Devil Lover

Devil Lover

Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

ONCE again Regan checked the address written on the piece of paper in her hand, sure that the building in front of her couldn't possibly be the place. The girl at the agency must have made a mistake, this quiet building set in the exclusive part of London couldn't possibly be the right place for her interview to be taking place. And yet the address appeared to be right.

There was a man sitting at a desk just inside the thickly carpeted reception area, probably put there to keep out undesirables. The logical thing to do would be to see if she fitted into that category.

The old man listened politely while she made her query. ‘I'm not sure,’ she said nervously, ‘but I think a Mr Western is expecting me for an interview this afternoon. Apartment 4.’

‘And your name?’

‘Miss Thomas,’ she supplied with a smile. At least he hadn't thrown her straight out. ‘Safe Employment sent me.’

He smiled back at her, a man of obvious retirement age who probably found this job suited his advanced years. He wouldn't have too much to do, the building only consisted of four luxury apartments. Regan admired him for continuing to work when he no longer needed to; too many people had no choice but to remain at home with the high amount of unemployed, and usually gave up the will to live not long after. This man, although probably in his early seventies, gave the impression of a zest for life, a youthful twinkle in the faded blue eyes.

‘Mr Western is expecting you, Miss Thomas,’ he put her mind at rest about it being the right location. Thank God it was the right place, it was already five to three and the appointment was for three o'clock! ‘Would you like me to take you up,’ he offered, ‘or can you find your own way?’

‘I'll find my own way,’ she thanked him, thinking of the wear on his legs—as he was probably doing.

She wasn't sure it was worth her attending the interview now that she had seen the wealthy background of her prospective employer; she felt sure he would require the very best qualifications from the person chosen to be the companion of his daughter. She would be in the nature of a governess really, but she didn't think a charge of nearly sixteen years of age would consider a girl of twenty old enough to fit that description. The girl probably considered herself old enough not to need a companion or governess. Not that Regan could blame her, but apparently the father was often away on business and didn't consider his elderly relatives capable of caring for his daughter. The mother was dead.

But now that Regan had seen the quiet opulence that surrounded her charge she didn't think she stood a chance of being employed by the father. She had done a college course in child care but had no actual experience of working with children other than the necessary field work during the college course. Mr Western appeared to be wealthy enough to employ only the best for his daughter, and with no experience to back her up Regan could hardly be called that.

The door to Apartment 4 was opened by a maid in a smart black and white uniform, the simple white-painted door in no way hinting at the elegance and wealth evident in every article in the huge room Regan was ushered into. Her feet sank into the thickly carpeted floor in a particularly attractive honey shade, the deep brown leather suite placed strategically about the room, the sofa large enough to seat at least five people. It was a beautiful room, beautifully furnished, the long coffee table a genuine antique. But it was a room that lacked something, lacked the vital something she believed necessary to make it a home. But probably Mr Western was away so often he didn't have the time to make it a home. Regan's heart went out to the daughter of the house, her emotions already becoming involved.

She sat gingerly on the edge of one of the sumptuous armchairs while the maid disappeared into one of the other rooms, probably an office or study, to tell Mr Western of her arrival. She looked down nervously at the smart green suit and crisp white blouse she wore, seeing a certain schoolmarmishness about her clothing, but knowing they gave her a coolly assured appearance, for all of her youth. She had no doubt her usual attire would be frowned on, the tight denims and jumpers that emphasised every curve of her body.

‘Miss Thomas?’

She stood up slowly, straightening her skirt as she did so. The male voice was pitched low and attractive, and a hasty glance at the newcomer showed him to be a tall man in his early thirties, short blond hair brushed back off his brow, blue eyes twinkling in friendly examination, the mouth curved into an attractive smile. Regan felt some of the tension leave her as she returned his smile.

She accepted his proffered hand. ‘I'm Regan Thomas, yes,’ she acknowledged huskily.

‘Clive Western,’ he gave her hand a hearty shake. ‘Please, sit down. I've asked Margaret to provide us with some tea. I'm sure you could do with some,’ he smiled understandingly.

‘That will be lovely.’ At least the job didn't appear to have already been taken by what she felt sure must be numerous applicants. Unless the tea was supposed to lessen the disappointment when she was told the post had been filled.

She looked up once again, only to find Clive Western's admiring glance on her. She knew her auburn hair that when loose waved down to her shoulder blades but at the moment styled into a smooth bun at the nape, uptilted blue eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes, tiptilted nose, and wide smiling mouth, made up an attractive if not beautiful young girl when complemented by her slim curvaceous figure, but she wasn't sure she welcomed her possible future employer noticing such things. But maybe he hadn't, maybe she was being over-sensitive about this her first interview. What did it matter if she didn't get the job, just this interview would be some experience to take on to her next one.

‘The girl at the agency tells me this will be your first job.’ Clive Western sat down opposite her, crossing one well-clad foot over the other.

Regan's eyes brightened. So the job hadn't been taken. Maybe she could still get on a short list or something. ‘Yes,’ she answered shyly. ‘I only left college a couple of weeks ago.’

He nodded. ‘So the agency explained. They also said you had no objections to moving out of London.’

‘None at all.’ She was beginning to feel a little more confident. ‘In fact, until a couple of years ago I lived in Norfolk—and that is definitely out of London,’ she added mischievously.

‘Indeed,’ he nodded. ‘But I'm afraid it would be the other way—Cornwall in fact.’

‘It wouldn't matter. The aunt and uncle I lived with moved up to Scotland a few months after I came here. One of my cousins got a job up there and as my uncle was retired the whole family decided to go.’

‘But not you?’

She was aware that she was being led, but she was also aware that this man had a right to know her background. After all, she could be going to become his daughter's constant companion. ‘I'd already been accepted for a college course here.’

‘And you haven't considered joining them now.’ He indicated she should pour the tea the maid had just brought in, which she did, leaving him to add his own sweetening if he wanted it. He didn't.

‘I didn't really see the point,’ she explained, ‘not as my job usually involves living in.’

‘And time off?’

‘Holidays I spend with them, but weekends I usually spend with the friends I've made here.’

‘And will you be leaving anyone special behind?’

‘A boy-friend, you mean?’ She watched him nod. ‘No one who really counts.’ She hoped Donny would forgive her for that. She wasn't seriously interested in him, although he didn't treat their friendship with the same casualness. He was one of the reasons she didn't mind leaving London, mere words didn't seem to be enough to convince him of her disinterest in making things more serious between them.

‘Good, good,’ he nodded again, studying the tip of one highly polished shoe. His ease didn't fool Regan for one minute; there was an astute brain behind his polite manner, a brain that missed little. ‘And what do you know of Helena?’

‘The little girl?’

Clive Western smiled. ‘I don't somehow think she would like being called that.’

‘I'm sure she wouldn't,’ Regan laughed, her cheeks flushed in her embarrassment. ‘My lecturers wouldn't be very pleased with me if they'd heard that slip-up. I meant to say young lady.’

‘I'm sure you did,’ his mouth quirked with humour. ‘And yes, Helena is the young lady. Although I wouldn't really call her that either,’ he added thoughtfully.

‘I know very little about her, except her age and that her mother is dead.’

‘Gina died just over ten years ago.’

‘I'm sorry,’ Regan said softly.

‘It was rough on Helena,’ he agreed. ‘She was only five when her mother walked out on her.’

‘Walked out …? I'm sorry, I thought you said——’

‘Oh, I did. Please, help yourself,’ he indicated the plate of delicious-looking cream cakes on the trolley. ‘You don't look as if you have to watch what you eat.’

‘No, I don't. But I—I won't, if you don't mind.’ She always ended up with more cream over her than inside her, and she didn't want to make a fool of herself when the interview seemed to be going so well. ‘I've just eaten lunch,’ she excused herself, the silent rumblings of her tummy telling her that it had been over three hours ago. And the cakes did look delicious!

Clive Western shrugged. ‘To get back to Gina.’ He frowned. ‘She'd already gone back to America, alone, before the accident happened.’

‘I see.’

‘The marriage was—well, it wasn't a success. I'm telling you this because you may find Helena won't take kindly to a female being introduced into her world, not a female she has to take notice of anyway. She's been surrounded by just men for so long now—staff, tutors, her father—that I'm afraid she's rather an independent young girl. She's attractive enough, she just needs a push in the right direction to make her into a beautiful young woman.’

‘She resents the idea of a companion,’ Regan said with a sigh. This job was certainly turning out to have a lot of the pitfalls that had been described to her during her recent course.

‘She resents any idea of change,’ Clive Western corrected. ‘But things can't go on as they have been. She's running wild down there in Cornwall. But the business is very time-consuming, requiring a lot of time travelling to our different branches all over the world. The personal appearance has never done any harm, and it certainly keeps the employees on their toes. They never know when the boss is going to walk in.’

‘And—er—what is the business?’ asked Regan.

‘Shipping, hotels, holidays.’

Wow! No wonder he looked as if he were made of money. ‘So Helena spends a lot of her time on her own?’

He nodded. ‘Except for the staff down there.’

‘She's never had a companion before?’

‘Years ago. Then she went to boarding school for a time. A bad bout of ‘flu turning to pneumonia put a stop to that just over a year ago. Since then she's been tutored at home. She's supposed to be delicate,’ he added dryly.

Regan frowned. ‘But she has a tutor living down there with her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I really don't see … When would I get to do my job?’ She looked and sounded puzzled.

‘Helena only studies until three in the afternoon, after that her time is her own. Her tutor is a male, so that would be the time you took over.’

‘But I—— What would I do all day until she'd finished her school work?’

‘Walk, sunbathe, anything that you like doing.’

She shook her head. ‘I really don't think you need someone like me. Isn't there a relative or friend who could go and stay with her until she's well enough to return to school, someone who could be a friend to her, share things with her? If I accepted this job I wouldn't be earning my money.’ She knew the salary already, and it was a very good one. All the more reason not to accept it under false pretences.

‘Oh, but you would,’ he assured her. ‘It would merely be a reversal of the day. Up until three o'clock your time would be your own, after that, until Helena goes to bed about ten, you would be with her. Weekends you would be expected to be with her all day.’

‘I see.’ That changed things. The way he put it, it sounded a reasonable arrangement. Just a reversal of the day, as he said.

‘So, would you be willing to take the job?’

‘Yes, I—I think so.’ It all seemed to be happening so fast. ‘But don't you have other applicants to see first?’ What was she trying to do, see herself out of what looked like being a very interesting job!

‘There are no other applicants. The job wasn't advertised, and the agency doesn't have anyone else to send. Now, I've told you all the drawbacks, are you still interested in the job?’

‘Oh yes!’ Her eyes glowed brightly blue.

‘Good,’ he grinned. ‘Now I'll tell you some of the good things about it. The salary you already know, you would have more or less a free hand with Helena. The staff down there would treat you more or less as the mistress of the house, and once you've got over Helena's initial antagonism I think you'll find she can be quite a loyal friend. Now what's your answer?’

‘I think,’ she told him shyly, ‘that I would like the job.’

‘Then that's settled,’ he said with satisfaction, and obvious relief. He held out the plate of sticky confectionery she had earlier refused. ‘Have a cake to celebrate. I'd offer you something stronger, but then I'd have to join you, and as I still have a certain amount of work to do today … Go on, have one,’ he encouraged as she still hesitated. ‘I'm going to have one,’ he added enticingly.

Regan laughingly took a chocolate eclair, her favourite. ‘I bet you and Helena are great friends,’ she smiled. ‘You seem to have a way with females.’

He shook his head. ‘I'm afraid Helena is off me at the moment.’

‘She's at an awkward age. I'm sure she'll soon get over whatever it is you've done to upset her.’

‘Not that little lady. Helena isn't one to forget anything, but then neither is her father.’

Regan finished her cream cake, wiping her chocolate-covered fingers on the napkin. Ordinarily she would have licked them clean, but she couldn't do that in front of this man. It just wasn't fair how he managed to eat his without even seeming to get in the least sticky. And he didn't look in the least like a man who would bear a grudge. But then what did she really know about him? Nothing, except the polite friendly side of his character he had shown during this interview.

‘When could you start work?’ he asked now.

She shrugged. ‘Whenever you want me to. I've been taking a holiday since college finished, but that's over now. I can start at any time.’

‘Let's see, today is Thursday. I have to drive down on Sunday to pick up a few things. Could you be ready to go by then?’

It would take a bit of organising, but she would do it somehow. ‘That would be fine,’ she nodded.

‘Nine o'clock suit you?’

Goodness, on a Sunday too! ‘Any time that suits you,’ she assured him. Her first interview and she had got the job! It was fantastic.

‘Then nine o'clock it is. It's quite a drive, pretty hazardous towards the end. The house is quite remote, very minor roads the last ten miles or so. I usually stay to lunch and leave straight after.’

‘That can't give you much time with Helena.’

‘Enough,’ he grimaced. ‘A little of Helena goes a long way. Sorry,’ he grinned, ‘I mustn't put you off before you start!’

It wasn't putting her off at all. His aversion to spending time with his daughter reminded Regan of her own father's absences during her own childhood, and her sympathies all lay with Helena. Her father had been a busy man too, travelling the world for his work and pleasure, and in the ten years of her life before he was killed she had probably seen him for a year of that time. Aunt Edith and Uncle Fred had brought her up as their own daughter, and although her father had often mocked them for their staidness, they had had no hesitation in adopting her when her father had died.

‘I haven't put you off, have I?’ Clive Western must have noticed the shadows in her eyes.

‘Not at all,’ she answered coolly. ‘I'm looking forward to meeting Helena.’

‘That's fine, then.’ He stood up in conclusion of the interview. ‘I'm sorry to rush you, but I have another appointment at four o'clock.’ He gave her a warm smile.

Regan stood up too, her handbag clutched primly in front of her. She still couldn't believe she had got this job! ‘Are you sure I'll be suitable?’ she asked anxiously. ‘My qualifications——’

‘Already discussed with the agency. I'll let them know you've accepted the job.’

‘I'm sure you're too busy——’

‘They'll want their fee, Miss Thomas,’ he interrupted dryly. ‘Which means I have to contact them anyway.’

‘Oh—oh yes,’ she blushed at her stupidity.

‘Sunday, then?’

‘Yes,’ she confirmed.

She was still smiling when she walked past the man in the reception area, receiving a smile back. She called in and did some shopping before going back to the flat she shared with Lindy. She was in the kitchen when she heard her friend's key in the lock an hour later.

Lindy burst into the room. ‘Did you get it?’ She pulled out the grill plate to reveal the steaks cooking there. ‘You got it,’ she laughed.

‘I did.’ Regan opened the fridge door to reveal a bottle of wine she had also purchased. ‘To celebrate.’

‘Mm!’ Lindy licked her lips. ‘Can we start on that now?’

‘Wait until the steaks are ready.’

Lindy sat down on one of the two bar stools they possessed. ‘What was Mr Western like?’ she asked eagerly.

‘Very good-looking. Very charming too.’

‘Any chance of you and him——’

‘Certainly not,’ Regan instantly denied, although the warmth in Clive Western's eyes had occasionally been a little too warm for comfort. A little encouragement from her, and who knows? Thank heavens he travelled a lot. It wouldn't do to become romantically involved with her employer.

Lindy shrugged. ‘Just curious. What's the little girl like?’

‘She's a young lady,’ Regan corrected firmly. ‘I'm sure you didn't like being called a little girl at sixteen. And I didn't get to meet her, she's at their house in Cornwall. Apparently she lives there most of the time.’

‘Does that mean——’

‘It means,’ Regan checked the steaks once more, turning them over for the last time, ‘I shall be going to Cornwall to live, and that Christopher will be able to move in here on Sunday afternoon.’

Lindy blushed. ‘Don't be like that, Regan! Christopher will be using your bedroom, not sharing mine. We only want to see how we get on living together. It isn't going to be easy to work a marriage around my shift work at the hospital.’

Lindy was training to be a nurse, and her hours were a little strange, including several months of night work each year. She and Christopher McGrath had been dating for over a year now, and while they were just going out together Lindy's work didn't interfere too much, but it could be a different matter when taken in conjunction with the commitment of marriage. And so the young couple had decided to try living together for a while, with separate sleeping arrangements, to see how things worked out between them.

Regan kept an open mind about the idea, not sure she would want to do that herself. But then she had never been put to that sort of test, never caring enough for any of her boy-friends to want any more than a casual friendship with them. But she knew Lindy and Christopher genuinely cared for each other, and perhaps it was better to find any loopholes in the idea of marriage between them before they actually went ahead and did it.

Lindy frowned. ‘Sunday, you said? Is that when you start the job?’

Regan nodded. ‘Mr Western is driving down to see his daughter and offered to take me with him. It will save me having to get a train.’

‘Bit short notice, though, isn't it?’

Regan served their meal, sitting beside her friend at the breakfast bar. The two of them had shared a flat ever since they had met in a youth hostel two years ago, and the arrangement had worked out very well, although after growing up with two male cousins Regan had found it strange to be suddenly living with a girl.

She shrugged now. ‘I've had a couple of weeks break, and it isn't as if I can't start any time. Besides, now I know I have the job I just want to get down to it.’

‘You're taking a risk not actually meeting this girl. She could turn out to be a little horror.’

‘Mr Western more or less told me she is,’ Regan said calmly.

‘Charming!’

‘She just needs attention. She seems to have most things money can buy, but not too much tender loving care.’

‘Which you intend to rectify,’ Lindy teased.

‘I'm going to try. Hey, we forgot the wine!’ Regan looked down ruefully at her already half eaten meal.

‘We'll have it now.’ Lindy got up to uncork it. ‘We have to toast your new job. Here,’ she handed Regan a full glass of the red wine. ‘Although I have to say you're a braver person than I am, I couldn't leave London for goodness knows how long.’

‘You forget, I was brought up in the country. Actually, I think that helped me get the job.’

Lindy touched her glass to Regan's. ‘The new job,’ she toasted.

‘The new job,’ Regan echoed.

‘Does Donny know yet?’

Regan sighed. ‘Not yet. I'm dreading telling him, actually. Although in a way I shall be glad to get away from him. He's got so possessive lately. I'm hoping to get out of this without too much fuss.’

‘Why not just tell him you aren't interested?’

‘I tried that,’ Regan grimaced, carrying her wine through to their sitting room. ‘He just came round the next evening as if I hadn't said anything to him. I didn't have the heart to go through it all again.’

Lindy curled up in a chair. ‘That's probably what he was counting on.’

‘Probably,’ Regan laughingly agreed. ‘But even he wouldn't follow me down to Cornwall.’

‘I wouldn't count on it. He hardly lets you out of his sight.’ The doorbell rang. ‘Now's your chance to find out.’

‘How can you be sure it's him?’ Regan stood up.

‘Simple, Chris isn't coming over until later.’

‘A process of elimination, Watson,’ she laughed.

She let Donny in, still not sure why she could only feel mild attraction towards him. He was good-looking enough, very tall, with the body of one of his own country's Greek gods, his hair deeply black, waving in wild disorder, his eyes a deep brown, surrounded by thick black lashes. Regan knew that for work he wore smartly tailored suits, working for a shipping firm he had to look his best, but out of work he wore skintight denims and tee-shirts. He was a very good-looking individual of twenty-two—and yet he left her cold.