With him beside her, in laughing mood, she could have managed ten of them. ‘No problem,’ she assured him, and, tucking his briefcase under the arm that held his suitcase, he took her by the elbow with the other and guided her, as she wheeled her own luggage, in the direction of the check-in desk.
They seemed to be airborne before she knew it, and she half expected Carter to take out some work and get on with it. But, to her pleasant surprise, he seemed content to relax and to while away the hour in either desultory conversation or a sort of companionable silence.
There were questions she would have liked to ask. Questions about what sort of business they were going to be doing in Paris. But, with Carter seeming disinclined to talk business, and realising how hard he worked, Ashlyn felt that to let him relax while he could might be a much better idea.
She felt relaxed too, she had to own, though she began to feel a little tense when Carter thought to refer to the fact that her mother must have packed her a case and delivered it to the office, asking, ‘Your parents don’t mind you flying off at short notice?’
‘It’s not something I do every day,’ she answered, realising that they were getting close to the way she had intimated she might fly that evening to Italy and have dinner with Vezio. She just couldn’t bear to have another spat with Carter. Which left her, in her efforts to take the conversation away from anything that might cause an upset, diving into another area which she did not particularly want to discuss either. But she stated quite openly, ‘To be honest, my parents are enormously pleased that—’ She broke off.
‘Don’t leave it there,’ Carter encouraged, and added, with a smile that caused her heart to tilt, ‘I have every admiration for honesty.’
She guessed that in business honesty was his watchword. And, encouraged by him to go on, she found herself telling him, ‘Well, to start at the beginning, my father decided way back that he didn’t want to go into the family business, Ainsworth Engineering. So, with some financial help from my grandfather, he set up Ainsworth Cables.’ A week ago she’d have told him none of this. But a week ago she hadn’t known that she was in love with him. And now, especially when he was so encouraging, she didn’t seem able to stop talking. ‘Anyhow, it soon became a matter of enormous pride to him that as Ainsworth Engineering went from strength to strength Ainsworth Cables did too. He worked so hard, but...’ She faltered.
‘But hard wasn’t good enough when his plans and investments went awry,’ Carter took up quietly. It was plain to her then that he knew far more about her father’s business than she did.
So she agreed, and added, ‘And you came along and bought him out.’
‘Does that bother you?’ Carter asked, turning so he could see her face.
She shook her head. ‘I think now that it’s the best thing that could have happened to him. He’s not looking anywhere near as worn as he once did. Though...’ she hesitated.
‘Though?’ Carter prompted.
‘Well, the thing is...’ Ashlyn felt compelled to go on ‘... my father’s pride was very badly dented because he had to let the firm go.’ Suddenly she realised that they were sailing close to another dangerous area—that of her father holding out for a seat on the board for her— and she hurried on, ‘So he—er—needed something else he could be proud of to his brothers and their families.’
‘He found it in you,’ Carter stated intuitively.
‘I’m afraid so,’ she acknowledged, and, since Carter appreciated honesty so much, she found herself confessing, ‘He’s told them that I’m now an executive director with Hamilton Holdings.’ She looked into his dark grey eyes. He didn’t seem to have taken exception to the title her father had pinned on her. ‘It’s his pride, you see,’ she ended quietly.
She was totally charmed when, with a gentle smile for her, he commented, ‘You’ve a whole lot of pride too, Ashlyn Ainsworth.’
She turned to look out of the window, her heart racing. She could not remember just then why or how it had come about that Carter had witnessed her pride. But she felt a warm glow at what had sounded like a compliment. That glow stayed with her long after their plane had landed.
They went by taxi from the airport and Ashlyn realised that Carter must have stayed at the same hotel before, because he was able to tell the driver where to take them. When they arrived at a large and well-lit building, she guessed Carter must have read the fare on the meter, for, as he paid the driver and received a cordial, ‘Merci beaucoup, monsieur,’ at the size of his tip, he had no need of her French-speaking services.
He had a smattering of French, she observed; he was able to briefly greet the concierge on duty. But there her observations ended because, all at once, it came to her that this was not a hotel but an apartment block!
Startled, she looked to Carter, but he and the concierge were busy holding open the lift doors and manhandling their two cases inside.
Trying to keep her mind a blank—she didn’t know how she was going to feel if she was to share an apartment with him—she stepped into the lift and she and Carter sailed upwards.
She loved him and the idea of being constantly in his company was little short of wonderful. But, because of her love for him, and because of that pride he had spoken of, it was of the utmost importance that Carter, with his quick mind and eyes, did not see in such close and continued confines so much as a glimpse of her love.
By the time they had stepped out of the lift and he had unlocked the door of his apartment, Ashlyn was feeling on very shaky ground. She’d just die if he knew how she felt about him.
‘It’s an apartment!’ she stated flatly as they went in.
‘You’re quick—I’ll give you that!’ he mocked, and Ashlyn was glad of his mockery; it annoyed her, and she needed to be annoyed.
‘I’m to sleep here?’ she questioned tautly, and saw his good humour abruptly vanish.
‘If it’s not too much trouble,’ he answered shortly.
‘But—’ she went to object.
‘Forgive me,’ he cut in, not looking sorry at all. ‘This apartment belongs to the company and it’s where we on the board make our base when we’re here on company business.’ His dark eyes bored into her, and she felt like a worm on the end of a pin. ‘Forgive me,’ he apologised again, ‘for looking on you merely as another board member.’
Ashlyn turned from him, feeling about as big as tuppence. She’d had a dressing down, and she guessed she deserved it. But—and oh, what a contradictory creature love had made of her—she didn’t want him to see her ‘merely as another board member’. Mixed-up she might be in worrying about sharing an apartment with him, but she didn’t want him to see her as one of the men; she wanted him to see her as a woman.
‘Which room are you having?’ she questioned snappily, looking around the stylishly furnished sitting room at the many doors leading off.
‘The best one, naturally!’ he returned without pause, and she just had to laugh. His mouth twitched when he saw that she was over her cross-patch moment, and as quickly as it had come all enmity was over. ‘I’ll take your case in,’ he commented. Ashlyn hung back.
She watched as he picked up her case and noted to which room he took it, as well as noticing his chivalry—he hadn’t left it to her to struggle with it over the thickly piled carpet.
She needed a moment by herself, she realised. They were friends again—well, of a sort, she qualified. But she still felt a little tense somehow, and instinctively wandered in the opposite direction. She was in the kitchen when she heard Carter come and join her.
‘Someone’s stocked up the fridge,’ she remarked off the top of her head.
‘As per instructions,’ he replied easily.
‘I’d better go and unpack,’ she returned. Carter seemed taller, more dominant than ever in the close confines of the kitchen.
‘You’d better take this with you,’ he stayed her, and gave her a bulky envelope.
‘What is it?’ she asked, innocently expecting it to b
e instructions or an itinerary for the next few days.
‘Local currency,’ he answered, and she was immediately up in arms.
‘I don’t want it!’ she exclaimed furiously, pushing it back at him.
‘Oh, for G—’ He broke off, exasperated. ‘Stow your pride for a minute and be realistic!’ he rapped. ‘You’re in France and you’ll need—’
‘I can get my own currency tomorrow. From a bank—anywhere.’
‘You don’t have to. I—’
‘I don’t want your money,’ she insisted.
‘Then look on it as business expenses,’ he thundered. ‘I collected it for you from Finance on my way out. If you really insist, I’ll instruct them when we get back to deduct what you’ve spent out of your salary cheque. Now go and—’
‘Salary cheque?’ she queried.
And as suddenly as the storm had blown in it was again over. ‘I just don’t believe there’s a woman like you!’ Carter declared, tilting his head and studying her. ‘Had you no idea that a salary cheque was paid into your bank account at the end of last month?’
Witlessly she stared at him. ‘Honestly?’ she exclaimed. ‘What for?’ she asked, only for her world to spin crazily when Carter, after a split second of just looking at her, stretched out his hands to her arms.
And, as if he couldn’t prevent himself, he pulled her a little closer. ‘For doing what you do so brilliantly,’ he smiled, and dropped a gossamer-light kiss upon her cheek. Then, swiftly, he pushed her away. ‘Now go and get ready; we’re dining with friends of mine in an hour.’
Ashlyn felt too choked to argue. She went quickly, glad that her bedroom had its own bathroom. She needed to shower and to change and she was such a dither inside she didn’t know when she would ever be ready to see Carter again.
Striving hard to be practical—Carter had kissed her, be it only on her cheek, be it a kiss that meant precisely nothing—she went to unpack her suitcase.
Her mother had gone a little demented, she saw: not only had she packed the clothes Ashlyn had said she thought might be suitable, but she had also packed two dresses which she had not mentioned. One was plain black, finished just above the knee and was classic; the other, which Ashlyn just couldn’t see herself wearing this trip, was a narrow-strapped, fitted dress of deep gold. With it came a matching stole.
Carter had said that they were dining with friends of his in an hour—she’d better get a move on.
Her thoughts as she got ready centred mainly on Carter. She realised that she had better stop taking exception to the least little thing he said, if she didn’t want him to think her tiresome. Or, worse, supposing he started looking beneath the surface for a reason? Not that the bundle of French francs he’d given her came under the heading of ‘least little thing’, she mused. She started to smile as she recalled Carter’s flattering ‘doing what you do so brilliantly’. Fancy—and she got paid for it! She vaguely recalled someone from Finance wanting details of her bank account but she had thought that was so they could bank her cheque for attending the board meeting direct.
By the time she had her hair neatly dressed in its usual thick coil at the back of her head, Ashlyn was beginning to feel apprehensive again. She had opted to wear the black dress her mother had thought to put in, and she knew that she was looking good. But nerves were playing havoc with her insides.
Knowing that if she didn’t go soon Carter would come knocking at her door, wanting to know what the holdup was, she picked up her dainty black evening purse, straightened her shoulders, and opened her bedroom door.
‘Good, you’re re—’ Carter broke off, his eyes going over her from the tip of her head, skimming her shape, and on down to her toes. ‘Did anybody ever tell you you’ve got the most sensational legs?’ he enquired, his eyes on her warm green ones.
‘Er—’ Her heart was drumming like blazes; she couldn’t handle it. ‘You don’t have to take me with you!’ she said in a rush.
‘Just because I said you’ve got good legs?’ he teased.
And she loved him. Oh, how she loved him. ‘You said you were dining with friends,’ she reminded him. If they were friends of his, then they would speak English, which made her role as interpreter redundant. ‘I can knock something together out of the fridge.’
‘Not in that get-up, you can’t.’ He smiled a gentle smile, and she loved him some more. Then he was all bracing and matter-of-fact. ‘Come on, woman,’ he said, his tone brooking no argument, ‘I’m starving, and the concierge has a taxi waiting.’
Solène Ducret was an elegant woman of about thirty. Luc, her charming husband, was the same age as Carter. The friends greeted each other warmly and when Carter introduced her Ashlyn was made to feel most welcome.
She took to the French couple straight away, and, as she had surmised they would, everyone spoke in English. Ashlyn felt all the signs were good for an excellent evening.
Indeed, things were going along splendidly, everyone relaxed and at ease as they moved to their table in the restaurant. Ashlyn had thought her services might be required to translate the menu for Carter, but an English translation was already given, so she concentrated on her own selection.
‘Do you have a career as well as your board duties, Ashlyn?’ Solène enquired as their first course arrived.
‘I’m—working temporarily full-time for the company.’ Ashlyn had hesitated over the word ‘working’. It did not seem at all like work.
‘Ashlyn’s an executive in her own right,’ Carter put in, and Ashlyn felt slightly jolted. Was he being funny—or was he being serious? Having only that day discovered she loved him, she was so highly sensitive to anything he said or did that her judgement had become unsure.
‘And enjoying it,’ she smiled, and thought it time to take the conversation elsewhere. ‘Do you follow a career, Solène?’ she enquired, and heard that Solène was a scientist.
Ashlyn thought Solène’s career most interesting and, while being careful to give the others space, formed a queue of questions to ask. The evening progressed so easily that it was time to leave almost before Ashlyn knew it.
‘Are you in Paris for long?’ Solène asked as they stood on the pavement saying goodnight. ‘Perhaps we could meet again...’
‘We’re here until the end of the week,’ Carter answered for Ashlyn, and Ashlyn’s feeling of well-being surged. They were there, she and Carter, for a whole week! Well, nearly a whole week! Oh, joy, oh, bliss.
Carter was saying something about how he would arrange something with Luc, then they said their goodnights and turned to get into the waiting taxi. Ashlyn felt as if she was dreaming and she never wanted to wake up.
But she did wake up—with a very big bump. For Luc had stepped forward hurriedly and, in the urgency of the moment, forgot to speak English. ‘Carter—où nous retrouverons-nous demain?’
‘Je viendrai vous prendre à votre hôtel à huit heures,’ Carter answered.
The taxi pulled away from the kerb and Ashlyn settled back. Carter and Luc obviously had some business to do first thing in the morning. Carter had told him that he’d pick him up at his hotel at eight. Suddenly, she froze!
In slow motion she played back Luc’s ‘Carter—where shall we meet tomorrow?’ and Carter’s ‘I’ll pick you up at your hotel at eight’. Carter had replied in perfect French, with not a falter, not a stumble! Not only had he instantly understood Luc’s question but, without having to think about it, he had replied in the same tongue! Carter was as fluent in French as she was!
So where did that leave her? What in blue blazes was she doing there, since it was blatantly obvious that Carter needed neither interpreter nor translator?
‘Is something the matter, Ashlyn?’
You could say that! He was quick—she’d give him that. He must have picked up, either from the stiff way she was sitting or from some other means, the fact that her happy mood of a few minutes ago had changed. Well, bubbles to him—she needed to think.
‘No!’
she answered shortly, and did not thank him that he chose not to pursue the matter.
Swine! She tried hard to remember what he had said when he had roped her into going to Paris with him, but she just could not remember. Not word for word anyhow, because seconds later she had realised that she was in love with him—and nothing after that had made sense in her head for a little while.
Well, it was for sure he didn’t need her for her languages, and it was for sure that since they had been entertained that evening he didn’t need her there to help him and... Oh, heavens, Solène and Luc were sophisticated people. What in creation were they thinking? Carter had introduced her as a member of his board—but did they really believe that?
Her face flamed scarlet. Surely they didn’t believe ...? Carter would never... Well, he had kissed her cheek earlier that evening, but it hadn’t meant anything. She might still be a little wet behind the ears about that sort of thing but she just knew that Carter wasn’t like that. That his kiss meant nothing.
And she hated him for that too. Because she loved him, felt mixed-up and confused. And he was clever, and she knew he must have some motive in bringing her to Paris with him, but she’d be darned if she could fathom out what it—
‘Do you want to go around again?’
Carter’s curt tones cut into her thoughts, and made her aware that the taxi had stopped and that he had got out and was waiting for her to join him—they had arrived back at the apartment.
Without a word she got out of the taxi, and, her chin tilted a proud fraction, without a word she preceded him into the building. Mute, she walked into the lift. She felt humiliated and embarrassed that because he must feel responsible for her he hadn’t been able to leave her behind in the apartment. She loved him and hated the fact that he must have felt obliged to take her with him. How could he? As the lift sailed upwards, she felt like hitting him.
The lift stopped and she walked in front to the door of the apartment. Stiff-backed, wooden-expressioned, she wouldn’t look at him. He opened the door; she marched in. Indeed, she was halfway across the sitting-room floor when a hand clamped over her wrist and stopped her.
A Business Engagement Page 11