Modern Romance October 2018 Books 5-8. Trish Morey

Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу Modern Romance October 2018 Books 5-8 - Trish Morey страница 28

Modern Romance October 2018 Books 5-8 - Trish Morey Mills & Boon Series Collections

Скачать книгу

detected the crispness in his voice and pictured him glancing at his watch, raring to get on with more important business. He was doing what he felt was the right thing, involving her in the final process, and what he said made sense. She had supported the protesters and it was only fair to them and to the community that she take an active part in deciding how the money should be distributed to best benefit everyone.

      She was overreacting because of the tumult of emotions that still coursed through her at the thought of him. It wasn’t like that for Art. He had taken a bit of time out with her but he was back where he belonged and she would be no more than a fast-fading memory for him. If she did what she wanted to do, namely launch into a thousand reasons why she had no intention of having anything further to do with a man who had deceived her, he wouldn’t understand. He had given her his reasons for having done what he had, he had come clean and frankly, as far as he was concerned, had elevated himself to the position of self-proclaimed saint because he could have just walked away, leaving her none the wiser. What was the big deal now? All water under the bridge.

      Playing it as cool as he was, she thought, was the only way to deal with the situation and maybe, just maybe, seeing him again and in a different environment would kill off the effect he continued to have on her, against all reason.

      He would be in his natural habitat. He would be surrounded by all those trappings of wealth that she had never had time for in the past. Plus, speed would be of the essence for him. He wanted the whole business sorted fast. A couple of days in his company might be just the thing for clearing her head because ever since he’d disappeared she’d done nothing but think of him and the longing, the anger, the disenchantment and the regret were wreaking havoc with her sleep and distracting her from her work.

      Bucked up by this process of reasoning, Rose felt a little calmer when she answered.

      ‘If you hold for a minute, I’ll check my schedule...’

      * * *

      Art held. For a minute, two minutes...when he looked at his watch with some impatience it was to find that she had kept him hanging on for five minutes. Inconceivable. He gritted his teeth and wondered what he would do if she turned him down flat, as she had every right to do. He could waffle on about the importance of both of them jointly putting the finishing touches to the deal that had been brokered to ease acceptance of the construction of his development, but any close inspection would reveal more holes in that argument than a colander.

      ‘Well?’ he pressed.

      ‘Okay.’

      ‘Okay?’ Art straightened, a slashing smile of intense satisfaction softening his lean face. ‘Good. Tell me when, exactly, you will be arriving and I will make sure that suitable accommodation is sorted for you.’

      ‘I can sort my own accommodation,’ Rose asserted hurriedly.

      ‘You’re not paying for a hotel.’

      ‘No way am I...’

      ‘I believe this is a favour it is within my remit to return,’ Art said flatly, cutting her off in mid-protest, ‘and, just in case you’re thinking of a speech about accepting favours from me, let me assure you that no money will leave my hands.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I own the hotel.’

      ‘Of course you do,’ Rose snapped. ‘I wonder why I’m not surprised at that. I did look you up online but the list of things you owned was so long that I fell asleep before I could get to the end. I didn’t get to the hotel.’

      ‘Chain.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘Hotel chain. A little sideline I invested in some years ago that has ended up exceeding all expectations.’

      ‘Good for you. I shudder to think what must have gone through your head when you were confronted with a paintbrush, a can of paint and four walls with peeling plaster.’

      Art burst out laughing. ‘It was an unforeseen challenge. Now, back to business. Do you require somewhere to work? And, before you say no, I’ll tell you again that it would be no trouble for me to have someone arrange an office for you.’

      ‘It would be helpful,’ Rose said through her no doubt gritted teeth. ‘With a bit of juggling, I shall try to arrange a couple of client visits while I’m in London. It would work if I could have somewhere to go with them. And, of course, at some point I’ll have to see Anton.’

      ‘Anton?’ Art’s ears pricked up and he frowned.

      ‘Anton Davies. He’s the lawyer who has been handling the formalities in Oxford. If there’s going to be a transition of duties then we’ll have to get together to discuss that and to work out his fee accordingly. Although...he’s not the sort to quibble.’

      Art heard the smile in her voice, the softening of her tone, and his hackles rose accordingly.

      But, he thought, if she was working under his roof, so to speak, then he could easily find his way to whatever space had been allocated to her and meet the guy.

      It was a taste of jealousy rarely experienced and he moved on from that to conclude the conversation.

      Less than five minutes later, everything had been sorted. It took one phone call to his PA for the hotel room to be arranged and a work space sorted.

      She was going to experience the joy of five-star luxury and the seclusion of an office in one of the most prestigious buildings in the city.

      He sat back and luxuriated in a feeling of pure satisfaction that was very far from the cool, forbidding and controlled exterior he showed the world.

      * * *

      Rose had no idea really what to expect of her time in London. She had been all cool logic and common sense ever since she had agreed to Art’s proposal but now, standing in front of the daunting glass tower where his headquarters was housed, her heart plummeted faster than a boulder dropped from a great height.

      At her side was her pull-along case, neatly packed with essentials. Work clothes. Prim, proper work clothes which were nothing like the relaxed, informal stuff she was accustomed to wearing in her own house. The image she wanted to project was one of inaccessible businesslike efficiency. There was no way she wanted him to think for a passing minute that she was the same woman who had hopped into bed with him, breathless and girly and excited.

      To that end, she had actually bought two reasonably priced grey skirts and a jacket, two white blouses and a pair of black pumps. The perfect wardrobe for a woman who was in London for business.

      She was wearing a sensible white bra which matched her sensible white knickers and bolstered her self-confidence as she continued to gaze at the aggressively thrusting glass facade with a racing heart.

      She had asked for a schedule and a schedule she had duly received. Arrival at ten. She would then be shown to her temporary working quarters and then taken to the hotel, where she would deposit her belongings. At that point she could choose to return to the office to work if she liked. In all events, she wouldn’t be seeing Art until early evening in his office, where they would briefly discuss some of the details of the projects that lay ahead for the village.

      She

Скачать книгу