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‘I’d better phone for a cab. Excuse me…’
‘Where do you need a lift to?’
‘The nearest station.’
‘To catch a train to where? London?’
‘Yes…Camden.’
‘Don’t bother phoning a cab. I’ll take you.’
‘But the nearest station is fifteen miles away! What about Jonathan?’
‘What about him?’
‘Don’t you and he have a meeting this morning?’
The blue eyes that reminded Maya of perfectly still twin oceans that could no doubt seethe and turn stormy along with the best of deceptively calm seas stared back at her, as if the agreed meeting was of very little account indeed. Knowing from Jonathan’s assistant Caroline what mercenary methods her boss regularly employed in order for his agency to represent the ‘hot’ names of the moment when up against the competition, Maya couldn’t help but wonder what her boss had done to pull off this particular coup. In the world of theatre Blaise Walker’s name was definitely hotter than hot. She knew that was true because she regularly scanned the Entertainment and Arts pages of the papers, to see what was on in the West End, and she had read the fulsome and glowing accolades his work commanded as well as seeing the ‘Sold Out’ notices on the billboards.
But now she worried that if Blaise Walker didn’t make his meeting with Jonathan because he had given her a lift to the station then Jonathan would no doubt hold her completely responsible. Retribution in some form or other would quickly follow…maybe even manifesting itself in his refusal to give her a reference for her next job with her employment agency. It would be highly unfair and irregular, in light of Maya’s unblemished employment record, but Jonathan was more than capable of it—and worse.
‘I’ll ring him later. I’m pretty sure our Mr Faraday won’t lift his head off the pillow until lunchtime at least…if even then,’ Blaise remarked nonchalantly, dropping his hands to his hips. ‘In any case, after what I witnessed last night, any inclination I may have had to let your boss do my PR has definitely disappeared. One hears things about people. As a rule I don’t believe in listening to gossip, but having seen for myself the way the man conducts himself I’ve come to realise that much of the talk about him is probably quite close to the truth. The meeting I do eventually have with him won’t be the one he was hoping for, I’m afraid. Now…are these all your bags?’
Staring uncomfortably down at her soft canvas holdall, and the small leather tote bag that housed amongst other things her make-up, book and reading glasses, Maya was genuinely taken aback at the idea that Blaise had deplored Jonathan’s treatment of her and was showing his displeasure by withdrawing his agreement to let his agency do his publicity. She realised she’d been nursing a real fear that he would side with her boss when it came to believing any attractive woman that worked for him was fair game. But now she also wrestled with the idea of allowing a man she barely knew, and who could potentially turn out to be just like some of those mercenary acquaintances of her father’s—self-obsessed and making no bones about going after what they wanted no matter who they might hurt in the process—to drive her home.
Lifting her concerned emerald gaze to his, she frowned.
‘You really don’t have to bother, Mr Walker—’
‘Blaise,’ he insisted.
‘It’s easy enough for me to get a cab. At least then I won’t disturb the rest of your weekend.’
‘Oh, but you have disturbed me, Maya,’ he answered enigmatically, a glint in his eyes that made her insides clench, ‘but that’s hardly your fault. Come on—let’s get you to the station. I’ll carry your bags.’
‘Really…’ Still unsure, she grimaced. ‘It might be better in the long run if I just phoned for a cab.’
‘If you’re worried that I might have a tendency to behave in any way, shape or form like your disreputable boss then please let me assure you right now your concerns are groundless. I personally like my women willing, and I’ve never had to force one into my bed yet!’
Reddening at his frank confession, Maya shrugged and attempted a smile. ‘Okay…’
Outside, a watery sun had broken through the early-morning clouds, and on the gravel drive where Jonathan’s esteemed guests had parked a selection of gleaming and expensive vehicles Blaise Walker headed for a dazzling fire-engine-red classic open-topped MG sports car. Go-to-hell red, as her father had used to call that particular shade. Maya fielded the unexpected memory, but wasn’t quick enough to suppress the little knot of tension that squeezed inside her.
