‘In that case you and your stepsister must have different surnames.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Then what are you worrying about? Your name won’t ring a bell, and if you only met each other two or three times he’s hardly likely to remember you after seven years.’
‘But suppose he did?’
‘If by any faint chance he did, would it matter?’
‘Yes, it would… You see I—’
‘My dear girl,’ Paul interrupted peevishly, ‘do you seriously believe there’s a cat in hell’s chance of him recognising you after all this time…?’
The honest answer was no. She had been less than nothing to the young Zane Lorenson. Until Rona had turned that cruel spotlight on her, he hadn’t even been aware of her existence.
‘If you really think there might be a problem, for goodness’ sake find some way of altering your appearance; get some glasses or something.
‘But I’m quite certain you’re worrying over nothing. In the last seven years you must have altered a great deal.’
She had.
In those days she had been just a gawky adolescent, a late developer, painfully shy and gauche, and still with the remains of a northern accent.
Then, goaded by Rona, and hopelessly in love with a man she had only seen from afar, she had set about changing her image.
Only to be laughed at and ridiculed by her stepsister who, at twenty-three, had been beautiful and glamorous and worldly.
But that hadn’t been the worst…
She pushed the memory—still unbearably shameful and humiliating even after all these years—away and tried to concentrate on what she had become.
To all intents and purposes she was now a cool, self-possessed young woman with dark glossy hair, a clear skin, a good figure, a polished manner and no trace of an accent.
No, in all truth, Zane Lorenson was hardly likely to recognize her.
But remembering how he had looked at her the last time they’d met—his set lips, the cold fury in those green eyes—she still didn’t want to take the risk.
‘I don’t want to have to see him again. I’m afraid…’ About to say, I’m afraid of him, unwilling to have Paul laugh at her, she changed it to, ‘I’m afraid I don’t like him. I’d simply hate to have to work for him.’
Paul’s fair face darkened. ‘I think in the circumstances that’s a very selfish attitude. After all, it wouldn’t be for long. As soon as you’ve got the information I want, you can make some excuse and leave.’
Her grey eyes beseeching, she begged, ‘Please, Paul, don’t ask me to do this.’
Such a heartfelt plea ought to have melted stone. But his expression hard, unrelenting, he said, ‘It’s not as if it’s that much to ask, and you’d do it for my sake if you really loved me.’
As, hating that look of censure, the feeling that she was letting him down, she wavered, he pressed, ‘Of course if you don’t there’s not much point in our getting engaged.’
‘I do love you.’
‘Then prove it.’
Finally giving in to the pressure, she agreed unhappily. ‘Very well, I’ll try.’
Triumphantly, he drawled smugly, ‘That’s my girl. I always knew you wouldn’t let me down.
‘Now just one thing, no one else must know, so don’t say anything to that flatmate of yours. Simply tell her you’ve got another job.’
She looked across at him, still worried about the plan. ‘I might not get it.’
‘Of course you will. It’s practically a cert.’
As a reward for toeing the line, he had taken her out and bought her an engagement ring.
With his red-gold hair and Greek god looks, his bright blue eyes and long curly lashes, the boyish smile that added to his charm, most women he came into contact with were bowled over.
Gail had been no exception.
He had called one morning to see David Randall, her ex-boss, and after years of thinking she would never fall in love again, she had done just that.
A small, privately owned company, Randalls had been highly successful, coming up with some brilliant ideas that seemed set to revolutionize their particular branch of electronics.
They had been on the point of putting the new ideas into practice when David Randall had had a heart attack which had made him decide to sell out and retire at the early age of fifty-five.
The Manton Group, which Paul owned, had made an offer for the company, but it had been a derisory offer in David Randall’s opinion.
As the negotiations dragged on, Paul had become a frequent visitor, often stopping by Gail’s desk to have a chat. When one day he asked her to have dinner with him, she had been both flattered and flustered.
From then on he had taken her out a good deal and, though he had been both romantic and ardent, unlike her previous boyfriend, he had made no attempt to take her back to his place or get her into bed.
This restraint, as well as his good looks and his undeniable charm, had set him apart and deepened her feelings for him.
Finally the business deal had gone through and David Randall had left the company he had built up single-handed, satisfied that he had negotiated a fair deal for his employees.
But, as soon as Randalls was his, Paul had paid off staff and workers alike and closed the company down.
When, badly shaken, her liking and respect for Paul diminished, Gail had ventured to protest, he had answered that all the employees had received a generous cash settlement and most of them had been quite content.
‘But it isn’t what David intended,’ she insisted. ‘He spent a lifetime building up that company. He regarded his workers almost as family, and he wanted them all to keep their jobs—’
‘My dear girl, you ought to know by now that there’s no sentiment in business. Randalls was opposition we could well do without. A thorn in our side that had to be removed,’ he answered dismissively.
‘That wasn’t what you told David Randall,’ she said accusingly. ‘You gave him to understand that nothing much would change.’
Paul shrugged. ‘It was business, darling. He may have chosen to believe otherwise, but this was the best decision all round, I promise.’
Seeing she was still far from happy, and needing to keep her on his side for what he had in mind, he pulled her close
