worried Isobel took charge. By midmorning of the next day she left a message that she had found someone she thought would be perfect to take over her job. A wonderful young woman she had taken under her wing, with a background in fine food. Her parents owned and ran a prizewinning restaurant. Her protégée was a food writer with the up-market magazine, Cosima, sometimes she guested for other highly regarded magazines. She wasn’t a chef as such, but a darn good cook—she had helped Isobel with several important functions. Isobel could highly recommend her. The paragon whose name was Angelica De Campo, would ring Jake that very night. If he liked the sound of her, the deal could be stitched up. There was little time to lose.
Jake received all this information when he returned to the homestead at sundown. He started to relax as his worries began to fall off him. Isobel wouldn’t recommend anyone she didn’t have the utmost faith in. He was at his desk in the study looking over an industry report when Miss De Campo’s call came through.
“Mr. McCord?”
Her voice was so mellifluous, so much like honey, he actually slumped back in his leather chair, feeling a delicious lick of it on his tongue. “Miss De Campo. How good of you to call.” He on the other hand sounded quite sardonic. Sometimes, he thought ruefully, he even sounded like his father, which really bothered him.
“Isobel will have told you about me?” Honey Throat was asking. Hell, the effect on him was fantastic! He had to control the force of his exhalation.
“The only thing she omitted to do was send a picture. I’m sure, though, you’re most attractive.” God, he wanted her to be. That voice and good looks. A winning combination! And she could cook, and handle big functions anyplace, even the middle of the Outback. What a joy! He was stunned to think there were women like that out there. Maybe she also had huge dark eyes, and beautiful, womanly breasts. Of course, being a great cook there was more than a slight possibility she could be overweight and sensitive about it. He mustn’t place too much importance on a great voice.
“You can decide when you see me,” she laughed. “I hope I pass. That’s if you want me to take over from Isobel, Mr. McCord. You might like to ask me a few questions?”
“Indeed,” he answered, trying and succeeding in sounding the tough businessman. “My first. You’ve never handled functions of this size by yourself?”
“No, not as big, but that’s fine,” she returned with pleasing poise. “Size is no problem. I’ve had a lot of experience in catering to numbers. Isobel would have told you my parents are in the hospitality business. They run an excellent restaurant. I know all their sources, the top people to contact. I’ve done a lot of P.R. I’m currently working on a pre-Christmas party for Billie Reynolds, the millionaire stockbroker?”
She said it like it was a question and he nearly answered, “Bah!” Shades of his father again. “I do recognise the name.” Billie Reynolds fell into the serial-womanising category. Trying to count his ex-wives would be like trying to count sheep. “How do you think it will turn out?”
“Wonderful, even if I say so myself.” She sounded convinced. “Billie wouldn’t have hired me if I couldn’t deliver. He’s a perfectionist.”
“So you’re brilliant then?” he lightly mocked, positive she was.
“I work hard at what I do,” she told him modestly. “I’ve learned a great deal watching my parents and Isobel, of course. I admire her tremendously. She’s enormously successful. I was quite upset when I heard about Malcolm.”
“Then you’ll know his surgeon is speaking about a quick recovery.” She had obviously drawn herself into the family circle.
“Yes. Belle and I are constantly in touch.”
Well listen to that! Belle. “I gather you’re something of a protégée?” Another deadpan delivery. Just like his dear dad. What if this thing grew and grew? The thought was downright scary.
“Belle is very good at spotting talent.”
Was it possible she was having a go at him? He didn’t actually mind.
“I’m very flattered she recommended me,” she added.
“And I have to say I’m enormously relieved.” He whisked away the rest of his Scotch. “At this time of year I’m nearly running on empty. You realise how isolated the station is?” There would be plenty of opportunities for showing her around.
“Isobel has described everything,” she answered, totally unfazed. “As I understand it, you’ll be hosting the finals of the Marsdon Polo Cup with a luncheon followed by afternoon tea. Finishing up with a gala ball that evening. The following week, there’ll be a barbecue for all the staff and their families. And the Saturday before Christmas you’re hosting a large party for all your relatives and friends.” She sounded like she was ticking them off; she seemed a young woman of considerable competence who could handle things on her own.
Aside from Dinah, who didn’t have a voice like strawberry-flavoured brandy, he had never had such an experience.
“Do I have that right?” she asked.
“I should throw in it’s my birthday, as well.” That might faze her.
“Is it?”
He heard the smile in her voice, resolved to hold on to his cool. “No, but I’ve waited all my life to have one. A party, that is.”
A pause. “That sounds a little sad. But you’ve got plenty of time.”
“How could you know I’m twenty-eight?”
“Isobel must have mentioned it.”
“Then you also know I’m a bachelor?” It was perfectly clear they were flirting. Or at least he was. It amazed him. Proof positive he needed a woman clever enough to get under his skin. “My birthday’s in August by the way. I’m the definitive Leo.”
“That’s interesting. So am I. Shall I write a party down under Future Projects?”
He swung around in the swivel chair. “Well, you’d best work for me first, don’t you think?”
“Great idea! Say the word and I can start. You won’t find me a disappointment.”
“How expensive are you, Miss De Campo?” She told him. Wow! Pulling in money like that was something to brag about. On the other hand Isobel, even if she was his cousin, didn’t come cheap, either.
“Everything will be the best,” she explained. “That means expensive, but I say pay it every time. There’s no substitute for quality.”
“Sure,” he agreed laconically. “You must take your pay home in an armoured van.”
“No, but a security guard walks me to my car. Now, why don’t we discuss what you plan over Christmas?”
Why not? Maybe by August they’d be married. He let his sense of humour take over. If this woman had beautiful dark eyes he’d fall into her arms. He needed a really great love affair to free him up. It was so long since he’d had one. Hell, he’d never had one. They spoke back and forth for another ten minutes, both adopting a no-nonsense manner as they got down to detail. He asked many more questions of her, she gave all the right answers. Isobel
