Seduced By The Boss

‘I guess. I don’t mean to insult you, Bella. I apologise.’

‘Apology accepted.’ She paused. ‘So why do you need a date?’

He sighed. ‘I’m the youngest of four boys. The other three are all stockbrokers in the firm started by my great-grandfather. My family would very much like me to toe the line and follow suit.’

She winced. ‘Ouch. That’s what I called you on Friday. I said you looked like a stockbroker.’

‘I’m not one, and I never want to be one,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that it’s a bad career—just that it’s not right for me. My brothers love what they do, and that’s fine. I’d support them to the hilt, but I don’t want to join them.’ He gave her another of those wry smiles. ‘That’s why the label has its name.’

‘Got you. Insurgo’s Latin for “to rebel”.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And, no, I didn’t go to the sort of school that taught Latin. I looked it up on the internet. The only Latin I know is “lorem ipsum”—the stuff used as filler text in a design rough, and that’s not really proper Latin.’

He smiled back. ‘Actually, “lorem ipsum” is a mash-up of Cicero’s De finibus bonorum et malorum.’

‘Trust you to know that.’ The words came out before she could stop them.

He laughed. ‘I’m afraid I did go to the kind of school that taught Latin.’ He dragged his hand through his hair. ‘I love what I do, Bella. I like hearing artists play me raw songs—and then a different arrangement flowers in my head, and I can see exactly what they need to do to make it a hit without losing their original voice. I’ve never wanted to do anything else but produce music that I love—music that makes the world a better place. But my family worries about me, because the music business isn’t exactly stable. Insurgo’s doing well—well enough for some much bigger labels to have offered to buy me out, though I’ve always refused because I’m not going to sell out my artists like that—but I’m still at the mercy of the markets. We’ve managed to weather a few storms, but all it takes is one wrong decision that loses the business a lot of money, or for a couple of my biggest customers to go bankrupt and not pay me, and we could go under.’

‘Tell me about it,’ she said feelingly.

‘I knew you’d get that bit. You’ve been there,’ he said.

So either Tarquin had told him that she’d once had her own business, or he’d read her résumé. Or maybe both. ‘Small businesses fail all the time,’ she said, ‘and I kept mine going for two years. If my best client hadn’t gone bankrupt, owing me the equivalent of three months’ salary, I’d still be a freelance designer now. But when one door closes another opens—and now I have a job I like here.’

‘I take it back about being Mary Poppins,’ he said. ‘You’re Pollyanna.’

‘I’m just me,’ she told him firmly, ‘not a stereotype. But, yes, I believe in looking for the good in life.’ She whistled the chorus from ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’ and smiled.

‘It’s a good philosophy,’ he said.

‘You’re right—you’re perfectly capable of being a stockbroker, but it’d make you miserable. You’re doing what you love,’ she said. ‘And there’s nothing wrong with that. Why doesn’t your family see that?’

He sighed. ‘They have this little box ready for me. I’m supposed to fit in with a sensible job, a sensible wife, and two point four children or whatever it’s meant to be nowadays. A pied-à-terre in London for me during the week, and an ancient pile in the countryside for the family, where the kids can grow up until we send them to boarding school.’

Was he describing what his own childhood had been like? ‘I guess I’m lucky,’ she said. ‘All my parents and my sister want is for me to be happy and fulfilled.’

‘Are you?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘Are you?’

‘Yes.’ But she noticed that he didn’t meet her eye. So did that mean he wasn’t? And what, she wondered, was missing from his life?

Not that there was any point in asking. She was pretty sure he’d stonewall her. Getting the information so far had been like pulling teeth.

‘OK. So you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend, to show your family that you have no intention of meeting any of the criteria to fit that little box they’ve made for you. You already have a job they don’t approve of, so what you need is an outrageous girlfriend to horrify them even more. That will be the icing on the cake, if you’ll excuse me mixing my metaphors,’ she said, hoping that she’d summed up the situation without missing anything.

‘That’s pretty much it.’ He paused. ‘So will you do it?’

‘It’s one way to get from A to B,’ she said. ‘But I think a much better one would be to sit down with your family and talk to them. Make them see how much you love Insurgo. Show them your passion for it. Play them the raw stuff, and then the final version with all the changes you suggested, so they can hear exactly what you do. Then they’ll understand and be happy just to let you do it.’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But, even if they listened to me about my job, that’s only half the problem dealt with. There’s still the sensible wife they want me to have.’

She shrugged. ‘You could always tell them you’d like a sensible husband.’

He grinned. ‘You mean, ask Tarquin to pretend that he’s my life partner as well as my business partner? I think Rupert—his other half—might have something to say about that.’ Then his smile faded. ‘I don’t want a sensible wife. Or husband, for that matter.’

‘What do you want?’ she asked.

What did he want?

Never to have his heart broken again.

Which meant no more serious relationships. And it had suited him just fine over the few months, dating casually and making sure that all his girlfriends knew that a diamond ring and a change of name were never going to be on offer. That he was looking for fun, not for for ever. And most of the time he didn’t even bother with that. He concentrated on work. Though it wasn’t quite the work of his heart any more. Not since he’d stopped writing music.

‘What I want right now,’ he said, ‘is to get through Nigel’s engagement party without being nagged about my choice of career or lifestyle.’

‘You know that’s not going to happen,’ she said. ‘That’s the thing about families. They’re interested in what you do, so of course they’re going to ask questions and give their opinions, whether you ask for them or not. It’s part and parcel of family life.’

Clearly she didn’t mind about that as much as he did. Then again, she’d said that her family just wanted her to be happy. And she’d gone straight to her sister’s rescue last week; he had a feeling that Grace would’ve come straight to Bella’s rescue, too, if the positions had been reversed. His brothers certainly weren’t batting his corner. They thought he ought to give in and join them in the family business.

She shrugged. ‘So. Realistically, what’s the best you can hope for?’

‘That an outrageous girlfriend will distract them enough to stop them nagging me about when I’m going to settle down. Just for the weekend,’ he added, wanting to make it clear that this wasn’t a long-term thing.

‘Weekend? I thought you said it was a party?’

‘It’s a weekend thing,’ he explained.

She looked shocked. ‘You’re telling me that this engagement party is going to last for a whole weekend? Wow. I thought that my friends and I could party pretty hard, but we’re all amateurs compared to that!’

‘It’s not that big a deal,’ he said. ‘We turn up for afternoon tea and cake on Saturday with the older relatives, and then we have a cocktail party in the evening. It’s black tie, by the way.’

She looked thoughtful. ‘So you want me to wear an unsuitable dress to the tea party bit, and something even more outrageous for the evening do rather than a proper little black dress.’

Oh, good. She understood and she wasn’t going to give him a hard time about it. ‘That would do very nicely.’

‘And then what?’

‘Um, we stay overnight—but you’ll have your own room, don’t worry. I’m not expecting you to share with me or anything,’ he added swiftly. ‘We’ll have breakfast in the morning, go for a walk, stay for Sunday lunch because Ma will insist—except that’ll be just my brothers and their partners and us, plus maybe an aunt and uncle or two—and then we can go home.’

‘A whole weekend,’ she repeated.

‘The food will be excellent,’ he said. ‘And there will be pink champagne.’ And then a nasty thought hit him. ‘Unless last weekend put you off champagne?’

She rolled her eyes at him. ‘That’s mean. I already told you, my sister doesn’t normally drink more than one glass. Last weekend was exceptional circumstances.’

‘I apologise. Again.’

‘Apology accepted, but I have a three strikes and you’re out rule,’ she warned. ‘Do it again and I’ll stand on your foot. In spike heels. I might be only five feet four, but I’m heavier than I look.’

‘Got it.’ The more time Hugh spent with Bella, the more he liked her. She made him feel different—she brought back the crazy, spontaneous part of him that he’d kept locked away since Jessie. Which was dangerous. Maybe he should call this whole thing off. For safety’s sake.

‘So what colour do you want my hair to be?’ she said, cutting into his thoughts.

‘Any colour you like. It’s your hair.’

She smiled. ‘Good answer. You’re learning.’

‘I’ll pay for your frocks,’ he said, ‘and your shoes, and whatever else you want. Just tell me how much you need.’

‘It’s very tempting to say yes and drag you off to the fashion department in Selfridges with your credit card,’ she said, ‘but I guess it’d be more believable if I wore a charity shop find.’ She paused. ‘Or am I playing a gold-digger who expects you to bankroll her fashion habit?’

‘I don’t think you’d be a believable gold digger, because you’re too independent,’ he said. Again, so unlike Jessie, who’d always had an eye on the main chance. Except he’d been so in love with her that he hadn’t seen it at the time. With Bella, what you saw was what you got—and that was refreshing. It tempted him to relax the rules where she was concerned. Part of him thought this was a bad idea; but part of him was intrigued enough to want to know where this could take them. ‘A charity shop find would be good, but I meant it about paying for your clothes and what have you. Just get anything you need and I’ll pick up the bill. You shouldn’t be out of pocket when you’re doing me a favour.’

‘OK. I’ll make sure I get receipts for everything. So I need outfits for a tea party, a cocktail party, breakfast, a walk and lunch.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I hope your car has room for a lot of luggage.’

‘The brasher the better—and add that to your shopping list,’ he said with a grin. ‘And thank you. I think I’m actually going to enjoy this now.’

‘Is it really going to be so bad, spending time with your family?’ she asked.

And now she’d wrong-footed him again. He wrinkled his nose. ‘I love them, but they don’t see me for who I am. They don’t listen to me. They want me to fit in their nice little box. That’s the thing I find hardest to deal with.’

‘So my job is to be their wake-up call. To make them see that by pushing you so hard, they’re actually making you run just as hard in the other direction. Whereas, if they leave you be, you might just come up with a compromise that will keep you all happy.’

‘I’m beginning to think that you should swap places with me and be head of strategy at Insurgo,’ he said.

‘Hardly.’ She scoffed. ‘I was working on design principles.’

‘They work for strategy, too.’ He paused. ‘Thank you. I think I’m in your debt.’

‘Strictly speaking,’ she said, ‘and, as you pointed out, I was in yours—you rescued Grace and me when we needed help. This is my chance to return the favour. And then we’re quits—right?’

‘Quits,’ he agreed. ‘That sounds good to me.’ He reached over to shake her hand, then rather wished he hadn’t when his palm started tingling. He really shouldn’t start thinking about Bella in that way. He’d learned from Jessie that business and love didn’t mix, and he didn’t want to repeat his mistake. He was attracted to Bella—she was gorgeous and vibrant and she would make any man look more than twice—but he really shouldn’t take this any further. They were going to keep this strictly professional. ‘I’ll let you get back to whatever you were working on,’ he said. ‘And thank you.’

‘Last thing,’ she said. ‘What about an engagement present?’

‘It’s all taken care of. And the card.’

‘How much do I owe—?’ she began.

‘It’s all taken care of,’ he repeated, cutting in. ‘Really. I don’t expect you to pay a penny towards this.’

‘Can I at least take your mother some flowers, as we’re staying at your parents’ place?’

He frowned. ‘That’s very suitable behaviour, Bella.’

‘Actually, it’s common courtesy to take a present for your hostess,’ she corrected. ‘I don’t mind people thinking I’m an airhead and unsuitable, but I do mind them thinking I’m rude and selfish. So. Flowers or chocolates?’

‘She’s a chocolate fiend. Dark. But you don’t have to—’

‘Yes, I do,’ she cut in. ‘Or the deal’s off.’

And hadn’t he asked her to help him partly because she was so outspoken and independent? ‘OK,’ he said.

‘Good. And now I’m going back to what you pay me to do,’ she said, and sashayed out of the room. As much as you could sashay in jeans and flat canvas shoes.

But the images in his head wouldn’t shift all day. The curve of her backside. The confident, brisk way she moved. That spark of merriment in her blue, blue eyes. The curve of her mouth.

How would her mouth feel against his? Would she make his lips tingle as much as his skin? And how would it feel to lose himself inside her?

There suddenly wasn’t enough air in the room. He walked over to the window, opened it and shoved his head out. Maybe the noise from the traffic would clear his head.

It didn’t.

‘Get a grip, Moncrieff,’ he warned himself.

This was strictly business. Letting his imagination loose was a seriously bad idea. He wasn’t going to let himself think about what it would be like to touch Bella. To kiss her. To hold her close. This pretend girlfriend business was just to get him off the hook with his family. And, the more he kept telling himself that, the quicker he’d start to believe it.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘ARE YOU SURE this is a good idea, Bel?’ Grace asked.

‘Going to Oxfordshire and pretending to be Hugh’s unsuitable girlfriend? Possibly not,’ Bella admitted. ‘I did tell him I thought it’d be a better idea to be straight with his family and get them to see his passion for his work. But he’s adamant that this is the best way to get them off his back—and I guess they’re his family, so he should know the best way to handle them.’

‘I don’t mean just that,’ Grace said gently. ‘I mean getting involved in your boss’s personal life.’

‘I’m not getting involved in his personal life,’ Bella insisted. ‘Apart from the fact that I’m officially off men for good, I’m just doing this as a favour.’

Grace winced. ‘To make up for me throwing up over him in the taxi?’

‘No,’ said Bella firmly. ‘No.’ Though he had hinted at it. Which had made it easier for Bella to say yes. Not that she wanted Grace to worry about it, so she kept that information to herself. ‘He just needs someone to help him make his family back off. And I kind of fit the bill.’

‘So you’re going to a posh afternoon tea party wearing a skin-tight leopard-print dress,’ Grace said.

‘Yup. And I’ve got tiny, tiny shorts and high-heeled mules for the country walk the next day. And, best of all, for the cocktail party... Meet my alternative to the little black dress.’ Bella produced the curtains she’d found in one of the charity shops, flapped one with a flourish and draped it over one shoulder. ‘Ta-da!’

Grace blinked. ‘You’re wearing a curtain to a cocktail party?’

‘Not quite—it’s going to be a proper dress. Only I’m making it from a curtain instead of from normal dress fabric. Em said she’d come round tomorrow, measure me, and we’ll cut it out and run it up together.’ Bella grinned. ‘This is where going to art school comes into its own. I know loads of people who can help. I just thought, what could be gaudier and more unsuitable for a black tie cocktail party than a mini-dress made out of a curtain?’

Grace eyed the orange flowers. ‘Um. Very nineteen-sixties.’

Bella’s grin broadened. ‘And it’s so The Sound of Music, don’t you think?’ She draped the curtain over the back of her sofa, pulled Grace to her feet, and danced her sister around the tiny living room, all the while singing, ‘How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?’ but substituting her own name in the song.

‘You’re impossible,’ Grace said, but she was laughing.

‘I’m a genius. And I’ve just had another great idea. We can have takeaway pizza tonight and watch The Sound of Music together. I love that film so much. And we can sing “Do Re Mi” in harmony—I’ll even let you pick your part.’

Grace hugged her. ‘I know what you’re doing, Bel. You’re trying to distract me. But I’m OK. Really. The hard bit was last weekend and breaking up with Howard. The temp agency’s found me some work, I’ve got a couple of weeks to find a new flat before I have to move out of mine, and you’ve been the best sister and most brilliant support anyone could ask for. My new life starts now, and it’s going to be just fine.’

‘I still worry about you,’ Bella said. She didn’t quite dare ask if this was how Grace felt about her, most of the time. Grace had had to rescue her often enough from some scrape or other.

‘I’m fine,’ Grace reassured her again. ‘But, yes, we can order a pizza and watch a film tonight. That sounds good.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And if this engagement party goes horribly wrong next weekend, just ring me and I’ll drive straight down to get you, OK? It’s only an hour and a bit from London to Oxford.’

‘It won’t go wrong,’ Bella said. ‘I’m just playing a part. Even if I wasn’t officially off men, Hugh Moncrieff is the most unsuitable man in the world for me. He’s my boss, and dating him would make everything way too complicated.’

‘So why,’ Grace asked, ‘are my big sister antennae suddenly twitching like mad?’

‘Force of habit,’ Bella said with a smile. ‘But nothing’s going to go wrong.’

The following weekend, Bella’s confidence in that statement had evaporated.

Had she gone too far with her outfit?

What if Hugh’s family had a blazing row with him over her unsuitability and it ruined the engagement party? That really wouldn’t be fair on Hugh’s brother and his fiancée.

Maybe she ought to pack some suitable clothes as well, in case she needed to change at the last minute. Or borrow Grace’s car so she could make a quick getaway if she needed to, rather than letting Hugh drive her down to Oxfordshire. Or maybe she should just make sure her mobile phone was fully charged and she’d got the number of a reliable local taxi firm.

Plus she and Hugh hadn’t set any real ground rules. What did playing his unsuitable girlfriend actually mean? Holding hands, draping herself over him—or even kissing him?

The idea of kissing Hugh sent her into a flat spin.

He was her boss. She shouldn’t even flirt with him, let alone entertain ideas about kissing him. Even if he was the most attractive man she’d met in years. Kissing was totally off the agenda.

So why, why, why couldn’t she get the idea out of her head?

Her stomach was in knots by the time her doorbell rang, just after lunch.

When she answered the door, Hugh was standing there, wearing one of his business suits. He looked utterly gorgeous—and Bella felt completely out of place in her outrageous get-up. Particularly when his eyes widened in apparent shock as he took in what she was wearing: a tight leopard-skin mini-dress with a wide shiny belt cinched round her waist and spindly high heels, a chunky bead necklace, and she’d styled her hair so her normally sleek bob was in wild curls.

‘This is a bit too much, isn’t it?’ she asked, indicating her outfit.

‘It’s, um, interesting,’ he said. ‘Very eighties. Especially the hair.’

In other words, he hated it. She’d gone way over the top. There was cutesy retro, and there was a total mess. She’d clearly crossed the admittedly narrow line between the two. She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. Give me ten minutes and I’ll change.’

He caught her hand. ‘No, Bella, you’re perfect as you are.’

A shiver ran through her at the feel of his skin against hers. She had to remind herself sharply that she was doing this as a favour to him—acting the part of his unsuitable girlfriend—and that was all. Any attraction she felt towards him was totally inappropriate and needed to be squashed. Like yesterday.

‘Are you sure this isn’t too much?’ she asked, doubt still crawling through her. ‘Are you quite, quite sure it wouldn’t be better to switch to Plan B?’

‘Which is?’

‘Go to the party on your own and tell your family how much you love Insurgo, that you’re perfectly happy being single and that you don’t need a romantic partner to feel that your life’s complete.’

‘I could, but they wouldn’t listen, so it has to be Plan A,’ he said softly. ‘And I want you to know how much I appreciate this, Bella. I don’t know anyone else who could’ve carried this off.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. I’m not flannelling you.’

She could hear the sincerity in his voice. He really thought that she could do this. And to have someone believing her on a personal level, someone other than her family... That made her feel better about herself than she had in a long time.

‘I’m truly grateful,’ he said. ‘Now, where’s your luggage?’

She picked up her large, bright pink suitcase and faked a confidence she didn’t quite feel. ‘OK. I’m ready. Let’s go.’

His car was gorgeous—sleek and low-slung, with leather seats that were amazingly comfortable—and she wasn’t surprised to discover that he had a really good sound system, too. She was happy enough to listen to music until they were out of London and on the motorway, and then she turned to him.

‘Can I ask you some questions?’

‘Sure you can ask,’ he said, sounding as if he reserved the right not to answer.

‘We’ll start with your family,’ she said. ‘Even an unsuitable airhead girlfriend would know who she was going to visit. I know you’re the youngest of four boys, and we’re going to your brother Nigel’s engagement party somewhere in Oxfordshire. Everyone else in your family is a stockbroker. And that’s all I know. Do you not think that I might need to know everyone’s names, at the very least?’

‘I guess,’ he said. His voice was totally expressionless, so she had no idea what was going through his head. ‘OK. My parents are Oliver and Elizabeth. Pa’s recently retired and spends half of his day on the golf course. Ma’s in the WI and does charity work. My brothers— Julian’s the oldest, married to Poppy, and they have a baby girl, Sophia. Alistair’s the next and he’s married to Harriet. Nigel’s about to get engaged to Victoria, and they’re getting married at Christmas. I’m the youngest, and I’m taking my new girlfriend Bella Faraday to meet the folks. Anything else?’

‘Yes. Ground rules. What does playing your girlfriend actually mean?’ she asked. ‘Holding your hand? Draping myself artfully over you?’

He blew out a breath. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead, to be honest. I suppose they’d expect us to hold hands. And for me to dance with you at the cocktail party. Which is a point. Can you dance?’

She couldn’t help smiling because he’d set up her answer so beautifully. And, with any luck, it would make him laugh and relax a bit, too. ‘Would that be with or without a pole, Mr Moncrieff?’