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She shrugged. ‘Picked myself up and carried on.’
‘The English bulldog we-will-not-be-beaten spirit?’
It was faintly mocking and, as had happened more than once that evening, he’d caught her on the raw. ‘No,’ she answered steadily, ‘just the spirit of a mother who is determined to make a good life for her children, that’s all. Whatever it takes.’
‘A mother.’ His eyes ran over her for a second, and although she had her coat on she felt her breasts tingle as though he had reached out and touched her. ‘I find it difficult to see you as a mother. Not that I doubt you’re a very good one,’ he added hastily, ‘but you look so young and—’ his tone changed, becoming self-derisive ‘—untouched.’
‘Looks are deceptive.’ His brief inspection had left her feeling panicky and afraid of something she couldn’t put a name to. And it was because of this she felt compelled to add, ‘I am totally a mother; Amelia and Daisy are the only people who really matter to me and that’s the way it’s going to be from now on. We don’t need anyone else.’
‘I’m sure your parents would be gratified to hear that,’ he murmured drily, one dark eyebrow quirking.
‘I didn’t mean them. I meant …’
‘I think I know what you meant,’ he put in soothingly as her voice dwindled away. ‘You intend to devote yourself to your children and your work. Is that right?’
She nodded. She felt he was laughing at her but the handsome, hard face was giving nothing away.
‘You don’t think life might be a little … dull after a while?’
The last four years were suddenly stark and sharp on the screen of her mind. The grind, the agonising, the turmoil of making an unworkable marriage work for the sake of the twins. She had gritted her teeth and fulfilled her wifely duties in bed and out of it, but all the time she’d known she was living a lie. Richard had worked impossibly long hours and when he’d arrived home he’d been difficult and sometimes downright hostile, not wanting anything to do with Amelia and Daisy. Of course she knew now that was mostly due to the gambling. The long hours at ‘work', the family occasions he’d missed and times he’d let her down when they’d had guests to dinner and he hadn’t come home; all the time he’d been feeding his addiction. She had told herself he was putting in the hours for them, her and the children, and stomached it all, tolerating his moods and rages. What a fool she had been. What a gullible, blind fool. But never again. Never, ever again.
Looking straight into the silver-blue eyes, she said, ‘I don’t mind dull at all, as it happens, as long as Amelia and Daisy are happy and healthy.’
They had just drawn up outside her parents’ terrace, and even in the dark it was clear how small and narrow the houses were. Toni felt a fleeting stab of embarrassment when she remembered the sumptuous penthouse and then she told herself not to be such a snob. It didn’t matter what Steel thought and her parents’ home was perfect for a retired elderly couple. It was just unfortunate it had been forced to stretch to include herself and the girls too.
‘Thank you, Mr—Steel,’ she corrected quickly when one dark eyebrow rose. ‘I’ll see you Monday morning and I’ll have some ideas and prices sketched out by then.’
He moved to open the door and stepped out of the cab, holding out his hand to help her descend into the street. He didn’t let go of her fingers once she was standing in front of him, shaking her hand as he said, ‘Goodnight, Toni. I’m sure you’re going to be an asset to the business. Welcome on board.’
‘Thank you,’ she said again. His flesh was firm and warm and he seemed to tower over her, his gaze all-encompassing. She suddenly realised with a little shock of awareness that she was frightened of him. She didn’t want this job, wonderful as it was. Not if it meant working closely with Steel Landry. But she couldn’t refuse such an opportunity either. She didn’t need to be told it was the chance of a lifetime, a one-off opening into a world where the sky was the limit. And he had been kind, she told herself in the next moment. And a perfect gentleman. She was just being silly.
‘Goodnight,’ he said again. ‘Sleep well.’
Too late she realised she’d been standing gazing at him like a rabbit frozen in front of a car’s headlights, and he had let go of her hand, obviously expecting her to walk away. Blushing furiously, she managed a somewhat strangled, ‘Goodnight,’ and made her escape, fumbling in her bag for her key as she walked across the pavement and mounted the two steps to the door and then almost dropping the key in her haste.
As the door opened she heard the taxi door slam, but when she turned around it hadn’t moved away. She rais
ed a self-conscious hand and then shut the door, leaning against it as she listened to the cab drive off. Her heart was thudding like a drum and she had a feeling she could only describe as panic. She held a hand to her chest, shutting her eyes.
It was a minute or two before her breathing steadied and she straightened. The house was quiet; clearly her parents had retired for the night and just left the hall and landing lights on. She walked through to the small kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, dumping her portfolio and the plans and other bits and pieces on the table before opening the French doors that led into her parents’ tiny square of garden. This had originally been a backyard with an outside lavatory when the Victorian terrace was first constructed; now most of the householders had done the same as her parents and converted the space into a paved patio surrounded by potted plants and leafy ferns where they could enjoy a meal alfresco.
Toni sat down on one of the pretty wrought-iron chairs, resting her elbows on the table as she massaged tense muscles at the back of her neck. The tiny space trapped any warmth in the air during the day, making it very pleasant come nightfall, and the heady perfume from the white lilies and clematis and little geraniums with brown and green striped flowers that smelled of cloves and limes from dusk till dawn gradually relaxed her senses. She shut her eyes, lifting her face up to the black night sky in which a million stars twinkled.
Why had Steel Landry affected her so badly? It wasn’t like her to be so skittish or given to fancies; she was normally down-to-earth and logical. When she thought about it her circumstances had changed dramatically in the last few hours; she ought to be down on her bended knees thanking God for him, not quibbling about whether to take the job or not. Thanks to him, in a year or two she could envisage affording a proper family home for the girls, somewhere like this little house where the three of them could be happy. A mortgage on a little terrace with a small outside place for the girls to play wouldn’t be beyond her and would be far better than a bedsit or flat for the twins. Paying for after-school care until she was home; continuing the girls’ ballet lessons, which they’d adored and had to give up after Richard’s death; holidays—suddenly they were all on the agenda again.
Toni hugged herself, a dart of joy causing her to smile. It was all going to be all right, she could get her life on an even keel again and once she’d dealt with the debts she’d feel in control once more. And she’d been ridiculous about Steel. It was just that she’d never met a self-made multimillionaire before, never felt such power and charisma radiating from a mere human being. That was all it was.
She nodded to herself. Poor man, when all he’d done was help her; thank goodness he hadn’t been able to read her thoughts.
The ‘poor man’ was at that moment sitting in the back of the cab having—what was for Steel—the very unusual experience of feeling regret. His mouth set in a grim line, he scowled at the passing scene outside the window as he told himself he’d been crazy to employ Toni George. The smartest thing he could have done was to conduct the interview quickly, let her down gently and show her the door. That way he wouldn’t have had to see her again. The last thing, the very last thing he needed was to be lusting after a woman who worked for him; a woman in the throes of coping with the aftermath of what had clearly been an unhappy marriage and who had two small children.
He forced himself to lean back in the seat, unlocking tense muscles one by one. Dammit, she might be beautiful and intelligent and gutsy, but so were thousands of other women out there. He should know—he’d had his fair share of female companions in his time. So what—here the muscles he’d relaxed tightened again—made Toni George different from the rest? Because different she was. In fact he didn’t think he’d ever felt such instant desire for a woman before. When he’d seen her standing there silhouetted against the window with the sunshine picking out deep highlights in the dark brown of her hair, his body had felt the impact right down to his toes.
He stared out of the window again but without taking anything in. Business was business. He could have employed any one of a number of interior designers, so what the hell was he doing taking her on when he knew it was going to be a problem for him?
No, no, it wasn’t. He wouldn’t let it be. He was thirty-eight years old, for crying out loud, not some teenager in the throes of blind passion who let what was between his legs rule his mind.
Not sure whether he was angrier with her for invading his smoothly controlled world or with himself for the way he’d handled things, he continued to brood as the taxi sped its way through the London streets.
