as the child of divorced parents she hated the very idea of breaking up a marriage. She had rarely seen his wife and did not really know her at all. He was obviously no family man. He rarely seemed to be at his country home. Bianca was far too discreet to comment, but she remembered her own childhood well enough to know how his long absences must upset his children.
She enjoyed her job running the department which was actively engaged in seeking companies which the company could acquire with advantage. Bianca had to have a sound knowledge of the market values, the sometimes hidden assets of a company, the future potential which they would also often hide from acquisitive eyes.
Don gave her the sort of responsibility and power she had always dreamt of but never dared hope she would achieve. Women were rarely allowed to climb to the very top in business. This was still largely a man’s world. She knew she owed her chance to develop her financial skills to Don and was grateful to him.
Oh, no doubt he assumed she would pay the price he set on her job, but he hadn’t, so far, turned nasty when she refused to give in to his blatant desire for her.
‘Frigid little cat,’ he said now, but grinned as he said it, because he didn’t believe she was anything of the kind and still hoped to get her one of these days.
He had watched from the sidelines as she got involved with Harry; calculating that her relationship with Harry would help push through the deal with Lord Mistell, who adored his only son. The relationship had broken up when Harry heard gossip about her being Don’s mistress. Bianca had tried to make Harry believe it was all a lie, but he wouldn’t listen. White-faced and angry he had walked out of her life that night and she had not set eyes on him since.
‘You’re a married man, Don, and I’m not breaking up your marriage.’
‘I’ve told you—ours has always been a free and easy marriage. I go my way, she goes hers! Sara’s life is very busy; she has the children, her home, her dogs, the charity committees she works for—there wouldn’t even be room for me if I lived there full time.’
Bianca grimaced, wondering how true that was, but answering coolly, ‘The way you run your marriage is your business, but I am not the free and easy type. I don’t go in for adultery, it’s too messy.’
He laughed shortly. ‘You’re too old-fashioned to be true! But Matt Hearne is a widower, remember, and as free as the birds.’
‘This is a business lunch! You don’t expect me to use sex to get Matt Hearne to sign over his business, I hope!’
‘Use whatever works,’ said Don, sounding highly amused. ‘How many times have I told you that there’s no place for morals in business? The bottom line is money. Nothing else counts.’
‘Don’t be so cynical!’
‘I’m rational, not cynical. If we can get hold of Hearne’s new technology we’ll be coining money soon. It’s essential we get Hearne himself, though. He’s a genius. None of our researchers can touch him. We want him as well as his company.’
‘Then you talk him into signing!’
Don changed tack. ‘You know, the man must be pretty lonely. Since his wife died he hasn’t been seen with anyone else, I gather. That must mean he’s in need of some good sex, so I want you to be nice to him. Very, very nice, Bianca. If you know what I mean—and of course you do!’ He laughed uproariously.
She gave him an icy stare. ‘You may think that’s funny, Don, but I don’t! I’m not sleeping with him just to get him to sign that contract!’ Anger made the hair stir on the back of her neck. ‘Sex may be your answer to everything, but it isn’t mine. I have too much self-respect.’
They turned into the Savoy Hotel courtyard and the limousine slowed to a stop in front of the swing doors. The uniformed commissionaire moved forward to open the passenger door for Bianca to descend, so she leashed in her temper again as she got out of the car. She couldn’t have a row with her boss in front of a fascinated audience.
‘You’ve got no sense of humour,’ he murmured, following her through the hotel’s swing doors. ‘Lighten up, sweetheart! And keep smiling. We want to get Hearne’s signature on that contract, remember!’
Matt Hearne and a couple of his executives had already arrived, they were told, and were waiting in the River Room bar, sitting right in front of one of the famous art nouveau mirrors, with their coloured urns of flowers reflecting the light of the great chandeliers in the centre of the room.
‘There’s Hearne,’ Don said, striding forward, past the white piano occupying the centre of the long, wide room.
Bianca kept pace with him, aware of three pairs of eyes fixed on her but looking past them, into the mirror behind them. Her reflection moved to meet her in flowing graceful strides: the smooth blonde hair, the oval face, and then the pinstriped jacket, open to reveal the sexy way her waistcoat fitted her high breasts and slender waist. Across the front of it swung a gold watch-chain, moving with every step her long legs took.
She looked calmer than she felt. Don had made her angry and agitated, she was breathing too quickly, her colour high.
The waiting men rose to greet them. ‘Good to see you again, Matt,’ Don said, holding out his hand to one of them.
‘Hi, Don,’ the other man drawled lightly and derisively. Don was not one of his favourite people, Bianca instantly picked up, but then he wouldn’t be, would he? Matt Hearne had founded his own company which Don was now trying to acquire. They were hardly going to be friends.
Don introduced her a second later. Matt Hearne’s hand swallowed her own. His skin was cool, his grip firm but brief.
Bianca had seen photos of him but they had not prepared her for his physical presence, nor for the instant awareness of him she felt.
He had… She hesitated for the right description, then settled for magnetism. Yes, that was what he had. It glimmered in those bright, blue, mocking eyes. This was a man with charisma as well as sharp intelligence.
This was a moment she always felt deeply—the first seconds of a duel, facing the opponent over their drawn swords.
Sometimes you knew you would easily win. It was going to be a push-over.
But not this man. He was no push-over.
He introduced his colleagues, who shook hands, staring at her in a way that was familiar but still irritating. Why couldn’t men treat a woman as if she was a human being first and a female second? Why did they always look like that, as if they were imagining you naked?
A faint flush deepened on her cheeks. Would they look at each other like that? Of course they wouldn’t.
The formalities over, they all sat down again and a waiter appeared.
‘What will you have to drink, Bianca?’ Don asked, playing the attentive host. He was paying for this meal, the three other men were TTO’s guests, which Don felt gave him the advantage, and he always looked for a chance to get the advantage when he was making a deal. Don was a bridge player, a man with a sharp, quick, clever mind but very little heart.
When Bianca hesitated, Don said, ‘How about champagne? Shall we all have some?’ He glanced at the waiter and nodded. The waiter vanished.
‘How
