Mistletoe Seductions: A Mistletoe Proposal / Midnight Under the Mistletoe / Wedding Date with Mr Wrong. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘So you admit I look like a floozie?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ he said sharply. ‘Will you stop interrogating me as if I were a prisoner in the dock?’
‘Just demonstrating my legal skills which, according to you, are what you’re interested in. Tell the court, Mr Havering, exactly when did Miss Jenson first attract your attention? Was it when she was naked, or several hours earlier when you saw her in the graveyard? You saw her swapping jokes with a headstone and decided she was mad. Naked and mad! That’s a really impressive legal qualification.’
He took a long breath and replied in a slightly forced manner. ‘No, I too sometimes talk to the headstone when I visit my fa—Never mind that. I didn’t know we were going to meet. It was pure chance that your—that Miss Jenson’s car broke down, we got talking and she told me where she worked. That firm has handled legal work for me before and I was planning to approach them about Charlie. I saw that she would be the ideal person to take his case.’
‘You decided at that moment, knowing nothing about her legal skills? But of course those weren’t the skills that counted, were they? What mattered was the fact that she was a vulgar little piece—’
‘I never—’
‘A ditzy blonde with curves in the right places, who could be counted on to seduce your brother—’
‘I’m not asking you to—’
‘Oh, please, Mr Havering, credit the court with a little common sense. If you’d managed to set them on the road together, that is where it would have led eventually. At the very least, the question would have come up. You don’t deny that, do you?’
‘No, but—’ He stopped, seeing the pit that had opened at his feet.
‘But perhaps you were counting on this vulgar, unprincipled young woman to deal with him as effectively as you saw her deal with another man. A good right hook, a well-aimed knee—who needs legal training?’
She stopped, slightly breathless as though she’d been fighting. She couldn’t have explained the rising tide of anger that had made her turn on him so fiercely. He wasn’t the first client whose attitude had annoyed her, but with the others she’d always managed to control herself. Not this time. There was something in him that sent her temper into a spin.
‘I think we’ve said all we have to say,’ she informed him, beginning to gather her things. ‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to meet your requirements, but I’m a lawyer, not an escort girl.’
‘Please—’
‘Naturally, I shan’t be charging you for this consultation. Kindly let me pass.’
He had her trapped against the wall and could have barred her exit. Instead, he rose and stood aside. His face was unreadable but for the bleakness in his eyes. Despite her fury, she had a guilty feeling of having kicked someone who was down, but she suppressed it and stormed out.
Just around the corner was a small square with fountains, pigeons and wooden seats. She sat down, breathing out heavily and wondering at herself.
Fool! she told herself. You should just have laughed at him, taken the job, knocked some sense into the lad, then screwed every penny out of Havering. What came over you?
That was the question she couldn’t answer, and it troubled her.
Taking out her cellphone, she called David.
‘Hi, I’ve been hoping to hear from you,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Wait until you’ve heard my news. The phone’s been ringing off the hook with people wanting you and nobody but you. You made a big impression in court today, producing those figures like a magician taking a rabbit from the hat. Working for Roscoe Havering will do you even more good. Everyone knows he employs only the best.’
‘Tell me some more about him,’ Pippa said cautiously.
‘Hasn’t he told you about himself? ‘
‘Only that he’s a stockbroker. I—want to get him in perspective.’
‘He doesn’t boast about what a major player he is, that’s true. But in the financial world Roscoe Havering is a name that pulls people up short. They jump to do what he wants—well, I expect you’ve found that out already. What he doesn’t readily talk about is how he built that business up from collapse. It was his father’s firm, and when William Havering committed suicide it smashed Roscoe.’
‘Suicide?’
‘He didn’t tell you that?’
‘No, he just said his father had died and his mother never really recovered.’
‘There was a car crash. Officially, it was an accident, but in fact William killed himself because his life’s work was going bust. Roscoe worked for his father. He’d seen the financial mess they were in and tried to help, but there was little he could do. Secretly, I think he blames himself. He thinks if he’d done more he might have prevented the disaster—used his influence to pull William back from the brink. It’s nonsense, of course. He was only twenty-four, little more than a beginner. There was nothing he could have done.
‘After William’s death he managed to save the business and build it into a massive success, but it changed him, not really for the better. His ruthless side took over, but I suppose it had to. You won’t find him easy. What he wants, he wants, and he doesn’t take no for an answer.’
‘But do you realise what it is that he wants? ‘ Pippa demanded. ‘Am I supposed to seduce this boy, because you know what you can do with that idea.’
‘No, of course not,’ David said hurriedly, ‘but let’s be honest, you’ve had every man here yearning for you. You’ll know how to get this lad’s attention.’
‘I’m not sure—’
‘You haven’t turned him down?’ David sounded alarmed.
‘I’m thinking about it,’ Pippa said cautiously.
What are you talking about? raged her inner voice. Just tell him you’ve already said no.
‘Pippa, please do this, for the firm’s sake. Roscoe brings us a lot of work and, between you and me, he owns our office building. He’s not a man I want to offend.’
David was a good boss and a kind man. He’d taught her well, while keeping his yearning admiration for her beauty behind respectable barriers.
‘I’ll get back to you,’ she said.
She was thoughtful as she walked back to Cavelli’s, trying to reconcile the contradictions that danced in her mind. She’d perceived Roscoe Havering as an older man, certainly in his forties, but if David’s facts were correct he was only thirty-nine.
It was his demeanour that had misled her, she realised. Physically, he was still youngish, with dark brown hair that showed no hint of grey or thinning. His face was lean, not precisely handsome but intelligent and interesting. It might even have been charming but for a mysterious look of heaviness.
Heaviness. That was it. He seemed worn down by dead weights that he’d carried so long they were part of him. They aged him cruelly, but not permanently. Sometimes she’d surprised a gleam of humour in his eyes that hinted at another man, one it might be intriguing to know.
She quickened her steps, suddenly eager to talk to him again, wondering if he would still be there. He might have walked out. Or perhaps he was calling David to complain about her.
But as soon as she went in she saw him sitting where she’d left him, staring into space, seemingly full of silent sadness. Her heart was touched, despite her efforts to prevent it.
Control, warned her inner voice. Stay impartial. His outrageous request must be considered objectively.
How?