and enjoy her food. She sliced into the steak, suddenly very hungry indeed. Whatever Adam Blackmore did with Jane was no affair of hers; so long as he accepted that their relationship was on a purely professional basis she would be able to cope. Any lingering regret was futile. And throughout the meal she kept firmly on the subject of their forthcoming trip.
‘Why Bahrain?’ she asked, finally, allowing him to refill her wine glass. ‘It seems rather a long way to go to raise the finance for a manufacturing plant in North Wales.’
‘On the contrary. Offshore banking moved there in a big way when Beirut went to pieces. And there’s a lot of oil money looking for a good home.’
‘I thought it was all tucked up warm and cosy in snug little Swiss bank accounts.’ She giggled. ‘Or probably not so little.’
‘And what would you know about Swiss bank accounts?’ he asked, amused.
‘Oh, nothing. I have enough trouble keeping my High Street branch manager happy.’
This careless remark earned her a small frown. ‘You shouldn’t tell me things like that. It’s not good business. If I suspected you were desperate for work I might decide to pressure you on fees.’
‘You could try,’ she offered, impetuously. Two glasses of claret had considerably helped with the relaxation.
He subjected her to a long measuring look. She didn’t flinch, although it took a very great deal of willpower not to look away from the amusement in eyes that challenged her to a game of financial chicken.
‘You haven’t been in business long, have you, Tara?’ He knew exactly how long she and Beth had been in partnership, not quite twelve months. She had told him herself. ‘This recession must have been a blow and High Street banks are notoriously short in the wind when the going is tough.’ He spoke no less than the truth, but she managed to hold a smile and her tongue. She had already said too much. ‘I wonder how tough it is?’ He smiled briefly and her heart skipped a beat. ‘I could find out, of course. Cut your rates to the bone. But I’ll be generous.’ He sat forward and suddenly his face was far too close and instead of work she was concentrating on the deep lines etched down his cheeks and the way his mouth curved at the corners. ‘You can have all my business now, Tara, and go back to your safe little world down at street level.’
‘Yes?’ She waited for the coup de grace.
‘If you cut your rates by ten per cent.’
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her head. He had no need to be envious of her big brown eyes. He had charm enough of his own to distract and bemuse the unwary. But this was a game and she must smile too, laugh off an offer that might well have tempted her a week ago. Before she had worked for him. He would pay for what he had put her through. Every last penny.
She propped her chin on her hand, refusing to back away from his raking eyes. ‘Generous indeed, Adam,’ she replied, her voice loaded with irony. ‘And what are you prepared to forfeit in order to cover the reduction? Ten percent efficiency, or ten percent of the working day?’
He sat back and laughed. ‘It’s the status quo, then? You are so confident?’
‘I have reason to be. And you have nothing to lose, Adam.’ But she had. Her peace of mind, a certain tranquillity that while it didn’t seem quite so attractive as it once had, had to be safer than this roller-coaster ride her body took whenever he chose to exert his charm. ‘But I think we’re going to have to put a time limit on this trial period. It certainly wouldn’t be good business to allow you to keep me working for you indefinitely as a hostage to fortune.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘Would it?’
He returned her smile with interest. ‘Shall we fetch your handbag? You did say you were anxious to get home to pack?’
‘So I did.’ His change of subject didn’t worry her. She hadn’t expected an immediate answer, but she had made her
‘Why Bahrain?’ she asked, finally, allowing him to refill her wine glass. ‘It seems rather a long way to go to raise the finance for a manufacturing plant in North Wales.’
‘On the contrary. Offshore banking moved there in a big way when Beirut went to pieces. And there’s a lot of oil money looking for a good home.’
‘I thought it was all tucked up warm and cosy in snug little Swiss bank accounts.’ She giggled. ‘Or probably not so little.’
‘And what would you know about Swiss bank accounts?’ he asked, amused.
‘Oh, nothing. I have enough trouble keeping my High Street branch manager happy.’
This careless remark earned her a small frown. ‘You shouldn’t tell me things like that. It’s not good business. If I suspected you were desperate for work I might decide to pressure you on fees.’
‘You could try,’ she offered, impetuously. Two glasses of claret had considerably helped with the relaxation.
He subjected her to a long measuring look. She didn’t flinch, although it took a very great deal of willpower not to look away from the amusement in eyes that challenged her to a game of financial chicken.
‘You haven’t been in business long, have you, Tara?’ He knew exactly how long she and Beth had been in partnership, not quite twelve months. She had told him herself. ‘This recession must have been a blow and High Street banks are notoriously short in the wind when the going is tough.’ He spoke no less than the truth, but she managed to hold a smile and her tongue. She had already said too much. ‘I wonder how tough it is?’ He smiled briefly and her heart skipped a beat. ‘I could find out, of course. Cut your rates to the bone. But I’ll be generous.’ He sat forward and suddenly his face was far too close and instead of work she was concentrating on the deep lines etched down his cheeks and the way his mouth curved at the corners. ‘You can have all my business now, Tara, and go back to your safe little world down at street level.’
‘Yes?’ She waited for the coup de grace.
‘If you cut your rates by ten per cent.’
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her head. He had no need to be envious of her big brown eyes. He had charm enough of his own to distract and bemuse the unwary. But this was a game and she must smile too, laugh off an offer that might well have tempted her a week ago. Before she had worked for him. He would pay for what he had put her through. Every last penny.
She propped her chin on her hand, refusing to back away from his raking eyes. ‘Generous indeed, Adam,’ she replied, her voice loaded with irony. ‘And what are you prepared to forfeit in order to cover the reduction? Ten percent efficiency, or ten percent of the working day?’
He sat back and laughed. ‘It’s the status quo, then? You are so confident?’
‘I have reason to be. And you have nothing to lose, Adam.’ But she had. Her peace of mind, a certain tranquillity that while it didn’t seem quite so attractive as it once had, had to be safer than this roller-coaster ride her body took whenever he chose to exert his charm. ‘But I think we’re going to have to put a time limit on this trial period. It certainly wouldn’t be good business to allow you to keep me working for you indefinitely as a hostage to fortune.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘Would it?’
He returned her smile with interest. ‘Shall we fetch your handbag? You did say you were anxious to get home to pack?’
‘So I did.’ His change of subject didn’t worry her. She hadn’t expected an immediate answer, but she had made her
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