Beaumont Brides Collection (16 page)

‘Very picturesque,’ he agreed. ‘Even if it was on the small side.’

‘I meant the house.’

‘I suppose we could always go back and try it for size,’ he suggested, thoughtfully. ‘You’re about the same height as Melanie.’

Fizz turned quickly away and buried her head in her list to hide the slow-burn of anger that darkened her cheek-bones. The man had her at his mercy for heaven’s sake. He didn’t have to flirt with her as well, did he? Wasn’t possession of a prize like Melanie Brett enough to satisfy his ego?

‘There’s nothing else here that you will like,’ she said, stubbornly.

‘You can convince me over lunch.’ He climbed out of the car and opened the door for her.

Lunch.

Lunch would mean sitting opposite him with no possibility of escape for the next hour. And discussing the merits of four-poster beds did not seem to be a very sensible way of keeping her head.

‘A rather late lunch,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘I really should get back. I’ve a dozen things -’

‘Keeping me happy is your number one priority right now,’ he reminded her, taking her elbow and easing her out of the car. The top of her head barely came to his chin.

‘You’re not our sponsor yet,’ she said, addressing his tie.

He cupped her chin in the palm of his hand and tilted it until she was looking up into his eyes. ‘You’ve found someone else?’ he asked, the low, husky tone of his voice rippling through her, the intimate touch of his fingers scrambling the message systems that kept her body on an even keel.

‘When you’re being so generous, Luke Devlin?’ she offered, with a show of spirit she was far from feeling. ‘Why would I be looking?’

‘Why indeed? But you are. Not that you’re having much success. I don’t imagine anyone in Broomhill is eager to throw that kind of money about at the moment. They are all waiting for the announcement of redundancies at Harries.’

So, he had been checking up on her. She wondered how. Had he employed a private investigator? Tapped into her ‘phone line? Planted a spy in the radio station itself? She would give a good deal to know. She’d like to use the same techniques on him.

‘Will there be many?’ she asked. ‘Redundancies, I mean?’

‘I’m not going to tell you that, Fizz.’ He almost smiled. ‘And I’m sure you didn’t expect me to.’

Of course she didn’t. But if she didn’t ask... ‘News that Melanie is to join us will bring in the advertisers,’ she reminded him.

‘How much extra business did you manage to drum up for this afternoon?’

‘Nearly five minutes. I didn’t have a lot of time.’

‘Bank my cheque and you’ll have all the time you need.’

‘Hadn’t we better make it official, sign the agreement, first?’ she asked.

‘Friday at twelve. Of course if you don’t sign it, Melanie will not be joining you.’

‘Isn’t that her decision?’ she countered.

‘No.’

Not maybe. Not perhaps. No.

‘I see.’

‘I’m glad you do.’

Could he really be that ruthless? The answer was staring her in the face. There was no doubt about the determination in those dark eyes and a nervous tremor shot through her. But she made a fair stab at a careless shrug.

‘Why shouldn’t I sign? As far as I can tell I’m getting the best of the deal.’

‘Then that’s a very good reason to keep me happy, wouldn’t you say? And Friday will be a very good day for both of us.’

The provocative curve of his mouth was so close that for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. The knowledge that she wanted him to kiss her, that he would almost certainly be able to read the desire in her eyes, was as chilling as a winter dip in the sea and she stepped sharply back from the warm touch of his fingers, his thumb brushing against the down on her cheek.

Then as his brows rose slightly, she attempted a small laugh to cover her confusion.

After all, with Melanie Brett to warm his bed, the idea of him kissing her was surely quite ridiculous.

‘Lunch you said?’

He smiled slightly, as if satisfied with this evidence of her obedience and ushered her into the inn. The bar was low, beamed, ancient.

‘I really must bring Mel here,’ Luke said, as Fizz looked about her. ‘She can’t get enough of this old world stuff.’

‘I told you, she’d love Winterbourne Manor. It’s even got a rambling rose growing round the front door. In the summer you’ll be glad of its seclusion. And before you ask,’ she hurried on, ‘I don’t know the estate agent and I shan’t be asking for commission.’

‘Now you’ve got all that off your chest, what would you like to drink?’ he asked.

‘A tonic water, please.’

‘Nothing in it? You’re not driving.’

‘I’m working.’

‘Do you really find my company that difficult?’ He seemed to take it personally and she was glad, because personally she found him extremely difficult to be with.

‘I had the feeling that you wanted it to be,’ she said.

‘Then I really must make more of effort to put you at your ease,’ he returned, the softness of his voice not entirely cloaking an altogether darker undercurrent. ‘Especially since you’re spending so much of your valuable time helping me.’

‘I didn’t have a choice.’ The colour rocketed to her cheeks as she realised how far she had allowed her personal feelings to intrude into what was, after all, a purely business arrangement. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...’ She stopped. She didn’t know what she meant, but she knew that an apology would only make things worse. ‘The station doesn’t run itself, Luke. I should be there.’

‘Should you? But that’s your father’s responsibility, surely?’ Something about the way he said that made Fizz pause before denying it.

It was true that it was her father’s name on the franchise document. And Edward Beaumont had an office at the Winter Garden, far more opulent that her own little cubby-hole, from which he conducted his affairs with the help of a part-time secretary provided by the station in return for his appearances on “Holiday Bay”. It was an arrangement that suited them both very well.

To the outside world, to all but a few of the station staff who had been with them from the beginning, Pavilion Radio was the brain-child of Edward Beaumont. After all, who in their right mind would have considered giving the franchise to a nineteen-year-old girl who was trying very hard to build herself a new life, a new career from the ruins of her dreams?

‘Your father is the franchise holder?’ Luke persisted.

Fizz felt that it was important to him and she was suddenly afraid that if he knew the station was her baby, not that of the well-respected Edward Beaumont, he might not be so keen to prop it up.

‘My father?’ she repeated, staring into her glass.

Say yes, Fizz, her subconscious prompted her. Say it quickly.

It was nothing less than the truth, after all, but not the whole truth. She was the one who had seen the possibilities when her father had persuaded her to go along with him to the pier to see the renovation work, anything to get her out of the house and into the fresh air. To put some colour back into her pale cheeks.

The town had been buzzing with the news that they were going to have a local radio station and suddenly the Pavilion, run-down, deserted, seemed to Fizz to be the perfect place.

Seeing a spark of enthusiasm coming back to her face, Edward Beaumont had thankfully encouraged her, agreeing to lend his name to the scheme if she could raise the finance and prepare the bid. The finance had been the least of her problems.

She and Claudia had inherited her mother’s estate between them. Not so much for an actress who had been at the top of her profession for a long time. She had always been extravagant of course, spending a fortune on clothes and jewellery. And it had taken her nine expensive years to die after her accident. But it had been enough...

Fizz stiffened. The jewellery. Safe in the bank. Half of it hers.

Fizz realised that Luke was looking at her a little oddly, as if sensing her reluctance to confirm her father’s role. She hadn’t been happy that he had chosen this moment to push her out into the cold, hard world yet despite the problems she faced over the last few days there had been a growing reluctance in her to keep up the pretence.

It had been her hard work that had made the station such a success and when it came up for renewal she would be glad to openly take the reins into her own hands. Assuming she wasn’t swallowed up by some media monster first.

No, she wouldn’t allow that to happen. She would smile and sup with the devil first.

She raised her eyes to meet those of her particular devil.

‘Why are you asking me, Luke? You seem to know everything about us, I’m sure you know the answer to your question as well as I do.’

The lines of tension about his mouth visibly relaxed. ‘Not everything. Why, for instance, didn’t you join your illustrious family on the stage?’

Fizz blinked quickly. No one had asked her that for so long that she had forgotten how much it hurt. ‘I’m surprised you have to ask, Luke,’ she managed, on a breathy little laugh. ‘You were singularly unimpressed with my performance at your office.’

‘A little over the top,’ he conceded, ‘but full of passion. And you must have been tempted, after all you went to RADA.’

She felt a stir of unease at this further evidence of his interest in her family. RADA had been a very long time ago. But her shrug was convincing enough. ‘Everyone expected it. One of my father’s few regrets in life is that he didn’t have three daughters so we could play to his Lear.’

Luke Devlin’s head came up sharply, his eyes narrowing. Then he gave a little shrug. ‘An interesting idea,’ he said, dryly.

‘It wouldn’t have worked. The truth of the matter is that I was not cut out for the stage.’ He nodded and the fact that he accepted her word without question was a demonstration of how very good she could have been.

‘Shall we eat?’

‘Will they still serve us this late?’ she asked, glancing towards the almost empty dining room.

‘I telephoned our order through from the car while you were still slavering over the garden.’

‘I was not slavering,’ she objected. ‘I have never slavered in my life.’ She caught his eye and without warning a bubble of laughter escaped her lips. ‘Well, perhaps, just the teeniest little slaver.’ He had practically had to drag her away from an old herb garden she had spotted from the window and had gone in search of while he had taken a quick look through the ground floor. ‘But it wasn’t just the garden. The whole house was wonderful.’

‘It should be lived in by a family who will care for it, not rented out like some anonymous apartment.’

‘It must be very different from your home in Australia,’ she said, as he held a chair for her. ‘Overlooking Sydney Harbour isn’t it? All glass and steel?’ she added, remembering something she had read in Jim’s file.

‘You must have been reading some very old press cuttings,’ he said, with the barest shrug. ‘I sold that place four or five years ago.’

‘Old press cutting were all I could get my hands on,’ she informed him. They were both toying with the cutlery, avoiding the other’s eyes.

‘I prefer to conduct my personal drama on a private stage.’

‘Is that the reason you’re so anxious to leave the Metropole?’

He looked up then. ‘Melanie has a rather higher profile than I can comfortably live with,’ he agreed. ‘Hoards of teenage girls camping on the doorstep is not my idea of fun.’

She grinned. ‘It could be worse.’

‘I can’t think how.’

‘It could be hoards of teenage boys,’ she said, then caught her breath. It was hardly tactful to point out that Melanie was young enough for teenage boys to find her desirable. But since meeting Luke Devlin her tact quotient had was become dangerously depleted. He didn’t seem to notice however, but turned to smile at the waitress who had brought their food and Fizz had time to catch her breath while it was served. ‘This is wonderful,’ she said, tucking into a succulent slice of roast beef. It was infinitely safer than discussing his living arrangements.

‘You haven’t been here before?’

‘Not for ages. I don’t have too much time for eating out. The station takes every minute of the day.’

‘And night?’

She looked up, surprised by the deep query in his voice. Why would he be interested in her personal life? ‘We’re a twenty-four hour a day station, Luke,’ she reminded him.

‘That can’t leave much time for a personal life.’

‘Not a lot.’ And that suited her just fine.

‘It can be a mistake to get too involved in your work. You can lose your sense of perspective. What would you do if your father lost the franchise, for instance?’

‘Why should he lose it?’ she asked, sensitive to every nuance in his voice. ‘Do you know something we don’t?’

‘Probably quite a lot, but if you think I’m interested you can forget it. I’ve no use for a radio station.’

‘You’re using PR for something. What, I don’t know, but you’re not telling me everything.’

‘Whilst you, of course, are the soul of probity?’