make the take-over much easier.
Watching Matt Hearne as they ate lunch—a game consommé under a pastry case, then turbot stuffed with a pink prawn mousse, and served with a selection of young fresh vegetables—Bianca wondered if his sister looked like him. If she had his colouring and grace Anne Hearne would undoubtedly be lovely.
As if feeling her eyes on his profile Matt turned his head as the waiter whipped their plates away. His blue eyes narrowed, gleamed. Something in that look made her flush and look away, her pulses quickening, which surprised her.
Don was watching them, a secret, satisfied smile curling his full mouth. She gave him an icy look. If he thought she would fall in with his plans for her and Matt Hearne he could think again.
The tense discussions resumed, with stubborn resistance from the Hearne camp. They were going to fight TTO all the way, Bianca realised, but then what had Don expected?
Over coffee and liqueurs Don suddenly said, ‘Clearly we need to have some more meetings. I’m going to Australia in a couple of days, but Bianca will be…’ A deliberate pause, then he added, ‘Available.’
Matt Hearne glanced at her, raising a brow, cool assessment in his eyes.
Biting her lip, she looked down. She couldn’t blame him for reading what he clearly did from the way Don had said that. What else was he to think?
Just what Don had meant him to think, in fact.
‘Who else will I be talking to?’ Matt drawled.
‘Oh, just Bianca,’ said Don softly. ‘The two of you can come to terms more agreeably than a whole bunch of guys fighting it out, don’t you agree?’
Burning with indignation, her eyes lowered because she couldn’t trust herself not to burst out in white-hot fury, which would probably destroy any hope of a deal, Bianca listened to Matt Hearne saying, ‘Then why don’t we start with dinner tomorrow night? If you’re free, Bianca?’
‘She’ll be delighted, won’t you, Bianca?’ Don didn’t let her speak for herself in case she made up some excuse. ‘What time and where?’
‘How about my flat?’ Matt Hearne drawled. ‘We can’t talk seriously in a restaurant—too many ears and eyes. We don’t want the media picking up on our talks. Eight o’clock?’
Don quickly said, ‘Eight o’clock, your flat—that’s in Chelsea, isn’t it? We have the address. Bianca will be there.’
‘I shall look forward to it,’ Matt Hearne said, and Bianca looked up then, meeting his amusement, hating him for the contempt and mockery in that gaze, dying to tell him to get lost but knowing Don would be furious if she did.
Don called for the bill and paid it with his credit card, then got up hastily. ‘Sorry, we have to rush now. Pressure of work, you know how it is! It’s been a pleasure, Matt.’
He took Bianca’s arm in a tight grip and pulled her out of her chair, propelled her away from the table.
‘How could you do that?’ she snapped as they walked back up into the foyer. ‘You practically offered me on a plate! What do you imagine he’s thinking?’
Don chuckled. ‘All you have to do is lead him up the garden path until he signs. That was what you did with young Mistell. I’m not asking you to go to bed with Hearne. Just let him think you might.’
She turned to stare at him, her green eyes glittering like broken glass, her skin burning. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this angry. She had known for a long time that Don was a cynic—why did his latest attempt to manipulate her make her so furious?
She knew very well, of course. She had hated the way Matt Hearne looked at her just now. It hurt to imagine him despising her.
‘I don’t believe I heard that. No, Don, I will not do it. And I did not lead Harry on.’
‘Were you in love with him?’ Don pointedly asked, and she hesitated.
‘I liked him a lot.’
‘But you weren’t in love, were you? I’ve known you a long time, Bianca, I’ve watched you date guys for a while then end it. I’m curious—have you ever been in love?’
‘Mind your own business.’
‘You haven’t, have you?’ He smiled in satisfaction. ‘I don’t believe you’re totally ice-bound. Somewhere under the ice there’s fire, and I want to be the one to reach it.’
She gave him a scathing glance. ‘No chance, Don. No chance at all.’
He laughed. ‘We’ll see. As for Hearne, if you won’t even flirt with him at least be friendly. Courtesy costs nothing, does it? This is a business meeting. You can set the tone; you’re not stupid. And he doesn’t look the type to turn nasty, does he?’
No, she conceded silently. But men were often unpredictable and she was not comfortable with the prospect of having dinner alone with Matt Hearne in his flat. After what Don had said to him he might well think she was part of whatever deal they offered him.
She would ring him tomorrow and suggest they have dinner in a restaurant.
CHAPTER TWO
THE news that the two companies had had lunch together at the Savoy appeared in several morning newspapers, next day, and the press kept the phone lines busy all morning, but no statement was issued by either firm.
Bianca worked with Don for several hours, before he flew to Australia, to tie up loose ends of various projects they had in hand. He went off to lunch with some of the other executives, leaving her at her desk with a pile of paperwork to read through, so when the office lunch trolley came round she bought a yogurt, an apple and some cheese.
Patricia, however, said she had a lunch date with her fiancé, and went out, abandoning the letters she had to type, to Bianca’s irritation. She continued to work, eating her lunch at the same time, which was why when her phone rang she had her mouth full of cheese and apple.
As Patricia wasn’t around she picked it up, murmuring, ‘Mmm?’ between chews.
‘I would like to speak to Bianca Milne.’ She recognised the voice before he added, ‘My name is Matthew Hearne.’
Flushed, and hurriedly swallowing the food, she finally managed to say thickly, ‘This is Bianca Milne. Hello, Mr Hearne.’
‘Matt,’ he said, a smile sounding in his voice. ‘Are you having lunch at your desk?’
Startled and pink, she mumbled, ‘Er…yes, actually.’ Had it been that obvious?
‘Snap. So am I. What are you having?’
‘A Greek yogurt, a Cox’s apple and a piece of Cheddar,’ she said, hoping she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt.
‘That sounds much better than my ham and pickle sandwich. Is your boss there?’
‘I’m sorry, he’s out.’
‘No desk-bound lunch for him, eh? I suppose he’s having a rich lunch somewhere special, with lots of wine. How does he work after that?’
‘Don doesn’t drink much,’ she lied. Not much he didn’t. ‘Do you want him to ring you when he gets back, Mr Hearne?’
‘No, it was you I wanted to talk to. I picked up the impression that you weren’t too keen on the idea of eating at my flat tonight.’
She was silent—how did she answer that politely?
He laughed softly. ‘So why don’t I book dinner in a good restaurant? Any preferences?’
‘No,’ she said with relief. ‘I’ll leave the choice to you.’
‘Okay. I’ll pick you up at seven at your flat. See you then.’
‘My