Lucy Gordon - A Mistletoe Proposal

‘Suicide?’

‘He didn’t tell you that?’

‘No, he just said his father had died and his mother never really recovered.’

‘There was a car crash. Officially, it was an accident, but in fact William killed himself because his life’s work was going bust. Roscoe worked for his father. He’d seen the financial mess they were in and tried to help, but there was little he could do. Secretly, I think he blames himself. He thinks if he’d done more he might have prevented the disaster-used his influence to pull William back from the brink. It’s nonsense, of course. He was only twenty-four, little more than a beginner. There was nothing he could have done.

‘After William’s death he managed to save the business and build it into a massive success, but it changed him, not really for the better. His ruthless side took over, but I suppose it had to. You won’t find him easy. What he wants, he wants, and he doesn’t take no for an answer.’

‘But do you realise what it is that he wants?’ Pippa demanded. ‘Am I supposed to seduce this boy, because you know what you can do with that idea.’

‘No, of course not,’ David said hurriedly, ‘but let’s be honest, you’ve had every man here yearning for you. You’ll know how to get this lad’s attention.’

‘I’m not sure-’

‘You haven’t turned him down?’ David sounded alarmed.

‘I’m thinking about it,’ Pippa said cautiously.

What are you talking about? raged her inner voice. Just tell him you’ve already said no.

‘Pippa, please do this, for the firm’s sake. Roscoe brings us a lot of work and, between you and me, he owns our office building. He’s not a man I want to offend.’

David was a good boss and a kind man. He’d taught her well, while keeping his yearning admiration for her beauty behind respectable barriers.

‘I’ll get back to you,’ she said.

She was thoughtful as she walked back to Cavelli’s, trying to reconcile the contradictions that danced in her mind. She’d perceived Roscoe Havering as an older man, certainly in his forties, but if David’s facts were correct he was only thirty-nine.

It was his demeanour that had misled her, she realised. Physically, he was still youngish, with dark brown hair that showed no hint of grey or thinning. His face was lean, not precisely handsome but intelligent and interesting. It might even have been charming but for a mysterious look of heaviness.

Heaviness. That was it. He seemed worn down by dead weights that he’d carried so long they were part of him. They aged him cruelly, but not permanently. Sometimes she’d surprised a gleam of humour in his eyes that hinted at another man, one it might be intriguing to know.

She quickened her steps, suddenly eager to talk to him again, wondering if he would still be there. He might have walked out. Or perhaps he was calling David to complain about her.

But as soon as she went in she saw him sitting where she’d left him, staring into space, seemingly full of silent sadness. Her heart was touched, despite her efforts to prevent it.

Control, warned her inner voice. Stay impartial. His outrageous request must be considered objectively.

How?

She approached quietly and pulled out a chair facing him. He looked up in surprise.

‘I’m sorry I stormed out like that,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I get into a temper. Shocking loss of objectivity, especially in a lawyer. A wise man wouldn’t want to employ me.’

‘There’s such a thing as being too wise,’ Roscoe said gently. ‘I’m sorry, too. I never meant to offend you. I expressed myself badly, and you were naturally upset.’

‘You didn’t express yourself badly. You laid out your requirements for your employee, making yourself plain on all counts, so that I’d understand everything before committing myself. That was very proper.’

He winced. ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.’

‘I’m merely trying to be professional.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘It’s just not very nice to have people thinking I’m a tart. It’s even worse when that’s my chief qualification for a job.’

‘I never said that,’ he disclaimed hurriedly. ‘Nor did I mean it. But you do seem to have the ability to love ’em and leave ’em.’

‘Oh, I believe in leaving ’em. I just manage without the love ’em bit.’

‘That’s what I want. You can cope with Charlie better than a more naive girl would. You could handle him, keep him in order, make him see things your way. What’s funny?’ Her sudden chuckle had disconcerted him.

‘You are,’ she said. ‘You’re making such a mess of this. What you really want is a heartless woman who can take care of herself, and you’re tying yourself in knots trying to say so without actually saying the words. No, no-’ she held up a hand to silence his denial ‘-we’ve covered that ground. Let it go.’

‘Will you help me?’ he asked slowly.

‘If I can, but things may not work out as you plan. You’ve assumed that he’ll take one look at me and collapse with adoration. Suppose he doesn’t?’

‘I think that would be a really new experience for you,’ he said, trying to sound casual.

‘Not at all. The world is full of men who are indifferent to my charms.’

‘You just haven’t met them yet.’

‘I’ve met plenty.’

‘Splendid! Then you’ll know what to do. Just use whatever methods you normally use to overcome their resistance.’

Her lips twitched. ‘I could take that as another insult.’

‘Yes, you could-if you were determined to.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I means that I’ve realised that you can twist everything I say into an insult, and you do it whenever it suits you. So now I’m fighting back.’

‘How?’

‘By refusing to let you bully me,’ he said firmly. ‘I am not going to cower and watch every word in case you misunderstand. You don’t actually misunderstand anything. You know I don’t really mean to insult you, so don’t try to score points off me. I don’t want you to seduce Charlie. I want you to beguile him, make his head spin until he’ll follow your lead. You’ll do a good job and I’ll respect you for it. And if we fight, we fight openly. Agreed?’

There was a definite no-nonsense tone to his voice, making it clear that he meant every word. He was putting his foot down, asserting himself, warning her not to mess with him-all the powerful, dominant things that she had instinctively associated with him.

And yet-and yet-

Far back in his eyes, that look was there again-a gleam that might have been conspiratorial humour.

Or perhaps not.

After a moment Pippa held out her hand to him. ‘Agreed.’

They shook. She took out a notebook and spoke formally. ‘I need to know as much about the gang he’s running around with as you can tell me.’

‘They’re all young people who seem to live on the edge of the law. They don’t even have proper addresses. They squat, which means they move on a lot as they get caught. I don’t know for a fact that they steal, but they don’t have any regular source of income. Charlie definitely gives Ginevra money. They live from hand to mouth, which he finds exciting. Here. That’s the two of them together.’

From an inner pocket he took out a photograph that seemed to have been taken in a crowded room, probably a squat. In the centre, a young couple lay back in each other’s arms.

‘He keeps that as a treasured souvenir,’ Roscoe observed curtly. ‘I wanted you to see it, so I stole it from him.’

‘Good for you,’ Pippa murmured. Studying the picture, she felt a rising tide of excitement. ‘Yes, now I begin to understand. She’s up to her old tricks.’

‘You know her?’ Roscoe demanded, startled.

‘Yes, and her name’s not Ginevra, it’s Biddy Felsom. I suppose she thought the new name sounded more glamorous. Her hobby is teasing the lads to do daft things to win her favour. She’s done a lot of damage in her time. What’s the matter?’

The question was surprised from her by the sight of Roscoe’s face, filled with shock and dismay as he stared over her shoulder. The next moment she heard, above her head, the petulant voice of a young man.

‘So there you are, Roscoe. Hiding from me, I suppose. You must have known I’d be over here as soon as I found out what you were up to.’

‘Charlie-’

‘Well, you can forget it, do you hear? I know exactly the kind of creep you’ll want to hire for me, all settled and respectable. Let’s be respectable, whatever else happens. No way. I’ll find my own lawyer-someone who understands the world and lives in the present. Ow!’

He hopped back, wincing as Pippa’s chair was pushed out hard against his leg.

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that to happen,’ she said untruthfully.

Gazing up at him, she knew he had a grandstand view of her face and the generous curves of her breasts, with just one button of the sedate blouse undone. Now the smile, soft and warm, dawning slowly, suggesting that she’d been pleasantly amazed at the attractions of the young man looking down at her.

‘Hello,’ she said.

CHARLIE drew a long, slow breath, visibly stunned. This was useful, Pippa thought, bringing a professional mind to bear on the situation, because it gave her the chance to study him.

He was certainly handsome. His face was slightly fuller than his brother’s, just enough to give it a vivacious quality that was alluring. His mouth was attractively curved, and she guessed that many a girl had sighed hopelessly for him. He was too boyish to attract her, but he seemed pleasant.

‘Hello,’ he murmured, distracted. Then he recovered his poise and seated himself next to Pippa. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’m only mad at him.’ He indicated Roscoe.

‘He must be an absolutely terrible person,’ she said sympathetically.

‘He is. Definitely.’

‘And now he wants to force his choice of lawyer on you-someone middle-aged and ignorant of the modern world, who won’t understand you. Oh, yes, and respectable. Shocking!’

She couldn’t meet Roscoe’s eye. He was leaning back, regarding her performance with wry appreciation.

‘By the way, I’m Charlie Havering,’ the young man said, holding out a hand.

‘I’m Pippa Jenson,’ she said, taking it. ‘And I’m your lawyer.’

Charlie grinned. ‘Yeah, right!’

‘Seriously. I’m a solicitor. I work for Farley & Son.’

‘But you can’t be,’ Charlie protested. ‘You don’t look at all respectable.’

‘Watch your manners, Charlie,’ Roscoe said. ‘This is a highly qualified lady you’re talking to.’

‘I can see that,’ Charlie said, taking her hand. ‘Very highly qualified.’

Roscoe caught his breath as he found himself surrounded by double entendres. ‘I only meant,’ he said carefully, ‘that she’s a professional-no, not like that-’

He swore inwardly as he realised what Pippa could make of this, but she surprised him, bursting out laughing. Laughter possessed her utterly, making her rock back and forth while peals of merriment danced up from her and Charlie regarded her with delight. In fact Roscoe realised that everyone in the place was smiling at her, as though just by being there she brightened the day.

She reached across the table and took Roscoe’s hand. ‘Oh, shut up,’ she told him, still laughing, ‘You make it worse with every word.’

‘I don’t mean to. I was considering your feelings,’ he said stiffly, withdrawing his hand.

‘Heavens, we’re way past that. Enough. It’s finished.’

‘As you wish. But Charlie, behave yourself.’

‘Why, when I’m talking to the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met? Hey!’

One moment he was leaning close in a seductive conspiracy. The next, he was bouncing with agitation at something he’d seen.

‘It’s him,’ he yelped, leaping to his feet. ‘Just let me get to him.’

Across the restaurant, a long-haired young man turned in alarm, then vanished between some curtains, closely followed by Charlie.

‘What was that?’ Pippa said, looking around.

‘A man who owes him money,’ Roscoe observed. ‘One of many.’

‘So that’s your brother. He’ll be an interesting client. Yes, I think I’ll accept his case.’

It was on the tip of Roscoe’s tongue to tell her to forget it because he’d changed his mind. But he controlled the impulse, as he controlled so many impulses in his life, and sat in tense silence, a prey to opposing feelings. On the surface, things were working out exactly as he’d wanted. The smile she’d given Charlie was perfect for the purpose, and it had had the desired effect. His brother had been transfixed, just as Roscoe had meant him to be. So, what more did he want?

He didn’t know. All he knew for certain was that he hated it.

‘Pippa,’ he said edgily, ‘I must be honest, I think you’re going about this the wrong way.’