The Husband Assignment. Helen Bianchin

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The Husband Assignment - Helen Bianchin Mills & Boon Modern

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horn-blast shattered Stephanie’s introspection, and a slight frown creased her forehead as the car developed a faint bump. Seconds later she didn’t know whether to curse or cry as she pulled into the side of the road and brought the vehicle to a halt.

      Just what she needed. A puncture, when she hadn’t allowed herself a minute to spare. Dammit. She reached forward and popped the boot, then she slid out of her seat and prepared to change the tire. Left front, she determined as she removed the jack and set it in position.

      Stiletto heels and a figure-hugging dress didn’t make for ideal maneuvering. Nor did she relish wrestling with unfamiliar tools as she attempted to loosen stubborn wheel nuts.

      This was one occasion when she was more than willing to put feminine self-sufficiency to one side and welcome male assistance.

      Except no car stopped, and she battled with the task, completed the wheel change, replaced tools and then cleaned up as best she could with a packet of moist wipes and a box of tissues.

      A quick glance at her watch confirmed she was already ten minutes late, and she reached for her cell phone, extracted Raoul Lanier’s business card and keyed in the appropriate digits.

      He answered on the second ring, and she identified herself, offered an explanation, an apology, and ended the call before he had the opportunity to say a further word.

      Five minutes later Stephanie slid the car to a halt in the Sheraton Mirage hotel underground car park and took the lift to the main lobby.

      She saw Raoul at once, his height and breadth of shoulder emphasized by superb tailoring, his dark hair well-groomed.

      As she drew close he turned toward her, and he stood watching her approach with an unwavering scrutiny that made her want to check if there was a smudge on her nose or cheek, and wonder whether her hasty cleaning-up had removed every speck of grease and dust.

      Stephanie mentally squared her shoulders as she summoned forth a warm smile. She was practiced in the social graces, and adept at handling any situation. It was very rare for her to allow anything or anyone to ruffle her composure.

      All she had to do, she assured herself silently, was get through the next hour or two with her dignity intact.

      ‘Sandrine. Michel,’ she greeted with ease as she joined them. ‘Raoul,’ she acknowledged civilly. ‘I’m sorry about the delay.’

      Take control, a tiny voice prompted. ‘Shall we go in?’

      She didn’t miss the faint narrowing of his dark eyes, nor did she mistake the deceptive indolence apparent, and she ignored the slight shiver that feathered its way down her spine.

      Raoul Lanier was just a man whose wealth and power were enviable assets in the business arena. She had no interest in him on a personal level, she assured herself.

      Why, then, did she feel on edge and about as confident as a seven-year-old child, instead of the twenty-seven-year-old woman she was?

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE maître ’d led them to a table with a splendid view out over the pool and ocean. He seated them with reserved politeness, then summoned the drinks waiter.

      Stephanie perused the wine list with practiced ease. Her knowledge of Australian wines was comprehensive, and she conferred over a choice of red or white, sparkling or still.

      ‘What would you suggest?’ Raoul drawled, mildly amused by her determination to play hostess.

      ‘The hotel carries a selection by a multigold medal vintner. I can recommend their Chardonnay or the Pinot Noir.’

      Raoul ordered a bottle of each, and when the wine steward uncorked and presented the wine, Stephanie declined, opting for mineral water.

      ‘The need for a clear head?’

      ‘Of course,’ she returned coolly. ‘The evening’s purpose is focused on discussions about marketing strategies for the movie.’ She turned her attention to Michel. ‘I trust you’ve had an opportunity to examine the paperwork?’

      ‘Perhaps we could leave any business discussion until after we’ve ordered our starter and main?’ Raoul suggested imperturbably.

      Stephanie directed him a studied glance, and met his level gaze. ‘If you’d prefer, Mr. Lanier.’

      ‘Raoul,’ he insisted silkily.

      ‘Raoul,’ she conceded, imitating his slightly accented intonation. If he wanted to play a game of verbal thrust and parry, she’d prove she could be his equal.

      Her resolve deepened the color of her eyes and lent a slight tilt to her chin.

      It amused and intrigued him. Most…no, all, he mentally amended, women of his acquaintance tended to assume a mantle of coquetry, some subtle, others distinctly blatant, in his presence. Cynicism acquired at a young age had taught him that wealth and social status provided the attraction. Experience hadn’t changed his opinion.

      A waiter approached their table, conferred over the choice of starters, and at a request from Michel, provided a knowledgeable dissertation regarding the merits of each main dish on the menu before taking their order.

      Stephanie lifted her glass and sipped the contents. Despite the apparent social implications, this evening was business, and she intended to relay the pertinent aspects of marketing strategy, outline the precise course it would take for this particular film, then she would leave.

      If Raoul, Michel and Sandrine chose to linger or move on to the bar, that was their choice.

      She replaced her glass onto the table and directed her attention toward Michel. ‘I’ve already outlined the major facets of film marketing strategy in an appendix among the paperwork handed to you this afternoon,’ she began formally. She was aware of Raoul’s studied gaze, and chose to ignore it.

      ‘Briefly to recap, when the completed film is delivered to us from the studio, it receives a private viewing by several people, about thirty in all. Various meetings are held to discuss the target market, what age group the film will most appeal to, which segments should be selected for the trailer.’ It was an involved process, and one in which she excelled. ‘We need to determine which shots will appear in press releases to television and the media, overseas and locally.’

      Raoul noted the way her skin took on a glow beneath the muted lighting, the small gestures she used to emphasis a point. The liking for her job seemed genuine, and her enthusiasm didn’t appear to be contrived. Unless he was mistaken, this was no hard sell by a corporate executive intent on personal success at any price.

      ‘In order to heighten public awareness of the film, we’ll organize a fashion shoot with one or more of the prestige fashion magazines, and arrange coverage in at least two of the major national weekly magazines. As well as local and interstate newspapers.’

      The waiter approached the table and set down their selected starters, and almost on cue the wine steward appeared to top up their drinks.

      ‘It would be advantageous to utilize Sandrine’s modeling connections to the fullest extent,’ Stephanie continued as she reached for her cutlery. ‘We’ll also arrange for you to be

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