mean, not really? What are you intending to do? Try and smuggle me in?’

‘My dear Perdita—’ there was mockery in his voice ‘—do credit me with a little sense.’

He felt in his jacket pocket. ‘Your passport.’

Looking at the document he was flourishing, she said, ‘I can’t deny it’s a passport, but it’s certainly not mine. Mine is at home in my bureau.’

‘That’s just where you’re wrong.’ He opened the pages to show her a picture of herself.

As she gazed at it in disbelief, he slipped it back into his pocket.

Finding her voice, she accused, ‘You’ve gone so far as to have a fake passport made!’

‘Not at all. It’s the genuine article.’

‘It can’t be!’

‘I assure you it is.’

As she struggled to take in the implications of that, he added, ‘And, in the hold, there’s a suitcase carefully packed with everything you should need for at least the next couple of weeks.’

Common sense insisted that it couldn’t be so, that he just had to be lying. Yet she knew he wasn’t. Somehow he’d managed to acquire both her passport and a case full of clothes.

But how?

Even if he’d known exactly where she lived and where to find her things, he could hardly have walked in and taken them himself. Someone must have helped him. It was the only explanation that made sense.

But who?

A moment’s thought convinced Perdita that there was only one person who could have helped him, and that was Sally.

Sally, whom they’d grown fond of. Sally who, instead of being merely a housekeeper, had become like part of the family.

No, no, she couldn’t believe that Sally would do such a thing!

But even as she tried to refute the charge, Perdita recalled that morning and how flustered the other woman had looked as she’d insisted, ‘I really do have your best interests at heart’.

Jared, who had been watching her expressive face, smiled. ‘I didn’t think it would take you too long to work it out.’

Gritting her teeth, she asked, ‘How on earth did you get Sally to do your dirty work for you?’

‘She doesn’t regard it in that light. She sincerely believes that what she did is for the best.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Then you should.’

Bogged down, unable to think straight, Perdita said helplessly, ‘I don’t understand how you managed it. How you got to know her…’

‘As luck would have it, we first met when she and her husband lived in California. When I discovered she was your housekeeper, I asked for her help.

‘Initially she refused, saying it would be quite wrong and disloyal. But, in the end, after I’d told her everything, she agreed. She thought that she was helping to put things right.’

‘What things?’

‘Past mistakes.’

Perdita let that go and attacked from another angle. ‘How did you know where we lived?’

‘As soon as I was on my feet again, I set about tracing you. It wasn’t easy, but eventually I discovered where you lived and also that your father’s business was in trouble.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.