Vacancy: Wife of Convenience. Jessica Steele

His mouth quirked upwards briefly. ‘I hesitated to ask you back to my home.’

      Her lovely green eyes widened somewhat. ‘You’re—um—making this sound just a little bit personal,’ she answered warily.

      He considered her answer, but did not scoff that it was nothing of the sort, as she had expected him to. Doing nothing for her suddenly apprehensive feelings, he said, ‘I suppose, in an impersonal way, it could be termed personal.’

      ‘Do I get up and leave now?’ she enquired coldly.

      ‘I’d prefer you stayed until you’d heard me out,’ he replied, his dark eyes fixed on her apprehensive green ones. ‘You’re quite safe here,’ he added, glancing round what was now a deserted lounge. ‘And we have all the privacy we need in which to talk this vacancy through.’

      So that was why he had not gone into detail over dinner! A few fellow diners had been within eavesdropping distance should they have cared to listen in. ‘So, you having assured me I’m not required to sing for my supper, I’m listening,’ Colly invited, relaxing again, because should this conversation go in a way she did not care for she could decline to allow him to drive her to her home, and could ask someone at Reception to get her a taxi.

      To hear that she was ready for him to outline the job was all Silas Livingstone was waiting for. Though, instead of outlining the work, he first of all stated, ‘I’ve learned a little of you this evening, Colly. Sufficient, at any rate, to know that I should like to offer you this—position.’

      Her heart lightened. Oh, thank heaven. She was on her way! Silas Livingstone must believe she could do the job, or he would not be willing to offer it to her. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’ She beamed, her overwhelming relief plain to see. She might soon be self-sufficient, have money of her own and be able to afford somewhere to rent, and not beholden to Nanette for a temporary roof over her head.

      He looked at her shining green eyes. ‘You don’t know what the job is yet,’ he cautioned.

      ‘I don’t care what it is,’ she answered delightedly. ‘As long as it’s honest and pays well. You wouldn’t offer if—’

      ‘Are things really so bad for you?’ he butted in softly.

      Colly took a breath to deny that things were in any way bad for her. Though when she thought of the dire state of her present finances, and then of Nanette’s daily barbs that she pack her bags and leave, Colly couldn’t think that they could be much worse.

      ‘What sort of work would I have to do?’ she enquired, ready to turn her hand to anything.

      Silas studied her for a moment, not commenting that she had not given him a detailed account of just how awful things were at the only home she had ever known. Instead, he asked, ‘Tell me, Colly, if it were not so very essential for you to find somewhere to live and to find a job with a salary sufficient with which to pay rent, what would be an ideal scenario for you?’

      Again Colly found herself wishing she knew more about the usual interviewing techniques. Though, looking into the steady dark blue eyes of Silas Livingstone, she had an idea that he would not always follow the path of what was usual anyhow.

      She looked away from him. ‘I want to be independent,’ she replied. ‘I thought, a couple of years ago, that I’d like to have a place of my own…’

      ‘But your father wanted you to stay on as housekeeper?’

      ‘Nanette, the woman he married, she preferred that I stayed on.’

      ‘And now, now that she has inherited the house and everything else, she wants you gone.’

      It was not a question but a statement. And one that Colly could not argue against. ‘So that makes my first priority to find somewhere to live and, of course, a job too.’ She shrugged, feeling more than a touch embarrassed, but, it not needing any thinking about, she went on to honestly answer his question about her ideal scenario. ‘From choice, I would prefer to do some sort of training. Perhaps take a year’s foundation course while I looked into possible careers—or even go on to university.’ She felt awkward again as she looked Silas in the eyes and confessed, ‘I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but apart from an interest in art—though no particular talent—I have no idea what, if anything, I’m especially good at.’

      Silas smiled then. He did not do it too often, but when he did she momentarily forgot what they were talking about. ‘You have a nice way with you,’ he answered. ‘You have integrity, and I have formed an opinion that I can trust you.’

      Colly felt a touch pink. Was that what all that non-business chat over dinner had been about—Silas gauging from her answers, her questions, her general demeanour, what sort of a person she was? My, but he was clever. So clever she had not had a clue what he was about. ‘Yes, well,’ she mumbled, just a trifle embarrassed. ‘You must—er—trust me to have offered me the job.’ She got herself more of one piece. And, on thinking about it, considered it was more than high time that she found out more about this vacancy. ‘May I know exactly what the job entails? What my duties will be?’ she asked.

      Then she discovered she would find out what she wanted to know, but only when he was good and ready—because he had not finished asking questions of his own yet. ‘First of all,’ he began, ‘tell me what you know about the firm of Livingstone Developments?’

      Realising that since he was paying the piper she would have to dance to his tune, she replied, ‘That’s fairly easy. When I knew I had an interview last Tuesday, I made it my business to find out all I could about the company. I’d never been for an interview before,’ she explained, ‘so I had no idea of what sort of questions I should know the answers to.’

      He accepted that as fair comment. ‘What did you discover?’ he wanted to know.

      ‘I discovered that Livingstone Developments—only it wasn’t called that then—was founded years and years ago by one Silas Livingstone.’

      ‘Sixty years ago, by my grandfather,’ Silas filled in.

      ‘It was only a small company then—dealing with industrial equipment, I think.’ She waited for him to interrupt. He didn’t, so she went on. ‘The firm expanded when your grandfather’s son took over.’

      ‘The firm made quite a progressive leap forward when my father took over,’ Silas stated. ‘Under his leadership the firm went on to become a leading international firm of consulting engineers.’

      ‘And when, five years ago, Borden Livingstone stepped down and you were voted to be chairman, you led the firm onwards to take in the design and manufacture of more advanced engineering products.’

      ‘You have done your homework,’ Silas commented when she had nothing more to add. Then, giving her a straight look, ‘All of which perhaps makes you see what a tremendous amount of hard work has gone on over the past sixty years to make Livingstone Developments into the much-respected and thriving company it is today.’ His eyes were still steady on her when quietly he added, ‘And what a colossal waste of all those years of hard labour, of effort, it would be if I can’t come up with some way to prevent the company from sinking into decline.’

      Startled, Colly stared at him. ‘Livingstone Developments is in trouble?’ she gasped, forgetting about her own problems—the company employed thousands of people!

      But he was shaking his head. ‘No,’ he denied. ‘We’re thriving.’

      The firm was thriving, yet sixty years of effort might be wasted? It didn’t make sense. There had to be an ‘if’, and a very big ‘if’ at that. ‘But…?’ she questioned.

      Silas gave her an approving look that she was keeping up with him. ‘A massive but,’ he agreed, and went on, ‘I had a meeting with my father on Monday. My father, I should explain, is the most level-headed man I know. I have never seen him panicky and have seldom seen him anything but calm. But there was no denying that on Monday he was extremely agitated about something.’