‘I don’t give a damn what other people are doing,’ he grated fiercely, although it was noticeable that he had lowered his voice slightly, grey-blue eyes glittering angrily at being goaded into losing the strict control he usually kept over his temper. ‘I want to know what you think you’re playing at?’
Her eyes widened innocently, on her own territory now, supremely confident among the other rich patrons of this exclusive restaurant, dressed in the ‘designer label’ clothes Raff had so scorned.
Strangely enough she had a feeling Raff and Jordan would actually get on well together, despite their differences in lifestyle and the seven or eight years’ difference in their ages. They were very alike in so many other ways; maybe that was one of the reasons she found Raff so rakishly attractive.
She sobered at the thought. ‘I’m not playing at all, Jordan,’ she said softly. ‘I have a feeling my game-playing days are over,’ she added ruefully.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘What do you mean by that?’
She shrugged off the importance of her statement—maybe because she didn’t want to admit what the answer really was.
She drew in a deep breath. ‘What can you tell me about the chances of success at turning a substantial manor house and its grounds into a going concern as a hotel and leisure complex?’
Jordan’s mouth twisted sardonically. ‘A little premature, aren’t you?’
‘Hm?’ She gave him a vague frown, still deep in thought, barely noticing as the drinks he had ordered arrived at the table, the menu still closed in front of her.
‘Spending your inheritance already?’ he mocked. ‘There’s still ten weeks to go to your birthday.’
Jane gave him an impatient look. ‘I’m not asking for myself.’
His frown turned to one of puzzlement. ‘Then who?’
She sighed at his persistence. ‘A—friend.’ Telling Jordan to mind his own business would just result in her not getting any answers from him at all, and if anyone could advise her as to the viability of Raff’s proposal it would be Jordan.
‘Who owns a country residence he wouldn’t mind converting?’ Jordan mused shrewdly.
‘I don’t believe I said it was a he,’ she bristled defensively.
Jordan gave her a scornful look. ‘Would you bother to ask at all if it were a she?’
Now it was Jane’s turn to frown. ‘I’m not sure I like your implication.’
‘No?’
His cool mockery annoyed her immensely; she hadn’t been as selfish in the past as he was implying … had she? If she had, meeting Raff had changed all that!
‘Jordan, just answer my original question,’ she said irritably.
‘This job you have,’ he spoke thoughtfully. ‘It’s at the Quinlan house, a large manor house with thousands of acres of land attached. This ‘‘friend’’ you’re talking about wouldn’t be Rafferty Quinlan, would it?’ Jordan’s eyes were narrowed.
Jane gave a start of surprise—couldn’t help herself—although she didn’t know why she should feel in the least surprised that Jordan should know about the house and Raff; she should have realised that in the two days since Jordan had found out her whereabouts he would have found out everything he could about the house and its occupants. Nevertheless, she felt slightly disconcerted, and she certainly didn’t want to get into a lengthy discussion about Raff.
‘Do you have to know everything?’ she attacked.
‘Yes!’ Jordan bit out forcefully.
Jane sighed. ‘Why can’t you just answer a straightforward business question?’
‘Maybe because ‘‘business questions’’ are the last thing I expect from you,’ he snapped. ‘You’ve never shown the slightest interest before.’
She grimaced at the truth of that. And maybe it wasn’t a good enough excuse that he had never shown the slightest inclination to discuss business with her. It was just possible, she could see in retrospect, that Jordan might not have spent so many nights closeted alone in his study if she had been willing to listen and talk to him about any problems he may have had. Raff had certainly done so when she had given him the opportunity, and how much closer her relationship with Jordan than it had ever been with Raff!
‘I’m sorry for that.’ She put her hand over his much stronger one as it rested on the table-top, his fingers long and tapered. ‘But won’t you help me now?’
He looked at her searchingly, as if this were the last thing he had expected of her. And maybe it was. Jane began to wonder just how selfish she had been over the years. And to wonder at the reason for the change in her …
Jordan drew in a deep breath. ‘If it is the Quinlan house you’re talking about—let’s just theoretically say that it is …’ he added drily at her stubbornly defensive expression.
Despite all the odds, Raff had trusted her with a confidence, and she couldn’t go breaking that now.
The only trouble with that was that to be able to help Raff in the way she would like to she had to at least discuss this with Jordan, his knowledge of these things being so much more superior than either Raff’s or her own.
‘… The size of the building, the considerable grounds,’ Jordan continued firmly. ‘The right location—not too far from London, basically—I think it would stand a very good chance of success as a leisure centre, with the right backing. I think it could succeed very well,’ he nodded thoughtfully.
Jane was satisfied with that answer, confident in Jordan’s opinion; anything he touched seemed to turn to gold, and if he thought the venture could succeed then it would.
‘As you don’t appear to be going to enlighten me any further on that subject,’ Jordan continued harshly, ‘perhaps we had better get back to the original one.’
Jane removed her hand from his. ‘Which was?’ she prompted wearily, only too familiar with his stubborn determination.
He impatiently waved the waiter away from taking their order, which was probably the third time he had done so in the last fifteen minutes or so; the way things were going they wouldn’t get to actually eat at all!
‘What did you think you were doing,’ Jordan attacked as soon as the waiter had gone, his voice so controlled it was dangerous, ‘just taking off like that?’
She turned from giving the poor, downcast waiter a sympathetic smile, the smile fading. ‘You told me I had to get a job and prove myself capable of doing so before I was twenty-one,’ she reminded him accusingly, ‘or you would have no choice but to advise the trustees of Father’s will to hold my money over until I’m twenty-five!’
‘You weren’t supposed to just take off like that after I’d issued the challenge,’ he rasped.
‘Wasn’t I?’ she shrugged. ‘I thought I was.’
‘You could have let me know where you were. How you were,’ Jordan snapped.
‘But I did,’ she reasoned.
‘A week after you’d disappeared!’ he said impatiently. ‘Good God, you could have been kidnapped for all I knew of your whereabouts.’
Jane smiled as she remembered she had thought that might be a possibility herself that night she had met Raff and he had just taken her off so arrogantly—and how she had doubted Jordan would pay any ransom demand.
‘It isn’t funny, damn it!’ Jordan misunderstood the reason for her humour, his expression full of anger. ‘Not when you consider who you are.’
Who was she? The last few weeks she hadn’t really been sure from one minute to the next!
Oh, yes, Rhea-Jane Somerville-Smythe.
As if it weren’t ridiculous enough that she had been blighted with one double-barrelled name, her father had chosen to burden her with two!
‘You’re heiress to a considerable fortune,’ Jordan reminded tautly.
Oh, yes, she was that, too.
If she could prove before she was twenty-one that she was capable of being responsible for all that money.
‘And you’re my sister,’ Jordan added forcibly.
Oh, yes, she was that, too …
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘AS YOU realise, I’m not using my full name,’ Rhea-Jane told her brother drily.
‘ ‘‘Jane Smith’’!’ Jordan said disgustedly.
She glared at him. ‘You should try getting a job, any job, with a name like Rhea-Jane Somerville-Smythe. It isn’t just difficult, it’s impossible! If Father’s will hadn’t—’
‘I’ve told you already, I’m not responsible for Father’s will, only in seeing that his wishes are carried out,’ Jordan dismissed. ‘He would be very upset if he knew that clause in his will had resulted in what it has.’
Rhea-Jane shrugged. ‘He didn’t leave me much choice. But then, he never did, did he?’ Her tone edged on bitterness, although it was an emotion she had always shied away from where her father was concerned; he just hadn’t liked her, and there had been nothing she could do about it.
Her brother sighed. ‘You were a rebellious little madam.’
‘And he never forgave me for Mother dying when I was born,’ she defended heatedly.
Jordan’s hard face softened slightly. ‘He was never any different, Rhea.’ He used that first part of her name affectionately, as most people did who knew her well. ‘I had to prove myself time and time again as being worthy to carry on after him.’
And it hadn’t embittered him. Or had it? Jordan was even more difficult to know than Raff was, and he had no confidants, talked to Rhea if he talked things over with anyone. She had never thought about it before, but perhaps that too was as a result of having the father they’d had.
Jordan looked at her sympathetically. ‘But I suppose I did have the advantage of having a mother who loved me unquestioningly for the first eight years of my life,’ he realised gently.
Rhea-Jane gave a regretful smile. ‘I wish I had known her.’ She frowned as she recalled several conversations she had had lately that had disturbed her, conversations that she had so far been unable to confirm as being about her mother. ‘She was a nanny before she married Father, wasn’t she?’ she probed as lightly as she was able.
‘Rhea.’ Jordan looked at her warningly. ‘You’re just trying to divert attention from yourself; we haven’t talked about Mother and Father for years.’
‘But I never knew Mummy—’
‘Rhea, it’s almost twenty-one years since she died,’ Jordan cut in impatiently. ‘I barely remember her myself!’
‘But do you know if she ever happened to work for the Quinlan family?’ Rhea-Jane persisted exasperatedly.
‘The Quinlans?’ he frowned. ‘Why on earth should she have worked for them?’
She shrugged irritably. ‘It’s just that I seem to remind several members of the family of someone they used to know, and someone came up with the name of Raff’s old nanny. It was Diana.’ Her eyes darkened.
She had just enough doubt in her mind that it could actually have been her mother for her to need to find out positively; it was going to look very odd to Raff if her mother should turn out to be the woman who had once been involved with his father! He wasn’t likely to believe that she hadn’t known of the relationship, judging by the way he already distrusted women so badly.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Jordan dismissed scornfully. ‘Why on earth should that Diana have been Mother?’
Why indeed? And yet she had this nagging doubt at the back of her mind that wouldn’t let her rest easy about the subject. But she didn’t think Jordan would welcome any suggestion from her that their mother might once have had a relationship with Donald Quinlan, especially as the other man had been married at the time; Jordan had absolutely idolised their mother.
‘I don’t suppose it’s really important,’ Rhea-Jane told her brother lightly. ‘I only mentioned it in passing. The important thing is that you think this leisure-complex project could succeed …’
‘I said it stands a very good chance,’ Jordan corrected firmly. ‘With the right backing. I would need to know a lot more about it before I gave my considered opinion.’
‘I’m typing up a report on it for Raff right now— What’s so funny?’ she demanded as she saw Jordan begin to smile.
His mouth quirked. ‘So that expensive finishing-school is starting to pay off at last,’ he derided. ‘What’s your typing speed?’
‘Very funny, Jordan,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll never be any threat to Glenda.’ She mentioned his secretary’s name.
‘I would never employ you, anyway,’ he told her bluntly. ‘I don’t believe in nepotism. But I would be very interested in seeing a copy of that report.’ He looked at her steadily.
She sighed her indecision. ‘It’s a very confidential report …’
‘You’ve told me most of the details already,’ he reminded her. ‘So you may as well let me have a look at the rest of them,’ he encouraged.
‘Well …’ She hesitated.
‘I give you my word it will go no further.’
When Jordan put it like that …! She knew that when he gave his word he meant it.
She nodded. ‘I’m going to finish typing it when I get back this afternoon; I’ll try and get a copy off to you before the last post.’
He looked at her consideringly. ‘You seem very concerned that this Raff Quinlan should succeed?’
‘Just give me your opinion on the report, and stop trying to make something out of nothing,’ said Jane, her cheeks flushed.
‘Is it nothing?’ Jordan probed.
Her head went back defensively. ‘Yes!’
But she knew that it wasn’t, knew without doubt that she was teetering on the edge of falling in love with Raff.
* * *
‘Where exactly did you go yesterday?’ Raff rasped, his eyes narrowed to steely slits. ‘Or did you just get bored with the present company, and feel a need to see your rich boyfriend again?’
He had been dying to throw that accusation at her since she had first asked for the day off! Of course, she could just tell him that Jordan was her older brother, but if she did that she would have to tell him everything, and if she did that he was sure to ask her to leave, clause in her father’s will or not!
And how could she help Raff if she was forced to leave? Because she was sure, once Jordan had read the report she had sent off to him the previous evening, that she would be able to offer Raff firm advice about the conversion of the estate into a leisure complex, albeit if that information had come from Jordan.
But Raff wasn’t likely to let Rhea-Jane Somerville-Smythe stay on here and offer him that help.
Her family was well-known in the City, Jordan even more successful than their father had been, their business acumen notorious, their wealth even more so. The Somerville-Smythes were an ‘old’ family, part of the ‘establishment’, and Jordan was a worthy successor as head of that family, was highly respected, and would be furiously angry to learn he had been called any woman’s ‘rich boyfriend’ in that condescending way! If there were any women in Jordan’s life he was extremely discreet about them.
Rhea-Jane had known Raff’s mood was suspect when she’d met him earlier to go out, but he had said nothing on the drive to this country restaurant, nor while they’d perused the menu and ordered their meal. What conversation he had made had been polite in the extreme. She should have become wary as soon as she’d realised that!
Instead, as they’d waited for their food to be served, Raff’s question had come straight for the jugular.
She was still reeling slightly from her meeting with Jordan, her brother wanting to know every detail of her job before he would let her go, his ‘Goodbye, Jane Smith’ a timely reminder as she left that he would be keeping a close eye on her in future, that he wasn’t about to put an end to what she was trying to do just yet, but that he reserved the right to do so if he deemed it necessary.
‘I wasn’t bored at all,’ she answered Raff’s question calmly enough.
His expression was stony. ‘Mrs Howard tells me that you had a telephone call before you felt this sudden need
to go into London.’
She shouldn’t really be surprised that the housekeeper had told Raff about the call, knowing that the other woman had probably felt honour-bound to do so; Jane was, after all, an employee in Raff’s house, and they knew so little about her that the telephone call had probably seemed important to the other woman. Nevertheless, things would have been much easier if Raff had never known of the telephone call.
But, then, when had life ever been made easier for her?
‘I did receive a telephone call, yes—’
‘From the man you ran away from in the first place?’ Raff cut in harshly.
She blushed. ‘I didn’t run away from him—’
‘All right, the man you left so abruptly that you had to stay in a hotel because you had nowhere else to go!’ he altered impatiently. ‘It all adds up to the same thing; you had left the man, but as soon as you received a telephone call from him you rushed off to London to see him.’
‘I had a good reason for meeting him,’ she defended, deciding it was pointless to waste time arguing with him over what Jordan had, or had not, been in her life.
His mouth twisted with distaste. ‘I’m sure you did.’
Rhea-Jane gave a rueful smile. ‘Careful, Raff,’ she murmured. ‘Your prejudice is starting to show.’
He took a large swallow of the whisky and water that had just been delivered to him, not even wincing as the fiery liquid passed down his throat.
Rhea-Jane sipped at her own glass of white wine, looking at Raff over its rim. ‘Actually,’ she added softly, ‘I wanted to talk to him about you.’ She deliberately avoided using any names, sure that Raff was just as capable of making enquiries as Jordan was—and, if he did, that he would discover who she was and throw her out.
‘Me?’ Raff looked at her suspiciously. ‘You talked about me?’
‘I didn’t mention your name,’ she told him truthfully; after all, Jordan had been the one to actually introduce Raff’s name to the conversation.
‘Why the hell did I come into your conversation at all?’ Raff burst out impatiently. ‘I don’t think I care to be discussed by you and your friends!’
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