In Need Of A Wife
Emma Darcy
A Kiss is Just a Kiss…When the sexy stranger informed Sasha that he was in need of a wife, she was tempted to tell him she was available. Something about him told her he was husband material. And then she discovered that her stranger - one Nathan Parnell - only wanted to marry in an effort to secure custody of his three-year-old son.Sasha desperately needed a home, but despite a disastrous union that had blessed her with a beautiful daughter, she also wanted to marry for love. And she wanted to share more than a marriage of convenience with Nathan. But if she wasn't willing to take him on his terms, she suspected he'd quickly find someone who would!
In Need Of A Wife
Emma Darcy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#udca88a88-028c-5428-bd31-de60932c0fb0)
CHAPTER TWO (#u410e203c-4e0c-51ee-9cb3-8aa8cecefeab)
CHAPTER THREE (#ue3a4516f-abe4-5061-8036-0ed7c2d0a916)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u02f64e26-a34b-5cfb-a682-d6024d9f72c3)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
HE WAS a complete stranger. He had brought his three-year-old son to the same harbourside park Sasha had brought her nine-month-old daughter. In half an hour of desultory conversation across a sandpit where their children played together, all she had learned about him was his name, Nathan Parnell. He was also the sexiest man Sasha had ever met.
He made a pair of jeans and T-shirt look like indecent exposure. The casual but open affection with which he touched his son conjured up visions of the tactile pleasure he would give a woman. It brought goose-bumps to Sasha’s skin.
And those riveting blue eyes. When she spoke they focused on her with concentrated interest as though she were the most important person in the world. Sasha found it difficult to tear her gaze away from him. Even when she forced her attention back to Bonnie, who was being entertained by his little boy, she was intensely aware of the man lounging on the grass on the other side of the sandpit.
‘What I need...’ he spoke in a musing tone, not so much to her as to the world at large, yet the deep baritone of his voice made her ears tingle with anticipation to hear what his needs were ‘...is a wife.’
Sasha’s head jerked up, her dark eyes wide with shock. She quickly flicked the fall of her long black hair over her shoulder to cover up her reaction to the startling statement. She had been secretly envying Nathan Parnell’s wife, and berating herself for having wasted so many years on Tyler Cullum while all the best men were taken. The whimsically appealing smile Nathan Parnell directed at her set her pulse racing.
‘Tell me honestly,’ he invited. ‘Would you consider the position?’
Warning bells rang in Sasha’s mind. Strangers who made odd propositions in a park were definitely to be avoided, no matter how sexy they were.
Her gaze quickly swept their vicinity. Most of the people who had been nearby earlier seemed to have wandered off. There was an old man sitting at one of the benches, reading the Saturday newspaper, a young couple under the trees closer to the water, two middle-aged women apparently watching the leisure craft sailing by on the harbour, all of them a fair distance from the sandpit and all of them strangers.
She probably looked like part of a family group, Mum and Dad and their two kids, and people in the city tended to steer clear of others’ troubles. This was time to get out.
‘I’d better be going,’ she said, trying not to look too hasty as she began gathering the plastic blocks Bonnie had thrown around.
‘You haven’t answered the question,’ Nathan Parnell reminded her, not exhibiting any discomfiture whatsoever. ‘I need a wife, and to satisfy my curiosity I’d like to know whether you’d consider the position.’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Is there something wrong with me?’ he asked.
With his attributes, he could probably have the choice of any woman in Sydney. He probably knew it, too. Sasha cast him a quelling look. ‘I thought you were already married.’
‘I was. Past tense.’
It gave her pause for thought. Maybe he was a widower in desperate need for someone to mother his little boy. Although why he’d pick on her, after the barest acquaintance, left a lot of questions up in the air. Was he impressed by her manner with Bonnie? Was that the only yardstick he had for a wife? Or did he find her attractive enough to fancy her in his bed, as well?
Curiosity prompted her to say, ‘I don’t want to raise a matter that might be painful to you, but what happened to your first wife?’
‘She’s gone. Hopefully to hell and perdition.’
It was certainly no salute to the woman he had married. Which gave Sasha every reason to be circumspect with this man. ‘I’m sorry things didn’t work out better for you,’ she said, resuming her block-gathering. To keep him talking until she could make her getaway, she asked, ‘How did she die?’
‘She didn’t. More’s the pity,’ he said with an edge of bitterness. ‘Though the marriage wasn’t a dead loss. I got Matt. Thank God he takes after me.’
‘Then you’re divorced,’ Sasha deduced, wanting the situation spelled out.
‘No other way out of the problem.’
Sasha knew how messy such problems were. She didn’t have to divorce Tyler Cullum because they weren’t married in the first place, but effecting a separation was just as traumatic as any divorce. She wondered how any mother could leave her child behind, as Nathan Parnell’s wife apparently had. Then, with a spurt of her own bitterness, she supposed there were women, as well as men, who didn’t want their lives loaded down with children.
Nathan Parnell took her silence for complicity and resumed his proposition. ‘Consider the advantages. We could go back to the old way of doing things. Set up a marriage contract...’
‘What makes you think I’m free to marry?’ Sasha demanded, thinking he was assuming one hell of a lot in talking to her like this.
‘No wedding-ring.’
‘Many people think marriage isn’t valid any more,’ she argued, although it was Tyler’s opinion, not hers.
The blue eyes blazed incredulity. ‘You’re still living with a guy who didn’t bother to marry you when you had his child?’
‘It does happen these days,’ she flared at him, painfully aware of the mistakes she had made.
‘Why isn’t he with you?’
‘Because...’ It was none of his business, but somehow his eyes pinned her to a reply. ‘Because I left him,’ she finished defiantly. ‘He wasn’t good to me, and he wasn’t good to Bonnie.’
‘There you are. Same problem I had,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘We’d both be better served if we worked out a sensible contract. Set out what we’re prepared to give to the marriage, and what we can expect from each other.’
‘You’re talking about a marriage of convenience.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘What about love?’
‘Definitely out. It causes havoc and creates chaos. Turns sensible people into raving lunatics. The Greeks had it right. They called it Eros. The eighteen months of madness before passion cools and reality sets in.’
‘Well, you might not think it’s worth having, but I do,’ Sasha said emphatically.
She grabbed her holdall and stuffed Bonnie’s play blocks into it. Her dreams might have been tarnished by her experience with Tyler, but she was not about to give them up and become as cynical as Nathan Parnell.
‘What did love do for you?’ came the sardonic challenge. ‘How long did it take you to find out your lover was a dead loss when it came to commitment and responsibility?’
She faced him with grim determination. ‘It wasn’t love. Not real, deep-down love. And I’m not going to settle for anything less next time around. If there is a next time. I’d rather manage on my own than compromise myself again.’
‘How will you know this real, deep-down love?’ he asked sceptically.
‘I’ll know.’
She wasn’t at all sure of that but she stood up in disdain of any more of his arguments, then bent to lift Bonnie over her arm and brush the sand from her legs. She was conscious of Nathan Parnell swinging himself into a sitting position but he didn’t rise to his feet.
‘It’s pie-in-the-sky,’ he stated mockingly.
‘You can hardly say your attitude is normal,’ she retorted.
‘Normality is a fantasy. People aspire to it because they’re so frightened of being themselves.’
‘Well, now I’m free to be myself,’ Sasha tossed at him.
‘If you married me, you’d be even more free to be yourself.’
‘Free?’ She cocked a scornful eyebrow at him. ‘Wouldn’t I have to share your bed?’
‘Minimally. Marriage isn’t legal without consummation. Would once in a lifetime be asking too much of you?’
‘Once! What kind of marriage is that?’
His eyes danced over her from head to toe, openly admiring the shining fall of her long black hair, the curves of her figure which were faithfully outlined by her T-shirt and jeans, the shapeliness of her long legs.
‘Perhaps I could manage more if you really wanted me to,’ he suggested, flashing her a smile that had the kick of a mule. His eyes held a definite glint of earthy wickedness as he added, ‘You have lovely skin. Smooth and creamy. Must be like satin to touch.’
Sasha could feel the cream burning into fire-engine red as she remembered wanting to know how it would feel to be touched by him. Her gaze dropped to his hands, lightly resting on his knees, and she had a moment of lustful speculation that was totally unlike her.
Fortunately, Bonnie recalled her to her senses by squirming and crowing her eagerness to be returned to her playmate. Sasha hoisted her daughter up against her shoulder, holding her more securely, defensively.
‘This is getting beyond the pale,’ she said, her eyes flashing contempt for his concept of a convenient marriage. ‘Where do you get such ideas from?’
He shrugged. ‘They popped into my head.’
‘So you ask the first woman you meet, or happen to be with, to be your...’ Words failed her.
He grinned, totally unabashed. ‘There is a certain zest to it, springing into the unknown. It could be a glorious adventure for both of us.’
‘Or a trip to hell and perdition,’ she reminded him with waspish intent, hoping he felt the sting in the tail. ‘Don’t forget that,’ she added for good measure.
‘Doesn’t apply. No love involved.’
‘Which is where I opt out. Thanks for the offer but it has no appeal to me.’
She leaned down to pick up her bag, telling herself she was crazy to have listened to him for so long, crazier still to feel tempted into listening some more. Sex-appeal was a trap. It faded fast once one got down to the nitty-gritty of making a relationship work. Tyler had conclusively proved to her that a relationship without love had no hope of bringing any real or lasting happiness.
‘Can’t I play with the baby any more?’
‘I don’t think the baby’s mother wants to stay, Matt, and we have to respect other people’s wishes.’
It was a gentle answer. Sasha saw an arm reach out and gather the little boy into a comforting closeness with his father, a loving touch that put an ache of yearning in Sasha’s stomach. If Tyler had been like that with Bonnie... But he hadn’t, and any last hope of him ever changing had died the night she saw him shaking their child as though she were nothing but a rag doll.
As she straightened, the bag firmly clutched in her hand, Sasha tried her best to project proud independence in turning away from the disturbing influence of Nathan Parnell’s presence. But her heart caught at the mournful look in his small son’s eyes.
She was well acquainted with the loneliness of being an only child. But Matt did have the love of his father. And Bonnie had her love. The last thing children needed was to be caught in the warfare of a relationship that wasn’t based on love.
Reassured that she had done the right thing in leaving Tyler, and was doing the right thing in leaving Nathan Parnell, Sasha stiffened her spine and bestowed a warm smile on the little boy.
‘Thank you for playing with Bonnie.’
‘Can we play again another time?’ he asked.
‘I’m afraid not.’ She saw the disappointment in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added, then turned quickly and walked away, wondering how different their lives might have become if she could have given another answer.
In her abstraction she did not see the figure striding across the park on an intercepting course.
‘Sasha!’ he called.
She heard the strident anger in the voice. It arrested her mid-step. She turned towards the source, knowing already what she was about to see, knowing she was about to be involved in another confrontation, this one much more serious than the minor skirmish she had just played out with Nathan Parnell.
She knew the owner of the voice.
It belonged to Tyler Cullum.
CHAPTER TWO
SASHA watched Tyler approach. She had once thought him sexy, but now she saw him as nothing more than a slick sophisticate, consumed with self-interest. He was more smoothly handsome than Nathan Parnell, conscious of the latest fashions, stylishly lean, and affecting a temperamental moodiness that he considered artistic.
Why she suddenly thought of Nathan Parnell as warm and honest and earthy, she didn’t know. Contrast, she supposed. Nathan Parnell was a bigger man, his strongly boned face marked with expressive character lines, his dark hair an unruly toss of waves that looked finger-combed, if combed at all. There was nothing artificial about him. He was comfortable with who and what he was and not frightened to lay that out to anyone else.
Sasha told herself she had nothing to be frightened of, either. She didn’t have to please or appease Tyler any more. She was free to be herself and go her own way.
But all her fine resolutions didn’t stop her stomach from twisting into a knot of apprehension as Tyler came to a halt in front of her. She stared defiantly into stormy grey eyes, deciding she had a definite preference for vivid blue.
‘You could have told your parents which park you were going to,’ Tyler sniped. ‘This is the third one I’ve had to look through.’
‘I don’t understand what you’re doing here, Tyler,’ she said truthfully. ‘You were glad to see us leave a week ago.’
He made a visible effort to control his irritation. ‘Well, I was wrong, Sasha. Now that I’ve had time to think about it...’
‘I’ve had time to think about it, too. I wasn’t wrong, Tyler. For me, it’s finished.’
‘You’re being unreasonable, Sasha. Just because I’m not as patient as you are with Bonnie...’
Her expressive dark eyes flashed contempt at his hypocritical excuse. It forced Tyler to a concession.
‘All right. I’m sorry for blowing up, but she was driving me nuts.’
‘She won’t any more. If you’ll excuse us...’
Before she could move, Tyler stepped forward and snatched her carrier bag out of her hold. ‘You’re not going anywhere until we’ve talked this out.’
Sasha fought to remain calm, disdaining any attempt to retrieve the bag. ‘Talking won’t make any difference to my decision, Tyler.’
She saw the struggle on his face. He found it difficult to accept that she could actually walk away from him without a backward glance. ‘Listen to me, Sasha,’ he demanded, mollifying the demand with a cajoling tone. ‘I miss you. I even miss the baby. The apartment feels empty without you.’
The glib persuasion didn’t have the substance to reach past other memories. Sasha eyed him with bleak weariness. ‘What you’re missing, Tyler, is a convenience you’ve got used to. Find another woman to look after your needs. The one you tumbled in your studio might oblige.’
It riled him. ‘I told you that was a one-off thing.’
‘You’re free to do whatever you like with whomever you like, Tyler. But not with me and Bonnie.’
His temper flared. ‘I came to say I was sorry. What more do you want?’
‘Nothing. There’s nothing I want from you, except for you to go away and leave us alone.’ She held out her hand for the bag. ‘Please?’
He ignored the appeal. ‘Where do you think you’re going to live? You’re being totally selfish squatting on your family. They don’t have room for you.’
‘I intend to find a place of my own.’
‘Sure! That will be real easy with a baby in tow and no steady income. You’re not thinking straight, Sasha. It’s time you stopped sulking and came to your senses.’
‘There’s no point in this, Tyler. Please give me the bag and let us go.’
‘You’re being stupidly stubborn. Come back home with me and...’
She started walking away without the bag, sick of the argument, sick of everything to do with Tyler, wanting to put him behind her once and for all.
He caught up with her and wrenched one of her arms away from Bonnie, his hand closing around it with biting strength and jerking her around to face him. ‘Don’t turn your back on me! I came to talk to you.’
‘It’s no use!’ Sasha cried, shocked at being forcibly held and struggling to free herself. Bonnie started screaming at the jolting.
‘You’re upsetting the kid,’ he accused.
‘Let me go and she’ll be fine. We’ll both be fine.’
‘You’re coming home with me.’
Pulling her after him, denying her any choice, he set off across the park, heading back to where he must have parked his car.
‘Stop it, Tyler!’ Sasha tried digging her heels in but that caused her to stumble when his relentless forward progress dragged her along with him. ‘I don’t want to go with you,’ she protested.
He didn’t so much as slow his pace. ‘You’re coming whether you like it or not.’
‘This won’t get you anywhere,’ she fiercely promised him, pulling and straining against his iron-tight grip. She was hopelessly incapacitated by the need to hold on to Bonnie who was now screaming at the top of her lungs. Sasha was reduced to pleading. ‘Let me go, Tyler. You’re hurting me.’
‘If you stop being a stubborn mule, you won’t get hurt.’
‘Let the lady go.’
The command startled both of them. In harnessing all her strength to resist Tyler’s caveman tactics, Sasha had forgotten about witnesses. Tyler turned to glare at the man who had suddenly thrust himself into an intervening role. Sasha stared at her self-appointed rescuer in dazed disbelief.
Nathan Parnell had shed his sexy air of relaxed indolence. He looked very big, very strong, and very determined.
‘Butt out, mister,’ Tyler snapped at him. ‘This is none of your business.’
Sasha felt a hot surge of humiliation. Being manhandled in public, and having her helplessness witnessed by Nathan Parnell and his son, was degrading. She should have handled this confrontation with Tyler more tactfully, although how she could have stopped him from turning it into an ugly spectacle she didn’t know.
‘Let her go or I’ll...break...your arm.’
The words were loaded with menace. Her uninvited champion stepped forward, obviously prepared to execute the threat.
The shock of it brought Sasha’s miserable train of thought to an abrupt halt. Why did men have to be so...so primitive? There was going to be a major physical confrontation unless she did something to stop it. And it wasn’t necessary.
‘It’s all right,’ she cried. When all was said and done, she was capable of standing up for herself. Tyler didn’t mean to do her any physical harm, she was sure of that.
Nathan Parnell didn’t back off but he stopped. ‘It certainly will be,’ he said, ‘when the gentleman releases you and returns your bag.’
To Sasha’s knowledge, Tyler had never been faced with the threat of physical violence before. With imminent danger temporarily averted, shock gave way to bristling bravado. ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ he demanded.
‘Parnell. Police officer. Off duty.’
The economy of words reinforced the command of the man and the identification made his stance even more intimidating. It gave Tyler pause for thought. He finally decided discretion was the better part of valour and released Sasha’s arm.
Sasha reacted rather than acted. Her self-protective instinct made her step back out of Tyler’s reach. Her maternal instinct urged her to soothe Bonnie’s alarm. She was too shaken by what had happened to initiate any further resolution to this dreadful scene.
The erstwhile stranger from the sandpit stood his ground, eyeing Tyler as though he were a prime suspect in a murder case.
‘You don’t understand, Officer,’ Tyler blustered. ‘This is nothing but a domestic argument.’
‘Want to come down to the station and have a friendly chat about it?’
Tyler didn’t care for that challenge, either. ‘This is ridiculous. Cops everywhere. Isn’t there any freedom left in this country?’
‘Yes, sir, there is. Freedom for women and children as well as men. Now, if you don’t mind, hand over the lady’s bag.’
‘She has her hands full with the baby. Our baby,’ Tyler argued.
Nathan Parnell turned to Sasha who was still trying to calm Bonnie. He addressed her quietly, politely, giving no indication that they had met and talked before.
‘Would you like me to carry the bag for you, ma’am? I’ll give you safe escort to wherever you want to go.’
Sasha felt confused. The authority he had brought to the situation was helping to end it, but she didn’t want to get involved with the law. She didn’t want to get any further involved with Nathan Parnell, either. He was just as bad as Tyler in wanting a convenience, and his he-man display didn’t impress her any more than Tyler’s did.
‘You go with him, Sasha, and you’ll never see me again,’ Tyler vowed, fuming at having been put in the wrong.
It made up her mind for her. She didn’t want to see Tyler again. ‘Thank you, Officer. I would be grateful for your help.’
He turned back to Tyler and held out his hand. ‘The bag please, sir.’
Tyler tossed it at Nathan Parnell’s feet, glaring intense hostility at Sasha for her part in his humiliation. ‘Don’t think you can come crawling back to me. This is it, Sasha. I gave you your chance.’
She made no reply. Nathan Parnell scooped up the bag, stepped between her and Tyler, and took a gentle hold on her elbow to steer her in the direction he wanted her to go. ‘If you’ll come this way, ma’am...’
Sasha hesitated, unsure what she would be getting herself into by going with him. Leaping into the unknown was not her idea of a ‘glorious adventure’. Then she remembered his son and realised he must have left the little boy somewhere. Matt should be getting his father’s attention.
She moved decisively, submitting to Nathan Parnell’s escort, embarrassed by the trouble she hadn’t been able to avoid, but relieved to put Tyler behind her. She wondered if it made her a coward, taking the easy way out, but what possible good could it do to continue a post-mortem argument with Tyler? The decision was made. There was no going back.
Matt was, in fact, sitting on the grass a little distance away, gravely watching their approach. Sasha wished he hadn’t seen that ugly tussle. It must have disturbed him as much as it had disturbed Bonnie. It rocked children’s sense of security when adults fought together.
‘Get the rest of your things out of my apartment tomorrow or I’ll throw them out,’ Tyler shouted after her. ‘Your parents will really love having to house all that. They won’t have room to move.’
Sasha shuddered, hating the vindictiveness, hating the fact that four years of commitment had come down to this horrible parting.
‘Just keep walking. Don’t look back,’ Nathan Parnell murmured.
She would never have guessed he was a police officer, although he certainly fitted the part, now that she knew. His height, his strong physique, the aura of being in command, unruffled by anything.
‘I don’t want to make any charge against Tyler,’ she said, casting an anxious glance at him.
The compelling blue eyes gently probed hers. ‘You don’t think he’ll trouble you any more?’
Sasha tore her gaze away, fighting a turbulent range of feelings related to his closeness and the caring way he’d looked at her. She was not a little girl in need of his protection, and she was not going to succumb to his proposition of a loveless marriage for the sake of having him at her side. He was not a comfort to her at all. He was disruptive and disturbing and the sooner she got away from him, the better.
‘I’m quite sure Tyler has wiped his hands of me,’ she said stiffly.
She hoped so, anyway. She felt that Tyler had too much ego to leave himself open to another rejection. From now on he would only think bad things about her and consider himself well rid of a relationship that had demanded too much of him anyway. She wondered what explanation he would give to their mutual acquaintances, then decided she didn’t care.
None of them had been close friends. Although Joshua, Tyler’s business partner, had always been kind. And perceptive. Joshua McDougal had been the only constant associate throughout her four years with Tyler. Social convenience had dictated the pattern of their life. If people weren’t fun, they were quickly discarded.
Once she had thought Tyler’s merry-go-round of people was the answer to all of her dreams. No more loneliness. Lots of people, happy to know her, happy to have her in their company. But it hadn’t been real. Not deep-down real. And when it had come to the solid realities of life—responsibilities, commitment, building a solid future together, simply being there when needed—Tyler was, to use Nathan Parnell’s words, a dead loss.
She had made the right decision. But it did leave her with some weighty problems, as Tyler had so nastily reminded her.
Matt hopped up to join his father in escorting her and Bonnie from the park. ‘I didn’t know you were a police officer, Daddy,’ he said enquiringly.
It gave Sasha a mental jolt. She had accepted Nathan Parnell’s claim without question, but out of the mouths of children came innocent truth.
‘When did you become a police officer?’ Matt relentlessly pursued the question as children always do.
‘When needs must, Matt,’ came the quiet reply.
Sasha realised he had supplied what he considered the situation demanded. But who was he really?
The answer exploded through her mind. A man who needed a wife, that was who, and he’d just made the opportunity to proposition her again. Nothing like a white knight to the rescue to soften a woman’s heart and mush up her brain. Well, not this woman, thank you very much, Sasha vowed. For the time being, she was through with men.
She stopped walking.
They all stopped walking.
Matt looked up at her. ‘My daddy can do anything,’ he stated proudly.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Sasha bit out. She turned to confront the man who considered when needs must a good enough reason for arranging matters as he saw fit. ‘Do you have anything at all to do with the law, Mr Parnell?’
His craggy, handsome face relaxed into a slow, heart-melting smile. ‘I don’t mind if you call me Nathan.’
Sasha battled to remain firm in her resistance to any tactics he might employ to persuade her to his way of thinking. ‘You didn’t answer the question,’ she said tersely.
The smile quirked into winsome appeal. The effect was so sexy, Sasha could feel certain nerves quivering in response. ‘I practised as a barrister for a while,’ he said in a voice that had undoubtedly swayed juries, especially if the jurors were all women.
Sasha refused to be swayed. ‘Did you get thrown out for malpractice?’ she demanded.
He looked affronted. ‘Of course not. I’m a very law-abiding citizen. I like legality. That’s the beauty of marriage. Or, at least it would be with a properly drawn-up contract.’
Sasha was not going to get sidetracked on to that issue. Just for once, she was going to pin this man to a proper answer. ‘Do you or do you not practise as a barrister now?’
‘I do not. I gave it up.’
‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘The judges didn’t agree with me all the time.’
That didn’t come as a surprise. ‘I don’t agree with you, either,’ Sasha asserted.
‘Over what?’ He looked innocent. ‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘Threatening bodily harm. I don’t believe in violence, Nathan Parnell.’
‘Neither do I. None eventuated, did it?’
‘No.’
‘I rest my case.’
He looked positively smug. It exasperated Sasha into saying, ‘I bet you’re not always right.’
‘My daddy’s never wrong,’ Matt said, looking up at his father admiringly. ‘He told me so.’
‘Brainwashed,’ Sasha muttered, but she couldn’t stop a smile at the precocious little boy.
It was a mistake. Nathan Parnell read it as compliance with their company. ‘So, which way is home?’ he asked, gesturing for her to indicate direction. ‘Matt and I will see you safely to your doorstep. If you like,’ he added belatedly, but with a smile that could have buckled her knees if Sasha weren’t made of sterner stuff.
It was time to effect the parting of the ways. Nathan Parnell was not the law and Sasha was not about to let him take the law into his own hands any more than he had. She had the distinct feeling that he could twist anything to his purpose, including her if she didn’t take herself out of his orbit.
‘Thank you, but there’s no need.’ She looked around. ‘Tyler’s already gone.’
‘What did he mean about having trouble with your parents?’
‘I’ll have to find a place of my own.’ She heaved a rueful sigh. ‘It’s not easy. Work’s been hard to get, and I’m not exactly over-endowed with the world’s riches.’
Bonnie had fallen asleep. Sasha shifted her into a more comfortable position against her shoulder then held out her hand. ‘May I have my bag now?’
‘Sure you don’t want me to carry it? It’s no trouble.’
She resisted temptation and shook her head. ‘I don’t have far to walk.’
He handed over the bag. The blue eyes played a last bit of havoc with her pulse-rate as he said, ‘Well, good luck with your job-hunting, and I hope you find a decent place to live.’
She met his gaze steadily, resolutely. ‘Good luck with finding a wife.’
That was it. She set off and didn’t look back, determined to put everything that had happened today behind her. Somewhere, somehow, she would make a good life for herself and Bonnie, even if she never found a man who would love both of them.
‘Hold on a moment!’
Nathan Parnell’s voice trapped her into looking back. Then the sight of him jogging after her with Matt enjoying a piggy-back ride and happily shouting ‘Giddy-up, Daddy,’ trapped her into stopping and staring at them. They were both so...heart-tuggingly attractive.
She was still standing like a store dummy when Nathan pulled up beside her. ‘Here,’ he said, bending over to slip a piece of notepaper into her bag.
‘What is it?’
‘I just thought of a place where you might get friendly accommodation. I wrote down the woman’s name and her phone number. You could try it if you want to. The rent’s negotiable.’
‘Thanks, but...’
‘Don’t spoil it.’ He grinned. ‘That’s my two good deeds for the day.’
Then, leaving her with the image of twinkling blue eyes, he was off again, his son bobbing up and down excitedly as his father broke into an obliging canter.
He was, without a doubt, the sexiest man Sasha had ever met.
CHAPTER THREE
SASHA was desperate. It was impossible to stay on with her parents. Their small two-bedroom apartment was uncomfortably overcrowded since she had been forced to retrieve all her possessions before Tyler threw them out. On top of that, a nine-month-old baby did not understand or make allowance for the daily rituals of a retired couple. The unavoidable disruption to the household routine was giving rise to tensions that made life difficult for everyone.
She and Bonnie had to get out.
Day after day Sasha searched for a suitable place but what was affordable was unthinkable: dingy basement bedsits, neighbourhoods where no young child would be safe, dank, sunless rooms that had an unhealthy smell about them. She would have coped if she had only had herself to consider. It was Bonnie’s welfare that concerned her. Once again Sasha opened her handbag and took out the piece of paper Nathan Parnell had given her. She hadn’t wanted to put herself in a position where she was beholden to him for anything. She had told herself it was better for her if she avoided any possible connection to him. But was it better for Bonnie?
Sasha glanced at her watch. It was almost three o’clock. This time last week she was sitting beside a sandpit in a park, discussing marriage with Nathan Parnell. His image came vividly to mind.
So what if she did run into him again? He hadn’t harassed her. He had respected her wishes. And Sasha had promised her mother she would find accommodation as soon as possible. This piece of paper was a chance to nothing. When needs must, she thought grimly.
Sasha picked up the telephone and dialled the pencilled numbers with both apprehension and determination, then stared at the woman’s name on the notepaper as she waited for the call to be answered.
Five minutes later she had an address in Mosman and an invitation from Marion Bennet to ‘come right on over’. However, when Sasha arrived at the recommended ‘friendly accommodation’, she was thrown into uncertainty about her course of action.
She stared at the magnificent two-storeyed home, unable to believe she had written down the right address. This place had to be worth a fortune, set as it was on harbour frontage and in grounds that had to encompass a couple of acres. Sweeping lawns and long-established gardens gave it an awesome look of prime real estate.
It probably cost a fortune to maintain, as well, Sasha reasoned. Perhaps having tenants helped the owner keep it. In any event, if she had somehow misheard the house number in the street, the best thing to do was find out and ring Marion Bennet again.
With a steadily purposeful step, Sasha made her approach by way of the long gravel driveway. It swept around in a semicircle so visitors could be driven right to the portico that framed the entrance to the house. Sasha couldn’t help feeling like an intruder as she walked up and pressed the doorbell.
To her startled surprise, she heard it play a few bars of ‘Jingle Bells’. It reminded her that it was the last week in November and all the shops were full of Christmas cheer. She hoped she could make Bonnie’s first Christmas a happy one.
One of the double doors opened. Sasha was faced with a woman of similar age to her mother, grey hair neatly groomed, her rather buxom figure comfortably dressed in a loose-fitting top and casual cotton trousers. Her hazel eyes were bright with interest as they swept over Sasha in quick appraisal.
Sasha had dressed professionally in a navy skirt and white blouse, stockings, low-heeled court shoes. Her long hair was wound into a smooth top-knot and she had applied a light make-up to give her face some colour. She hoped she looked like a sensible, responsible and trustworthy person.
‘Mrs Bennet?’ she asked on a slightly anxious note.
The woman gave her a friendly smile. ‘That’s me. And you must be Miss Redford.’
‘Yes.’ Sasha smiled in relief. She had the right address after all.
But it still didn’t look right when Mrs Bennet stood back and waved her forward. The foyer extended in a wonderful pattern of mosaic tiles to a magnificent polished cedar staircase that curved up to the top floor.
‘We could go up that way, but there’s another staircase by the kitchen that you’ll find handier,’ Mrs Bennet explained, leading Sasha into a side passage. ‘I’m afraid there’s no private entrance to the nursery and nanny’s quarters.’
Apparently that was the accommodation for rent. Feeling somewhat intimidated by her surroundings, Sasha simply nodded.
‘I’ll give you your bearings as we go,’ Mrs Bennet continued. ‘The formal rooms are on our right, the TV- and breakfast-rooms on our left.’
She opened doors as they passed them, giving Sasha a glimpse of luxurious living on a scale she had never met before. The ceilings had to be at least fourteen feet high, and the furniture was out of this world.
Between the breakfast-room and the kitchen was a lobby that served the second staircase. This was much less grand than the first, the treads not so wide, and there were three landings as it angled around the wall to the upper floor.
As she followed Mrs Bennet’s steady climb, Sasha had the sinking feeling that, however negotiable the rent was, this setting virtually precluded its being within her means. She should bring the matter up now to save wasting her own and Mrs Bennet’s time, but the temptation to see what was being offered was irresistable.
‘This is the nursery.’
Sasha was ushered into a bright, airy room, predominantly lemon and white, and containing every possible facility a mother and baby might need: storage cupboards, shelves, a changing table, a cot, a comfortable rocking-chair.
The nanny’s quarters were equally spacious and complete. The bed-sitting-room had all the facilities and comforts provided in a top motel: a double bed, writing desk, small lounge suite, table and chairs, television, telephone.
Sasha couldn’t even dream that the asking rent for this marvellous place would be in her capacity to pay. She tried to find some fault so she could retreat from the situation without loss of dignity. It was difficult to find a fault, but she came up with one.
‘I need a private telephone line,’ she said.
Mrs Bennet nodded a ready acceptance. ‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’
‘I need it for my business,’ Sasha said defensively.
‘Do you sell things from home?’ Mrs Bennet enquired.
‘No. I find things.’
She saw the incomprehension in the older woman’s eyes and explained further.
‘I find whatever people want found. It started with research for family trees, finding long-lost relatives, beneficiaries for wills. But it branched into tracking down family heirlooms and other things. The provenance of paintings or other works of art. Finding the owner of some rarity that someone wants to buy. Mostly people don’t know where to start or where to go for the information they want.’
‘What an interesting occupation! Do you get many people wanting your services?’
‘Not too many lately. But I do use the phone a lot when I’m working.’
‘It must save you considerable legwork,’ Mrs Bennet said appreciatively, then dismissed the issue, leading Sasha through another doorway. ‘I’m afraid the kitchenette is more or less limited to serving a baby’s needs than cooking meals, but of course you’ll have free use of the kitchen downstairs.’
It looked more than fine to Sasha. It was sheer luxury after what she had seen this week. It provided a small refrigerator, kitchen sink, a microwave oven, ample storage cupboards, and a benchtop with several power points.
Then there was the en-suite bathroom. It contained a bath for the baby as well as a separate shower stall if she preferred that herself.
Satisfied that Sasha had seen all there was to see, Mrs Bennet led her back into the nursery and pointed out one of the windows. ‘The swimming-pool is fenced for safety. You’re welcome to use it as you please. And the grounds. As I said, you don’t have a private entrance but we tend to live as a family here. No one will mind your coming or going through the house, front or back entrance.’
It was time to bite the bullet on the question of rent. The case was hopeless but Sasha had to know. ‘Mrs Bennet, you’ve been wonderfully kind showing me around, and I’d love to live here, but I don’t know if I can afford it. If you’d give me some idea...’
The older woman smiled. ‘Well, that’s up to you, my dear. These rooms are simply being wasted with no one in them. What would you like to pay?’
It put Sasha on the spot. She wished a definite figure had been stated. Much easier to say no than to have to reveal the truth of her situation. Her mind went through a feverish calculation, stretching her means to the uppermost limit of what she might be able to reasonably pay each week without running into trouble.
‘I don’t have much work at the present moment, but I do have a bit of money put aside,’ she explained. ‘I can afford...’ It was so inadequate, it would barely cover the cost of a bedsitter in the poorest part of Sydney.
‘Go on,’ said Mrs Bennet helpfully, her eyes soft with sympathy.
It seemed insulting to offer so little. In a voice she hardly recognised as her own, Sasha spoke the fateful words. ‘A hundred dollars a week.’ She could feel the blood burning through her cheeks. She turned aside, not wanting to face the reply, feeling humiliated and defeated.
‘I’m afraid that won’t do, my dear. I’m afraid that won’t do at all.’
Mrs Bennet had seemed such a nice person, but making her propose a figure that exposed how destitute she was...it was belittling and demeaning. ‘I’m sorry to have wasted your time,’ Sasha said tonelessly, and headed for the door.
‘What you are offering is far, far, far too much.’
It made Sasha pause. Was she hallucinating? Was her hearing defective today? She could not conceal the surprise she felt, nor did she attempt to hide it or disguise it as she swung around in disbelief. ‘I must have misheard. I thought you said I offered too much money.’
Mrs Bennet looked puzzled. ‘Didn’t Mr Parnell tell you?’
Completely confused about what was going on, Sasha repeated what she had been told. ‘He said the rent was negotiable.’
‘So it is, my dear, but under the terms of the will of the late Seagrave Dunworthy there is a caveat on the property that prevents any room, or any number of rooms, from being let or rented beyond a certain price. The rental that may be charged up to that maximum figure is negotiable, but if the owner were to accept any figure above that price, then the owner would be liable to litigation which could effectively cause a disinheritance and loss of ownership.’
Sasha’s professional curiosity was piqued. In the course of her work she had read a lot of strange and eccentric wills, but none like this. ‘Are you sure of your facts? I’ve never heard of such a thing.’
‘That’s what I’ve been told, and I have no reason to disbelieve it,’ Mrs Bennet assured her.
Sasha hesitated fractionally, then plunged to the heart of the matter. ‘Then how much is the maximum figure that can be charged for a room or a set of rooms?’
‘Five guineas a week.’
Reading old documents had made Sasha familiar with this unit of currency. It predated the introduction of decimal currency in 1966, and its real vogue was in the nineteenth century, although it had still been used in auctioneering circles, and particularly the horse-racing industry, up to a couple of generations ago. She did the mental calculation of converting this old coinage into pounds and shillings, and then into dollars and cents.
‘That works out at ten dollars and fifty cents.’
‘That is correct.’ Without the slightest loss of aplomb, Mrs Bennet explained the position so that Sasha could appreciate it properly. ‘You can negotiate any figure you like for the rent, up to a maximum of ten dollars fifty.’
Sasha still couldn’t make herself believe it. ‘The will must be very old to have been written in such terms,’ she said, driven to question the validity of what she was being told.
‘I don’t have any information on that,’ Mrs Bennet replied, looking totally unconcerned by such a consideration.
‘Surely with the effect of inflation...’
‘I’ve been led to believe there is no mention of the effects of inflation in the will of the late and highly esteemed Seagrave Dunworthy.’
‘Oh!’
Sasha didn’t know where to go from there. Faced with the unbelievable that was apparently irrefutable, her mind went into numb stasis.
Mrs Bennet eventually jolted her out of it. ‘Really, my dear, you must make up your mind whether to take the rooms or not,’ she said in a kindly but matter-of-fact voice. ‘I do have other things to do.’
‘Yes. Well, of course I’ll take them. In the circumstances.’
However dubious the circumstances were, Sasha told herself she would be stupid to look a gift horse in the mouth. Particularly in her circumstances.
‘In that case, I must tell you now that the terms of the agreement are very specific,’ Mrs Bennet said with an air of serious warning. ‘Firstly, any benefactor of the revered Seagrave Dunworthy must speak of him in the most laudable terms. Otherwise they may lose the benefits conferred on them by the will.’
‘Oh, I’ll certainly do that,’ Sasha said with feeling. ‘He must have been a wonderful man.’
‘Highly esteemed,’ Mrs Bennet agreed. ‘And secondly, the rental conditions are very precise. The money must be paid each Friday morning, after nine o’clock, and before the grandfather clock in the entrance hall chimes the twelfth stroke of the twelfth hour at midday.’
The eccentricity of this instruction seemed to add a ring of substance to the rest of Seagrave Dunworthy’s will. ‘I can’t pay in advance?’ Sasha asked.
‘Definitely not.’
‘Ten dollars fifty,’ Sasha repeated in dazed bemusement.
‘For convenience, ten is better,’ Mrs Bennet advised. ‘Then we don’t have to worry about change.’
‘Ten,’ Sasha agreed, wondering if she had fallen through the looking glass like Alice. ‘I get all this for ten dollars.’
‘Well, if you’d like to negotiate...’
‘No, no. Ten dollars is fine. I’ll pay it first thing on Friday morning.’
‘After nine o’clock,’ Mrs Bennet reminded her. ‘Now let’s go downstairs and I’ll give you duplicate keys for the front and back doors. Then you can move in whenever you like.’
‘It will be tomorrow.’
‘That’s fine, dear.’
Sasha was in such a daze that it wasn’t until Mrs Bennet was escorting her to the front door that a niggle of curiosity slithered into her mind. ‘Does Mr Parnell know about the terms of Seagrave Dunworthy’s will?’
‘Oh, yes, dear. Mr Parnell is a lawyer. He explained all the terms of the will to me.’
A man of many parts, Sasha thought. Retired barrister, white knight, boy scout, the sexiest man she had ever met, and what else?
‘I don’t know what we would have done without Mr Parnell,’ Mrs Bennet continued. ‘We ran into terrible trouble. My husband was robbed of his business, although we couldn’t prove it in court. We lost everything: our livelihood, the roof over our heads, all the money we had saved. We had nowhere to turn until Mr Parnell suggested this place and got us settled here.’
‘He did that for you, too?’ Sasha mentally added Good Samaritan to the list.
‘Such a kind man.’ Mrs Bennet opened the front door and smiled at Sasha. It seemed to be a ‘welcome to the family’ kind of smile. ‘My husband will help you carry your belongings in tomorrow if you need a hand, dear. I’m sure you’ll be very happy here.’
‘Thank you.’
It seemed ungrateful to linger, taking up more of Mrs Bennet’s time, but the memory of all those grand rooms prompted one last question. ‘Does anyone else live here besides you and Mr Bennet?’
‘Why, of course, dear. I thought you knew. Mr Parnell lives here.’
CHAPTER FOUR
BY EIGHT o’clock on Sunday night, Sasha had moved herself and Bonnie into the Mosman mansion. She was unpacked and as settled as she was ever likely to be in this household. She didn’t know how long her occupancy was going to last, but she was going to make the most of it while she could.
Bonnie was fast asleep in the nursery. Sasha had the luxury of the nanny’s quarters to herself. She took a long, hot shower, pampered herself by putting on her peacock blue satin robe, then brushed her hair as she made a critical assessment of herself in the vanity mirror.
She had never been called pretty. Tyler had said she was elegant. Fine bones, a long neck and the straight fall of black hair to below her shoulderblades had been her main attractions to him. She wondered what Nathan Parnell saw in her, apart from her skin. She did have fine skin, but she had always thought of it as pale, not creamy, and tonight there were signs of stress and fatigue under her eyes. The last few weeks had not been easy.
Sasha put down the hairbrush and strolled into the kitchenette. A cup of coffee, then she would see what was on TV. She switched on the percolator, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction in not having to consider anyone but herself.
She hadn’t seen Nathan Parnell all day. Mrs Bennet had told her he and Matt had gone visiting; Sasha didn’t ask with whom or where. She was determined not to show any interest in him. But Mrs Bennet had told her other items of interest.
She and her husband rented the servants’ quarters on the other side of the main kitchen. Nathan Parnell employed them as his housekeeper and handyman. This very convenient arrangement gave rise to grave suspicions in Sasha’s mind.
Nathan Parnell liked convenience. He also used the law to suit himself. Seagrave Dunworthy’s highly eccentric will could very well be an invention of Nathan Parnell’s fertile mind. It had brought him the Bennets, who obviously served him well, believing they were the recipients of remarkable good fortune. With the same good fortune extended to Sasha, he might be counting on getting himself a compliant wife.
If so, he could think again. Desperate situations required desperate solutions, but Sasha couldn’t believe her situation would become so desperate she would consider marriage in any circumstances to Nathan Parnell.
The more Sasha pondered her position here, the more it seemed to her that it didn’t matter whether Seagrave Dunworthy was an authentic person or not. All she had to do was believe in him implicitly and esteem him so highly that no one could ever fault her on that score. The terms of his will not only allowed her to live here cheaply, but also independently of Nathan Parnell’s good will or humour. As long as she paid her rent within the required time on Fridays, Nathan Parnell could have nothing to complain about.
The percolator boiled.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ she called, wondering what Mrs Bennet had forgotten to tell her this time.
Sasha poured coffee into her cup, heard the door open; then realised several moments passed without a word being spoken. Surprised into looking for the reason, Sasha lifted her head and was abruptly jolted out of her complacency. Marion Bennet was not her visitor at all. It was Nathan Parnell.
He stood by the opened door, apparently as transfixed by the sight of her as Sasha was by him. He was dressed in navy trousers and a white shirt, yet Sasha was instantly assailed by a sense of dangerous intimacy and a heart-choking awareness of dangerous virility.
Her mind registered shirt buttons left undone, a deep V of tanned chest with a sprinkle of dark curls, rolled-up shirt-sleeves, muscular forearms, the damp sheen of hair freshly washed, electric blue eyes that sent sizzling sensations pulsing to sensitive places.
She was suddenly, flamingly conscious of her nakedness under the silk of her robe. Her skin sprang alive with awareness. Her nipples tightened. She searched frantically for something to say, anything to disrupt the current of serious sexuality flowing between them.
‘I thought it was Marion Bennet.’
He didn’t seem to hear. She needed something less obvious, more earth-shaking. Nothing came to mind.
‘How striking you look in that vibrant blue.’ His deep baritone voice seemed to throb through her. His mouth slowly curved into a whimsical smile that was somehow loaded with sensuality. ‘I don’t suppose you’re wearing it for me.’
‘No.’
‘What a waste.’
Sasha desperately gathered her wits, determined not to be drawn into anything she didn’t want. ‘I have to thank you for suggesting this accommodation,’ she said, trying for a neighbourly attitude.
His smile broadened. ‘Your gratitude would be better directed to Seagrave Dunworthy. I was merely the intermediary. A cup of coffee will be repayment enough.’
‘I was getting ready for bed.’
‘So was I.’ The blue eyes twinkled wickedly. ‘And I thought of you.’
‘As an afterthought of the day’s activities?’
Sasha laughed. It was the only way to break the tug of his attraction and hopefully lift the conversation to a lighter note.
‘The day’s activities concerned you. I went to see Hester Wingate.’
‘Is that someone else who’s left some kind of marvellous will from which I can benefit?’
‘No, but she’s working on it. And she wants your services.’
‘In what capacity?’
‘Marion told me your profession was finding things. Hester is eager to employ your expertise.’
‘You got me a job?’
‘To make sure you could pay the rent.’
And keep me here, Sasha reasoned. Nathan Parnell was irrepressible, and probably ten steps ahead of her. She had no doubt that behind the twinkling eyes was a determined will to have his own way. He was not shy of playing any trick to get it, either. What have I let myself in for? Sasha wondered, then tried again to assert some control over the situation.
‘Don’t you think it’s rather improper to visit me in my bedroom? Is this what I’m to expect?’
He shrugged. ‘You’re free to evict me if you want. But then you wouldn’t know about the job.’
He had an indisputable point there. She needed work. She also needed this accommodation. But she didn’t need a husband who didn’t love her and Bonnie.
‘Does a cup of coffee cover that favour as well, or are you expecting more?’ she asked in dry challenge.
‘I like mine black and two sugars,’ he said, and promptly shut the door.
‘Sit at the table. I’ll bring it over,’ Sasha instructed, wary of allowing him to set a cosier scene. As it was, he hadn’t really answered her question and she wanted some firm distance between them. Like a good solid slab of wood.
‘Did Bonnie settle down OK?’ he asked affably, lessening her tension by doing as he was told.
‘Sound asleep,’ she replied.
‘So is Matt,’ he said with satisfaction.
Which instantly put the thought of bed in Sasha’s mind. She fought off the idea that Nathan was thinking their children were conveniently accounted for. He had gained admittance to her room, but it was more than ten steps to her bed and she was definitely not going to give him any encouragement whatsoever in that direction.
Having surreptitiously checked that her robe was securely wrapped around her, Sasha took both cups of coffee to the table and settled herself on the chair opposite his.
‘Now tell me what this job is about,’ she invited, intent on keeping strictly to business.
His mouth twitched. ‘Muck-raking.’
‘Then I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time on my account. I’m not into scandal or anything defamatory that would hurt other people.’
She placed her elbows on the table, picked up her cup, lifted it to her mouth and sipped, hoping he would take the hint that the reason for him being with her was now limited to coffee-drinking.
He grinned openly, undeterred by dismissals or hints. ‘Hester Wingate is ninety-two years old. Or, at least, that’s what she admits to. She’s probably older. She’s the last of her tribe. All her friends, brothers, sisters have passed away. There are a few old scores she never got to settle. But that doesn’t deter Hester. She wants the information for the other side.’
‘What other side?’
‘The vast beyond. The next life. I’m not quite sure how Hester sees the other side—whether they’re all going to be together in heaven, or hell, or somewhere entirely different. But whatever it is, Hester wants to be prepared for them who done her wrong in this life.’
Sasha couldn’t help being amused. ‘Well, that does rather change the situation,’ she conceded. ‘You mean she wants to muck-rake in the far past about people who are dead and gone.’
‘Precisely. Every last skeleton in every last closet. Nothing to be overlooked.’
‘Can she afford my services?’
‘What do you charge?’
Sasha hesitated. She really needed a good substantial job. If the old lady was a pensioner, it was unlikely she could pay much, but anything was better than nothing in her present straitened circumstances, and often one job led to another.
‘The accepted rate is twenty-five dollars an hour plus expenses, but most people can’t afford too many hours at that rate,’ she said with rueful honesty. ‘Usually, because I can’t get much done in an hour, I put in a couple of hours for every one I charge.’
‘Well, that’s one way to get rich,’ he drily remarked.
It made Sasha feel defensive, which drove her to an aggressive reply. ‘It takes a long time to dig up real substance.’
‘I’m sure it does,’ he agreed. His eyes twinkled with infectious good humour, completely defusing any offence given. ‘Hester has a lot of old scores to settle. If you’re any good at giving her what she wants, you may end up being fully employed for years.’
The prospect of full employment for a while sounded too good to be true. Sasha’s suspicions were aroused. ‘Precisely who is this Hester Wingate and what connection do you have with her?’
‘I’ll take you to meet her if you’re interested in the job. I do her legal work.’
‘Then the law is still your profession.’
He shook his head. ‘I only do it for Hester because no one else would put up with her.’
‘A favour, you might say,’ Sasha prompted.
‘Very much so.’
And a favour for a favour seemed very much down Nathan Parnell’s alley. Sasha’s suspicions moved up a notch. ‘She sounds extremely eccentric.’ And possibly primed for the part by her legal consultant.
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