about your work? Chicago? Brazil?’
‘I had a long conference call with my dad and Rob last night, and we have agreed to give some senior managers a chance to show us what they can do. Plus, my dad offered me a new job this week. Could be challenging.’
‘Difficult?’
‘Very.’ He grinned. ‘Apparently he needs a new manager for the Richmond Square hotel who can fit in a bit of training now and then. Within walking distance of this cake shop and the woman I’ve fallen in love with. And all the tea I can drink. How could I say no?’
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from NO TIME LIKE MARDI GRAS by Kimberly Lang.
The Tycoon’s Delicious Distraction
Maggie Cox
The day MAGGIE COX saw the film version of Wuthering Heights, with a beautiful Merle Oberon and a very handsome Laurence Olivier, was the day she became hooked on romance. From that day onwards she spent a lot of time dreaming up her own romances, secretly hoping that one day she might become published and get paid for doing what she loved most! Now that her dream is being realised, she wakes up every morning and counts her blessings. She is married to a gorgeous man, and is the mother of two wonderful sons. Her two other great passions in life—besides her family and reading/writing—are music and films.
IN A FIT of pique, Henry Treverne—Hal to his friends—wheeled himself along the parquet hallway up to the wall panel in the door and buzzed the concierge.
‘If anyone else turns up for an interview today tell them I’ve come down with malaria, will you? I’m done with talking to fawning women who are convinced they can magic my problems away like Cinderella’s fairy godmother, and I’ve also had my fill of the ones that gaze at me like I’m some kind of longed-for early Christmas present!’
‘But, Mr Treverne, your next applicant is already here... Do you really think you’ve got malaria? If that’s true, shouldn’t you be in the hospital?’
The concierge of Hal’s building—a down-to-earth young Londoner called Charlie—sounded understandably perturbed. Hefting a frustrated sigh, Hal tunnelled his fingers through the mane of coal-black hair that was in dire need of a proper cut and bit back a curse.
‘Of course I haven’t got malaria. I’ve just got back from Aspen, Colorado, not the damn Amazon!’ He brought himself up short. ‘What do you mean my next applicant is already here?’
Impatiently unfolding the scrunched-up piece of paper lying on his lap, he couldn’t help but succumb to a ripe curse, when he saw there was one more person the agency had scheduled him to see. A woman named Kit Blessington. God save him from one more insincere female desperate for the chance to be his ‘carer’ and in all probability make herself a nice little bonus by selling a story about her experience to the press when he was back on his feet again.
‘The lady arrived early and is waiting to see you, Mr Treverne.’
‘Well, you can tell Ms Blessed, or whatever her name is, that I’m too tired to see anyone else today. Tell her she can come back tomorrow.’
‘I’d rather see you now, if I could, Mr Treverne? After all, that was what was arranged. Plus, it’s not convenient for me to come back tomorrow.’
Hal was taken aback by the assertively toned female voice that sounded in his ear. ‘What do you mean, it’s not convenient?’ he growled. ‘Are you in the market for a job or are you not?’ His already bad mood plummeted even more. The woman clearly hadn’t taken him seriously when he’d said he was too tired.
‘I wouldn’t be signed on with the agency if I wasn’t interested in a job, Mr Treverne. And, by the way, my name is Blessington—not Blessed.’
‘What’s the reason you can’t come back tomorrow?’ Even as he ground out the question the back of Hal’s neck prickled with intense dislike for this woman he hadn’t even come face to face with yet.
‘If you must know, I have another interview to attend in Edinburgh. I can’t see you tomorrow if I’m travelling up to Scotland. That’s why I’d like to keep my appointment with you today.’
The frank confession rendered him momentarily dumbstruck. He wasn’t best pleased that she’d arranged another interview when she hadn’t even given him the courtesy of seeing him yet. What did she think she was playing at? Surely the agency must have told her who he was...that under the circumstances he had to be a priority?
‘What the hell do you want to go to Scotland for?’ he burst out, not caring that he sounded rude and unreasonable.
There was a brief pause, then in a level tone she replied, ‘I go wherever the work takes me, Mr Treverne. We don’t just work in the UK. The agency sends us all over Europe as well. Now, will you see me today or not?’
Feeling particularly belligerent, because inside the cast his leg was intolerably aching, and itching as well, Hal retorted, ‘I’ll give you ten minutes, Ms Blessington. Ten minutes should be ample time for me to glean whether you’re suitable or not for the position, and whether it would indeed be better if you simply went ahead with your interview in Edinburgh. You’d better come up.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate it. But just to reassure you, Mr Treverne, I too quite quickly make up my mind about whether I want to work for someone or not. So, yes...I’m sure it won’t take long for either of us to reach a decision.’
She was playing verbal bat and ball with him, Hal realised, and it made him feel as if she was the one taking charge of the situation, not him. It certainly didn’t bode well for her interview.
Damn his accident! It beggared belief that he’d surrendered to the crazy impulse to agree to a stupid contest on the ski slopes with his ex-business partner Simon. If his pride hadn’t made him take the bait he wouldn’t be in the intolerable position he was in now—recovering from a lengthy operation to help repair a badly damaged femur and unable to do all the things he had no doubt taken for granted and shouldn’t have.
If he hadn’t been in so much pain as the paramedics lifted him onto the stretcher, he would have checked to see if the concern Simon had so loudly expressed to the crowd that had gathered was sincere. Hal very much doubted it. He could just imagine the man who had always been his rival describing the scene to mutual colleagues and friends and commenting, How the mighty are fallen...
One thing was certain. Hal wasn’t going to live down the ignominy of the painful incident any time soon.
Disgruntled and hurting, he punched the keypad to open the door and reversed the wheelchair a couple of feet back down the hall as he waited for the irritatingly forthright Ms Blessington to come in and be interviewed. In truth, he was absolutely prepared to dislike her on sight.
When he first glimpsed the gloriously red hair that rippled down over her slim shoulders as she came through the door he wasn’t surprised. It was said that redheads were feisty and opinionated. And this particular redhead definitely had the look and stance of a public school head girl. He already knew that she was assertive—a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to state it—and the unfussy green wool dress and almost military-style tartan jacket she wore with it suggested she selected her clothes more out of practicality than from any desire to make a fashion statement. The outfit might even have been bought at a charity shop. Yet the bright cerise stockings she’d teamed with sensible brown court shoes hinted at an intriguing rebellious streak that belied the illusion of ‘needs must’ and definitely gave Hal pause.
Lifting his head, he was momentarily taken aback to find his gaze captured by a pair of the prettiest cornflower-blue eyes he’d ever