Second Chance with the Millionaire(15)

           



       

Over lunch he told her a little more about his stepfather, explaining  that he was in his seventies and in rather poor health. 'My mother  adores him, although you'd never realise it. He has two daughters from  his first marriage and five grandchildren; my mother's always  complaining that it's time I produced some, too.'

'And your father,' Lucy pressed. Do you see much of him?'

'A little. He lives in Boston now. He married the daughter of a  newspaper magnate and he has a second family. Everything's very amicable  but in many ways I feel closer to Harry. After all, he was the one who  was there during the time I was growing up. He paid for me to go to  college and later on to qualify as an accountant-housed and fed me, gave  me a job. In fact he was far more of a father to me than my own ever  was-and made a better job of it, I suspect, when I see my two  half-brothers. My father's a workaholic. Always was and always will be.  That's what led to my parents' divorce in the first place.'

He went on to tell her about the old winery his parents had bought in  California and the lifestyle they lived there, and when he excused  himself after lunch, explaining that there were some phone calls he had  to make, if only to set his mother's mind at rest, Lucy made her way  back to the library feeling that she now knew far more about him.

At two o'clock he put his head round the door and announced that he had  some papers he wanted to catch the post and that he intended to drive  into Winchester to make sure they did.

'Mrs Isaacs is leaving us something cold for supper and I'll bring some  steaks back with me,' he told her, coming into the room to draw her up  into his arms and kiss her thoroughly.

'You know,' he muttered seconds later, sensually nuzzling the tender  skin of her throat, 'in view of the developments at home, I'm beginning  to wonder if a long, slow courtship's such a good idea after all …   particularly when there's nothing, but nothing, I'd like more right now  that to take you to bed.'

She couldn't control the quiver that ran through her and knew when he  laughed softly that he had felt it, too, and knew its origins.

'Very flattering,' he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. 'I'm almost tempted not to bother with the post.'

'Mrs Isaacs is still here,' Lucy pointed out demurely, but her eyes were  a deep sparkling brown, her skin flushed with colour, her body melting,  eager for all that he was promising.

'Later,' he growled mock-threateningly as he released her. 'Later I'll  make you sorry for that-when she isn't here to protect you.'

They kissed again lingeringly and then he was gone, leaving her to pick  up the remnants of her shattered control and try to work.

At three o'clock, long before she had expected Saul back, Lucy heard a car.

Curiosity drove her from her chair to the window, her mouth compressing  slightly as she saw Neville extricating himself from the driver's seat  of his sports car.

At thirty-one his face showed the manner of man he had become: greedy,  grasping and selfish in the way that only the weak could be. Lucy knew  that her uncle was bitterly disappointed in his son. Not so much in the  way he ran the business-Neville was an astute businessman although his  methods weren't those of his father; no, it was his inner moral code-or  lack of it-that most hurt her uncle. Sometimes Lucy felt that Neville  almost enjoyed hurting others.

He smiled as he saw her, the calculating ingratiating smile that told  her he must want something. Neville had wanted many somethings from her  over the years, but now she was immune to the shallow charm he turned on  so effortlessly, tolerating him only for the sake of her uncle.

He came in via the drawing-room french window and would have embraced her if Lucy hadn't adroitly avoided him.

'Our colonial cousin nowhere in evidence I see?'

The sarcastic twist to his lips as he referred to Saul infuriated Lucy  but caution urged her to hold her tongue. Neville had always been  remarkably clever about recognising weakness in others and then turning  it to his own advantage.

'Have you come down to see him?' She kept her voice carefully neutral, noting that Neville had left the french windows open.                       
       
           



       

'Sort of. But I wanted to have a chat with you first.'

Again that winning smile. Once she had made the mistake of aligning  herself with Neville against Saul, and she would never totally forgive  herself for that mistake, but she was careful not to allow any of her  distaste to show in her face, saying lightly instead, 'I'm flattered.'

'Oh no you're not,' Neville told her softly. 'You hate my guts.' He  smiled coldly at her stunned expression. 'Whatever else you might be  you're no actress, cos, but you do owe me a favour and I'm calling it  in.'

'A favour?'

'The recommendation to Bennett's that they read your manuscript,' he  reminded her mockingly. 'Surely you don't think anyone would have paid  it a blind bit of notice otherwise?'

What was he implying? Lucy looked at him suspiciously.

'OK, I'm sure the book's well enough written, but well written books are  a hundred a penny-you know that. Without my father's pull, it would  never have got past the first read-if it had made it that far.'

There was enough truth in his statement to make her hesitate to deny it.  There were hundreds of other writers far more skilled than she was  herself-she knew that, but she had been lucky enough to have an entrée  into the publishing world. Even so …

'What sort of favour Neville?' she demanded sharply.

'Nothing too painful,' he assured her, giving a soft, satisfied laugh as  she capitulated. 'Some business friends of mine are interested in  buying this place-at the right price of course.' He saw her expression  and laughed softly, 'Oh come on, Lucy, don't give me that look. All I  want you to do is to drop a word in old Patterson's ear that you've  heard of someone who's interested in buying the place. He thinks a lot  of you-he's always had a soft spot for you. As far as we know no one  else is interested in buying.'

'So why go about making your offer in such an underhand way?' Lucy asked hotly. 'Why not approach Saul openly and honestly?'

Neville laughed jeeringly. 'Oh come on-you know the answer to that. He'd never sell this place to us if he knew I was involved.

Lucy knew that Neville spoke the truth. On the surface his request  seemed perfectly feasible …  and yet …  'What is it exactly you want me to  do?' she asked him suspiciously.

'I just want you to have a word with old Patterson and find out if anyone else is interested and if so … '

'You said they weren't,' Lucy reminded him sharply, watching him shift  uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She didn't trust Neville; his  request, on the surface so reasonable, seemed to her to be just an  excuse, a front to hide his real purpose behind, but unless she played  along with him a little she would have absolutely no chance of  discovering what that purpose was. And she wanted to find out because  instinctively she knew it threatened Saul.

'Come on Lucy, you owe me a favour.'

Normally she would have reminded him that it had been his father who had  helped her to find a publisher, but now she kept silent, pretending to  consider for a few seconds.

'Well?'

'I'll do what I can,' she fibbed, smiling at him, 'but first of all I want to know exactly what's going on.'

He looked so satisfied that Lucy knew she had been right to distrust  him. Alarm leapt along her veins as she contemplated his gloating  expression.

'Well …  why not,' he agreed grinning at her. 'After all, you've got about  as much love for our wild colonial usurper as I have myself, haven't  you?

'There's a whisper in the City that the Government are planning to build  a new armaments place down here. I picked it up in my club from an old  school chum. They haven't fixed on a site as yet, but it's odds on that  it will be within a couple of miles or so of this place. There's a lot  of money going into it, and lots of top brass involved.

'All those people stuck down here are going to want somewhere to let off  steam and enjoy themselves, and that's where this place comes in. If we  could get it at the right price, we can turn it into a hotel-cum-sports  complex to outclass any in the country. We'd make a real killing,  especially if we can buy it off little ol' Saul for peanuts. And that's  where you come in, my love. A word from you to Patterson will almost  guarantee that we can get the place at a knock-down price, especially if  you told him that you were involved as a shareholder-which you could  be. If I know my uncle's solicitor he'll be thinking that you're getting  a pretty raw deal out of the estate.'