where she was concerned. But, even so, she was not about to tell him an outright lie…
That would be reducing herself to the same level as the people who had already destroyed her father’s career once. And almost destroyed their family too.
Eight years ago her father had been a prominent member of the government, in such a strong position politically that he would probably have become the next leader of his party, and so, in time, the next Prime Minister. But it had all come tumbling down around his ears when one of his aides, a woman, had committed suicide.
Susan Stirling had been aged in her mid-thirties, unmarried, not even in a long-term relationship—and she had been four months pregnant at the time of her death!
The newspapers had gone wild over the story, making a big issue as to who the father of her unborn child could possibly have been. Chloe’s father had become the popular choice!
The scandal and speculation had rocked on for days, weeks—her father’s official, and private, denials of the affair meaning nothing to the press.
It had been a nightmare; all the family hounded wherever they had gone, and Chloe’s life at school had been made miserable as even she had been taunted with her father’s so-called indiscretions. But her parents’ marriage, thankfully, had survived the furore, her mother’s trust in her husband unshakeable. And neither Penny nor Chloe had ever doubted their father’s honesty for a moment.
But, finally, the Prime Minister of the time, with another election coming up some time during the following year, had been unwilling to let his government be shaken by such a public scandal, and had regretfully had to ask for her father’s resignation.
Her father’s place in his constituency had fared no better when the general election had taken place eight months later, her father losing his seat too as his opponent had used the unsolved scandal to his advantage.
Eight years her father had been in the political wilderness. Eight years!
And now, on the very eve of his attempt to restore his career, his campaign for re-election next year already underway, he was being threatened from a completely different source.
Whether he knew it or not, whether he cared or not, that source was Fergus McCloud!
And if it were humanly possible, Chloe intended stopping him!
CHAPTER THREE
‘CHLOE…?’ Fergus finally prompted when she hadn’t responded to the question he had asked her several moments ago. Surely it didn’t take this much thought to know whether or not she wanted to have dinner with him! After all, she had been the one to telephone him.
Which was something he wanted to discuss with her over the dinner he had just suggested they have together later this week…
‘I’m sorry, Fergus.’ She seemed to snap out of some sort of a daze. ‘What did you say?’
Maybe she was just tired, too? After all, she couldn’t have had much sleep last night, either!
‘I asked if you would like to have dinner with me on Friday evening?’ Much as Fergus would like to have seen her before then—if only to ask her several pertinent questions!—he had his mother staying in town for the rest of the week, plus he assumed that Chloe probably worked during the week, and the start of the weekend would be more convenient for her, too.
‘I would love to. Thank you,’ she accepted warmly. ‘Where shall we go?’
‘Bernardo’s?’ It was the fashionable restaurant of the moment, the place where anyone who was anyone went to be ‘seen’. While Fergus wasn’t particularly into such things himself, he thought Chloe was probably still young enough to be.
Not that he had any idea exactly how old she was, but she looked to be in her early twenties. A bit young for him really—but he obviously hadn’t seemed to mind that too much last night!
‘Could we make it somewhere less…showbiz?’ The grimace could be heard in her voice.
‘Chloe Fox, you just went up several notches in my estimation!’ he announced with satisfaction. ‘I hate all that posing too,’ he explained ruefully.
‘Then why suggest we go there?’ She sounded puzzled.
‘I thought you might like it,’ he answered honestly.
‘Thanks—but no, thanks. We could always go to Chef Simon,’ she suggested lightly.
‘No!’ came Fergus’s immediate vehement response.
Although he, Logan and Brice had always been close, Fergus preferred to keep the rest of his family very firmly at bay. His Aunt Meg had recently married Daniel Simon, the owner of Chef Simon, and yesterday Logan had married Daniel’s daughter, Darcy; the last thing Fergus wanted was to turn up at the restaurant with Chloe and find himself at the centre of family speculation about his own private life!
‘Okay,’ Chloe didn’t question the reason for his protest. ‘How about we go to Xander’s instead? It’s—’
‘I know where it is, Chloe,’ he interrupted, knowing exactly where the intimately exclusive restaurant was.
He just wasn’t absolutely sure he liked the way this young lady kept overriding him and taking charge of things! Domineering women were not his favourite thing. He had his mother as a prime example of how destructive they could be. His father had only been able to take it for ten years before walking out on them both!
‘Unless you have somewhere else quiet you would rather go?’ Chloe suggested, redeeming herself slightly in Fergus’s eyes.
But only slightly. Fergus accepted that she was the most exquisitely beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life, that they had spent the night together—obviously!—but that did not mean he altogether trusted her. She knew too much about him for him to feel confident enough to do that.
‘No, Xander’s is fine,’ he confirmed evenly. ‘I’ll book a table for eight-thirty, if that’s okay?’ He was determined to choose the time, if not the place!
‘Fine,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll see you on Friday.’
‘Er—Chloe?’ He stopped her as he sensed she was about to ring off. ‘It’s customary where I come from for a man to call and collect his date for the evening,’ he explained dryly.
‘I thought it might be better if we went in my car. Just in case,’ she added teasingly. ‘I actually don’t drink alcohol, you see.’
‘Neither do I, to excess. Normally,’ Fergus instantly defended; it was impossible to ignore the reference to his inebriated condition of last night, even if the remark had been made jokingly.
‘You explained you were depressed about your cousin’s wedding,’ Chloe sympathised.
Fergus wasn’t sure exactly what he had and hadn’t said, and done, last night. And it wasn’t a feeling he was comfortable with. He was usually so much in control, master of his own destiny, and all that.
‘That was the champagne talking,’ he dismissed harshly. ‘I’m
