A Spanish Affair. Helen Brooks
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be of vital importance so can you make sure the line is free?’
‘Certainly.’ She knew exactly what he was implying and now added, ‘I’ll let all my friends and my hairdresser and beautician know not to call me then, shall I?’ in helpful, dulcet tones.
His mouth tightened; it clearly wasn’t often he was answered in like vein. ‘Just so.’ The harsh face could have been set in stone. ‘I shall be working to a tight schedule so time is of the essence.’
‘Absolutely, Mr de Capistrano.’
The grey gaze held her one more moment and then he swept past her, the secretary and Robert at his heels, and as the door closed behind them Georgie sank back in her seat and let out a big whoosh of a sigh. Horrible man! Horrible, horrible man! She ignored the faint odour of expensive aftershave and the way it was making her senses quiver and concentrated her mind on loathing him instead.
She could hear the sound of voices outside the building and surmised they must all be standing in the little yard, and, after rising from her chair, she peeped cautiously through the blind at the window.
Matt de Capistrano and his secretary were just getting into a chauffeur-driven silver Mercedes, and even from this distance he was intimidating. Not that he had intimidated her, Georgie told herself strongly in the next moment, not a bit of it, but he was one of those men who was uncomfortably, in-your-face male. There was a sort of dark power about him, an aggressive virility that was impossible to ignore, and it was…Georgie searched for the right word and found it. Disturbing. He was disturbing. But he was leaving now and with any luck she would never set eyes on him again.
And then she suddenly realised what she was thinking and offered up a quick urgent prayer of repentance. Robert’s whole business, his livelihood, everything hung on Matt de Capistrano giving him this contract; how could she—for one second—wish he didn’t get it? But she hadn’t, she hadn’t wished that, she reassured herself frantically the next moment, just that she wouldn’t see Matt de Capistrano again. But if Robert got the job—by some miracle—of course she’d have to see him if she continued working here. ‘Oh…’ She sighed again, loudly and irritably. The man had got her in such a state she didn’t know what she was thinking!
‘Well!’ Robert opened the door and he was smiling. ‘We might, we just might be back in business again.’
‘Really?’ Georgie forgot all about her dislike of Matt de Capistrano as the naked hope in her brother’s face touched her heart. ‘He’s going to help?’
‘Maybe.’ Robert was clearly trying to keep a hold on his optimism but he couldn’t disguise his relief as he said, ‘He’s not dismissed it out of hand anyway. It all depends on that phone call tonight and then we’ll know one way or the other. He’s going to make some enquiries. I can’t blame him; I’d do the same in his shoes.’
‘Enquiries?’ Georgie raised fine arched eyebrows. ‘With whom?’
‘Anyone he damn well wants,’ Robert answered drily. ‘I’ve given him a host of names and numbers—the bank manager, my accountant, firms we’ve dealt with recently and so on—and told him I’ll ring them and tell them to let him have any information he wants. This is my last hope, Georgie. If the man tells me to jump through hoops I’ll turn cartwheels as well for good measure.’
‘Oh, Robert.’ She didn’t want him to lose everything, she didn’t, but to be rescued by Matt de Capistrano! And it was only in that moment she fully acknowledged the extent of the antagonism which had leapt into immediate life the moment she had laid eyes on the darkly handsome face. She didn’t know him, she’d barely exchanged more than a dozen words with him, and yet she disliked him more intensely than anyone else she had ever met. Well, almost anyone. Her thoughts touched on Glen before she closed that particular door in her mind.
‘So, cross your fingers and your toes and anything else it’s physically possible to cross,’ Robert said more quietly now, a nervous note creeping in as they stared at each other. ‘If it’s no we’re down the pan, Georgie; even the house is mortgaged up to the hilt so the kids won’t even have a roof over their heads.’
‘They will.’ Georgie’s voice was fierce. ‘We’ll make sure of that and we’ll all stay together too.’ But a little grotty flat somewhere wouldn’t be the same as Robert’s pleasant semi with its big garden and the tree-house he had built for the children a couple of years ago. They had lost their mother and all the security she had embodied; were they going to have to lose their home too?
‘Maybe.’ And then as Georgie eyed him determinedly Robert smiled as he said, ‘Definitely! But let’s hope it won’t come to uprooting the kids, Georgie. Look, get the bank on the phone for me first, would you? I need to put them and everyone else in the know and explain they’ll be getting a call from de Capistrano’s people. I don’t want anyone else to tread on his very wealthy and powerful toes.’
Georgie looked sharply at Robert at that, and was relieved to see he was grinning at her. ‘I’m sorry about what I said,’ she said weakly. ‘I didn’t know he was there. I nearly died when I saw him.’
‘You and me both.’ Robert shook his head slowly. ‘I’d forgotten there’s never a dull moment around you, little sister.’
‘Oh, you.’
The rest of the day sped by in a flurry of phone-calls, faxes and hastily typed letters, and by the end of the afternoon Georgie was sick of the very sound of Matt de Capistrano’s name. Yesterday her life had been difficult—juggling her new role as surrogate mum, cook and housekeeper, Robert’s secretary and shoulder to cry on wasn’t easy—but today a tall, obnoxious stranger had made it downright impossible, she thought crossly just before five o’clock. Robert had been like a cat on a hot tin roof all day and neither of them had been able to eat any lunch.
One thing had solidified through the hectic afternoon, though. If Matt de Capistrano bailed them out she was leaving here as soon as she could fix up a good secretary for Robert. She could get heaps more money working at temping anyway, and every little bit would help the family budget for the time being. And temping meant she could be there for the children if either of them were ill, without worrying Robert would be struggling at the office, and she could pick and choose when she worked. She might even be able to do a little freelance advertising work if she took a few days out to tote her CV and examples of her artwork designs round the area.
Her previous job, as a designer working on tight deadlines and at high speed for an independent design studio situated north of Watford had been on the other side of London—Robert’s house and business being in Sevenoaks—but there were other studios and other offices.
Whatever, she would remove herself from any chance of bumping into Matt de Capistrano. Georgie nodded to the thought, her hands pausing on the keyboard of her word processor as she gazed into space, only to jump violently as the telephone on her desk rang shrilly.
She glanced at her wristwatch as she reached for the receiver. Five o’clock. Exactly. It was him! She ignored the ridiculous churning in her stomach and breathed deeply, her voice steady and cool as she said, ‘Millett’s Builders. How can I help you?’
‘Miss Millett?’ The deep voice trickled over her taut nerves gently but with enough weight to make them twang slightly. ‘Matt de Capistrano. Is your brother there?’
‘Yes, Mr de Capistrano, he’s been waiting for your call,’ Georgie said briskly.
‘Thank you.’
Boy, with a voice like that he’d be dynamite on the silver screen—Sean Connery eat your heart out! Georgie thought flusteredly as she buzzed Robert and put the call through. Deep and husky with the faint accent making it heart-racingly sexy— And then she caught her errant ramblings firmly, more than a little horrified at the way her mind had gone. He was a hateful man, despicable. End of story.
She heard the telephone go down in the other office and when, a moment later, the interconnecting door opened with a flourish she knew. Even before Robert spoke