style="font-size:15px;"> He sensed that she was about to object to this too, but something made her think better of it. Abby’s gently parted lips closed along a smooth line, and she nodded in acquiescence.
She was certainly the most intriguing woman he’d met in a very long time.
Two
The limousine wasn’t one of those silly stretch jobs the length of a bowling alley that teenagers chip in to hire for their proms. Lord Matthew Smythe’s car was all business. It seated only six passengers behind the driver’s privacy screen and was furnished with the essential tools of any corporate president—a cell phone, laptop computer with modem and faxing capability, and miniature television to catch late-breaking financial and political news. The CD player and modest wet bar were his only concessions to entertainment. He admitted they had come in handy when his sole guest happened to be an attractive woman in the mood to relax…with him.
The vehicle was black inside and out—a leather-lined cave that glided through the city or down an endless highway smoothly, silently. He liked it better than any of his houses, for it was simple, efficient, mobile and beautiful. Here, he could think and work without distractions, or just remove himself from the world.
Abby sat as far as possible to one end of the half-moon bench seat, staring out the window with determination. She looked very young and equally vulnerable. He sensed she was at least a little afraid of him—although why he had no idea. He tried not to pay too much attention to her long legs.
“You were very good tonight,” he murmured after they had driven awhile.
A timid smile twitched the corner of her lips. But she didn’t face him, yet. “Thank you.”
“I need a full-time hostess.”
Now she did turn. Her coffee-and-cream eyes were richer, darker in the dim interior of the car. “Are you offering me a job?”
“Yes.” His instincts where people were concerned were always on target. He knew she’d be good.
She looked more thoughtful than surprised. “What does the position entail?”
“Just what you did tonight. Orchestrate my guests’ entertainment and be on hand to greet them with me.”
She tilted her head to observe him critically. “That’s hardly full-time work.”
“You’ll be expected to travel with me to my other locations of business.”
“You have offices as well as houses in L.A., New York and Bermuda?” she asked.
“The villa on Bermuda isn’t really an office—though I’ve probably closed as many deals there as anywhere. My Japanese and German exporters particularly like it.”
Something unsettlingly perceptive twinkled from behind her lovely eyes. “And you expect me to quit my job and fly off with you to party—is that it?”
He tensed, ready to vehemently deny her assessment of his lifestyle. He didn’t party for a living; he had worked damn hard to get where he was. But he refused to let a glorified shop girl drag him into a debate over his business tactics.
“I expect a clever young woman like yourself,” he said slowly, “will choose the better of the two jobs.” If that didn’t satisfy her, she wasn’t as smart as he thought she might be.
She gave him a long look. Yes, he mused, the wheels behind those amazing eyes were turning fast and furiously.
“I gather from the little Paula told me, your hostesses don’t last very long.”
“They obviously haven’t been right for the job,” he countered.
“But I am?”
“I think so.”
She nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself. Matt had never liked being kept waiting. She made him feel painfully restless. He was tempted to shake an answer out of her, but restrained himself.
“And how do I know I won’t find myself out of work in a few weeks?” she asked at last.
“Think, Abby. What the bloody hell are you going to learn serving up cappuccinos to college students? I’m offering you a chance to connect with people who run some of the most prosperous and prestigious companies in the world.”
“I know that!” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “I just need to understand where I stand. And I would want a contract…for a year.”
“You have it,” he said.
She blinked, looking surprised that she’d immediately received what she had asked for. “And my duties will be limited and spelled out in it.” Although she sounded prim and proper, she failed to look the part with her long, silky legs angled across the limo’s black leather cushions.
“Your responsibilities will be catalogued in detail,” he agreed. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging the unofficial tasks she was so nervous about. He’d never played around with any of his employees.
But he couldn’t help it if his thoughts wandered delightfully in that direction now. Abby smelled wonderful. And that particular shade of red in her hair made him think twice about bothering with blondes and brunettes ever again. She was luminous.
“Because I am not going to sleep with you, Mr. Smythe.”
Well, there it is, he thought. Now he was going to have to pretend that he actually cared about her concerns. “I’m not interested in sleeping with you, Ms. Benton. I would never consider asking any woman for sexual favors in return for employment in my company,” he said carefully. The one thing any executive didn’t need these days was a sexual harassment lawsuit.
She nodded, apparently satisfied. Whether or not she fully believed him, he couldn’t tell. Whether or not he believed himself, he wasn’t sure either. Sleeping with Abigail Benton was becoming an increasingly interesting fantasy. The more she tiptoed around the subject, the more he thought about it.
“What will my salary be?” she asked.
He stopped himself from grinning in triumph. She was ready to talk business. How he loved winning a battle of wits with a worthy opponent. Selecting a pen and slip of paper from the caddy beside the cell phone, Matt wrote a figure.
She delicately plucked the paper from his hand but scrunched up her nose at it. “Do I have to cover my own travel expenses out of this?”
“Of course not.”
She sighed. “My wardrobe is quite limited. I don’t know if I can afford to dress the way you would want me to.”
Oh bother, he thought. He scribbled a higher figure on a second piece of paper, including a generous clothing allowance. She took this one, too.
Her eyes widened, but she sighed again. “I’m sorry. This is more than generous. But, to be honest, it’s not a matter of money. I just don’t feel this will be a secure position for me. More than anything, that’s what I need now.” She looked entreatingly across the car at him. “I want to save up and open my own
