by Penny Jordan
In a voice that warned her he wasn’t prepared to play any games, Jon demanded. ‘What have you done to the pudding, Heaven?’
‘The pudding?’ Heaven hedged instinctively. ‘Nothing… why should you think I might have done anything?’
Oh, God, if only she had had time to get away before he had come into the kitchen. Desperately she tried to glance at the clock to check the time without him seeing what she was doing. How long before the extras she had added to the pudding started to make their existence felt?
That depended very much on the individual person’s digestive system, but at a guess… Heaven’s heart started to beat nervously fast. She had to get away before the consequences of her retaliatory actions came to light. As she had good cause to remember, Harold had a nasty temper; she had never actually seen him physically abuse another person but she had sensed that he had the temperament to do so if pushed too hard—he was that kind of man; you could see it in his face… in his eyes… especially now that he was approaching forty and the slightly florid good looks she had seen in photographs of him as a younger man could no longer mask his real personality.
‘You were refusing to eat it,’ Jon reminded her dryly.
‘I told you… I’m allergic to nuts,’ Heaven fibbed, hoping he would put the betraying tide of colour warming her throat and face down to nervousness and not guilt.
‘You weren’t allergic to them the night I took you out,’ he told her softly. ‘I distinctly remember that the pudding you ordered and ate on that occasion contained them.’
Heaven’s eyes widened. He could remember that? She could certainly remember what they had ordered to eat, but then she could remember every single small detail of that evening, and the hopes it had brought her.
‘Er, how much pudding did you have?’ Heaven asked him warily.
‘None,’ Jon returned promptly. ‘I wasn’t very hungry and I don’t particularly enjoy sticky puddings.’
‘None.’ Heaven couldn’t manage to keep the relief out of her voice. ‘You really mean that?’ she checked. ‘You didn’t have any at all?’
‘I didn’t have any at all,’ Jon confirmed, grimly adding. ‘So, I’ll ask you once again. What have you done to the pudding, Heaven?’
Heaven hung her head. She knew he wouldn’t let her escape until he had got the truth out of her.
‘I put cascara in it… cascara and liquid paraffin,’ she told him, dry-mouthed.
For a moment Jon simply looked at her in silence and then, when he managed to find his voice, he demanded, ‘You did what?’
‘I put cascara and liquid paraffin in it,’ Heaven repeated. Then, taking a deep breath, she added challengingly, ‘And you may as well know that although it had nothing to do with me Harold hasn’t paid the contractors so they haven’t connected the plumbing upstairs and—’
‘Oh my God…’
Heaven could hear someone walking towards the kitchen and immediately she started to panic.
‘Jon…’ She froze as she recognised the voice of Harold’s accountant, knowing that he would recognise her.
Jon obviously realised it too from the look he was giving her, but, to her amazement, as the other man pushed open the door Jon reached for her, wrapping his arms tightly around her and pushing her face against his shoulder so that it was virtually concealed by his body and her own hair.
‘What—?’ she began indignantly, but Jon quickly silenced her, bending his head to cover her open mouth with his own and then proceeding to kiss her slowly and thoroughly—very slowly and very thoroughly, Heaven acknowledged as her head began to reel with shock and her body literally melted against him with the devastating immediacy of hot chocolate sauce poured over ice cream.
‘What the hell is going on in here?’ Heaven tensed as she heard Harold’s voice and realised that he must have come looking for the other two men. ‘And who in hell’s name is this?’ he demanded, no doubt referring to her, Heaven recognised as she trembled in Jon’s arms, instinctively cuddling closer to him as she allowed him to tuck her face back into the protective and concealing curve of his shoulder.
‘My girlfriend, Harold. I rang her and asked her to come and pick me up; I don’t want to risk losing my licence…’ she heard Jon responding smoothly.
‘Your girlfriend, great,’ she heard Harold snarling. ‘Well right now you’ve got more important things to do than practising for the sexual olympics on my kitchen table, and—’
Harold stopped speaking abruptly, his hands going to his stomach.
‘Oh my God… God…’ Heaven heard him cry as he clutched his body in desperation and started to run towards the doorway.
In the hallway total pandemonium seemed to have broken out, with everyone—but more especially the men—groaning and clutching their stomachs as they complained of the griping pains gripping them.
‘Come on,’ Heaven heard Jon saying as he started to release her, but instead of freeing her completely as she had expected he kept hold of her arm, hustling her towards the back door. When she balked at this treatment and tried to break free he shook her arm and warned her, ‘If I were you I’d leave whilst I still could. Once Harold—’
‘That was exactly what I was trying to do before you interfered,’ Heaven informed him indignantly, ‘and if you’d just let go of my arm…’
‘Tiffany, where the hell’s the cook?’ Heaven heard Harold screaming above the cacophony of noise in the hall.
Grimly Jon smiled at her.
‘I want to talk to you,’ he told her, ‘so make up your mind, Heaven. Either you stay here and face Harold or you leave now with me.’
He wanted to talk to her. What about? Heaven wondered nervously as, without waiting for her decision he pulled open the back door and half pushed and half dragged her through it.
‘Tiffany…’ Harold was still bellowing.
Heaven winced.
‘It won’t be just Harold you’ll have to answer to,’ he warned her as he marshalled her towards his car and, still holding her captive with one hand, unlocked the driver’s side with the other. ‘Those Americans aren’t going to feel too happy with you. You do carry professional insurance against being sued, I take it…?’
Heaven’s expression, mercilessly revealed by the interior light of the car, gave away her shocked consternation.
‘Ah, I see—you don’t carry that kind of insurance.’ Jon answered his own question. ‘Rather foolish of you, I would have thought.
‘Get in, Heaven,’ he commanded, holding open the passenger door for her.
Reluctantly Heaven did as he instructed. After all, what alternative did she have? She had planned to be well away from the scene of her retribution before the effects of her innovative recipe additions took hold and she shuddered inwardly as she contemplated what might happen to her if Jon chose to turn her over to Harold now.
She still couldn’t believe that he was actually working for Harold, but what other reason did he have for being one of Harold’s dinner guests?
Which meant that Jon could not possibly be the man she had once thought him to be. And that discovery should surely have meant that her heart could have no possible reason to bounce crazily against her ribs just because she was seated next to him and just because she could still smell the warm, sexy male scent of him, still feel the sensual erotic pressure of his mouth against her own.
‘Why did you kiss me?’
As soon as she had blurted out the words, Heaven regretted them. She had quite obviously been spending too much time with Tiffany, she derided herself, because that was the kind of naive, gauche remark more acceptable from someone like Tiffany than from a streetwise life-wary woman like herself.
‘Why do you think?’ Jon challenged her back as he set the car in motion and activated the central locking system. ‘If I hadn’t, Jeremy Parton could well have recognised you and Harold most certainly would…’
‘Why should you want to protect me from them?’ Heaven demanded aggressively. �
��After all, you’re Harold’s business advisor and you’re just as—’
Abruptly she stopped, biting down hard on her bottom lip.
‘Go on, I’m just as what? Just as dishonest—is that what you were about to say?’
Heaven lifted her head.
‘Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?’ she challenged him. ‘Harold is dishonest, morally if not legally, and I’m surprised that you, knowing what he did to Louisa, how he cheated your own sister, should have anything to do with him. Tiffany told me all about the American deal,’ she added assertively. ‘I know that although Harold is planning to sell the business to them, he’s also planning to withhold from them the patent for the new software he’s originated.’
‘What?’
They had just joined the mainstream of traffic on the road outside the house but, instead of accelerating, much to her shock, Jon actually braked.
‘Run that by me again, will you?’ he demanded as he took his foot off the brake and the powerful Jaguar started to glide forward again.
‘You heard me the first time,’ Heaven told him bravely. ‘I know that Harold is planning to sell the business to the Americans letting them believe that they’ve got sole rights to all the software but in reality he’s come up with a new program that supersedes the ones they’re buying and he’s planning to fix it so that the patent takes effect from immediately after the sale. Tiffany told me.’
‘He might be planning to do that but the Americans aren’t stupid. They’re putting certain clauses into the contract which prevent Harold from rewriting any of the programs they’re buying or selling any new program within a prescribed area…’
‘But that area doesn’t include the Far and Middle East, at least not according to Tiffany and that’s where Harold Lewis intends to sell it,’ Heaven pronounced triumphantly.
As he quickly assimilated the information Heaven had just given him, Jon recognised that she had unwittingly given him the very tool he needed to pressure Harold into giving his sister a much fairer financial settlement; he also recognised that Harold had perhaps guessed all along just why he, Jon had publicly appeared to take his side.
No mention of Harold’s plans to withhold the new patent, or even a whisper of their existence, had been included in the information Jon had been given about the deal, which would have meant that had he even the smallest part in helping to draw up any kind of sale contract his reputation would have been destroyed in much the same way and just as effectively as Heaven’s had been once the Americans discovered how Harold had cheated them.
But also, and right now far more importantly, once Harold realised who his cook for the evening had been, and if he discovered just how much Tiffany had told her about his business affairs, Heaven herself could be in grave danger.
Quickly he came to a decision. As luck had it he had called at the petrol station on his way out and filled the car up, so he had enough fuel to get most of the way to the Borders before having to stop…
Now that she was over the initial shock of having him walk into Harold’s kitchen, and her fear that Harold might discover her presence there, Heaven was growing tense, increasingly aware of the danger of her remaining in Jon’s presence for a single second longer than necessary. That kiss he had given her in the kitchen had proved more than well enough to her, thank you very much, just how femininely vulnerable she still was to him.
‘You can drop me here,’ she announced determinedly, reaching for the door handle as Jon stopped for the lights and then frowning as she discovered that the door was locked.
‘Jon,’ she started to protest as the lights changed and the car moved away, her initial irritation giving way to disbelief as Jon swiftly changed lanes and she saw the road sign up ahead of them indicating the distance to the M25.
‘Jon,’ she protested this time more forcefully. ‘I want to get out…’
‘You can’t,’ he told her promptly, adding dryly, ‘Not in the middle of the traffic.’
‘Then pull over to the side,’ Heaven insisted irritably. ‘I—’
But instead of obeying her Jon changed gear and the car picked up speed as the traffic opened up ahead of them and they started to leave the congested heart of the city behind them.
‘I want to go home,’ Heaven told him angrily, ‘and I—’
‘Really…? It won’t take long for Harold to track you down, you know,’ he warned her grimly.
‘Harold doesn’t know it was me,’ Heaven shot back. ‘Tiffany found me in the classified ads: “Mrs
Tiggywinkle’s figgy puddings”…’
‘Maybe she did, Mrs Tiggywinkle, but I noticed she referred to you as Heaven and it isn’t the most common of Christian names, is it?’
Heaven bit her lip. She had forgotten about that, deeming it unimportant in the heat of her determination to pay Harold back for the damage he had inflicted on her.
‘No doubt you gave Tiffany your telephone number, where she could reach you even if you didn’t give her your actual address,’ Jon continued remorsefully. ‘As I said, it won’t take a man like Harold long to track you down, Heaven, and when he does…’
‘He won’t be in any state to think about tracking me down for at least twenty-four hours.’ Heaven retaliated spiritedly, but in truth Jon’s warning had made her stomach muscles clench in nervous fear.
‘I’ll bet you haven’t even given a thought to the outcome of your little piece of culinary engineering, have you?’ Jon demanded scornfully. ‘Harold isn’t the kind of man to grin and bear it, Heaven; you should know that already,’ Jon reminded her.
‘In view of the fact that you have such a low opinion of him I’m surprised that you’re working for him,’ Heaven shot back, determined not to let him get the better of her, too engrossed in her argument with him to realise that they were now on the M25 and heading north, the large Jaguar picking up speed under Jon’s expert touch.
Jon was aware of it, though. Hopefully he could keep her occupied… talking… arguing… until they were far enough away from the city for her to accept what he was planning to do…
The car’s speedometer crept upwards and he thanked the fates that the road was relatively quiet and empty of other traffic.
‘The reason I’m working for him, as you put it, has nothing to do with any fellow feeling for him,’ he told her grimly. ‘Far from it.’
‘No? You’re just earning your living, is that it?’ Heaven demanded scathingly. ‘What about your sister? What about Louisa?’
‘It’s because of Louisa that I’m doing this,’ Jon returned curtly. ‘Heaven…’
‘I don’t want to hear any more. In fact, what I want right now is for you to stop this car and let me out… At once… Immediately!’
‘Heaven, listen to me…’
‘No. I don’t want to hear another word,’ Heaven told him fiercely, lifting her hands to cover her ears.
‘Heaven, this is important dammit,’ Jon told her grittily. ‘I’ve spent months trying to get Harold’s confidence so that I can find out how he managed to conceal his financial assets and persuade the divorce judge that he couldn’t afford to give Louisa and the girls a decent settlement. Months…’ he stressed as Heaven slowly uncovered her ears and looked uncertainly at him.
‘Why should I believe you?’ she asked him flatly. ‘You might just be trying… You’re Harold’s business advisor; Tiffany told me so.’
‘I was, you mean,’ Jon told her grimly. ‘Once Harold realises that you were the one who fed them that appalling concoction—and he will find out—and he realises that I concealed the fact—and you—from him, I doubt he’s going to have a lot of faith left in my loyalty, don’t you?’
‘So why did you do it?’ Heaven asked him slowly. ‘Why did you protect me from him?’
‘I’m going to have to claim the fifth amendment on that one,’ Jon told her forthrightly. ‘At least for the time being.
‘Heaven, you said something earlier about some new software Harold
is planning—’
He broke off as Heaven’s eyes suddenly widened as she caught sight of the motorway sign ahead of them. She turned furiously towards him, demanding, ‘That said “North”. North where? Where are you taking me, Jon?’
‘To the Borders,’ he told her quietly.
‘The Borders? What Borders?’
‘The Scottish Borders. I’ve got a property up there and I—’
‘You can’t be serious,’ Heaven interrupted him again. ‘I just don’t believe this. Pull over and stop this car immediately, otherwise I’ll…’
‘You’ll what?’ he asked her dryly. ‘You can’t get out. I’ve activated the central locking system.’
‘I don’t believe this… This is… this is kidnap,’ Heaven told him wildly. ‘This is…’
‘The safest precautionary measure I could come up with,’ Jon intervened grimly.
Precautionary measure… Heaven’s throat had suddenly gone very tight. Her lips felt dry. She touched them nervously with the tip of her tongue and then wished she hadn’t as she saw a sudden certain male gleam flicker in Jon’s eyes.
‘Yes… precautionary measure,’ Jon repeated, ‘for both of us. Once Harold discovers that you and Tiffany talked about far more than recipes—and, again, he will—you are going to be in very grave danger. Anyone who has the kind of information you have is going to be in danger, at least until after he’s got those contracts safely signed.
‘I’ve no doubt that Harold thought he was being extremely clever, planning to get the contracts signed before Christmas and then having the new patent come into effect with the new year, but what he hadn’t bargained for was you and the fact that your figgy pudding will mean that the Americans aren’t going to be in any fit state to sign anything for several days. It’s probably too late now for him to stop that patent going through and until he gets those contracts signed he’s going to be in a very, very vulnerable position. The first thing he’s going to want to do is to make sure you can’t use the information that Tiffany has given you.’