Innocent Cinderella. Julia James
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a mind reader.
But then it didn’t take too much perception to recognise all the implications of a weekend house-party in the country. Not when they’d been invited, and would presumably be treated as a couple.
He must have known that, she thought wildly, when he accepted the invitation. I suppose he imagined two thousand pounds would buy my compliance, but he’s wrong.
And if the prospect of being left to Diana Halsay’s tender mercies during the day while Jake was shut up with his host talking business chilled Marin’s blood, the thought that she’d almost certainly be expected to spend her nights with him was infinitely worse.
I don’t even want to contemplate that, she told herself. Or—my God—discuss it with him, either. I hoped he’d simply take no for an answer and opt for someone—anyone—else.
Because I’m not prepared to let myself be trapped into another situation that is none of my making, or made to appear as something I’m not. I—I can’t. Not again.
But it was becoming painfully and worryingly obvious that, in addition to the rest of his flaws, Jake Radley-Smith was not someone who cared to have his wishes opposed.
Drawing a deep breath, Marin put the coffee jug on the tray and carried it into the living room.
Jake was occupying one of the sofas, coat and tie discarded and his waistcoat unfastened along with the top buttons on his shirt. A cut glass goblet containing his brandy was on the pale wooden table in front of him, and he looked casual, relaxed and—as if she needed any reminder—very much at home.
Whereas she felt as if she was treading over broken glass.
She put the tray down on the table next to the brandy, poured the coffee then sat down opposite him, feet together and hands folded in her lap.
‘You look,’ he said softly, ‘as if you’re about to be interviewed for a job, and if it makes you feel better, we’ll play it that way. So let’s move straight to pay and conditions. I’m offering two thousand pounds for you to continue to play the role of my girlfriend as you did tonight, but this time from mid-afternoon on Friday next to some point after lunch on Sunday. That’s the deal on the table, and it won’t change.’
She said bitterly, ‘How simple you make it sound.’
‘Because, unlike you, I’m not looking for complications,’ he drawled.
‘But it is complicated,’ she said. ‘It has to be. If we go there together, they’ll think—that we are—together,’ she finished lamely.
‘In other words, we may end up sharing a bedroom and a bed.’ He shrugged. ‘You must have done so before. It’s no big deal.’
He’d said earlier that night that she looked untouched, but presumably he believed that was only skin deep. That a girl of her age and generation was experienced enough to shrug off any potential awkwardness. Maybe even to find it amusing.
Only he couldn’t be more wrong, she thought, swallowing down the bubble of hysteria threatening to rise in her throat. Yet she was reluctant to let him suspect her total innocence in case it amused him, although being laughed at might be the least of her worries.
‘But in the past, it’s always been my choice.’ She made herself speak steadily. ‘That—might not be the case this time.’
‘So, what’s the matter, darling?’ he asked, the blue eyes narrowing as he reached for his coffee. ‘Scared I may not be able to spend two nights in your company without being overcome by lust?’
He shook his head. ‘You really don’t have to worry. I never make a serious move on a woman unless I receive a very definite invitation first. And I can’t imagine anything of that kind coming my way from you. Right?’
Her face was burning. ‘Absolutely right.’
‘Said with true feeling,’ he murmured. ‘However, if it’s any reassurance, in the past when I stayed at Queens Barton with a lady, admittedly in pre-Diana days, we were always given adjoining rooms. Mrs Martin, the housekeeper, is the old-fashioned kind.’
He paused. ‘Naturally, I never bothered at the time to check if the communicating door locked, but I’m sure there’ll be a chair you can wedge under the handle if you’re worried I might sleepwalk.
‘In fact,’ he added, musing. ‘I might even take the same precaution myself, in case your dreams send you wandering in the small hours.’
‘They don’t,’ Marin said curtly. ‘And I won’t.’ She picked up her own coffee. Drank. Braced herself. ‘But there’s also the question of “window dressing,” as you call it,’ she added, her blush deepening. ‘I—I’d want that kept to a minimum.’
‘Agreed,’ he said promptly. ‘Even a peck on the cheek, arranged in advance and signed for in triplicate.’
She sent him a bitter look. ‘It really is just a game to you, isn’t it?’
‘No,’ he said with sudden harshness. ‘It bloody well isn’t. I am deadly serious about keeping Graham and Torchbearer on side, even if it means negotiating my way through a fairly tricky forty-eight hours, and the rest.’
His smile did not reach his eyes. ‘And the great advantage of having you beside me, instead of some more accommodating companion, Miss Wade, is that, as I told you before, you’re a total unknown.
‘You said just now that you hadn’t fooled Diana. Yet why else did she come flying over to accuse you of gate-crashing? Because you were a complete stranger, and it threw her. So she tried to find out who you were and what you were. And she’s still no wiser, so you need to be prepared to answer some questions at your next encounter.’
‘And what,’ she said, ‘am I supposed to tell her?’
He shrugged. ‘As much or as little as you wish—apart from the fact that you’re only with me because you’re being paid.’ He added thoughtfully, ‘Tonight’s air of shy mystery went down pretty well with most people.’
‘Perhaps because it was perfectly genuine,’ Marin said huskily. ‘I am shy, and the real mystery was, what the hell was I doing getting mixed up with someone like you?’ She shook her head. ‘I think that things would have been a great deal easier if you’d just—married her as she wanted.’
‘Not easier in any way that appeals to me,’ he said drily. ‘Besides, Miss Wade, I’m not the marrying kind. Has Lynne never mentioned that?’
She said too quickly, ‘She doesn’t talk about you.’
‘What a paragon.’ His tone was ironic. ‘I must raise her salary.’ He finished the rest of his brandy. ‘So, what about it, sweetheart? What’s your final answer? I’m offering honest pay for a couple of days of dishonest work, and you can’t pretend you don’t need the money.’
It galled her to acknowledge inwardly that he was right. ‘I’m going to have you fired, you treacherous little slut,’ had been Adela Mason’s parting threat; if she succeeded, Marin would be in real trouble. The Ingram Organisation was built on trust; it had to be, when its staff spent so much time travelling with clients or staying in their homes. If Wendy Ingram believed she’d betrayed that trust so deeply and fundamentally, then Marin would be out in the cold with heaven only knew what kind of a reference.
And the search for another job could be long and arduous.
So could she really afford to turn down this offer, however loaded? And knew what her answer must be.
She gave a small, defeated sigh. ‘Yes,’ she muttered unwillingly. ‘We have a deal.’
‘Good.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’ll be in touch during the week about the final arrangements. But before I go…’ Reaching for his jacket, he took a cheque book and pen from an inside pocket. He wrote swiftly, signed his name and handed the cheque to her.
‘For