at all convinced that such a question was warranted. Just because Catriona Redding wrote passionate novels about relationships between the sexes, that did not give her the right to probe the psyches of her employees. If she had been applying for this job in a purely impersonal capacity, she would have resented it. As it was, she put it down to Catriona’s curiosity and nothing else.
‘But you do want to get married one day?’ the woman was asking now, and Jaime wondered what she was implying. Did she want some committed career woman, who wouldn’t waste a second glance on a man? Or was there some other reason for her interest?
‘Maybe,’ she conceded at last. And then, because something more was needed, she added, ‘My work didn’t leave a lot of time for socialising.’
Catriona frowned. ‘I hope you don’t see this job as a sinecure, Miss Harris. That is to say, working for me will not be an easy ride. I tend to work long hours without a break, and my personal deadlines are demanding, to say the least.’
‘I’m not looking for an easy option, Miss Redding,’ Jaime assured her hurriedly. ‘If you suspect that the prospect of working here, in such idyllic surroundings, was the main reason I applied for this job, you couldn’t be more wrong. Of course, it’s more attractive than—than where I used to work, but I’m not overawed by my surroundings. If you give me an opportunity to prove myself, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.’
‘So you haven’t come here looking for a wealthy husband, Miss Harris?’ And before Jaime could voice her indignation she went on, ‘It’s not been unknown. My last assistant made quite a nuisance of herself, and I’m afraid I had to dismiss her.’ She paused. ‘But you look a much more—sensible girl. Kristin was a flirt, and far too concerned with her own appearance.’
Which was as good as saying that she was unattractive, and therefore no competition, thought Jaime drily. How could someone who wrote such sensitive prose be so insensitive herself? She caught her upper lip between her teeth. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start by disliking the woman. This was going to be so much harder than she’d thought.
‘I’m not interested in finding a husband, Miss Redding,’ she assured her firmly. ‘I think I can safely say you will not have to fire me on those terms. I simply want a change of—focus. As I said in my application, I should very much like to work with you.’
The sincerity in her tone was convincing—as well it should be, reflected Jaime, with an inner smile. If Catriona Redding had lived in the wilds of Alaska or the slums of Calcutta, she would have been just as keen to work for her. But even she drew back from admitting that.
‘Very well.’ Catriona rose from her seat, and walked with unhurried grace to the long windows. Drawing the filmy curtain aside, she looked out on the pool area outside. Whatever she saw beyond the windows seemed to please her, for when she turned back to Jaime she was wearing a much more indulgent expression. ‘Very well,’ she said again. ‘As my agent will have informed you, I’m prepared to offer a two-week trial, if that’s agreeable to you. Naturally, you will be given the same privilege.’ Her smile intimated how generous the offer was. ‘We’ll soon find out if we—suit one another.’ She paused. ‘All right?’
She’d done it.
Jaime’s breath left her lungs in a rush. ‘All right,’ she echoed, amazed to hear that her voice sounded so normal. And then, because she felt it was expected of her, she said, ‘Thank you.’
‘Good.’ Catriona walked back to her desk and pressed a button on the intercom. ‘Sophie?’ She cast a look at Jaime as she waited. ‘Sophie’s my housekeeper,’ she explained. And then, as the woman answered, she said, ‘Yes, Sophie. I’ve decided to offer Miss—um—Harris the job. She’ll be starting work tomorrow. Can you come and show her to her apartments, please?’
Her rooms were situated in a kind of annexe. It was attached to the main house by means of a vine-hung walkway, which even at this hour of the evening was fragrant with the scent of the pale pink flowers that grew there. The pool she had glimpsed earlier was just visible beyond the white-painted wall of the house, and from a dusk-shaded cupola came the drowsy sound of doves.
Idyllic surroundings indeed, she reflected, still basking in the glow of her success. The only fly in her particular ointment was the housekeeper, Sophie, who still maintained the air of superiority she’d adopted when she’d first shown Jaime into the house.
The door to her apartments had a key, she noticed with some relief, but it wasn’t locked, and Sophie thrust it open without ceremony. ‘I’m sure you’ll find you have everything you need here,’ she declared, using the switch by the door to turn on several lamps. ‘Miss Spencer had no complaints. She was very happy here.’
‘Was she?’
Jaime was beginning to get an inkling as to why Sophie resented her. Evidently, this Miss Spencer was the Kristin Catriona Redding had spoken of so disparagingly, but Sophie clearly considered that she should still have the job.
Deciding there was no point in pursuing the matter, Jaime surveyed the living room they had entered with real pleasure. ‘Did you do this, Sophie?’ she asked, indicating an arrangement of hibiscus and bird of paradise flowers that occupied a prominent position on a low table. Dark green waxy leaves cradled petals of crimson and orange, and it was no effort to admire them as she crossed the Chinese rug. ‘They’re beautiful!’
‘Miss Redding has a standing order with a firm of florists in Hamilton,’ responded Sophie dampeningly. She opened another door to display an adjoining bedroom. ‘Your bathroom is through there.’
‘It’s very nice. Thank you.’
Jaime refused to be daunted, and after another encompassing look about the room Sophie made for the door. ‘Miss Redding will advise you of the eating arrangements tomorrow morning at breakfast,’ she added brusquely. ‘I’ll have Samuel fetch your supper in fifteen minutes.’
Jaime was inclined to say that she didn’t want any supper, thank you, but it would have seemed ungrateful to refuse. Besides, although she was tired, she was doubtful if she’d be able to sleep right away. She was far too excited to relax.
‘My suitcase...’ she ventured instead as Sophie went out the door, and the housekeeper turned back to give her a disdainful look.
‘You’ll find your suitcase in the bedroom,’ she advised crisply. ‘Samuel attended to it earlier. Even if Miss Redding hadn’t decided to employ you, naturally you’d have been offered a bed for the night.’
‘Oh.’ Jaime felt suitably chastened. ‘Thank you.’
‘Miss Redding’s orders,’ declared Sophie, disclaiming all responsibility. ‘Goodnight, Miss Harris. I hope you sleep well.’
Do you?
Jaime closed the door behind the housekeeper with a sense of relief. There was no doubt in her mind that Sophie didn’t hope any such thing. Biting her lip, she turned the key before turning to reappraise her surroundings. Whatever else might happen, she was certainly going to have no complaints about her comfort while she was here.
It was almost dark, the twilight much shorter here than in England. The lamps Sophie had turned on had made the room clearly visible from outside, but before she drew the blinds she took a moment to admire the view.
There was a balcony beyond the windows, with a glass-topped table and a pair of rattan chairs. But it was the sweeping curve of the bay beyond the shrubbery that caught her imagination. And a sea which at this hour of the evening was painted with gold.
The room was even cosier when the curtains were drawn. A pair of rose-patterned sofas faced one another across a marble hearth, with the long low table that held the exotic flower arrangement between. There were several polished cabinets, one of which contained a television, and a single-stemmed mahogany table, and several matching mahogany chairs with velvet seats.
A huge Chinese rug covered most of the floor, but in the bedroom next