The Boss's Bride. Emma Richmond

Mrs Staple Smythe slowly sipped—and tried again. ‘We were all so excited when we heard Mr Turmaine was coming to take up residence amongst us. Such a shame to leave a beautiful old house like this in the hands of caretakers. Mr Turmaine was born here, I believe?’

      ‘Yes,’ Claris agreed, and knew very well that Mrs Staple Smythe had probably researched the whole family back to William the Conqueror. ‘Did you know his father?’

      ‘No,’ she denied with obvious regret. ‘And although you obviously think my concerns about who lives in the village very silly, if we don’t find out what people do, what sort of background they have, there is a very real danger that the community will degenerate.’

      ‘I understand perfectly, and I promise that I will try not to be the cause of any—degeneration. And now, I’m afraid, I really am very busy.’ Standing, she waited for Mrs Staple Smythe to do the same. ‘I’ll make sure Mr Turmaine gets the schedule, but I’m afraid I can’t promise that he will do anything about it. As I said earlier, his free time is rather limited. I’ll see you out, shall I?’

      With quite obvious reluctance, she followed Claris into the hall. ‘It’s a beautiful house,’ she commented stiffly.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Very old, of course.’

      ‘Yes. Thank you for calling, and for inviting us to meet everyone. Goodbye.’

      With nowhere left to go but out, Mrs Staple Smythe rather ungraciously retreated. Claris thankfully closed the door on her.

      ‘Very masterful,’ Adam complimented from the top of the stairs.

      Looking up, she gave him an unsmiling glance. ‘I’ve been taking leaves out of your book. She brought your schedule.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘Your schedule.’ Opening the piece of paper she still held in her hand, she quickly glanced at it and then handed it across as he slowly descended the stairs. ‘Dates of the committee meetings I imagine you are expected to attend.’

      He crumpled it.

      ‘I also imagine that Mrs Staple Smythe and her cronies will make life very difficult for you if you don’t—comply.’

      ‘Then you had best make sure they don’t. Hadn’t you?’ he asked softly. Climbing over the baby-gate, he strolled towards the study. ‘We have a meeting with a systems analyst Friday evening in Rye,’ he tossed over his shoulder. ‘I’ve booked a private room. His name’s Mark Davies, wife Sara. He needs marketing and investment for an apparently revolutionary new system he’s invented. It looks good on paper, but you know more about the technical side than I do. I left the file on your desk. Be ready at seven-thirty, will you? Did you ring Neville back?’

      ‘No, I’ll do it now.’

      ‘He has no idea why the disks you sent him don’t work,’ he explained.

      ‘Probably forgot to switch the computer on.’

      He laughed. ‘It surely couldn’t be that simple.’

      ‘Oh, it could. You wouldn’t believe the idiocy of some people.’

      ‘He isn’t an idiot. Technology overtook him,’ he added with gentle reproof. ‘Megabytes to some people mean big teeth.’

      With a wry smile, she agreed. ‘OK, I’ll be gentle with him.’

      ‘You’re always gentle.’

      ‘No,’ she denied softly. ‘I’m not. Mrs Staple Smythe wanted to know if I was your partner.’

      ‘What did you tell her?’

      ‘That the baby’s name was Nathan.’

      He gave a delighted laugh. ‘And I thought you such a mouse when I first met you.’

      ‘Appearances can be deceptive,’ she murmured, in a parody of his own drawl.

      ‘I know,’ he agreed. ‘Oh, how I know. You must never leave me, Claris. Life would be incredibly flat without you.’

      ‘It might be incredibly difficult with me,’ she countered.

      Giving her a sharp glance, his voice very soft, he asked, ‘Meaning?’

      ‘Meaning stupid women can sometimes be very dangerous. Mrs Staple Smythe is a snob of the worst kind. She expected you to have a suitable wife that she could manipulate.’

      ‘Instead of which, she found you.’

      ‘Yes. No background. She’d never heard of the Newmans,’ she added with slight dryness. ‘An unmarried mother…’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘She assumes the baby is mine,’ she explained. ‘Which might have been forgiven if I’d had any semblance of style, and had answered her pertinent questions.’

      ‘You want to tell her the truth?’

      ‘No,’ she denied. Not only because she knew how much Adam hated people to know his business, but because Mrs Staple Smythe had put her own back up, and she now didn’t want her to know. ‘But I’ll bet you anything you like to name that she will cause trouble. One way or another, I’m going to be punished.’

      She didn’t know how right she was.

      He didn’t say anything for a while, merely watched her, eyes slightly narrowed. ‘If you can’t deal with it…’

      ‘Did I say that?’ she queried as she walked across to her desk and switched on her computer.

      ‘No.’

      ‘But when your grass verges remain uncut, when your access is repeatedly blocked…’

      ‘I’m not sitting on any committees, Claris.’

      ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘But I begin to wonder if that isn’t why your father left the house empty all these years.’

      ‘What a pity you can’t ask him,’ he drawled. ‘Unless you can communicate with the dead. Can you?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then we’ll never know. Do you mind?’

      ‘Mind what? Not being able to communicate with the dead?’ she asked flippantly.

      ‘No,’ he denied patiently, ‘being thought my partner.’

      ‘No, why should I? Do you?’

      ‘No. I’ll be at the hospital if you need me.’ Pushing open the garden door, he walked out.

      Eyes slightly unfocused, Claris stared after him for a moment. No help there. Had she expected it? No, she thought wryly. She was paid to solve his problems, big or small. She suspected this problem wasn’t going to be small. And it was all her own fault; she should have treated Mrs Staple Smythe with the deference she clearly expected. Maybe explained that Adam was paranoid about his privacy.

      Partner? She gave a half-laugh. She doubted anyone would seriously think her his partner. Not that she wanted to be. The attraction she felt for him was entirely reluctant and very, very unwanted. A complication she didn’t need. Adam wouldn’t be attracted to someone like herself in a million years, and if he ever discovered how she felt…Dismissing it, suppressing it, she turned away. Funny how things turned out, though. At school all she had wanted out of life was to be a games mistress. She’d done her teacher training, but had then been unable to find a post. Several temporary jobs later, she had discovered a rather bewildering ability in herself to understand computer systems and the stock market. Figures, numbers, information technology, were as familiar to her now as her own face. A far cry from hockey sticks.

      She had also discovered that she had an extraordinary talent to make money. One day she would be rich. Not as rich as Adam Turmaine, perhaps, but maybe not far behind. Tempting offers from top companies