A Wicked Persuasion. Catherine George

take a good look, she could see that he was harder, older and colder, with little resemblance to the man she’d fallen in love with.

      ‘Good morning, Harriet.’ He held out his hand. ‘I had no time yesterday to mention we’d be meeting in an official capacity today.’

      Or he wanted to give her a nasty surprise. ‘Good morning.’ Manfully hiding her shock, Harriet took the strong, slim hand. Ignoring the searing streak of heat along her veins at the contact, she smiled politely. ‘This is a surprise. Charlotte Brewster told me I had a possible client to hire River House, but she forgot to give me a name.’

      James drew up a chair in front of her desk and sat down, looking so relaxed Harriet wanted to hit him. ‘She didn’t forget. I asked to remain anonymous.’

      ‘Why?’

      His eyes gleamed with mockery. ‘In case you refused to see me.’

      ‘Why would I do that?’ she said, determinedly pleasant.

      Simon came in bearing a tray with the silver coffee pot and fine china normally reserved for clients of the senior partner. ‘Ring if you need anything else, Miss Wilde.’

      ‘Thank you, Simon.’

      Once she’d served James’s coffee, Harriet forced herself to sip hers slowly rather than glug the caffeine down like medicine.

      ‘To business,’ said James briskly, putting his cup down. ‘I met Ms Brewster over the weekend. During our conversation I told her I believe in keeping my employees happy and was on the lookout for an unusual location to throw a party for them.’ His eyes speared hers. ‘Imagine my surprise when she suggested River House.’

      She could, vividly. ‘What kind of company do you run?’

      ‘We provide broadband and phone lines to businesses and various commercial outfits,’ he informed her, and smiled. ‘I’ve moved on a bit from the day I was called out to repair your computer. The usual rags-to-riches story, according to the press.’

      ‘Congratulations. I’m afraid I missed reading about it.’ She glued her smile in place. ‘So what, exactly, did you have in mind with regard to River House?’ Other than humiliating Harriet Wilde by hiring her home.

      He leaned back, still irritatingly relaxed. ‘Briefly, my aim is a party to celebrate the recent expansion in my Live Wires Group. I’ve recently taken over a couple of small companies who ran into trouble. This event will welcome their employees on to my staff, and at the same time reward my original workforce for their efforts. I could use a hotel, obviously, but I liked the idea of an actual home setting as a venue.’

      The Wilde home in particular. ‘River House doesn’t have room to put many people up overnight,’ Harriet warned, her mind in turmoil behind her professional demeanour.

      He shook his head. ‘Not my intention. Transport will be provided for arrival and departure on the same day. I seem to remember a terrace leading to a large lawn, so a marquee seems the most practical idea, with drinks on the terrace beforehand if the weather’s good. What parking facilities can you provide?’

      ‘There’s an adjoining paddock we used for my sister’s wedding. Would your caterers need the kitchen?’ By this stage Harriet was experiencing serious qualms about hiring her home to any client, let alone to James Crawford.

      ‘The firm I have in mind provides their own,’ he informed her. ‘And the other necessary facilities will be set up out of sight somewhere in the gardens. You need suffer very little intrusion on your privacy.’

      Harriet smiled coolly. ‘It makes no difference to me personally. I don’t live there.’

      He tensed, eyes narrowed. ‘You’re based here in the town?’

      ‘No. Perhaps you may remember the Lodge at River House? I’ve lived there for quite a while.’

      Of course he remembered the Lodge! James tried to look as though he were attempting to recall it. ‘I see.’ But he didn’t. This self-contained woman with her tailored suit and severe, pulled back hair was very different from the warm, loving girl he remembered. But then, when push came to shove that girl had not cared enough for him to give up her lifestyle at River House. For which he should be eternally grateful. The hurt and humiliation she’d dished out had fired him with the ambition to make such a success of his life James Crawford would be good enough for anyone, Aubrey Wilde’s daughter included. It was a blow to hear she’d moved out of River House itself, but if her father still lived there that would have to do.

      ‘I’ll need to see over the house,’ he informed her, ‘at some time convenient to you and your father, of course.’

      Of course. Harriet had been steeling herself for that from the moment he entered her office and turned her life on its head again.

      ‘I’m staying in the locality with my sister for a few days,’ said James, ‘so any time up to, and including, Sunday would suit me.’

      ‘Perhaps I could ring you later when I’ve had a word with my father.’

      ‘By all means.’ James stood up and handed her a card. ‘You can reach me on any of the numbers. Goodbye … Miss Wilde.’ He strode from her office and down the hall, smiling briefly at the receptionist as he said goodbye. Outside in bright morning sunshine he breathed in deeply, savouring the overwhelming satisfaction of the moment. It had taken a long time and a hell of a lot of hard graft to achieve financial success, while George Lassiter, his old boss, had hinted over lunch recently that Aubrey Wilde’s finances were not too buoyant these days. James’s eyes glittered coldly. They must be reaching crisis point if he was willing to hire his house out to the man who’d once been considered unfit to enter its hallowed portals.

      As soon as she heard the street door close Harriet rang Charlotte Brewster to report.

      ‘James said he knew you slightly years ago and asked to remain anonymous so he could surprise you,’ Charlotte informed her. ‘How well did you know him?’

      ‘When I was a student he came to the Lodge to mend my computer. But before I let James Crawford look over River House, Ms Brewster, I need to know how much he’s willing to pay for the privilege.’

      Charlotte chuckled. ‘You sounded just like Julia then! When I was a prefect we clashed constantly. I hear she edits one of those glossy style magazines these days. Did she marry?’

      ‘Not yet.’

      ‘And you’re not married either—though the love of your life is easy to identify!’

      Harriet went cold.

      ‘River House obviously means the world to you,’ Charlotte continued with sympathy. ‘But take my advice; don’t expend all your love on bricks and mortar. A man in one’s life is no bad thing, you know.’

      ‘Fascinating though the subject is, Charlotte, let’s get down to brass tacks. How much will Mr Crawford cough up to hire River House?’

      Harriet drove home in a very different mood from the night before. One detail apart, she had good news for her father. By the time she reached the Lodge she had even recovered enough from the shock of James Crawford as their first client to enjoy a solitary, celebratory meal alone before she went up to the house. She found her father hovering in the kitchen, waiting for her.

      ‘Well?’ he said eagerly. ‘Julia said you were seeing this Brewster woman today. Do you have good news?’

      ‘Yes. Let’s discuss it over coffee in the study.’

      ‘I’ve already made it for you,’ he said, surprising her.

      Once they were settled in the study Harriet informed him that her meeting had been with an actual client for the new venture, and told him how much the client would pay for hiring River House to host a party for his workforce. ‘But this is where I burst your bubble, Father.’

      He was thinking with such rapture of the fee he took time