got no time for women who won’t let their children call them Mother—’
‘It’s nothing to do with you!’ Chrissy vented in an explosive response. ‘How dare you interfere—?’
‘I know exactly what I’m talking about.’ He was quite unrepentant. ‘She needs to know who you are.’
Chrissy bit down on her tongue. She was angry, but did it matter? After today, she was unlikely to see him again, and Rosie would soon forget. Since she couldn’t trust him with the truth, she would keep quiet.
He took them to a really fancy hotel where the head waiter treated them to an incredible amount of personal attention. As soon as Rosie was settled, Chrissy unleashed her impatience. ‘The job,’ she reminded him.
‘Live-in. Child not objected to. It’s a big house,’ he volunteered, lounging back in his chair to regard her with clear, cool eyes. ‘One permanent occupant, occasional guests.’
Her brow furrowed. This she had not expected. ‘A private house?’
He nodded.
‘Where?’
‘Your home stomping grounds.’
Chrissy tautened in dismay. That was equally unexpected. ‘How close?’
‘About five miles from Southfork.’
Chrissy reddened. Her father had christened his home The Towers. It hadn’t really matched up with the Spanish arches and the lamp-posts lining the drive. The locals had gone one better.
‘What’s the job?’ she asked anxiously, striving not to think of what it would be like to be working so close to her own home.
Blaze was tucking into an enormous fry-up with gusto. There was silence for several minutes. She could have screamed. He had her hanging on his every word. Finally, he let his knife and fork rest and lifted his coffee instead. ‘Cook...housekeeper...general maid of all work. I’ve got to be honest. The job description would have to be fairly elastic. If you can’t be flexible, it won’t suit you.’
‘Are you telling me that I’m likely to be worked to death?’
‘No. Other staff will be brought in if it’s necessary. Right now, there’s no need for them,’ he asserted. ‘The house is being extensively renovated. It’s in one hell of a mess and mostly unfurnished. The owner hasn’t moved in yet and you would be left to your own devices quite a lot. There is a phone, though, and the use of a car. So what do you think?’
‘Any idea of the salary?’
He came back with a very generous quote. ‘Not a lot, I know, but you wouldn’t have any bills to worry about.’
Chrissy grinned. ‘Are you kidding? I’d be in clover.’ And then she strove to suppress her excitement and be sensible. It was too good to be true. There had to be more drawbacks than he had mentioned. ‘Why am I getting a chance?’
‘Someone else backed out at the last minute. Took one look at the state of the house and said, ‘No way’,’ Blaze revealed.
‘I have no references—’
‘If you can cook worth a damn, you’re in,’ he assured her.
She bit her lip. ‘What’s he like...? The owner, I mean.’
Blaze lazed back in his seat with a reflective air. A satiric brow elevated. ‘He’s not likely to come creeping into your bed in the middle of the night, if that’s what you mean—’
‘Th-that thought hadn’t even occurred to me!’
He raked grimly amused eyes over her pink cheeks. ‘He does have a sex life, though.’
Chrissy studied her plate. ‘H-hardly anything to do with me.’
‘He likes a quiet life in every other way. Prefers horses to people, spends most of his time outdoors. He’s not fussy about his surroundings. You won’t be expected to polish the furniture to a mirror shine—’
‘If he gets married all that will change,’ she mused absently.
‘He’ll never get married,’ Blaze countered with a sardonic smile. ‘No reason to, every reason not to.’
‘How soon could I get an interview?’ Chrissy pressed.
‘You’ve just had it,’ Blaze told her carelessly, his attention switching to Rosie, who was striving hopelessly to stretch a short arm far enough from her high-chair to filch a mushroom off his plate.
‘Stop that, Rosie. You can’t have it,’ Chrissy admonished by rote. ‘Are you saying that I can have the job on your recommendation?’ she said, turning back to Blaze.
Rosie got her mushroom.
‘If you want it, it’s yours.’
‘He must be a very good friend.’ As bait, it failed, drawing no response. Sensing that Blaze was becoming bored with the subject, Chrissy asked, ‘How soon could I start?’
‘As soon as you can get yourself up there.’
Rosie was now casting languishing looks at the fried tomato.
Blaze surrendered and cast Chrissy a look of reproof. ‘You should have let me order her a proper meal. She’s starving!’
‘She just likes eating off other people’s plates.’ She watched him sipping his coffee, the cup cradled elegantly in one lean hand.
If this job panned out, she would probably see him again. Torbald Manor, his late grandfather’s home, would only be about ten miles away. Did he still live there? Her brow furrowed. She wasn’t very well up on the rules of aristocratic inheritance. The title, she was aware, had gone to his uncle, and even if Blaze had been next in line, it couldn’t have gone to him. His mother had never married his father.
‘He’s illegitimate!’ Elaine had gasped when she found out. ‘Would you believe it...? I mean, in a family like that!’
‘Are you finished?’ Blaze regarded her expectantly.
‘Yes.’ She pushed away her cup as though she had finished. She could feel his impatience.
‘I have to be in Brighton by noon.’
In the cab, he got a call on his mobile phone. Something about a horse-box and an accident. His language was choice. Chrissy wanted to cover Rosie’s ears. She sent him a dirty look but he was too intent on the call to notice. The cab dropped them off seconds before he completed the call.
Sending a fleeting glance at his watch, he breathed, ‘Transport...that’s a bit of a problem...’
‘Transport?’ she repeated uncertainly.
‘Can you catch the train to Reading?’
She nodded.
‘Right,
