In Need Of A Wife. Emma Darcy
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of the day’s activities?’
Sasha laughed. It was the only way to break the tug of his attraction and hopefully lift the conversation to a lighter note.
‘The day’s activities concerned you. I went to see Hester Wingate.’
‘Is that someone else who’s left some kind of marvellous will from which I can benefit?’
‘No, but she’s working on it. And she wants your services.’
‘In what capacity?’
‘Marion told me your profession was finding things. Hester is eager to employ your expertise.’
‘You got me a job?’
‘To make sure you could pay the rent.’
And keep me here, Sasha reasoned. Nathan Parnell was irrepressible, and probably ten steps ahead of her. She had no doubt that behind the twinkling eyes was a determined will to have his own way. He was not shy of playing any trick to get it, either. What have I let myself in for? Sasha wondered, then tried again to assert some control over the situation.
‘Don’t you think it’s rather improper to visit me in my bedroom? Is this what I’m to expect?’
He shrugged. ‘You’re free to evict me if you want. But then you wouldn’t know about the job.’
He had an indisputable point there. She needed work. She also needed this accommodation. But she didn’t need a husband who didn’t love her and Bonnie.
‘Does a cup of coffee cover that favour as well, or are you expecting more?’ she asked in dry challenge.
‘I like mine black and two sugars,’ he said, and promptly shut the door.
‘Sit at the table. I’ll bring it over,’ Sasha instructed, wary of allowing him to set a cosier scene. As it was, he hadn’t really answered her question and she wanted some firm distance between them. Like a good solid slab of wood.
‘Did Bonnie settle down OK?’ he asked affably, lessening her tension by doing as he was told.
‘Sound asleep,’ she replied.
‘So is Matt,’ he said with satisfaction.
Which instantly put the thought of bed in Sasha’s mind. She fought off the idea that Nathan was thinking their children were conveniently accounted for. He had gained admittance to her room, but it was more than ten steps to her bed and she was definitely not going to give him any encouragement whatsoever in that direction.
Having surreptitiously checked that her robe was securely wrapped around her, Sasha took both cups of coffee to the table and settled herself on the chair opposite his.
‘Now tell me what this job is about,’ she invited, intent on keeping strictly to business.
His mouth twitched. ‘Muck-raking.’
‘Then I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time on my account. I’m not into scandal or anything defamatory that would hurt other people.’
She placed her elbows on the table, picked up her cup, lifted it to her mouth and sipped, hoping he would take the hint that the reason for him being with her was now limited to coffee-drinking.
He grinned openly, undeterred by dismissals or hints. ‘Hester Wingate is ninety-two years old. Or, at least, that’s what she admits to. She’s probably older. She’s the last of her tribe. All her friends, brothers, sisters have passed away. There are a few old scores she never got to settle. But that doesn’t deter Hester. She wants the information for the other side.’
‘What other side?’
‘The vast beyond. The next life. I’m not quite sure how Hester sees the other side—whether they’re all going to be together in heaven, or hell, or somewhere entirely different. But whatever it is, Hester wants to be prepared for them who done her wrong in this life.’
Sasha couldn’t help being amused. ‘Well, that does rather change the situation,’ she conceded. ‘You mean she wants to muck-rake in the far past about people who are dead and gone.’
‘Precisely. Every last skeleton in every last closet. Nothing to be overlooked.’
‘Can she afford my services?’
‘What do you charge?’
Sasha hesitated. She really needed a good substantial job. If the old lady was a pensioner, it was unlikely she could pay much, but anything was better than nothing in her present straitened circumstances, and often one job led to another.
‘The accepted rate is twenty-five dollars an hour plus expenses, but most people can’t afford too many hours at that rate,’ she said with rueful honesty. ‘Usually, because I can’t get much done in an hour, I put in a couple of hours for every one I charge.’
‘Well, that’s one way to get rich,’ he drily remarked.
It made Sasha feel defensive, which drove her to an aggressive reply. ‘It takes a long time to dig up real substance.’
‘I’m sure it does,’ he agreed. His eyes twinkled with infectious good humour, completely defusing any offence given. ‘Hester has a lot of old scores to settle. If you’re any good at giving her what she wants, you may end up being fully employed for years.’
The prospect of full employment for a while sounded too good to be true. Sasha’s suspicions were aroused. ‘Precisely who is this Hester Wingate and what connection do you have with her?’
‘I’ll take you to meet her if you’re interested in the job. I do her legal work.’
‘Then the law is still your profession.’
He shook his head. ‘I only do it for Hester because no one else would put up with her.’
‘A favour, you might say,’ Sasha prompted.
‘Very much so.’
And a favour for a favour seemed very much down Nathan Parnell’s alley. Sasha’s suspicions moved up a notch. ‘She sounds extremely eccentric.’ And possibly primed for the part by her legal consultant.
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