Secret Passion. Кэрол Мортимер

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Название Secret Passion
Автор произведения Кэрол Мортимер
Жанр Контркультура
Серия Mills & Boon Modern
Издательство Контркультура
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781474030243



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calls she had left her assistant in charge while she went to see Adrian. The last thing she had expected was that Adrian would be out and that she would have to deal with his partner instead. Did this man have any idea of the vindictiveness behind the letter? He wasn’t a man who revealed his thoughts easily, and the glasses acted as another shield to his emotions.

      ‘The wording of the letter is very clear,’ she acknowledged tightly.

      He frowned at the admission. ‘Then what appears to be the problem?’

      ‘The problem, Mr Ballantine,’ she bit out tautly, ‘is that when I signed the initial lease two years ago it was with the understanding that it would be renewable at the end of that time.’

      ‘Subject to both parties’ approval.’ He nodded slowly.

      ‘Yes. But——’

      ‘Obviously, from this letter, you can see that we don’t approve,’ he reasoned impatiently, obviously wondering why she was wasting his time over something that was already so clear.

      Gold sparks flashed among the sherry-brown of her eyes, the below-shoulder length of her pale blonde hair seeming to crackle with anger. ‘Why has my lease been singled out for refusal of renewal?’ she rasped. ‘I’ve checked with your other tenants at Cooper Mews, and all of them have renewed their lease in the last twelve months.’ Telephone calls to the neighbouring shops were the only reason she hadn’t been here earlier this morning, needing to be sure of her facts before confronting Adrian.

      James Ballantine raised dark brows. ‘You’ve checked?’ he repeated mildly.

      Aura wasn’t fooled by that mildness for a minute, knew that, despite his politeness to her so far, the lines of hardness around his eyes and mouth indicated he could be a very dangerous man to cross.

      ‘Of course I checked,’ she confirmed impatiently. ‘We aren’t just talking about my livelihood here, I also happen to live in the flat above the shop.’

      ‘Alone?’

      He seemed as surprised by the question as she did, his gaze suddenly challenging.

      Surely if Adrian had told the other man about his involvement with her James Ballantine wouldn’t have needed to ask such a question, Aura reasoned.

      ‘No,’ she bit out, not enlarging on the statement, deciding that if Adrian hadn’t already told this man about her, her living arrangements were none of his business; her lease didn’t say anything about listing the occupants of the flat above the shop.

      ‘I see.’ His tight-lipped disapproval was tangible as he picked up the letter to read it once again. ‘Have there been any problems with payment on your part to precipitate this move by us?’ he murmured frowningly.

      ‘Certainly not!’ Her eyes flashed her indignation.

      He shrugged, throwing the letter down on top of the other papers littering his desk. ‘Then perhaps there has been a mistake made by our legal department,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t believe we have any other plans for any of the properties we own at Cooper Mews.’

      Aura was sure they didn’t, was equally sure that Adrian was behind this move to deprive her of her shop and her home. The old saying warned ‘beware of a woman scorned’; no one seemed to consider that it was a warning that should also apply to a man scorned. One man anyway.

      James Ballantine looked at the rapidly changing expressions on her face with piercing eyes. ‘If you would just leave this matter with me——’

      ‘I’ve always dealt with Mr Mayhew in the past.’ It was because of a contractual problem concerning the roof that she had first met Adrian, having received no help from the legal department here. After that first meeting Adrian had made a point of calling round to the shop from time to time to make sure things were running smoothly. Then a few weeks ago those visits had ceased to concern the shop …

      ‘I can assure you, Miss Jones, that I am quite capable of dealing with this matter myself,’ James Ballantine informed her glacially. ‘If you would just leave this with me I will get back to you.’

      She knew he was furious at her persistence, but her shop was just one of hundreds of properties the partnership of Ballantine and Mayhew owned. ‘When?’ she demanded abruptly.

      He drew in a ragged breath, as if he weren’t accustomed to having his movements questioned. And maybe he wasn’t, but Aura couldn’t afford to have him put the problem of her lease—and her—to one side, and just forget about them.

      In the almost two years since she had opened ‘Health is Wealth’ she had built up a steady clientele, adding new customers to their number all the time as more and more people became aware of healthy food as a way of being healthy.

      The shop had become her salvation, occupying her time and thoughts completely, and she wasn’t about to lose it because a man she had stupidly considered charming had found that he couldn’t control his libido!

      After weeks of casual visits from Adrian to the shop the flowers had begun to arrive. Daily. Until Aura had broken all her own rules and agreed to have dinner with the sort of charmingly wealthy rogue she had sworn never to be involved with again.

      That first dinner together had been followed by yet another, and then another, until she realised she had been seeing him at least a couple of times a week. He was pleasant company, attractive enough in a rakish fashion, and if his goodnight kisses at her door could become a little too demanding on occasion, he never made any effort to get beyond the door. A week ago she had realised that was all part of his strategy, a strategy he had soon tired of when her curiosity hadn’t become piqued and she had been the one to do the inviting.

      Her twenty-fourth birthday had loomed bright and clear, and she had been thrilled with the lovely red roses that arrived for her from Adrian, less than pleased with the diamond bracelet he presented to her over dinner that evening. Her refusal to accept such a gift from a man she considered a friend had resulted in the rakishly attractive man becoming viciously nasty as he informed her he had no interest in being her ‘friend’, that he wanted to be her lover. And soon.

      She had cursed herself, and him, on her taxi-ride home, for not seeing sooner that he had deliberately lulled her into a false sense of security before revealing what he really wanted from her.

      His retaliation to her rejection of him as a lover had arrived in the letter she had received from the lawyers of Ballantine and Mayhew today, she was sure of it. Just as she was sure that if she agreed to let Adrian into her bed after all, the matter would instantly be dropped.

      Maybe it was lucky after all that Adrian wasn’t here at the moment and she was dealing with James Ballantine; his involvement could be her only way out of this situation. Even if this man knew of her past friendship with his partner, she couldn’t believe he would approve of Adrian’s harassment of her. She needed this man on her side.

      ‘Miss Jones,’ he began slowly in answer to her terse demand. ‘Our acquaintance has been a short one, but I was not aware that I had done anything during that time to make you doubt my ability to carry out the simple task of checking the contents of this letter with my legal department.’

      Aura flushed at his unmistaskable sarcasm. Maybe she was being unfair to him, but after Adrian’s underhand methods of persuasion, who could blame her!

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered awkwardly. ‘I’m just—a little anxious.’

      His expression softened slightly, although his mouth remained forbidding. ‘I can understand that,’ he soothed. ‘And I really will get back to you as soon as I know anything.’

      It was a dismissal, she knew that, and after her forceful behaviour she couldn’t really blame him for wanting to get rid of her as soon as possible. ‘I am sorry.’ She looked at him appealingly, her eyes warm, her full mouth curved stiffly above her pointed chin, the freckles that covered her nose and cheeks more noticeable against her pallor, due