Beaumont Brides Collection (13 page)

‘There couldn’t possibly be any other reason,’ he murmured, dragging his eyes from the distant horizon to look around at the tiny attic room with its awkward sloping ceiling that forced her to duck every time she stood up. They came to rest on the heavy cream sweater she was wearing over a brushed cotton shirt in a deep blue. The same colour blue as her eyes.

‘Do you feel the cold, Mr Devlin? I find it keeps me on my toes,’ she said, with an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Of course I usually meet important visitors in the comfort of the Green Room.’

‘Is that where you met Melanie?’

‘No, I saw her coming along the pier and went downstairs to meet her.’ It was a pity she hadn’t seen him coming. She could have diverted him there, perhaps improved his opinion of them. Maybe it wasn’t too late. ‘Perhaps you’d like to go down and see it? You appear to have some interest in my father and it’s lined with photographs of him in his more memorable roles. My mother too. She was Elaine French,’ she explained.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘And my sister of course.’

‘Ah, yes, the beautiful and talented Claudia. I can hardly wait to meet her.’

‘It’s a common condition.’

Devlin lifted one speaking, but silent, brow. It was a family joke that men caught a dose of Claudia as frequently as the common cold, but too late Fizz realised that to an outsider it would sound as if she were jealous. Oh, well. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

He looked away. ‘Did Melanie meet your father?’

‘I’m afraid not. He’s in London today.’

‘And Claudia is busy rehearsing for a chocolate commercial.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Wasn’t it in all the newspapers that The Chocolate Company was going for sex appeal in its first major advertising campaign?’

‘Was it?’ Not all of them. The PR people had done a pretty thorough job, but even they hadn’t managed to interest the financial papers. ‘You seem to have gone to a great deal of trouble to find out everything about us, Mr Devlin.’

His eyes dropped to meet hers. ‘I don’t know everything. Miss Felicity Beaumont, the only member of the famous family to shun the limelight, turns out to be something of a surprise. I’m particularly interested in -’

‘There is nothing the least bit surprising or interesting about me, Mr Devlin,’ Fizz said, abruptly, determined to interrupt him before he could tell her what he found interesting about Miss Felicity Beaumont. ‘I’m the practical one.’

‘The one who can add up a column of figures?’

‘That’s a bit below the belt,’ she protested. To discover that he was capable of teasing her was unsettling. To discover that she enjoyed it was far more disturbing.

‘Possibly. But I’d like to find out just how practical you are. Are you game?’

Fizz was almost lost for words at the unspeakable nerve of the man. But not quite. ‘What did you have in mind, Mr Devlin? I’m rather busy for games.’

Luke Devlin didn’t answer immediately, instead regarding her thoughtfully for so long that she began to heat up under his dark eyes, the warmth beginning as a small intense spot that swiftly spread through her body until the chill of the room was forgotten.

Then his gaze flicked back to the white flecked sea that swelled around the huge legs of the pier and she almost staggered with relief as the cold rushed back, sending a little shiver through her.

‘There’s no need to look so concerned, Miss Beaumont. It’s nothing too difficult. I’m not going to set you a maths problem. I want you to come and look at some houses with me.’

‘Houses?’ Fizz hadn’t known what to expect, except that his cool, assessing glance had suggested something far more demanding of her nerve. The sheer ordinariness of house-hunting was such an anti-climax that she was left feeling rather stupid. ‘Does that mean you’re planning to stay in Broomhill Bay?’ she asked.

‘You sound surprised. Or is it that you’re disappointed? Were you hoping that I’d be out of your hair in a week or two?’

‘That would be -’ A relief. It would be a relief if he just went away. She could cope with Melanie Brett, but she wasn’t at all sure she could handle Luke Devlin breathing down her neck day in, day out. She had barely stopped herself saying the word, but she could see from his expression that he knew exactly how she felt.

‘I’ll be around for a while, Miss Beaumont.’ He seemed to take pleasure in telling her that. ‘It seems my work in Broomhill Bay has hardly begun and hotels are very public places. I’ve decided to rent somewhere for a while.’

‘And what about Melanie?’ The words tripped over her tongue and had escaped before she could stop them, but he didn’t seem to notice her confusion. ‘Is she expected to stay in Broomhill as well?’

‘Melanie has no choice in the matter.’

Who would want one?

Her wits seemed to be wandering and she hauled them firmly back into line.

Melanie Brett might have the manners of a well behaved schoolgirl but she was clearly a full blown woman if she could keep a man like Luke Devlin in thrall.

‘In that case I’m sure she’d prefer to look at the houses herself.’

‘That was the plan, but on consideration Mel is hopelessly romantic. She would yearn for an English cottage with thatch and roses around the door -’

‘And you are not romantic?’

‘Like you, Miss Beaumont, my taste runs more on the lines of practicality. And efficient heating,’ he added, throwing another disparaging glance about her office. ‘Presenting Melanie with a
fait accompli
will avoid any possibility of the sulks.’

She dared to sulk?

‘But surely she should have some...’ Her voice petered out. It was obvious that Melanie’s taste, good, bad or indifferent did not interest him. Their relationship was undoubtedly on an altogether earthier plane.

‘Besides,’ he continued, as if she had not interrupted. ‘Thanks to you, Melanie is not available. She’s having a working lunch with Andy, which she will doubtless enjoy a very great deal more than an afternoon looking at houses, none of which are likely to live up to her expectations.’ He didn’t appear to be in the least concerned about that. ‘And being “the practical one”, you’ll make an excellent substitute.’

‘I’m afraid on this occasion you’ll have to excuse me, Mr Devlin.’ Fizz indicated her sandwich. ‘As you can see, I too, am having a working lunch.’

‘That’s not lunch,’ he said, regarding her sandwich with distaste. ‘And it has not escaped my notice, Miss Beaumont, that you are shivering. I think you should have something hot and nourishing to sustain you in this gulag of an office. I’ve booked a table at the Angel and as your reward for help in navigating me around Broomhill and offering your no doubt pithy views on the houses available, you are most welcome to join me.’

It was true. She was shivering, although not with the cold, but he mustn’t know that. Fizz forced a little smile to her lips.

‘I’ve been threatening to buy some thermal underwear,’ she began, ‘perhaps it’s time I did.’ His finger flew to her lips, cool against her skin, playing havoc with her self-possession, raising her pulse so that she could feel it ticking at her throat, inducing the low, shaming ache...

Was there such a thing as lust at first sight? She certainly didn’t find Luke Devlin in the least bit loveable.

Sure now of her undivided attention he smiled. ‘Shall we try lunch before you do anything that drastic?’ The touch of his fingertip against the fullness of her lips somehow made protest seem impossible. But the moment he released her she tried.

‘I’m really too busy, Mr Devlin -’

‘Luke,’ he said, taking her ancient fleece-lined leather flying jacket from behind the door. He held it out, inviting her to slip her arms into the sleeves. But she had had enough of dancing to his tune like an obliging puppet. She ignored the jacket.

‘No, Mr Devlin. I’ll see you on Friday, as we arranged.’

He arranged, she mentally corrected herself. She hadn’t had anything to do with it. For a moment, he remained quite still, the air between them taut as a tennis net. Then the door burst open.

‘Oh, sorry, Fizz. I didn’t know you had someone with you.’ Susie gave Luke Devlin a long, appreciative look, the kind of look that happily married women don’t feel the least need to hide. Immediately sensing an ally Luke Devlin smiled back.

It was a real smile this time, the whole works, with the little pouches beneath the eyes that couldn’t be faked. Permafrost began melting as far away as Siberia.

‘Luke Devlin,’ he said, offering his hand as he introduced himself. ‘I’m trying to persuade Miss Beaumont to spare me a couple of hours of her time. I’ve even offered to throw in lunch, but she says she’s too busy,’ he said, shamelessly encouraging Susie to rat on her employer.

Susie, her hand still held in his and always a sucker for a smile from a good looking man, duly ratted.

‘Nonsense,’ she said, before Fizz could stop her. ‘She could do with a good lunch and an afternoon off. She works too hard.’ She gave Fizz an outrageous wink as she leaned over her desk and put down the file containing the figures that Fizz had been waiting for. ‘Off you go. I can hold the fort here.’

‘I’ve an appointment at two-thirty,’ Fizz reminded her, pointedly.

‘I am perfectly capable of interviewing a cleaner,’ Susie said, treacherously.

Devlin held out the coat. ‘Please, Miss Beaumont.’ Humility did not suit him and she was not in the least bit convinced. She knew the “please” was purely to impress Susie. ‘A couple of hours of your time is not much to ask. You know the area and I would value your opinion.’ A moment ago he had been demanding her company. Now, Fizz thought, butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. But she knew when she was beaten.

‘Very well, Mr Devlin. But I must be back by four. I’ve promised Melanie afternoon tea.’

‘Luke,’ he invited.

‘Luke,’ she repeated his name obediently.

‘Thank you, Felicity.’

‘Oh, grief, don’t call her that,’ Susie warned him as he settled the sheepskin about her shoulders. ‘She hates it. Call her Fizz.’

‘Haven’t you got some filing to do, Susie?’ She glanced pointedly at the heap of papers in the filing basket with a layer of dust on them. She didn’t wait for Susie’s pained expression, but opened the door and swept through.

‘Do you really prefer to be called Fizz?’ Luke asked as he followed her down the steep flight of stairs that led from her office to the public areas.

‘If we’re going to spend the next two hours together Miss Beaumont would be tedious.’

‘Why Fizz?’

Fizz, bang. She wasn’t going to admit to that. ‘My sister couldn’t manage Felicity and it just stuck I suppose. Not without reason.

‘I see.’ He didn’t quite buy her explanation she could see and his look was thoughtful as he opened the huge glass door at the entrance for her.

‘Fizz!’ The receptionist waved her back, phone in hand. ‘Susie wants you.’

She hesitated, but it might just be a reprieve. ‘Will you excuse me just a moment?’

She walked back to the reception desk and took the telephone. ‘What is it, Susie?’

‘Look, I don’t really have to do this filing do I?’

She thought for a moment. ‘No, Susie. On second thoughts filing isn’t nearly punishment enough. I think I’m going to have to fire you instead.’

Susie chuckled. ‘I knew you fancied him. Have fun looking round other people’s houses. But do be careful in the bedrooms.’

Fun? She glanced across to where Luke Devlin was waiting. An afternoon in his company was not her idea of fun. Luke Devlin burned bright and strong and in his presence she felt horribly like a moth flying too close to the flame.

Then, furious at her own weakness Fizz fastened the zip of her flying jacket and tugged it up. What did it matter if she was singed a little, so long as Pavilion Radio was safe.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE day was bright, the very best kind of winter day, with a clear blue sky trailing thin, high, storm-teased clouds. The wind was whipping up white horses as the sea ran up to the beach and the pale sun gave just a hint of the promised warmth of spring.

The weather had brought out locals, well-wrapped against the wind to promenade the pier and the restaurant appeared to be doing a brisk trade in early lunches.

It was encouraging, an affirmation that she had made the right decision. Unfortunately success could not come quickly enough to stave off disaster if she refused to accept Luke Devlin’s sponsorship.

‘We could eat here,’ Fizz offered, pride pushing her to show him that she was not quite the commercial innocent he seemed to think her, to show him that she had made the right decision. Impress him.

‘You’d feel safer on home territory?’ He glanced down at her. ‘Why? Are you afraid to be alone with me?’

Impress him? Who was she kidding? He was treating her like a silly girl six feet out of her depth without a life-belt.

Afraid? Why wouldn’t she be? Anyone with a well-developed sense of self-preservation would be afraid of Luke Devlin. He was the shark in the water. And when a shark invited you to lunch he only laid one place at the table.