ONE
‘I REALLY don’t feel like socialising, Jane.’ Penny made one last effort to get out of accompanying Jane to her firm’s dinner-dance as they got out of the taxi outside an exclusive London hotel.
‘Yes, you do.’ Jane grabbed Penny’s arm and almost frogmarched her into the impressive entrance foyer. ‘After the shock you have had today you need company. Relax, forget your worries and act your age for once, instead of like an old spinster.’
‘But I feel half naked in this dress.’ Jane had insisted on lending her the dress, when Penny had tried to use the excuse of having nothing with her to wear. ‘I never wear red,’ Penny wailed as they handed their wraps in to the cloakroom attendant.
‘You look great. Stop moaning and enjoy yourself.’
Solo Maffeiano walked out of the lounge bar and stilled, tension in every long line of his superb body. He looked and looked again at the lady in red. His grey eyes flared in shock: it was Penelope Haversham in person. But not a side of Miss Haversham he had ever seen before… which was hardly surprising as she had played the young innocent for him. It still rankled that she had managed to fool him.
But there was no mistaking the delicate profile. Her pale hair was swept up into an intricate twist on the top of her head. Her translucent skin. Though tonight there was a lot of bare skin, he thought with a cynical twist of his hard mouth. The slight coltishness of youth had gone and she had grown into a strikingly sensual woman. The shimmering red dress clung to her every curve; it was cut low at the front and even lower at the back. With her high, full breasts, a tiny waist and firmly rounded bottom, she had the perfect hourglass figure. Add shapely legs and the fact that she moved like a dream oozing sex appeal, and she became every red-blooded male’s fantasy female. Nothing like the demure bridesmaid in the photograph Solo had first noted.
But what was she doing in his hotel? Had she come looking for him? Perhaps she thought she could seduce him into doing what she wanted more easily in the intimate surroundings of his suite, rather than waiting until their official appointment tomorrow. The thought was seductive, and she was certainly dressed for the part.
Then he spotted her friend Jane and the direction they were heading. He realised it was pure coincidence after all as the two women were swept up in a crowd entering the ballroom, and he felt the sudden jolt of desire again.
Damn it to hell! She still had the same effect on him. Even though he knew her for the two-timing, scheming little bitch she was. Red was a very appropriate colour for her type. His grey eyes narrowed menacingly, the anger was buried deep, but it was still there…
For a moment he was tempted to follow Penny and make his presence felt, but cynically decided not to. It would be interesting to see which Penny would appear in his office tomorrow—the-butter-wouldn’t-melt-inher-mouth Penny, or the sexy lady-in-red Penny.
Four years later he still smarted from the blow to his pride Penelope Haversham had inflicted. Since the age of twelve, no woman had ever turned Solo Maffeiano down, and no woman had deceived him so thoroughly then dumped him. No other woman had even tried, only Penelope, and she had succeeded.
His memory of their brief, disastrous affair four years earlier still had the power to make his blood boil. It had not even been an affair, because being an idiot he had never taken her to bed. For the first time in his life he had decided to commit to one woman for life and got stamped on for his pains. This time would be different, he vowed with a chilling smile that never reached steel-grey eyes. He spun on his heel and re-entered the bar. He had not expected to see her here tonight, and he needed a drink.
Enjoy herself? If only she could, Penny thought, a prickling sensation bringing her out in goose-bumps. Convinced someone was watching her, she glanced swiftly around and felt a fool. Her nerves must be getting the better of her—it was only a dinner-dance. Get a grip, she told herself as they walked into the ballroom.
As for fun, there had been very little in Penny’s life recently. Her father and Veronica had been involved in a rail crash nine months ago. Veronica had died instantly, and her father two days later without ever regaining consciousness, and it had changed Penny’s life.
She had graduated from university last year with Jane. Jane had got a job in the legal department of a finance company, and rented a tiny two-bedroom terraced house in London. Penny had planned on joining her, having secured a job in the British Library, but the accident that had killed Julian and Veronica had also killed her plan to live in London.
Instead Penny had stayed at home to look after her brother James, and grieved, while still having to deal with all the details of two deaths and the ongoing accident investigation.
Today Penny had come up to London on business and to stay with Jane for two days. Jane’s family was looking after James.
In a buoyant mood, Penny had actually thought she was beginning to get over the worst of her grief and feel hope for the future. It had been a perfect May morning when she had set off for her meeting with her publishing house, and to her delight she had signed a contract for four more children’s books. The first was already at the printers’.
It had been James who had given her the idea. By the age of three he had already learnt to read simple books, and when Penny was at home he loved her telling him bedtime tales, that were often based on historical fact. She had looked for some early learning books on history and been unable to find any.
So she had written and illustrated one. James had loved it, and after her final exams were over last June, she had sent it to a publishing house. With the death of her father and Veronica, she had forgotten all about it, until she had received a letter saying they liked it and were going to publish it and suggested she wrote a whole series.
In the afternoon she had had an appointment with Mr Simpson, her father’s lawyer. Thinking the will had passed probate, she had walked into his office, happier than she had been in months, and hoping for more good news.
Mr Simpson had gone over the will again. He had informed her Mrs Brown’s pension was secure and there was a reasonable amount of cash divided between Penny and James equally, and in the event of Veronica’s death Penny would be James’s legal guardian. Penny had been aware of all this, and she’d already known Haversham Park was hers, because he had read the will out after the funeral.
‘Now we come to the hard part, so to speak,’ Mr Simpson said gruffly. ‘Your father was a lovely man, but paperwork was not his forte. Another document has come to light, perfectly legal and above board, but the actuality is you only inherit a half-share in Haversham Park. It seems your father sold the other half to a third party.’
The news came as a complete body-blow to Penny. She could not believe it. ‘What?’ she exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror. ‘A third party, I don’t believe it! Daddy would have told me.’ Someone else owned half her home! The thought was mind-boggling. What was she supposed to do—share her home, or split the house down the middle? She had the hysterical desire to laugh—the whole idea was ludicrous. But one look at Mr Simpson’s serious face and she knew he was not joking.
Penny paled as a premonition that worse was to come filled her mind. She had to ask the question, but her mouth was suddenly dry.
‘I don’t know why he didn’t,’ Mr Simpson continued. ‘But I have to tell you the inheritance tax on the value of your father’s estate is quite considerable.’ He mentioned a figure that had her mouth falling open in shock. ‘If you don’t sell your share of Haversham Park you can’t pay the inheritance tax and you will
