A Business Engagement

by Jessica Steele

  That surprised him. He swayed back a little anyway, his expression suddenly more speculative than angry. ‘You had lunch with Foster and Ison?’

  ‘And very enjoyable it was too!’

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘Shouldn’t it have been?’ she countered, and wished he would either go or sit down. He was tall, and seemed to dominate her office. And she wasn’t going to be dominated by him or anyone else!

  Carter regarded her for silent moments. ‘Foster and Ison aren’t generally known for being full of the joys,’ he commented after a while. Ashlyn tried hard to hide that she knew someone who would make up a good joyless threesome. She realised she hadn’t quite made it, and that Carter must have read her mind, when he enquired, ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you have very expressive eyes?’

  Oddly, she wanted to laugh. But she wouldn’t! ‘So, what did you want to see me about?’ she asked. ‘Or did you just come in to have a go at me?’

  ‘Were you intending to have a cup of coffee?’ he enquired.

  Was he asking for a cup? ‘Have a seat,’ she invited. He did just that, lowering his long length onto her ‘guest’s’ chair.

  Quickly, efficiently, while wondering what she was doing—he was bound to stay another five minutes now—she poured him a cup, found out he liked his coffee black and sugarless, and handed it to him.

  ‘So?’ she encouraged as she sat down behind her desk. If he had come to have a go at her perhaps it would be over in less than five minutes.

  ‘So?’ he queried back. Was that some quirk of amusement trying to pucker up the corners of his mouth? She didn’t believe it!

  ‘So what else did I do to earn your wrath?’

  ‘Are you always this blunt?’

  She shook her head. ‘To be honest, no. But I’ve an idea you’d see through anything I tried to dress up.’

  ‘You honour me.’ His tone was slightly mocking but, instead of it making her cross, Ashlyn, to her bewilderment, felt she wanted to smile again. ‘So tell me, who else, when they’re not dropping in here for tea or coffee. . .’ so he’d heard about the other board members on this floor? ‘. . . steals you away to lunch when they’ve got a tricky assignment?’

  ‘I don’t know about tricky assignments,’ she replied, but saw no reason not to be open. ‘I’ve lunched with Henry and some clients once or twice. Although the last time,’ she added, wanting to be absolutely fair, ‘Henry’s associates kindly invited me along.’

  Carter scrutinised her, his glance travelling from her smooth, unlined forehead, down over her dainty nose, to play around her mouth, her chin and long, slender throat, and then, after taking in her coil of superb red hair on the way back, his eyes met her green eyes—and held them steady.

  After another two or three long moments of studied silence, he drawled, ‘Are you trying to make yourself indispensable?’ Highly unlikely though it seemed, she somehow knew that Carter Hamilton was teasing.

  She could hardly believe it. Carter—teasing? Teasing her? She stared at him, her green eyes wide. And, needing suddenly to say something, she asked, ‘Talking of indispensable, how’s Lorna?’ And immediately wished that she had not. Because if he had come purposely to tell her that this was her last day with Hamilton’s she had just given him a splendid opportunity to do so!

  But much to her relief he said nothing of the kind, and answered, ‘She’s doing very well—though she won’t be back as soon as both of us hoped.’

  Ashlyn started to feel guilty that she was happy his highly efficient PA would not be back yet, and settled for the comment, ‘She’ll be glad she’s out of hospital.’

  ‘So,’ Carter began, having spoken sufficiently about his PA, it seemed, ‘not only are you busy most of your day disarming telephone callers and taking messages for all and sundry on this floor, but—’

  ‘Did you mean me to work exclusively for you?’ she tried to interrupt.

  ‘But, soothing furrowed brows with tea and coffee along the way, you also allow yourself to be used as a buffer at business lunches.’

  Ashlyn didn’t quite see it like that. However, for once, all discord between them seemed to have abated, and, while she knew this peace wouldn’t last, for some odd reason she found she liked it, and did not want to ruffle the waters.

  ‘One way and another, I seem to be fully occupied,’ she murmured agreeably.

  She saw Carter go still—as if some thought had just come to him. But, whatever it was, she didn’t get to hear about it, because the next she knew he was saying, ‘To get to my purpose in coming to see you.’ Oh, no—was he going to tell her that her services were no longer required after all? ‘I wondered if you were busy this evening?’

  Feeling little short of flabbergasted at what he had just asked, Ashlyn put her suddenly racing heart down to the tremendous surge of relief she experienced that her fears were not to be realised. Carter wanted to know if she was busy that evening? Desperately she fought for calm, and found some—he wasn’t asking her for a date, for goodness’ sake!

  Very swiftly she did a sketchy run through of the subject-matter of their conversation so far. ‘I’ve a feeling you’re going to tell me that my small efforts for Hamilton Holdings don’t end at five o’clock.’

  ‘You’re bright. But then, I’ve always thought so.’

  She stared at him. Solemn-eyed, he stared back. Her insides went off on a pursuit of their own. ‘You want something?’ she guessed, and nearly fell over sideways when Carter grinned—a grin of such devastation, a grin of such unexpected charm that she was rendered speechless.

  But not nearly so speechless as when, with a charm she had never suspected him of, he revealed, ‘I’m entertaining a couple of business acquaintances and their wives at my place this evening,’ and then asked, with a totally winning smile, ‘Care to come and help?’

  Carter was inviting her to his home? To dinner? To help entertain some business people? Ashlyn remembered the many beautiful women she had seen him photographed with in the Press—and he wanted her to help?

  ‘Provided you don’t mean with the washing-up,’ she managed when she got some of her breath back. She could hardly believe it, either, when he laughed.

  ‘I can promise you that.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Can you make a quarter to eight?’

  ‘That should be all right,’ she answered, realising he’d want her there before his guests arrived, and wanting to sprint home now and start getting ready.

  ‘You’ll need my address,’ he began.

  ‘I already know it,’ she replied.

  ‘You already know it?’ He seemed mildly surprised.

  ‘And every member of the board’s address, including telephone numbers,’ she stressed, and didn’t have to say more.

  ‘You worked late that night too,’ he murmured, a smile playing about his mouth as he referred to Tuesday evening of last week when he’d made out he didn’t have Joseph Fulford’s home phone number and she’d had to drive over there. Plainly Carter realised that she could not have wasted any time after that in noting down all important addresses and phone numbers. ‘Going to forgive me for that?’ he asked, with such overwhelming charm that had she been standing she was sure her legs would have buckled.

  Ashlyn did not know whether he was asking her to forgive him for the lie that he did not know Joseph Fulford’s home phone number, or the fact that she’d had to break her date to deliver that message. Though, since she’d told Carter that she’d been able to keep her date anyway, it had to be his lie.

  Whatever, it seemed totally unimportant just then. ‘Of course,’ she said on a light laugh. The moment he was gone, she rang the switchboard to say she was going home, and left her office early.

  Her mother was surprised to see her home a little earlier than usual. ‘I’m going out to dinner,’ Ashlyn replied, aware that mystifyingly the fact that she could not tell her mother where she was going had nothing to do with the certainty that if she did all the
Ainsworths would know within a very short while that she had been to dinner at Carter Hamilton’s home. It just seemed private, somehow more private than business-private. Which was absurd really, because business was all it was. And, good heavens, she didn’t want it to be more than that!

  Thoughts of Carter seemed to dominate her mind, though, as she bathed and got ready to drive to his home. When had she ever thought him charmless? He had charm by the barrowload!

  Not that he often favoured her with it, of course. But then, he hadn’t ever wanted her as a member of his board. In front of everyone else he was well mannered enough to be courteous, but why would he do anything that might be construed as encouraging?

  She must remember that he wanted to discourage her from being a board member. She had been in danger of forgetting, and she must not; Carter wanted her out!

  Which made it all extremely confusing that, out of all the terrific-looking women he knew, it was she whom he had asked to be his hostess. A smile pulled her mouth upwards—while Carter might want her out, she could not help but feel pleased that, when it came to business, he must trust her more than he trusted any of his lady-friends.

  She was on her way downstairs when it came to her that any of his lady-friends might have a previous engagement that particular night. Ashlyn cheered up when she recalled the females she had seen pictured with him, who had looked as if they hung on his every word. From what she could tell, there could never be a previous engagement that was so important that it would not be instantly broken were he to ask.

  ‘Darling, you look wonderful!’ her mother trilled.

  Her mother was her biggest fan. But Ashlyn, who had butterflies in her tummy, needed to hear just then that in her simple short-sleeved, long-skirted silk dress of deep pink she looked wonderful.

  ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled, taking her car keys out of her small evening purse.

  ‘Er—he’s not someone—special, is he, darling?’ Katherine Ainsworth asked gently, and Ashlyn realised that in her efforts to avoid telling her mother where and with whom she was dining she had given her food for outrageous speculation.

  Carter Hamilton special! Grief! ‘It’s not one person in particular.’ Totally unable to lie, she quickly squashed any further speculation. ‘I’m dining with some business people. They...er...’

  ‘Well, of course, if it’s business!’ At once her mother’s expression changed. ‘And it must be confidential, certainly. No—you don’t have to tell me any more,’ she beamed, and Ashlyn went out to her car knowing that her mother would spend the evening praying that one of her relatives might ring so that she could tell them, ‘Ashlyn’s out—she has a dinner engagement with some business people.’

  Ashlyn found Carter’s house without too much trouble. It was set in its own grounds and, as twenty minutes to eight showed on her car clock, she parked her car and went up the few steps and rang the bell.

  Carter answered the door himself. ‘Ashlyn.’ He said her name, nothing more, and just stood there looking at her.

  ‘Carter,’ she murmured likewise. Her heart was thundering against her ribs. She had known he was good-looking but in a dinner jacket he was sensational!

  ‘You’re beautiful!’ he said softly.

  Her legs went like jelly. ‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she returned impishly—and he grinned. Oh, goodness! Was she glad of his hand on her elbow as he helped her over his threshold!

  ‘Come and meet my housekeeper,’ he invited. ‘Mrs Johnson has everything under control, but it’ll be as well if you have a chat with her first.’

  Ashlyn hardly knew why. Mrs Johnson turned out to be a very, very efficient lady—Ashlyn could not imagine Carter hiring anyone who wasn’t. ‘I can see I shall be in the way if I offer to help, but feel free to give me a call in the unlikely event that you have a last-minute hitch,’ Ashlyn bade her.

  ‘Why, thank you,’ Mrs Johnson smiled, and they left her to it.

  Carter then showed Ashlyn the cloakroom and facilities, and, opening a door that led into his drawing room, asked, ‘Would you care for something to drink?’

  A stiff double of something might not be a bad idea, she felt, but since she didn’t want to disgrace herself by going face down in her soup... ‘A glass of tonic water would be nice,’ she accepted affably—who was to know that there wasn’t gin in it?

  The corners of his lips moved, and she had a disconcerting idea that this clever man knew every thought that went on inside her head. He couldn’t do, of course. Though when he brought her the tonic water she’d asked for, complete with the ice and lemon that most often went with a gin and tonic, she began to wonder.

  ‘Er—is there anything I need to know—or—before your friends—guests—arrive?’ she enquired in a rush. Good grief, what was the matter with her? ‘Any subject you want me to avoid?’

  Carter shook his head, and, coming over to the couch where she was seated, he sat down beside her. Then he smiled a reassuring kind of smile. ‘Just be yourself,’ he stated. At that moment she had no idea what just being herself was. Perhaps it showed, because, with his dark eyes staring down into hers, he went on, ‘I’ve noticed, Ashlyn, that you have an intelligence and an inbuilt sensitivity that makes you a natural and sincere hostess.’

  Her green eyes widened. Twice she had been in his company when he had entertained someone, both times at lunch. But... ‘Me?’ she questioned.

  ‘You,’ he assured her. ‘And I’m not the only one to have noticed it.’

  ‘Who...?’ She used some of the intelligence he had just credited her with. ‘You mean Geoff and Henry?’

  Carter, as if suddenly fascinated by her dainty nose, quite unexpectedly stretched out a hand and ran a finger down it. Then the doorbell rang. Ashlyn did not know quite what startled her more—the doorbell pealing, or her skin tingling so pleasurably at his touch!

  Kay and Roland Elliot and Yvonne and Fraser Griffiths were four of the nicest people she had ever met. Whatever ability Carter thought she had in the hostess department, having shaken hands with them, Ashlyn discovered that her nerves had disappeared completely, and they were soon chatting away like old friends.

  The meal Mrs Johnson had prepared was delicious and unhurried, with everyone having a say in the conversation. And with everything going so splendidly Ashlyn couldn’t help thinking that if she was working, then it did not feel like work. Talk just flowed about any given subject, from gardening, through music and theatre, to art.

  ‘Yvonne paints very fine water colours,’ Fraser mentioned at one point, and the conversation, which had never waned, glided on smoothly.

  Ashlyn guessed that she had having so often been involved in her parents’ dinner parties to thank for the fact that not once did she feel out of her depth. She even found that, as well as seeing to it that no one felt left out, if her opinion was sought she was able to contribute without allowing the subject-matter to be too contentious. And in no time, it seemed, they were on to dessert and coffee.

  Then, unbelievably, the evening was over! ‘You must come with Carter to a party we’re having next month,’ Kay Elliot invited her warmly as Ashlyn stood at the door with Carter, helping him see his guests out.

  ‘I’d like that,’ she accepted, knowing that it would not happen, but feeling strangely that she would not mind if it did.

  ‘Goodnight, Ashlyn,’ said Roland, and gave her a kiss on her cheek. She’d seen it happen a dozen times at her mother’s parties—a guest saluting the hostess’s cheek in parting.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she smiled—and received a kiss from Fraser Griffiths too.

  She stood back as Carter closed the door after all four guests had left. She wanted to ask him how she had done and if he thought it had gone off all right, but she didn’t want him to think that she was fishing. She had seen a different Carter that night. Had seen him to be considerate, courteous, witty—and a splendid host.

  ‘Another coffee?’ he suggested.

  Ashlyn found she was staring
up into his eyes. She felt confused. Needing to look elsewhere, she looked quickly down to her left wrist, and remembered that she wasn’t wearing a watch. ‘What time is it?’ she asked, looking up again. There was a hint of amusement playing around his mouth, she thought.

  Though his eyes seemed perfectly serious when he answered, ‘Half past twelve.’

  ‘It isn’t!’ she gasped. ‘Truly?’ Carter turned his watch round for her to see. ‘Where did all those hours fly to?’ she asked—they had positively sped by.

  ‘A sure sign your hostessing was a success,’ Carter replied with a smile.

  Oh, Carter! What charm! That smile! ‘You were the host,’ she thought to remind him—and wondered if she was going light-headed. ‘Er—I’d better go. Would you let Mrs Johnson know that I thought her salmon en croute the best I’ve ever tasted?’

  ‘Certainly,’ he replied, then seemed to hesitate. Looking down at her, he remarked evenly, ‘It’s late and you’ve a fair drive.’ To her astonishment, he offered, ‘You’re welcome to one of my spare rooms if you’d prefer to drive home in the morning.’

  Somehow Ashlyn managed to save her jaw from hitting the floor, so great was her surprise. His offer had been matter-of-fact, and she knew she could take it at face value. It was late, it was dark, and she was a woman. Perhaps it was the magic of the moment, but she felt that she would like to stay, perhaps get to know him a little better over another coffee before she went to bed.

  ‘I think I’ll go,’ she made herself refuse. Magic of the moment! What on earth was the matter with her?

  ‘Sorry,’ Carter apologised at once with a wry look. ‘I must try to treat you like one of the men.’ And, with a devastating smile, he added, ‘I’m still getting the hang of one of our board members being female!’

  He’d noticed! She laughed. ‘Chivalrous yet!’ she jibed. Her heartbeat started to become erratic when laughter lit his eyes, and she turned towards the door.

  Carter went with her out to her car. ‘Ring me when you get home,’ he instructed, and then rendered her speechless when he bent and kissed her cheek.