An Exception to His Rule(16)

                ‘Believe me, I’d rather not but—’

                ‘What do you mean—whether you realise it or not?’ Harriet broke in to ask with a frown.

                He shrugged. ‘I can’t work out why else I agreed to see you again.’

                Harriet linked her fingers together and told herself not to pursue this but some demon prompted her, rather than simply getting up and walking out, to say, ‘If you think I could ever work for you, you must be mad, Mr Wyatt.’

                Their gazes clashed.

                ‘The job is yours, Miss Livingstone,’ he replied deliberately. ‘You can move in the day after tomorrow—I’ll be gone then. I’m going overseas for some weeks, at least a month. Of course Isabel, who runs the house and the rest of it when I’m not here, will be in residence. So will Charlie, for a while anyway. Did Arthur get around to mentioning the remuneration package we thought was suitable?’

                Harriet blinked. ‘...Yes.’

                ‘You can add a twenty per cent commission on any items I decide to sell. Will that do?’

                ‘I...I...’ She hesitated.

                ‘Don’t go all dithery on me again, Harriet,’ he warned. ‘Finish your brandy,’ he ordered.

                She stared at him, deep hostility written into her expression. ‘No. I’ve got to drive.’

                ‘All right, but I need to know if you’re going to take it or not.’

                Harriet would have given the world to answer in the negative but if he was going to be away...and surely she could finish the job in a month if she worked day and night...?

                ‘I’ll take it,’ she said barely audibly.

                ‘Do you want to see the studio and the flat?’

                ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine.’

                He studied her narrowly with a glint of curiosity in his dark eyes. ‘I can’t work out if you’re a superior, head-in-the-clouds although accident-prone academic type or a rather exotic bundle of nerves.’

                Harriet took a breath and actually managed to smile. ‘If it’s any help, neither can I. Goodbye, Tottie,’ she added and patted the dog’s head.

                Damien Wyatt looked heavenwards as Tottie came as close as such a regal-looking dog could to actually simpering.

                At the same time, Harriet said, ‘Oh! I wonder where I put my glasses?’

                ‘Here,’ he remarked flatly, picking them up from the dining table and handing them to her. ‘I’ll see you out.’

                Harriet hesitated. ‘I’m sure I could see myself out.’

                ‘Not at all. After you.’

                So it was that Harriet preceded him out of the dining room and out of the house to the driveway. There was only one vehicle parked there: hers.

                Damien Wyatt took one look at it and swore. ‘You’re not still driving that damn tank, are you?’ he asked with furious incredulity.

                Harriet coloured slightly. ‘It just refuses to lie down. Anyway, it’s not mine, it’s Brett’s, my brother’s. It’s very good over rough and sandy terrain.’