she hated the way she was being so easily distracted now when she’d always prided herself on her single-mindedness and her ability to focus.
Why was she having such trouble with the effect Marcus had on her today when she generally managed to keep it under control? Why couldn’t she blank him out as she usually did? Why did she keep trying to get a glimpse of him whenever she heard the sound of his voice, and then sighing wistfully when she did?
What was wrong with her? What was this weird sort of ache in her chest? And more importantly right now, she thought, her attention switching abruptly from Marcus and the strange effect he was having on her equilibrium, how was she going to deflect her father, who’d clearly clocked the fact that she was on her own and was bearing down on her, no doubt intending to launch into his usual spiel about her career, her lack of a husband and the direct correlation between the two?
As the pathetic—and pointless—need for his approval surged up inside her the way it always did and briefly smothered her confusion at the way her emotions were running riot this afternoon, Celia cast around for a conversation to join, a guest to corner, anything to avoid him and his own particular brand of paternalism, but she was on her own. The nearest little group contained Marcus, who unbeknownst to her had circulated into her vicinity and from the sounds of it was entertaining for Britain, and that made it a no-no.
Or did it?
As her brain raced through the very limited options open to her Celia made a snap decision. Oh, what the hell? He might not be her greatest fan but Marcus was within grabbing distance, and nothing could be worse than having to suffer her father’s prehistoric ideas and deep disappointment when it came to his one and only daughter.
Aware that her father was fast approaching and there was no time to lose, Celia reached out and clamped her hand on Marcus’ arm. He went still, then turned, surprise flickering across his face. Ignoring the sizzle that shot through her from the contact, Celia looked up at him in what she hoped was a beseeching fashion and said softly, ‘Help me? Please?’
* * *
Well, well, well, thought Marcus, glancing down to where she was clutching his arm and then shifting his gaze to her face, which bore a sort of pleading expression he’d never have associated with her. Who’d have thought? Celia Forrester, a control freak extraordinaire, staunchly independent and so uptight she was in danger of shattering, a damsel in distress. Actually asking for help. His help. She must be desperate.
Resisting the temptation to shake his head in astonishment, he excused himself from the people he’d been talking to, intrigued despite himself by the urgency in her voice and the despair in her expression. ‘Why? What’s up?’ he asked.
‘My father.’
He flicked a glance over her shoulder and saw that Jim Forrester was indeed making a beeline for her. And it was making her jumpy. Which wasn’t entirely surprising. ‘I see,’ he murmured with a nod. ‘What help do you want?
‘I need small talk.’
‘What’s it worth?’
She stared at him for a second. ‘What do you mean, what’s it worth?’
He grinned because had she really expected him not to take full advantage of having the upper hand? ‘Exactly that.’
She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What do you suggest?’
‘How about asking me nicely? Then again. And again.’
She gaped. Then snapped her mouth shut and frowned. ‘You want me to beg?’
His smile deepened at her discomfort and he had to admit that there was something rather appealing about having Celia in his debt with this brief and strictly one-off foray into chivalry, should he agree to it. ‘The idea has merit, don’t you think?’
She glared at him, her eyes flashing with indignation, but a second later the attitude had gone and she shrugged. ‘Fine,’ she said flatly as she started to turn away. ‘Forget it. You go back to doing whatever you were doing. I can handle Dad.’
And for some reason Marcus found himself inwardly cursing while now feeling like the biggest jerk on the planet. She might be a pain in the neck, but he knew how difficult she found her father and he knew how much she loathed him, which meant that she was desperate.
And maybe a little vulnerable.
‘Look, sorry,’ he muttered, frowning slightly at the flare of a weird and deeply unwelcome kind of protective streak, because Celia was the last person who needed protecting and the last person he’d ever consider vulnerable. ‘I can do small talk.’
She stopped mid-turn and looked up at him. ‘Really?’
‘Of course.’
‘What do you want in return?’
‘Nothing.’
She arched an eyebrow sceptically, switching back to the Celia he knew and could handle. ‘Seriously?’ she said.
‘Seriously.’
‘Then thank you,’ she said a bit grudgingly, which he supposed was only fair.
‘You’re welcome.’
‘Celia,’ boomed her father behind her and he saw her jump. Wince. Brace herself.
But she recovered remarkably well and after taking a deep breath turned and lifted her cheek for her father’s kiss. ‘Dad, you remember Marcus Black, don’t you?’ she said, stepping back to include him in the conversation.
‘Of course,’ said Jim Forrester, flashing him a smile that was probably calculated to be charming but in a couple of years could easily stray into sleazy, and holding out his hand. ‘How are you?’
‘Good, thanks,’ said Marcus, shaking it and then letting it go. ‘You?’
‘Excellent. Great speech.’
‘Thank you.’
‘So how’s business?’
‘Quiet.’
Jim’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I heard it was doing well. So what happened? Hard times?’
He smiled as he thought of the relief he’d felt when he’d signed those papers and released himself from the company that he’d devoted so much of his time and energy to. ‘Couldn’t be better.’
‘Marcus sold his business, Dad,’ said Celia.
‘Oh, did you? Why?’
‘The thrill of beating the markets had worn off,’ he said, remembering the strange day when he’d sat down in his office, stared at the trading screen flickering with ever-changing figures and, for the first time since he’d set up the business, just couldn’t be bothered. ‘It was time to move on.’
‘You burnt out,’ said Celia, looking at him in dawning astonishment, as if she couldn’t believe he was capable of working hard enough to reach that stage.
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘I decided to get out before I did.’
‘So what are your plans now?’ asked Jim.
‘I have a few things in the pipeline. Some angel investing. Some business mentoring. I’d also like to set up a kind of scooping-up scheme for able kids who slip through the system and are heading off the rails, which gives them opportunities other people might not.’
He caught the flash of surprise that flickered across Celia’s face and a stab of satisfaction shot through him. That’s right, darling, he thought dryly. Not partying till dawn with scantily clad women. At least, not only that. And perhaps not every night.
‘Philanthropic,’ said Jim with a nod of approval. ‘Admirable.’
It wasn’t particularly. It was just that he’d been given a chance when he’d badly needed it and he simply wanted to pay it forward. ‘I’ve done