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Mistletoe Seductions: A Mistletoe Proposal / Midnight Under the Mistletoe / Wedding Date with Mr Wrong. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.

Mistletoe Seductions: A Mistletoe Proposal / Midnight Under the Mistletoe / Wedding Date with Mr Wrong - Nicola Marsh


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to pace the room, muttering desperately. ‘All right, so I felt something. Not here—’ she laid a hand quickly over her heart ‘—no, not there, but—’ she looked down at her marvellous body ‘—just about everywhere else. Only for a moment. And he needn’t think I’m giving in to it. I’ve done with that stuff for ever. So that’s settled. Now I need to get some more sleep.’

       CHAPTER SIX

      WHEN Pippa finally awoke it was to the memory of the appointment at Roscoe’s office that morning.

      ‘Oh, no,’ she groaned. ‘I’m not going!’

      But she knew she was. The professional Miss Jenson didn’t tamely back off. She got out of bed, showered in cold water for maximum alertness and ate a hearty breakfast, calculated to enhance energy and efficiency. The fact that she was inwardly fuming was of no interest to anyone else. Certainly not Roscoe Havering.

      Now that the first hint of winter snow was in the air, she chose her attire for warmth: severe suit, long coat, flat shoes. With a face free of make-up and her hair scraped firmly back, she decided that she looked just right: a lawyer, not a fancy piece, whatever a man with no manners might think.

      She put in a hard morning’s work at her office, then David looked in for a quick word.

      ‘Off to see Roscoe? Good. You’ve probably learned all about him by now.’

      ‘The odd detail,’ she said, assiduously hunting for something inside her desk.

      ‘Then you’ll have heard that there’s nobody in the business with a higher reputation. His speciality is discretionary dealing.’

      Pippa knew that some brokers simply followed their clients’ instructions, but did not give advice. Others would give advice, but not make final decisions. Most demanding of all was discretionary dealing, where the broker ascertained the clients’ long-term objectives, and then had authority to make decisions without further consultation. Only the best and most trusted brokers could do this, and it came as no surprise to know that Roscoe Havering was one of them.

      ‘A lot of brokers came out of the recession looking bad,’ David told her. ‘Not him. If anything, his trade has doubled because clients have flocked to him, disillusioned with the others. Plus there are rumours of a link-up with the Vanlen Corporation that would make Havering one of the richest and most powerful men in the financial world.’

      Pippa mulled this over on the journey to Threadneedle Street, in the financial heart of London. Now the snow had properly started and, as she stepped out of the taxi, she pulled her coat tight, relieved that she would get her car back tomorrow.

      Roscoe’s office was located in a historic building, converted to modern day requirements. Dark deeds had occurred there centuries ago. Dead bodies had once been discovered in the cellar, one of which was a man known personally to the reigning monarch of the time. But only the building’s outside reflected the dramatic past. Inside, all was corporate efficiency, bland colours and straight lines.

       But I’ll bet there are still plenty of dark deeds, Pippa reflected as she hurried into the elevator. Just a different kind.

      She was curious to see how well Roscoe’s establishment reflected the man, and it was no surprise to discover that he was on the top floor, with a view down on the world. As expected, she found the atmosphere subdued, even slightly haughty.

      The receptionist showed her to a seat. ‘I’m afraid there’ll be a slight delay,’ she said. ‘Mr Vanlen just walked in without warning. He’s going to Los Angeles for some big international gathering, and he’s annoyed because Mr Havering won’t go too. But Mr Havering says those meetings are all talk and no substance, and he won’t budge. Vanlen did a quick detour on his way to the airport, so at least he can’t stay long.’ She made a wry face. ‘He never seems to think that other people might be busy.’

      ‘I know the type,’ Pippa said with feeling.

      From behind a door she could hear a voice raised in argument. ‘We can’t waste time. This is a big deal for both of us. When everything’s signed we’re going to be the kings, and you want that as much as I do. What’s that? The hell with keeping my voice down! Let them know that they’ve got to be afraid of you, that’s what I say. It’s where half the pleasure lies.’

      The secretary groaned. ‘You hear him. That’s how Vanlen thinks. Heaven help us all when that tie-up goes through. Mr Havering’s a tyrant now but when he—’

      She stopped as Vanlen’s voice was raised again. ‘I can’t believe you’re really not coming to Los Angeles. Surely that’s—?’

      ‘I’d better go in,’ the secretary said hastily. ‘Mr Havering is fed up with that subject.’

      She hurried over and knocked on Roscoe’s door, opening it just in time for Pippa to hear him saying harshly, ‘I’m not going and that’s final. I don’t have the time. Anyway, the conference starts tomorrow and I’d never change my mind at this late date.’

      Too right, she thought. Anyone who tried to divert Roscoe from the course that suited him was in for a nasty surprise.

      ‘Hey! It’s you!’ The delighted voice came from Charlie who’d just appeared, his eyes shining at the sight of her. ‘Thanks heavens you’re here!’ he exclaimed, coming to sit beside her. ‘This place is doing my head in!’

      ‘I gather great things are afoot,’ she said.

      ‘You mean Vanlen? Oh, yes! We’re going to be the greatest. No one will be able to touch us or compete with us, and then Roscoe will have everything he wants.’

      ‘Nobody has everything they want,’ she protested.

      ‘That depends what they actually do want,’ Charlie pointed out. ‘If you keep your wants down to very few, it would be quite easy.’

      ‘And what are his wants?’ she asked curiously.

      ‘Him up there, you down here saying, “I obey, I obey!”’

      He said the last words in a mechanical voice of such fine comical effect that she couldn’t help laughing.

      ‘You ought to have gone on the stage,’ she said.

      ‘Yes, I used to think that might be nice, to stand up there in the spotlight, with the audience in the palm of my hand, knowing they were hanging on my every word.’

      ‘Which means you’ve got a lot in common with Roscoe after all,’ she pointed out.

      ‘Yes, I suppose I do. But I want to make them laugh and love me. He wants to make them cower and fear him. And, like I said, when he’s teamed up with Vanlen, he’ll have everything he wants in the world.’

      She was temped to agree, but illogically her sense of justice came to Roscoe’s defence. ‘Aren’t you being a bit unfair? What about the “other Roscoe” you told me about at The Diamond—the nicer one, with feelings?’

      ‘You imagined that.’

      ‘No, I didn’t. I remember every word you said.’

      ‘All right, that Roscoe exists too, but only rarely. You’ll be dealing with the strong one, so never drop your guard.’

      ‘Careful, Charlie, I don’t think you know him as well as you think you do.’

      He eyed her shrewdly. ‘So he’s still exerting his charm over you, is he? He can do that, if he thinks it’s worth it. But beware the day when you’re no further use to him.’

      This was probably good advice, she realised. She was about to ask Charlie to tell her more but he’d already tossed the subject aside to concentrate on something that interested him more.

      ‘Wow! Get you!’ he said, his


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