British Bachelors: Delicious & Dangerous. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
what other people think. Okay, Ms Blessington, when can you start?’
He was going to give her a chance? Secretly elated, but careful not to show it, Kit strove for her usual composure. ‘Are you saying that you’d like to offer me the job, Mr Treverne?’
He immediately combed his fingers through his unruly dark hair and scowled. ‘Isn’t that why you’re here...because you want to work for me?’
‘Yes, I am. But—’
‘Firstly, don’t call me Mr Treverne. It’s far too formal. You can call me Hal. I’m sure you can guess that’s not an invitation I extend to many, but for the purpose of ease of communication I’m extending it to you, Kit. And, yes...I’m offering you the job and I’d like you to start tomorrow. My sister assures me that the agency you work for does indeed have a good reputation for employing reliable and competent people—people who know how to employ discretion and respect confidentiality. That’s especially important for businessmen in the public eye like me, as I’m sure you’re aware? And, by the way, there’s a confidentiality clause in the contract that I’ll need to get you to sign. I trust you’re okay with that?’
‘Of course.’
Emitting a relieved sigh, Hal nodded. ‘Then you can arrive tomorrow, just after breakfast. Depending on what kind of night I’ve had, I usually endeavour to have toast and coffee at around eight. There’s one more thing...I have an appointment at the hospital at ten. You’ll have to drive me.’ Looking thoughtful, he paused, narrowing his chameleon-like gaze. ‘I presume you’d like to accept the position?’
‘Yes...yes, I would.’ Rising to her feet, Kit walked towards him, her smile perhaps a little more cautious than usual. Henry Treverne was a commandingly attractive man and she wouldn’t be truthful if she didn’t privately admit that it worried her. It had never happened before but she’d often feared that if she fell for a man she worked for it would be the ruination of all her dreams and plans. Add to that the fact that he was still very much an unknown quantity with regard to what he would be like as an employer, she sensed, going by his brusque manner, that she would have her work cut out in proving to him he’d chosen the right person for the job.
‘Thank you...thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down.’
‘I sincerely hope you won’t. The thought of having to interview prospective employees again fills me with horror after the parade of too-earnest applicants I’ve seen today.’ Hal’s lips shaped an ironic smile. ‘Barring yourself, of course. If you’re at all too earnest about having this job you hide it well. Would you like to see your room now?’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘Then follow me. In light of my accident, I thank God I chose an apartment that doesn’t have stairs. For convenience, the room I’ve allocated you is next door to mine.’ His hands resting lightly on the tyres of the wheelchair, Hal paused as another thought struck him. ‘I won’t give you a key because the revolving doors downstairs are never closed, and Charlie is usually there on the front desk if there’s a problem. Plus, if you’re out then that means I’m in, and all you need to do is get Charlie to buzz me to let me know you’ve returned. Okay?’
‘But what if you’ve fallen asleep and don’t hear the buzzer?’
‘Unless I’ve been clubbed over the head by a particularly vindictive burglar you don’t need to be concerned about that. I don’t easily fall asleep—at least certainly not during the day. But, just to reassure you, Charlie has a spare key for emergencies.’
‘That’s good to know.’
‘Then let’s go and look at your room, shall we?’
IT HAD BEEN a hell of a day, Hal reflected, positioning his wheelchair in front of the bathroom mirror in order to brush his teeth. Although it was practically unheard of for him to turn in before midnight, since returning home from the hospital he’d cultivated the habit of retiring early in the hope of getting some longed-for rest. The irony was, no matter how early he went to bed, his sleep was unfailingly broken. First by episodes of agonising pain in his leg that meant he had to rise in order to take some pain relief and then by the inevitable visits to the bathroom—which was no easy feat when he had to hoist himself into his wheelchair to get there.
The one light on the horizon was he’d been advised that from tomorrow he could start using crutches. But he knew it would still be a fiasco, endeavouring to do all the commonplace things that he’d been used to taking for granted. Rubbing a hand round his dark stubbled jaw, then peering closer to examine the shocking bruised shadows beneath his eyes, he felt frustration and fury bite into him with all the force of a serrated steel clamp. Was it usual to feel this fatigued after an accident? And was it normal that his emotions should be so tightly wound that he could scarcely contain them?
His highly esteemed surgeon had assured him that it was...except the confirmation didn’t help him to accept the fact. Thank God Sam had persuaded him to hire some practical help and companionship, with the aim of alleviating some of the frustration he felt round his compromised mobility and also to counter the boredom of being forced to spend so much time on his own.
If Sam hadn’t been the manager of a busy psychology practice she would have willingly been there for Hal night and day if necessary. But she also had a husband with a demanding job, and Greg was surely entitled to spend his precious free time with his wife. As for Hal’s so-called ‘friends’...they were busy with their own demanding careers and pleasurable pursuits—and anyway none of them were the type to give up their time willingly for an invalid.
Appalled that he had begun to think of himself in such a scornful way, he quickly brushed his teeth, turned off the light, then returned to his bedroom grimly to face another disagreeable and painful night with nothing but his steadily worsening thoughts to keep him company.
As he lifted his hard-muscled frame out of the wheelchair and manoeuvred himself onto the bed he found himself fervently hoping that the feisty Kit Blessington’s presence would at least be bearable. Perish the thought that she might be the type of woman who chattered incessantly about inconsequential things and would very quickly get on his nerves, making him bitterly regret hiring her—even if her practical skills should prove to be as competent as she’d indicated.
* * *
Hal was having an early-morning cup of coffee with his sister when, true to her word, Kit Blessington arrived at the agreed time. Sam had dropped in on her way to work, determined to meet Hal’s new hired help as soon as possible, so she’d told him, her cat-like green eyes formidably serious. He knew it mattered to her a great deal that the woman passed muster because she adored her ‘little’ brother. He might resent her acting like his mother from time to time, but he didn’t deny it felt good to have her unstinting regard and concern. Especially when the only communication he’d had from his father since the accident was a curt e-mail that had included the line, ‘Didn’t I always tell you that pride comes before a fall?’
Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you? Hal had thought bitterly.
Tall and slender, with a gamine short hairstyle, his sister Sam looked as chic and sophisticated as always that morning in an elegant trouser suit. When Kit arrived the younger woman’s bohemian, far more relaxed mode of dress couldn’t have been more of a contrast. When he opened the door to let her in he saw that today her glorious red hair was precariously arranged up in a loose topknot that suggested it might easily topple at any moment, such must be the weight of the waving strands. Wearing a mint-green baggy knitted sweater beneath a man’s battered tan flying jacket, along with a pair of slim-fitting caramel cords, she was transporting what looked to be a fairly hefty brown suitcase.
Hal immediately told her to put it down before she dislocated her shoulder, adding, ‘What have you got in there? The kitchen sink?’
Flushing, she retorted, ‘You