told me you needed, Mr Treverne, and I want you to know that I have no problem with any of those things.’
‘You’ve worked for clients with similar requirements before?’
‘Yes. I recently worked for an actress recovering from a particularly bad bout of flu that had left her feeling extremely weak. I had to do many of the things you’ve mentioned for her too, until she could manage on her own again.’
The experience hadn’t been a particularly good one for Kit, because the woman in question was spoilt and disagreeable. She had run her ragged for the six long weeks she’d worked for her, taking every opportunity to let her know how much she was admired and envied by her fellow thespians in the theatrical world for her beauty and acting prowess—her tone suggesting that Kit should feel privileged that she’d hired her.
But Kit hadn’t felt resentful towards the woman, because she clearly hadn’t been able to see how very unattractive her vanity and superior manner actually made her. During all the time Kit had been with her she hadn’t had so much as one person call to see how she was doing. Kit had ended up feeling very sorry for her.
‘And, seeing as I need you to be available round the clock, you’re aware that this is a live-in position?’
Hal’s arresting voice broke into her reverie.
‘Most of the jobs with the agency are. Don’t worry—all your requirements were explained to me in detail, Mr Treverne. Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?’
‘Yes. How old are you?’
‘I’m twenty-six.’
‘And you don’t have a “significant other” who might express reservations about you living-in? Especially when the person you’ll be working for is male?’ If Hal had hoped to rattle her with his slightly mocking inflection, he’d failed. His outspoken interviewee gave no visible sign whatsoever that the question had perturbed her in any way. Instead, she remained unshakably composed.
‘I’m unattached, so there’s no one in my life to express any reservations. In any case I wouldn’t tolerate being in a relationship with someone who dictated what I could or couldn’t do, or minded that I lived in if it was part of my job...which it clearly is.’
The blunt confession piqued Hal’s curiosity even more. He found himself wondering what her story was. His sister Sam, who invariably liked to try and get to the root of someone’s make-up, would no doubt presume the woman’s outspoken and direct attitude had manifested itself as a result of her being bullied—either during her childhood or even in the recent past. Because of it, she’d probably made a mental decision not to let herself be intimidated by anyone ever again. He could almost hear Sam saying it. In Sam’s psychology practice she’d seen plenty of clients with similar stories. Except it wasn’t hard to guess that Ms Kit Blessington was no push-over... In Hal’s view, only a fool would presume otherwise.
The notion didn’t disturb him one jot. He’d rather have someone capable and strong-minded working for him than some shy wallflower who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. It took him aback to realise that in the space of a few short minutes he’d become inexplicably fascinated by the woman. Fascinated or not, he reminded himself, it was hardly a good idea for him to be interested in a prospective employee...albeit a temporary one. At any rate, it wasn’t a fascination that meant he was remotely attracted to her, he assured himself sternly. She might be unquestionably pretty, but she was no knock-out that he’d have trouble resisting should he hire her.
As if to remind him of the reason for them having this discussion at all, his leg started to throb like the blazes, and once again a wave of perspiration beaded his forehead. Should he or shouldn’t he give her a few days’ trial to see if she was suitable? God knew none of the other applicants he’d seen had been remotely suitable. Damn it, he needed someone capable and reliable to help him out as soon as possible or he’d be fit to be tied! His situation had already begun making him feel unbearably imprisoned, and for a man who was used to being so active—living life at ‘breakneck speed’, as his sister so often observed with concern—the experience was bordering on torture...
Giving the redhead a long, assessing glance, he said, ‘Follow me into the living room and we can talk about this some more.’ Hal’s tone rang with the innate command that came only too easily to him. Would his potential home help be able to handle an often belligerent and exacting male who made no apology for it?
‘You mean you want the interview to continue?’
‘Well, I’m not inviting you into my living room to get your opinion on the decor, Ms Blessington.’ Even as he uttered the droll reply Hal registered that it was the first time he’d seen so much as a flicker of doubt in the woman’s bright blue eyes—as if she’d momentarily feared her forthright manner might have talked her out of the job. As he turned away to steer the wheelchair further down the hall towards the living room he couldn’t help mentally storing the information in case he ever had occasion to draw upon it. In his profession he’d long ago learned the wisdom of knowing his advantages when it came to relationships—professional or otherwise. And neither was he above using them...
Following behind the wheelchair, Kit used the time to further examine the man tagged as ‘Lucky Henry’ in the music business. Apparently, according to people in the know, he had the enviable gift of discovering potentially lucrative talent and backing it financially, expanding that talent even more, and obviously making himself even richer and more successful in the process as the artists he sponsored made platinum sales on their records and became the ‘next big thing’ in the pop industry.
Even though she didn’t have the slightest desire to experience how the other half lived in that shallow, materialistic world—a world that in her opinion could only breed disappointment and unhappiness when an artist’s star began to wane and they were no longer ‘flavour of the month’—Kit couldn’t deny she had often been intrigued as to what happened to the budding stars who didn’t make it.
And, more than that, she was indisputably interested as to the motivation behind Henry Treverne’s decision to become an impresario in such a dog-eat-dog profession. Having been a temporary home help to many celebrity clients, she’d done her research and learned that ‘Lucky Henry’ came from landed gentry and had grown up with every possible material advantage. Was money and success the only thing that inspired him because he’d already experienced being raised with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth? Surely the man must be a more complex character than his public persona suggested?
Not only had he enjoyed every material advantage growing up, he was also blessed with an extraordinary physique and arresting good looks to boot. As Kit’s gaze settled on broad, athletic shoulders in a cream cashmere sweater and thick dark hair curling somewhat rebelliously over the neckline she couldn’t help wondering that if he should offer her the job, and if she accepted it, perhaps this time she really would be biting off more than she could chew. She might have deliberately given Henry Treverne the impression that she wasn’t particularly concerned about whether he gave her the job or not because she’d already lined up another interview in Edinburgh, but the truth was it did matter to Kit—because the agency was paying the highest possible rate for this position and, as well as looking good on her résumé, it would really help boost her savings—savings she was eager to add to so that she might at long last buy the little bolthole she’d always yearned for.
‘What’s Kit short for?’
The question was fired at her as they reached the living room. Not answering immediately, Kit glanced round to get her bearings. The first thing that hit her was the bold oil painting of a man scaling what
