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 is your wife, Don? I met her a couple of years ago at a party,’ Matt Hearne said in a soft, deliberate voice.
Don looked blank. ‘Did you? I wasn’t there?’
‘No,’ agreed Matt Hearne, his blue eyes drifting over to scan Bianca’s face in a way she resented. ‘You weren’t. Too busy elsewhere, I suppose?’
Bianca stiffened. Was she imagining the pointed tone? What was he hinting at?
‘It was a charity function,’ Matt murmured. ‘Your wife was involved in raising funds for Czech orphans. A very nice lady with a lovely smile.’
Yes, Bianca was sure he was needling Don, quite deliberately, and from Don’s sudden frown he knew it.
Surely there hadn’t been anything between Matt Hearne and Don’s wife?
The waiter returned with an ice bucket and two bottles of champagne. They all watched him set out champagne glasses. He opened one bottle, and filled the glasses.
‘To our closer understanding,’ Don said to Matt Hearne, raising his glass, smiling again, all warmth and friendliness.
Nothing would ever interfere between Don and the making of money. Until he had achieved his deal he could put aside desire, rage, personal hatreds—any and every emotion. He had tunnel vision to an extraordinary degree.
She wondered if Matt Hearne was the same. He had been intensely successful; he and Don must have a lot in common.
‘Oh, I already understand you, Don, don’t worry,’ Matt said, raising his glass, too, in Don’s direction, and again she heard the hidden note of mockery.
Don’s smile was tight, his teeth white and pointed. ‘Good, I’m glad you do. I must say, your company is a little jewel, Matt, and I won’t hide the fact that I want it. And what I want I always get.’
His eyes wandered on to touch Bianca, and she felt the insistence throbbing inside him, and tensed, her hands clenched at her sides.
Sometimes he was positively scary.
It was a difficult occasion from that moment. Oh, the men smiled a great deal, but the hidden weapons each carried showed more and more as the lunch progressed.
How well did they know one another? wondered Bianca, watching them both. Were they older acquaintances than Don had ever told her?
She became very curious but could pick up no real clues to whatever lay in the past.
TTO had bought up over a third of the Hearne stock, which would mean that they inevitably had a considerable impact on future policy and planning in the company. But they had not yet managed to acquire control. Matt Hearne held too many shares and would not sell. His sister controlled a number of shares, too. Rumour had it that she and her brother weren’t speaking. If they had seriously quarrelled and TTO could persuade her to sell they would get control.
The problem was, Ann Hearne had moved to the States a year ago and nobody seemed to know her address. Bianca had tried to find her and failed.
At present, they had a very good private detective over there looking for her. If they could find her in time, and persuade her to sell her shares to them, it would make the take-over much easier.
Watching Matt Hearne as they ate lunch—a game consommé under a pastry case, then turbot stuffed with a pink prawn mousse, and served with a selection of young fresh vegetables—Bianca wondered if his sister looked like him. If she had his colouring and grace Anne Hearne would undoubtedly be lovely.
As if feeling her eyes on his profile Matt turned his head as the waiter whipped their plates away. His blue eyes narrowed, gleamed. Something in that look made her flush and look away, her pulses quickening, which surprised her.
Don was watching them, a secret, satisfied smile curling his full mouth. She gave him an icy look. If he thought she would fall in with his plans for her and Matt Hearne he could think again.
The tense discussions resumed, with stubborn resistance from the Hearne camp. They were going to fight TTO all the way, Bianca realised, but then what had Don expected?
Over coffee and liqueurs Don suddenly said, ‘Clearly we need to have some more meetings. I’m going to Australia in a couple of days, but Bianca will be…’ A deliberate pause, then he added, ‘Available.’
Matt Hearne glanced at her, raising a brow, cool assessment in his eyes.
Biting her lip, she looked down. She couldn’t blame him for reading what he clearly did from the way Don had said that. What else was he to think?
Just what Don had meant him to think, in fact.
‘Who else will I be talking to?’ Matt drawled.
‘Oh, just Bianca,’ said Don softly. ‘The two of you can come to terms more agreeably than a whole bunch of guys fighting it out, don’t you agree?’
Burning with indignation, her eyes lowered because she couldn’t trust herself not to burst out in white-hot fury, which would probably destroy any hope of a deal, Bianca listened to Matt Hearne saying, ‘Then why don’t we start with dinner tomorrow night? If you’re free, Bianca?’
‘She’ll be delighted, won’t you, Bianca?’ Don didn’t let her speak for herself in case she made up some excuse. ‘What time and where?’
‘How about my flat?’ Matt Hearne drawled. ‘We can’t talk seriously in a restaurant—too many ears and eyes. We don’t want the media picking up on our talks. Eight o’clock?’
Don quickly said, ‘Eight o’clock, your flat—that’s in Chelsea, isn’t it? We have the address. Bianca will be there.’
‘I shall look forward to it,’ Matt Hearne said, and Bianca looked up then, meeting his amusement, hating him for the contempt and mockery in that gaze, dying to tell him to get lost but knowing Don would be furious if she did.
Don called for the bill and paid it with his credit card, then got up hastily. ‘Sorry, we have to rush now. Pressure of work, you know how it is! It’s been a pleasure, Matt.’
He took Bianca’s arm in a tight grip and pulled her out of her chair, propelled her away from the table.
‘How could you do that?’ she snapped as they walked back up into the foyer. ‘You practically offered me on a plate! What do you imagine he’s thinking?’
Don
