Happily Ever After...: His Reluctant Cinderella / His Very Convenient Bride / A Deal to Mend Their Marriage. Sophie Pembroke
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of his family, to think their petty affairs were worth more than thousands of lives. And yet here he was.
Raff looked around the neat, organised room for inspiration. Such a contrast from his last office: a tent on the outskirts of the camp. Even the office before that, situated in an actual building, had been a small room, almost a cupboard, piled high with crates, paperwork and supplies. He couldn’t imagine having all this space to himself.
Occupying the corner at the end of the quaint high street, Clara’s office took up the entire ground floor of a former terraced shop, the original lead-paned bow windows now veiled with blinds, the iron sign holder above the front door empty, replaced by a neat plaque set in the wall.
Outside looked like a still from a film set in Ye Olde England but the inside was a sharp modern contrast. The large room was painted white with only bright-framed photographs to alleviate the starkness, although through the French doors at the back Raff could see a paved courtyard filled with flowering tubs and a small iron table and chairs, a lone hint of homeliness.
Clara’s very large and very tidy desk was near the back by the far wall, facing out across the room. Two inviting sofas clustered by the front window surrounding a coffee table heaped with glossy lifestyle magazines. The whole room was discreet, tasteful and gave him no clue whatsoever to its owner’s personality.
Maybe it was time to try the charm after all.
Raff leaned forward confidingly. ‘I’m worried about Polly,’ he said. ‘It’s so out of character for her to disappear like this. What if she’s ill? I just want to know that she’s all right.’ He allowed a hint of a rueful smile to appear.
The look on Clara’s face oozed disapproval. Yep, she was still giving out the whole ‘disappointed headmaster’ vibe. ‘Mr Rafferty, you and I both know that your sister hasn’t just disappeared. She’s gone on holiday after making sure that both her job and home are taken care of. There really is no mystery.
‘It may be a little out of character.’ Was that doubt creeping into her voice? ‘I haven’t known her to take even a long weekend before—but that’s probably exactly why she needs this break. Besides, isn’t it your company too?’
Unfortunately. ‘Just what has my sister said to you?’
A faint flush crept over the high cheekbones. ‘I don’t understand.’
Oh, she understood all right.
‘She didn’t use the words irresponsible or lazy?’ Polly’s email might have been short but it had been to the point. Her point of view. As always, they differed on that.
The flush deepened. Not so cool after all. The colour gave her warmth, emphasising the curve of her cheek, the lushly dark lashes veiling those incredible eyes. An unexpected jolt of pure attraction shot through him. Before she had been like a marble statue, nice to look at but offputtingly chilly. This hint of vulnerability gave her dimensions. Unwanted, unneeded dimensions. He wasn’t here to flirt. With any luck he’d hardly be here at all.
‘Our communication was purely business,’ but she couldn’t meet his eye. ‘Now, I do happen to have a half-hour free right now. Is this a convenient time for me to show you the house?’
No, Raff wanted to snap. No, actually it wasn’t convenient. None of this was. Not Polly’s most uncharacteristic disappearance, nor her SOS ordering him home right now. She couldn’t expect him to drop everything and step in so she could go on some extended holiday.
Even though he hadn’t been home in over four years. He pushed the thought away. He wasn’t needed here, not as he was out in the field. Besides, his absence had given Polly the opportunity she had wanted; the two circumstances were entirely different.
Which made this whole disappearing act even odder. If he allowed himself to stop feeling irritated he might start getting worried.
‘Mr Rafferty?’
‘Raff,’ he corrected her. ‘Mr Rafferty makes me think I’m back at school.’
Or even worse back in the boardroom, sitting round a ridiculously large table listening to never-ending presentations and impenetrable jargon, itching to get up, stop talking and do.
‘Raff,’ she said after a reluctant pause. He liked the sound of his name on her tongue. Crisp and cool like a smooth lager on a hot summer’s day. ‘Is now a convenient time?’
Not really but Polly had backed him into a hole and until he had a chance to work out what had happened he didn’t have much choice.
He was still joint Vice CEO of Rafferty’s, after all. Someone had to take over the reins, stop Grandfather working himself into an early grave; in Polly’s absence that person had to be him.
She had planned it well. The contrary streak in Raff wanted to ensure she didn’t get her way. To walk away from her home, her company. Show her he couldn’t be manipulated.
But of course he couldn’t. Despite everything Polly was his twin—and pulling a stunt like this was completely out of character. Polly didn’t just quit; she was the hardest worker he knew. The sooner he found out what had happened and fixed it, the sooner they could both return to their lives.
And he was sure that the woman in front of him could help him, if he could just find a way to make her crack, like a ripe and rather inviting nut.
‘Okay, then, Clara Castleton,’ he said. ‘Lead the way.’
* * *
‘Is there something wrong?’
Clara knew she sounded cold. Raff Rafferty might have turned on the charm but she preferred to keep a professional distance, especially when her new client owned an easy smile and a devilish glint in blue, blue eyes.
And a disconcerting way of looking at her as if he could see straight through her barriers, as if the suit didn’t fool him at all. Her skin fizzed with awareness of his intense gaze—or with irritation at his high-handed ways.
Either way he was dangerous. The sooner she settled him in and got out, the better.
The tall blond man wasn’t actually her client but his sister had made sure Clara was fully briefed. The Golden Boy, apple of his grandfather’s eye. Clara knew men like Raff Rafferty all too well. It wasn’t a type she admired at all. Not any more.
Look at him now, leaning against her van, a smirk playing on those finely sculpted lips.
‘This yours?’
Clara held up the keys. ‘Why?’
His eyes swept assessingly over the large, practical van, her logo and contact details tastefully picked out on the side. ‘I imagined you driving something a little more elegant.’
Clara took a breath, an unexpected flutter in her stomach at the idea of something elegant, that she was featuring in his imagination at all. She pushed the thought resolutely away.
‘Save your imaginings,’ she said. ‘The van is practical.’
‘It’s practical all right.’
His lips were pressed together; Clara had the distinct impression that he was laughing at her. ‘I’m sure it’s not your usual style,’ she said as evenly as she could. ‘If you’d rather walk I can meet you there.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m not fussy.’
‘Great.’ She was sure that her attempted smile looked more like a grimace. She should make him sit in the back amongst the cleaning supplies and tools. See how fussy he was then.
At least, Clara reflected as she pulled the van out into the narrow main road that ran through the town, he hadn’t offered to drive. Some men found it hard to be driven by a woman, especially in a large van like this. Raff was the very definition of relaxed, leaning back in his seat, lean jean-clad legs outstretched.
Practical