The Business Arrangement

She stirred slightly. The only sign she’d heard him was a faint fluttering of the dark eyelashes resting on her pale cheeks. “Amy…”

This time she mumbled and tried to turn over. Sleepy brown eyes looked up into his face. “Hugh,” she said with a soft smile lighting up her face. “You’re back.”

And he wanted to kiss her.

What was happening to him? He’d known Amy for years and never felt the slightest inclination to do anything of the sort. He’d picked her up when she’d fallen off her horse at fourteen and broken her wrist without the slightest stirring of the emotions troubling him now. Even when he’d held her while she sobbed at her mother’s funeral he hadn’t felt the stirrings of any attraction. This was Amy.

From city girl—to corporate wife!

Working side by side, nine to five—and beyond…. No matter how hard these couples try to keep their relationships strictly professional, romance is definitely on the agenda!

But will a date in the office diary lead to an appointment at the altar?

The Corporate Marriage Campaign

by Leigh Michaels

Harlequin Romance #3857

The Business Arrangement

Natasha Oakley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHAT do you mean “no”? Come on, Amy,’ Hugh coaxed, stretching his arm out along the back of the floral-patterned sofa. ‘I need your help.’

Amelia Mitchell scarcely looked up from the book she was reading, merely pulling her legs tightly under her and snuggling deeper into the cushioned window-seat. ‘I’m sure you don’t. Not really. There must be someone else you can ask.’

‘I’ve asked you.’

‘Sorry, no can do.’

‘Why can’t you? You’re not working at the moment.’

‘That’s not the point, though, is it?’ she replied, risking a look up at Hugh Balfour’s confidently smiling face. The assurance in his voice had been irritating, but his expression made her angry. Clearly he felt he needed only to exude some of his well-documented charm and she’d crumble. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’d hate it. You’d be horrid. I’d be bored. If I wanted to be your secretary I’d apply for the job.’ She uncurled and threw her book to one side. ‘Actually I can’t think of anything worse. I’m angry with Seb for having suggested it.’

‘He was trying to help.’

‘Help who exactly?’ she asked, turning to face him, all five feet two inches bristling with indignation. This was just typical! ‘I know you two go back a long way, but I’m his sister. You’d think he’d put me before his friend.’

Even as she said it she knew it was nonsense. Seb wouldn’t see anything wrong in offering his sister’s help to his best friend, however inconvenient it might be to the sister. She loved him to pieces, but he’d never yet considered her feelings or appeared to notice any of the sacrifices she’d made.

It hadn’t even occurred to him that he ought to let his sister know he was coming to stay this weekend for the annual regatta. If challenged, he would, no doubt, say he’d a perfect right to be there since he owned a third share in their mother’s Henley-on-Thames cottage. But it would have been nice if he’d made a courtesy telephone call. Remembered the seventeenth-century cottage they’d inherited was her home.

Hugh’s long fingers traced a small circle on the mahogany table by his side; he was completely unfazed by her outburst. ‘It’s only for a couple of weeks. Think of the money. I’ll pay well.’

‘Don’t need any.’

‘You must be the first student to say so.’

‘I’m not a student any more. Fully fledged BA (Hons)—’

‘Currently unemployed.’

She shot him a look of dislike. ‘With no ambitions to be a secretary and certainly not yours.’

‘Amy, please. I really do need your help,’ he said, flashing her a crooked smile, his eyes lighting up with an irrepressible glint of pure sex appeal.

As her stomach twisted in recognition it crossed her mind to wonder whether anyone had been able to refuse Hugh Balfour anything. His mother certainly hadn’t. He was her shining blue-eyed boy, one without blemish.

Amy could have enlightened her, as could the numerous ex-girlfriends he’d dumped with ruthless expediency at the first hint of boredom. Six feet high with the muscle tone of a natural sportsman and the kind of charisma that made everyone follow his lead, Hugh was blessed with more gifts than it was fair for one man to possess.

Nevertheless he’d some serious character flaws. Flaws encouraged, no doubt, by getting his own way on practically every occasion since birth. It was just difficult to remember them when you faced the full force of Hugh’s charm—particularly when he normally reserved it for women with legs up to their armpits and a chiselled bone structure.

Which actually made this whole situation rather funny when she came to think about it. Hugh must really be desperate if he was spending so much time on Seb’s little sister. He hadn’t done that since he’d broken the Rev. Adderton’s window with a cricket ball and had persuaded her not to tell. Her lips twitched. ‘More.’

‘More what?’ he asked, confused.

‘Don’t stop there. I’m enjoying seeing you beg.’

‘If that’s what it takes I will.’ He smiled slowly, the grooves in his cheeks deepening. ‘Sweet Amy—’

‘Don’t overdo it. I’m beginning to feel queasy.’

Hugh relaxed back in his chair, evidently certain of success. ‘As soon as Seb suggested it I knew you’d be perfect. And before you get angry again he wasn’t thinking about it as a job opportunity. It’s more…about protecting me.’

‘From what?’ As if she needed to ask. Hugh’s problems only ever involved women and this would be no exception. ‘If you want my help you’re going to have to tell me what’s really going on. Go on, tell the truth.’

‘The truth?’

She folded her arms in front of her. ‘If you can manage it. Look, if you just needed a secretary while your PA’s away you could ring an agency or borrow someone from another department. I’m not a complete idiot.’

He smiled. ‘I never thought you were. The truth is…sensitive information.’

‘Surprise me.’

‘If I get someone in from an agency I can’t rely on them not to…gossip.’ Hugh paused again, unusually having to search for his words.

‘About?’ she prompted, watching his face closely. Normally Hugh was the archetypal Mr Smooth. Always in control. But something had really got to him this time.

‘I’m hoping to avoid anyone knowing…’ He petered out again, his eyes flicking past her to look down the long cottage garden.

‘About?’ Amy repeated without relenting.

‘About…a woman—’

‘Ah.’

He shot her a look of irritation. ‘I don’t know what you mean by “Ah”. There’s no “Ah” about it. This has never happened to me before and I’m running out of ideas on how to contain…the problem.’

‘A problem with a woman?’ Amy leant forward and gracefully crossed her legs, mockingly adopting the pose of a therapist. It was getting better every moment. It was about time some woman somewhere managed to strike a blow for the rest of their kind.

She liked Hugh. She’d always liked Hugh. He was great fun. Interesting to talk to. But he treated women with all the careless contempt given to a disposable tissue and there was something truly satisfying in seeing him rocked off balance. She nodded with her head tilted onto one side. ‘How surprising. Go on.’

Hugh rubbed his left shoulder in a vain attempt to ease the knotting muscle forming there. When Seb had first mooted the idea of his sister taking the temporary vacancy in his office he’d conveniently forgotten how exasperating Amy could be.

She could type, she was loyal and she was almost family, for heaven’s sake. They were all great credentials for what he needed, but he’d completely overlooked her irritating habit of laughing at him. All the time. And this situation with Richard’s wife was becoming anything but funny.

On the other hand Amy was still his best option. In fact, she was his only option. He took a deep breath. ‘This…woman telephones, sends…letters and…gifts to me at the office. She’s m—’

‘Married! I can guess,’ Amy interrupted, standing up swiftly. ‘I’m not doing it! You get yourself out of your own muddles. I’m not sitting about your office lying for you.’

‘I—’

‘You should have known I wouldn’t do anything to help you break up anyone’s marriage. After everything I’ve seen—’

‘Will you shut up and listen? It’s difficult enough without you interrupting all the time. Sit down and let me explain.’

‘Go on, then,’ she said ungraciously, sitting back down in a chair opposite him and tracing the pattern on the carpet with the edge of her shoe.

‘That’s why I need your help. I’m not doing it either.’

She looked up, a slight frown between her eyebrows. ‘Not doing what? I don’t understand. Wh—?’

‘Married women have never been my thing, Amy. And even if they were there’s no way I’d be tempted by this one.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

His blue eyes met her brown ones. ‘Trying to get Sonya Laithwaite to accept the fact,’ he stated baldly, watching closely for her reaction.

Amy’s lips opened and closed a couple of times before she managed to repeat, ‘Sonya Laithwaite?’

Hugh sat back. At least he’d finally got her attention.

Hell, this was so much more awkward than he’d ever imagined. He hated even saying the woman’s name. Hated thinking what it would do to Richard if he discovered what his wife was up to—and with whom. He doubted his relationship with the older man would survive it.

And that mattered to him. Richard was so much more than his employer. He’d been there at all the difficult turning points of his life, helped guide his future, and as Hugh had grown to adulthood they’d become friends. Nothing could have been more calculated to hurt Richard than what Sonya was doing.

Hugh watched Amy’s mouth move pointlessly a couple more times before saying dryly, ‘Stop doing a fish impersonation. This is serious, Amy. I really do need your help.’

It brought her up short. ‘Sonya Laithwaite? My godfather’s wife?’

Hugh nodded.

‘B-but…but they only married last May.’

‘And she’s bored already and looking for entertainment,’ he said, standing up and pacing towards the window. He could feel her eyes on his back watching him. Judging him. ‘Honestly, Amy,’ he said, turning suddenly, ‘as God’s my witness I’ve not done anything to encourage her…’ He trailed off and thrust an angry hand through his hair.

Without any difficulty Amy conjured an image of Sonya in her mind’s eye. Apart from the wedding itself, when she’d worn a white puff-ball dress with far too much diamante, the one and only time Amy had seen her had been at her father’s house-warming party the previous autumn and she’d made a colourful impression.

A full-frontal assault of a redhead in baby pink with a bust that could take your eye out if she turned suddenly and you hadn’t seen her coming. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d need much encouragement for anything, judging from the way she’d danced with Seb. But even so there must have been something. Something Hugh’d done to convince her he was interested.

It didn’t bear thinking about. He owed Richard Laithwaite so much. When Hugh’s father had died it had been Richard, a childhood friend of both their mothers, who’d come alongside the bewildered twelve-year-old boy and filled the void. How could Hugh even think of repaying him like that?

‘You can’t have an affair with Sonya. You can’t do that to Richard. He believed in you, mentored you in the beginning. I don’t believe even you would sink so low.’

‘Exactly. That’s what I’ve been saying. I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t,’ he said, meeting her eyes with a steely determination.

She pulled at the gold chain round her neck. ‘You don’t want to?’

‘No.’

His reply had been unequivocal but she looked a little doubtful. Men did go for women like Sonya, after all, and Hugh was more easily distracted by the next pair of legs than most. ‘You’re not even a little bit tempted?’

‘Of course not. She’s Richard’s wife. I do think he’s been a complete idiot to marry a woman twenty-seven years younger than himself—particularly one like Sonya. I also believe she’ll find someone who’ll eagerly take up her offer sooner rather than later. But I’m equally certain it won’t be me. You must have a really low opinion of me to think I’d even contemplate treating him like that,’ he said on a final, sudden spurt of anger.

Amy was unmoved. She smiled sunnily across at the harsh expression on his handsome face, finally convinced. ‘When it comes to women it couldn’t be lower. I’d have thought Sonya’s obvious attractions might hold some fascination for you,’ she said angelically, thinking of the bouncing thirty-four DDs the redhead displayed in dresses apparently spray-painted on.

‘Would you?’ he bit out dangerously.

Amy stopped her laugh in her throat and it came out as a husky chuckle. ‘Obviously not. Truthfully I’ve never given your preferences much thought. A leg man, are you?’ she quipped, faltering slightly beneath the quelling look in his eyes. ‘Have you considered just telling her you’re not interested? You know, just saying it straight out?’

His eyes conveyed eloquently what he thought of that suggestion. ‘Sonya believes I’m being noble.’

‘Then she doesn’t know you very well!’ she cut in, trying to stop the bubble of amusement bursting out of control.

‘Stop it, Amy. It isn’t funny. She’s convinced herself I feel guilty about Richard. That the only thing stopping me grabbing what’s on offer is fear of what other people think.’

‘There’s a fair bit to grab.’ She couldn’t resist chipping in with a swipe at the woman’s cosmetically enhanced assets before adding carelessly, ‘Oh, just tell her you don’t go for married women. Tell her it’s too complicated to get involved with your boss’s wife.’

If only it had been that simple. Hugh thought back over the numerous conversations he’d had with Sonya and wondered how much of them to tell Amy. He turned back from the window and sat down. ‘It’s not that easy. If I speak to her she takes it as encouragement. Whatever I’ve tried has been a disaster. She doesn’t give up.’

Amy frowned at the suddenly weary tone in his voice, her desire to laugh evaporating. ‘Are you trying to tell me she’s stalking you?’

‘I’m not sure how you define “stalking”,’ he hedged. ‘I don’t imagine she’s dangerous, but what I’m trying to say is she’s making my life a damned misery. My PA’s been fantastic. When we’ve known Sonya’s in the building Barbara’s worked late so we could leave together. If I’m in the office all day she’s brought sandwiches to eat at her desk. Just brilliant. With her away, I’m just too vulnerable.’

‘Couldn’t an agency temp do all that?’ Amy asked, biting on her finger.

‘Only if I explained what was happening. Sonya’s the chief executive’s wife, for heaven’s sake. She’s in the building all the time. What possible excuse could I give for not wanting to be left alone with her?’

Amy blew her fringe off her face. There wasn’t one. There was no plausible explanation except the truth, and if he confided in a temporary secretary it would probably travel round Harpur-Laithwaite like wildfire. ‘How long has it been going on?’ she asked at last.

‘Just a couple of months. Three perhaps. I didn’t think too much about it at first. There was nothing for a few days and then maybe two small incidents in the same day. She’s always been a bit…overt.’

‘I can imagine.’ Her voice was dry. ‘Go on. There must have been a trigger. Something that started it all getting more serious.’

He’d thought along those lines himself, going back over the occasions he’d been in Sonya’s company and trying to pinpoint the moment she’d begun to pursue him with the tenacity of a terrier.

But there was nothing. Nothing concrete anyway. His suspicions were all based on conjecture and almost unthinkable.

‘I can’t think of any one single incident to explain it. I think she must feel trapped. Perhaps she sees my lifestyle and wants it.’

Amy’s mouth twisted in wry humour. Somehow she doubted Hugh’s lifestyle was the draw. Richard Laithwaite was a lovely man. He’d been a part of Amy’s childhood since she could remember, always an unfailing source of ice-cream and surprisingly able to read Winnie the Pooh better than anyone else she knew. But marriage to him? No! It wasn’t something she’d ever have contemplated.

No one had been in any doubt why Sonya had chosen to marry him—money. Years and years of focusing exclusively on the acquisition of it had made Richard fabulously wealthy. Why he’d suddenly decided to abandon his single life was more of a mystery.

And now Sonya was bored. She had the designer clothes, the beautiful car, the Elizabethan manor house in Oxfordshire and it wasn’t quite enough. And then there was Hugh. However much Amy would like to bring Hugh Balfour down a peg or seven she had to admit he was a tempting alternative. Young and gorgeous with incredible eyes. Deep, deep blue with a hint of devilment. Pure sex and almost irresistible. To be immune to Hugh you had to know him very well indeed.

Poor Richard. Her heart ached for him when she imagined the pain he’d go through if he discovered how Sonya felt about Hugh. He loved Hugh like the son he’d never made time to have. It would be the ultimate betrayal.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked quietly.

‘Wait. Just for a while. I’m confident I can sort it, but I need Richard to be safely away from office gossip and that’s why I need you.’ Hugh allowed himself a half-smile. ‘Sonya’s dubbed Barbara my “Rottweiler” and convinced herself I’m inhibited by my PA’s antagonism.’

‘And you think I’d make a good guard dog? Thanks, I think.’

Hugh’s smile widened as he took in the determined tilt of her chin completely undermined by a freckle-covered nose and the strands of fine, flyaway hair escaping from her pony-tail. ‘I think you’ve got potential as a Rottweiler pup. More importantly I trust you not to say anything.’ He hesitated before adding, ‘And if I’m going for complete honesty here, it’s not just Richard’s feelings I’m worried about.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think Sonya has it in her to be vengeful. I’m going to have to be quite brutal with her in the end, and if I’m alone with her at all there’s the danger of people believing anything she might choose to say about me. Even if she weren’t believed implicitly there’d be the assumption I must have encouraged her. Much as you thought—and you know how much I think of Richard.’

‘I didn’t say that exactly.’

‘Yes, you did. Anyway, it’s a risk I don’t want to take. Not if I can help it. And until Richard has retired I want to play it softly. I don’t want him hurt and I don’t want my reputation mired up with anything quite so distasteful.’

Amy struggled to take it all in. She pushed up the sleeves of her jumper and hugged her knees. Her knowledge of Sonya was scanty, but she was unquestionably the type to be vindictive when she realised that Hugh, who seemed to have slept with half of London over the years, was drawing the line at her. ‘I can see you need someone,’ she said doubtfully. ‘I just don’t think I’m a very good idea. I’m not a properly trained secretary.’

Hugh jumped at the blatant sign of weakening and pushed home his advantage. ‘It’s only for two weeks.’

She sighed. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to, Hugh. It’s…’ Amy trailed off hopelessly. It was difficult to put into words exactly what were her objections.

Everything came so easily to Hugh. Exams, women, success in business, everything he wanted had always plopped on his plate as though some benevolent god were smiling on him. Any small hiccup in his plans had always been carefully smoothed and now it was her turn to be useful. Good old Amy! Except that ‘good old Amy’ didn’t relish being suddenly noticed because she could be useful. Particularly today. Her birthday.

‘Just two weeks,’ he coaxed, watching her face closely. ‘At least it will tide you over while there’s nothing else in the pipeline—’

‘How do you know that?’ she cut across him, her eyes narrowing astutely. ‘I suppose I don’t need to ask where you got the impression I’d be grateful for anything. It can only have been Seb. I suppose that explains why it’s all been left to the last minute.’

‘He only said things were a bit quiet for you.’

‘And how would he know?’ she asked indignantly. ‘He’s not been down here for weeks. I’ve put in loads of applications to television companies. It might be very difficult for me to put my own life on hold.’

Seb pushed open the door with his bottom, perilously carrying three mugs of tea while ducking under the low cottage beam. ‘But you will, won’t you?’ He smiled ingratiatingly across at Amy. ‘You’re the one with the flowers on it.’

‘Sexist!’ Amy retorted as she cleared the table of the Sunday newspapers and magazines.

Seb shrugged. ‘Mum’s taste in mugs, not mine, and if you will have sugar in your tea—take the consequences. How else do you expect me to remember which one’s yours?’ He handed a mug across to Hugh. ‘Of course she’ll do it.’

‘Of course she won’t! Not just like that.’ She shot a look of pure dislike back at her favourite brother. ‘I want to be a researcher, I don’t want to be a secretary and even if I did I’d never choose to work for Hugh.’

‘No, hideous prospect,’ Seb agreed, flinging himself down in a leather club chair. ‘Shouldn’t care to do it myself, but think of your debts, little sister. Hugh’s desperate. Name your price.’

Amy tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and turned her attention back to Hugh. ‘What kind of things does Sonya do?’

‘Do?’

She nodded. ‘Is she aggressive? Does she cry? If I agree I want to know the kind of things I’d have to protect you from.’

‘It’s nothing like that. She’s calmly confident. Totally convinced there’s a sexual attraction between us.’

‘Even without encouragement?’ she asked incredulously.

‘She imagines there is. She’s in no doubt I want her.’

‘She’s certainly persistent and becoming less subtle,’ Seb cut in as he passed across a packet of biscuits. ‘Tell her about Friday’s package.’

‘In the morning mail was a small parcel—’ Hugh began reluctantly, before stopping as the telephone rang from the depths of the hallway.

Seb grunted. ‘Just when it’s getting spicy. Hold the thought. I’ll be back in a moment.’

‘So?’ Amy queried as the door closed gently behind him.

‘She sent a packet of condoms, together with a hotel address, date and time.’

Amy, in the act of sipping, spluttered. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Neither did Barbara.’

‘That’s so…so…tacky.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Hugh agreed.

Seb opened the sitting-room door. ‘Hugh, it’s Callie. She wants a word.’ Mutely he held the door open until Hugh obeyed the summons. Seb sat back down in the chair he’d vacated and picked up his mug. ‘Did I miss much?’