The Tycoon's Delicious Distraction. Maggie Cox

saw that they were a chameleon-like hazel, and fringed with enviably lustrous long black lashes. She’d have to be made of stone not to admire such a compelling visage...

      ‘So tell me, Katherine with a K, what impulse led you into doing this kind of work?’

      ‘I decided to do it because I like helping people.’

      ‘And what qualifications do you have?’

      The question didn’t faze her, even though she’d often regretted her lack of opportunity to study for a profession. But with a mother who was often in financial trouble because she didn’t have a clue how to manage money Kit had had no choice but to start work at sixteen so that she could contribute to the household income and help pay the rent.

      ‘Do you mean professional qualifications?’

      He nodded.

      Pursing her lips for a moment, Kit quickly gathered her thoughts. ‘I’ve done some fairly intensive first-aid training courses and completed a carer’s certificate. But what I lack in professional qualifications I make up for by having plenty of “hands-on” experience in helping to take care of people. If you speak to Barbara—the manager at the agency—she’ll clarify what I’ve said. I’ve been with her for the past five years and my record is exemplary. The agency standards are extremely high, and she wouldn’t keep me on if I didn’t help her live up to that.’

      Her heart was thudding a little as she finished speaking, because Henry’s expression had at first been perturbed and then somewhat amused. Was he perhaps thinking she must be crazy if she thought he’d seriously consider taking on someone with minimal qualifications to work for him? Kit hoped he would at least give her a chance to demonstrate her competence. Inexplicably, the thought of travelling up to Scotland tomorrow had strangely lost its appeal.

      ‘It’s lucky for you that I’m a risk-taker. Other people might call it reckless, but fortunately I don’t much care what other people think. Okay, Ms Blessington, when can you start?’

      He was going to give her a chance? Secretly elated, but careful not to show it, Kit strove for her usual composure. ‘Are you saying that you’d like to offer me the job, Mr Treverne?’

      He immediately combed his fingers through his unruly dark hair and scowled. ‘Isn’t that why you’re here...because you want to work for me?’

      ‘Yes, I am. But—’

      ‘Firstly, don’t call me Mr Treverne. It’s far too formal. You can call me Hal. I’m sure you can guess that’s not an invitation I extend to many, but for the purpose of ease of communication I’m extending it to you, Kit. And, yes...I’m offering you the job and I’d like you to start tomorrow. My sister assures me that the agency you work for does indeed have a good reputation for employing reliable and competent people—people who know how to employ discretion and respect confidentiality. That’s especially important for businessmen in the public eye like me, as I’m sure you’re aware? And, by the way, there’s a confidentiality clause in the contract that I’ll need to get you to sign. I trust you’re okay with that?’

      ‘Of course.’

      Emitting a relieved sigh, Hal nodded. ‘Then you can arrive tomorrow, just after breakfast. Depending on what kind of night I’ve had, I usually endeavour to have toast and coffee at around eight. There’s one more thing...I have an appointment at the hospital at ten. You’ll have to drive me.’ Looking thoughtful, he paused, narrowing his chameleon-like gaze. ‘I presume you’d like to accept the position?’

      ‘Yes...yes, I would.’ Rising to her feet, Kit walked towards him, her smile perhaps a little more cautious than usual. Henry Treverne was a commandingly attractive man and she wouldn’t be truthful if she didn’t privately admit that it worried her. It had never happened before but she’d often feared that if she fell for a man she worked for it would be the ruination of all her dreams and plans. Add to that the fact that he was still very much an unknown quantity with regard to what he would be like as an employer, she sensed, going by his brusque manner, that she would have her work cut out in proving to him he’d chosen the right person for the job.

      ‘Thank you...thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down.’

      ‘I sincerely hope you won’t. The thought of having to interview prospective employees again fills me with horror after the parade of too-earnest applicants I’ve seen today.’ Hal’s lips shaped an ironic smile. ‘Barring yourself, of course. If you’re at all too earnest about having this job you hide it well. Would you like to see your room now?’

      ‘Yes, I would.’

      ‘Then follow me. In light of my accident, I thank God I chose an apartment that doesn’t have stairs. For convenience, the room I’ve allocated you is next door to mine.’ His hands resting lightly on the tyres of the wheelchair, Hal paused as another thought struck him. ‘I won’t give you a key because the revolving doors downstairs are never closed, and Charlie is usually there on the front desk if there’s a problem. Plus, if you’re out then that means I’m in, and all you need to do is get Charlie to buzz me to let me know you’ve returned. Okay?’

      ‘But what if you’ve fallen asleep and don’t hear the buzzer?’

      ‘Unless I’ve been clubbed over the head by a particularly vindictive burglar you don’t need to be concerned about that. I don’t easily fall asleep—at least certainly not during the day. But, just to reassure you, Charlie has a spare key for emergencies.’

      ‘That’s good to know.’

      ‘Then let’s go and look at your room, shall we?’

      CHAPTER TWO

      IT HAD BEEN a hell of a day, Hal reflected, positioning his wheelchair in front of the bathroom mirror in order to brush his teeth. Although it was practically unheard of for him to turn in before midnight, since returning home from the hospital he’d cultivated the habit of retiring early in the hope of getting some longed-for rest. The irony was, no matter how early he went to bed, his sleep was unfailingly broken. First by episodes of agonising pain in his leg that meant he had to rise in order to take some pain relief and then by the inevitable visits to the bathroom—which was no easy feat when he had to hoist himself into his wheelchair to get there.

      The one light on the horizon was he’d been advised that from tomorrow he could start using crutches. But he knew it would still be a fiasco, endeavouring to do all the commonplace things that he’d been used to taking for granted. Rubbing a hand round his dark stubbled jaw, then peering closer to examine the shocking bruised shadows beneath his eyes, he felt frustration and fury bite into him with all the force of a serrated steel clamp. Was it usual to feel this fatigued after an accident? And was it normal that his emotions should be so tightly wound that he could scarcely contain them?

      His highly esteemed surgeon had assured him that it was...except the confirmation didn’t help him to accept the fact. Thank God Sam had persuaded him to hire some practical help and companionship, with the aim of alleviating some of the frustration he felt round his compromised mobility and also to counter the boredom of being forced to spend so much time on his own.

      If Sam hadn’t been the manager of a busy psychology practice she would have willingly been there for Hal night and day if necessary. But she also had a husband with a demanding job, and Greg was surely entitled to spend his precious free time with his wife. As for Hal’s so-called ‘friends’...they were busy with their own demanding careers and pleasurable pursuits—and anyway none of them were the type to give up their time willingly for an invalid.

      Appalled that he had begun to think of himself in such a scornful way, he quickly brushed his teeth, turned off the light, then returned to his bedroom grimly to face another disagreeable and painful night with nothing but his steadily worsening thoughts to keep him company.

      As he lifted his hard-muscled frame out of the wheelchair and manoeuvred himself onto the bed he found himself fervently hoping that the feisty Kit Blessington’s