Blackmailed By The Boss. Kathryn Ross
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IT WAS Sunday afternoon, the sky was a clear blue but the breeze that stirred the trees, sending showers of cherry blossom fluttering onto the front lawns, was ice-cold. It felt more like March than the first day of May, Charlotte thought as she pulled up outside the tall Victorian detached house where Jennifer and Steven lived.
She parked her car on the road and walked into the driveway past her sister’s people carrier, Steve’s convertible and Harriet’s bicycle, which had been abandoned at right angles by the front door in a strategically placed booby trap.
Smiling to herself, Charlotte stepped over it and in through the front door, which had been left ajar.
The first thing that hit her was the smell of roast beef wafting through from the kitchen; the second was the discordant sound of Harriet practising her scales on the piano in the lounge.
‘Hello,’ Charlotte called out. Immediately the playing stopped and her six-year-old niece came flying out, feet thundering on the polished wooden floors, blonde pigtails bouncing as she flung herself at Charlotte like a whirling dervish.
‘Auntie Charlie!’ she screeched with delight as Charlotte picked her up and whirled her around. ‘Guess what…guess what?’
‘What?’ Charlotte hugged her tight and then put her down.
‘Uncle Jordan is here as well.’
‘Oh.’ The moment of happiness inside Charlotte faded as she looked up and saw Jordan framed in the kitchen doorway, watching the welcome she had received. Charlotte was used to seeing Jordan dressed in suits but today he was wearing jeans and an open-necked blue shirt. The casual look suited him, made him look younger than his thirty-eight years, and even sexier than usual, if that was possible. She dragged her gaze away from him, annoyed for thinking along those lines.
‘Hello, Jordan.’ She was aware that her voice was very cool, but she couldn’t help it. She had been looking forward to a relaxing dinner with her family, away from her problems, especially the problem of Jordan. ‘What are you doing here?’ Even as she asked the question she knew the answer.
‘Jennifer invited me over for lunch.’
She hoped to high heaven he didn’t think she’d put Jen up to it! Jordan Lynch didn’t need his ego boosting any further—it was already off the scale.
‘That was nice of her.’ There was a definite edge to Charlotte’s tone now.
He smiled, totally unperturbed. ‘Yes, I thought so too.’
Charlotte took off her beige suede jacket and slung it over the end of the banisters. She was going to kill her sister.
‘Where is Jen?’
‘On the phone, trying to dig Steve out of the golf club. He went for a quick game and apparently should have been home over an hour ago.’
Charlotte smiled. That sounded like Steve. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t join him.’
Jordan shrugged. ‘I had to go into the office today to sort out some paperwork.’
For the first time Charlotte realised just how much extra work Jordan had on his desk with her father staying on in France all this time. ‘If you need some help with paper-work I don’t mind giving you a hand,’ she offered impulsively. ‘I know I’m more on the design side than office management, but I can do both. I did run my own business once.’
‘Yes, I know.’ He smiled at her. ‘Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.’
Something about the way he smiled at her made her go hot inside. Hurriedly she glanced away. Then, catching her niece’s eye, she remembered she had some sweets for her in her jacket pocket. She took them out and passed them to the little girl.
‘Thanks!’ Harriet’s eyes lit up. ‘These are my favourites. And look what Uncle Jordan brought.’ She raced into the lounge and came back with a rag doll in one hand and a teddy in the other. ‘This is for me, and this…’ she brandished the teddy ‘…is for Matilda.’
‘How lovely.’ Charlotte smiled. ‘I hope you said a big thank-you to Uncle Jordan.’
Harriet nodded. ‘He’s a lovely uncle.’ She said the words with a seriousness that sounded very grown-up for a six-year-old.
Charlotte laughed and glanced over at Jordan with amusement.
‘It’s official, I’m a lovely uncle.’ He nodded, humour also sparkling in his dark eyes. ‘Even if it is only an honorary title.’
Maybe he was a bit of a rat when it came to love, but you couldn’t help but like the guy, Charlotte thought. ‘Well, it was very kind of you.’
As she made to follow him into the kitchen she noticed the gleam of male interest that took in her close-fitting beige leather trousers and cream jumper. It was as if he could see straight through to the scanty underwear beneath and, shockingly, it made her body leap in a response that was purely sexual as she remembered the wild passion they had shared on Thursday night.
Instantly she was annoyed with herself, and annoyed with him for looking at her like that. Would their night together never be forgotten? She had the horrible feeling that it was going to haunt the rest of their working relationship. Remembering the way he had talked about her on the phone, she cringed inwardly. She’d been such a fool.
Matilda was in her carry-cot by the French doors, and, glad of the diversion, Charlotte went across to peep into the lacy crib. She expected the baby to be asleep, she was so quiet, and got quite a surprise when Matilda turned big blue eyes up at her and seemed to smile.
‘Hello, darling,’ Charlotte cooed and touched one of the tiny hands that rested on the counterpane. ‘Hello.’
Jennifer was so lucky, Charlotte thought, so incredibly lucky to have two such gorgeous children.
‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ Jordan asked from the other end of the kitchen. ‘I opened a bottle of Chablis a little while ago.’
‘Thanks.’ Charlotte glanced down the modern white kitchen. He seemed very much at home here, she thought as she watched him open up the fridge and pour her the wine.
‘Won’t be a minute, Charlotte,’ Jennifer called down the stairs. ‘They are sending search parties out to find Steve at the golf club—he’s going to be dead meat when he gets home.’
Charlotte laughed. ‘Leave him alone, you bully,’ she called back.
‘No chance. Harriet, I can’t hear you practising your scales.’
The little girl pulled a face at her mother’s words but dutifully disappeared back towards the lounge to resume her discordant serenade.
‘Married bliss, eh?’ Jordan smiled as he brought her drink over and put it down on the table next to her. She almost smiled back at him, and then stopped herself. She really was going to have to keep a cool distance from Jordan. OK, he had notched her up on his bedpost, but he needn’t think she was a pushover.
‘I hope you don’t think that I asked Jen to invite you here today,’ she told him bluntly as she sat down. ‘Because I didn’t.’
‘The thought hadn’t occurred to me. I’m often here.’
‘So I believe.’
He took out one of the wrought-iron chairs from the kitchen table and put it down to sit facing her.
‘Can we go back to being friends, Charlie?’ he asked quietly.
She noticed how his knees were almost touching hers. Her eyes rested on his hands, which were large and capable-looking. She remembered how they had felt against her body, caressing her to a fever pitch of desire. Remembered how she had writhed and moaned and kissed him with a hunger that she had never known before.
‘Charlie?’ he prompted.
‘Of course,’