pursed his lips. ‘And what did your boyfriend make of that?’
God, how he persisted! ‘I don’t have a boyfriend,’ she bit out coldly, so angry that she was starting to shake with the emotion, her eyes flashing, darkly grey.
Blond brows rose. ‘At the moment?’
‘Ever!’ she answered forcefully.
He eyed her disbelievingly. ‘You’ve never had a boyfriend?’
Just the one. Simon. But he had died. And she hadn’t allowed herself to love anyone since him.
Liam’s mouth twisted. ‘You seem to be taking a long time finding an answer to that question,’ he taunted.
She drew in a deep, steadying breath, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much he was disconcerting her. She had no intention of owning up to a boyfriend, because she had no intention of talking about Simon. Certainly not to this man.
‘Why is my personal life of interest to you, Liam?’ She used his first name deliberately now, the familiarity putting them back on an equal footing. ‘Our discussion is merely on a business level,’ she reminded him firmly.
He calmly met the challenge in her gaze. ‘I like to know all there is to know about the people I do business with,’ he returned softly.
Juliet felt the warmth in her cheeks. She didn’t like the idea of this man knowing all there was to know about her; she had lived her life very privately for the last seven years. The fact that she now had a larger-than-life business partner, whose name was synonymous with the exclusivity to be found at his hotels world-wide, couldn’t be allowed to change that.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Liam,’ she bit out tautly, ‘but I don’t actually have a private life to speak of.’
‘A career woman, hmm?’
The way Liam said it, it sounded like an insult! But that was exactly what she was. Oh, not in the way of hard-headed businesswomen who lived for nothing but succeeding and getting ahead, no matter who they had to step on or over to get there. But Carlyle Properties had become the main focus of her life, and in that sense she was a career woman.
‘Only as far as Carlyle Properties is concerned,’ she told him stiffly, made more and more uncomfortable by this conversation. She had wanted to meet William’s son only as a means of keeping the business going, wanted nothing more than a business partnership with him, had no interest in his personal life, and resented the fact that he should take any in hers.
The blue eyes glittered coldly. ‘It’s interesting that a young woman of twenty-seven, with no surface connection to the Carlyle family, should live in Carlyle House and inherit half the family business…’
It wasn’t ‘interesting’ at all. In fact, now that she had met this man, this whole thing was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth! But she owed William so much…
‘Perhaps,’ she conceded distantly. ‘But as your father’s personal assistant—’
‘And just how “personal” was that?’ Liam watched her across the table with narrowed eyes.
Juliet looked up at him sharply. ‘Just what are you implying, Mr Carlyle?’ she bit out tautly.
He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘My father was old enough to be your grandfather—’
‘Hardly, Liam,’ she cut in derisively.
‘He was sixty-five when he died, Juliet,’ he reminded her coldly. ‘More than old enough to be your grandfather.’
She had never thought of William in those terms, but, put like that, she supposed that in actual years William could have been her grandfather. But even so…
‘Why did you live with him, Juliet?’ Liam didn’t give her a chance to answer before attacking again. ‘Surely that isn’t normal in a business association?’
Under attack was exactly how she felt now. This man, for all his apparent lack of emotion about this situation, was obviously not so calm beneath the surface. ‘Your father and I were friends as much as anything else,’ she returned defensively.
‘Close friends?’
She didn’t just feel under attack now, she was under attack! No doubt about it. Liam’s eyes glittered dangerously, his mouth a thin, angry line.
She gave up any pretence of trying to eat a meal with him; they were both wasting their time even attempting it under these circumstances. ‘I suggest we meet at ten o’clock tomorrow morning in one of the conference-rooms here, Liam,’ she told him evenly, bending down to pick up her evening bag. ‘We can discuss anything you care to talk about then.’
His eyes were narrowed to ominous blue slits. ‘Anything?’
‘Within reason,’ she nodded.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think you’re in a position to dictate conditions, Juliet,’ he scorned.
Neither did she! But she had a feeling that if she showed this man an ounce of weakness he would use it to his advantage. And to have become as successful as he had over the last ten years he must have had to play by his own set of rules, otherwise he would never have survived in business, let alone have owned his world-wide string of hotel and leisure complexes! She was a mere beginner compared to this man.
‘Possibly not,’ she conceded, standing up smoothly, her lack of composure not showing by so much as a tremble of her hands as she held on to her evening bag—possibly because she was holding on to that bag so tightly, was gripping the black leather so hard, her hands couldn’t tremble! ‘But nevertheless I do not conduct business discussions over dinner. And this is a business discussion, Liam,’ she added firmly. ‘And tomorrow when we meet I will bring the necessary paperwork with me so that we can talk knowledgeably about Carlyle Properties.’
He gave her a look that said she could bring the paperwork but whether or not he chose to discuss its contents would be completely up to him!
Juliet was inwardly shaken by that look, but she managed to give him a cool nod before turning and walking from the dining-room, all the time conscious of that narrowed blue gaze following her progress across the room. She’d known it would.
She was still stunned by the realisation that he was Edward Carlyle. She could have had no inkling, no idea—God, she had had no idea! And he had been playing with her all day. No doubt he had enjoyed himself at her expense, but she just felt totally stunned by the whole encounter.
And no wonder meeting Liam had brought back such sharp memories of Simon—the two men had been brothers…!
Neither man had looked in the least like William, and Juliet realised that was because they had both taken after William’s blonde-haired, blue-eyed wife—the wife who had died after giving birth to Simon.
Juliet had been nineteen and working in the office of Carlyle Properties as a junior typist when she had met Simon, the twenty-five-year-old son of the owner. And the two of them had been attracted to each other from the start.
At the time Juliet hadn’t even
