Only Lover. Кэрол Мортимер

her surprise he smiled too, a warm natural smile that reached his eyes. ‘You learn fast, young Farrah Halliday. Were you going out?'

      ‘No,’ she admitted reluctantly.

      ‘Then you won't need to break it, will you. Are you going to tell your father about me? Oh, not of our agreement, but that we'll be going out together.'

      ‘Not until I have to.’ She blushed as she realised how bad that sounded.

      Joel Falcone frowned heavily. ‘Do you think that's wise? It could come as quite a shock to him to learn from someone else that his little girl is having a full-scale affair with someone like me. If he's as ill as you say he is then the knowledge can't be going to help him.'

      ‘Exactly,’ Farrah said dryly.

      ‘And it will be even worse coming from a stranger, or worse still, a newspaper. And how will your mother feel about it?'

      It was a perfectly natural question in the circumstances, and yet Farrah felt a sharp pain at his casually spoken words. ‘My mother is dead,’ she said quietly. ‘And I hope you'll leave it to me to tell my father.'

      ‘I have no intention of seeing your father, when and how you tell him is up to you.’ He stopped the car before the block of flats where she lived with her father. ‘Can you be ready by eight-thirty?'

      ‘I should think so,’ she laughed lightly. ‘It's only four o'clock, it doesn't take me four and a half hours to get ready. What—what do you want me to wear?’ His steady gaze unnerving her and she fidgeted unnecessarily.

      ‘We'll be going to a nightclub, quite an exclusive one. Do you have anything suitable?'

      ‘Yes,’ she snapped, stung by his condescension. ‘Don't worry, I won't disgrace you.'

      ‘I've arranged for you to go to a salon tomorrow and choose a new wardrobe. That's the reason I told Angie you would be late in the morning.'

      ‘I don't want anything like that from you,’ she told him angrily. ‘I can buy my own clothes, thank you.'

      ‘I'm sure you can. Consider these part of your payment.'

      ‘I don't want anything from you,’ she repeated firmly. ‘Not your expensive presents or your clothes. Letting my father go free will be enough. And I can promise you that I'll pay as much of your money back as I can.'

      ‘Did you know your eyes flash in the most tantalising way when you're angry?’ he said huskily, ignoring her outrage and fiercely spoken words.

      Farrah blushed fiery red. ‘Don't prevaricate,’ she said stiffly.

      ‘Is that what I was doing?'

      ‘You know you were. I mean it, Mr Falcone, I won't accept anything from you.'

      He turned away from her. ‘Please yourself. I have an appointment in half an hour,’ he said pointedly.

      ‘I'm sorry!’ She looked at him nervously. ‘You'll be back at eight-thirty?'

      ‘Yes. And as you don't want me to meet your father you'd better come down here.'

      ‘Very well.'

      Farrah hesitated about going up to the flat just yet; her father wouldn't be expecting her home for at least another hour and he would obviously wonder why she was home so early. She could hardly tell him that Joel Falcone had brought her. No, that wouldn't do at all.

      She walked back in the direction of the town. She had her cheque book with her, and although she had told Joel Falcone that she had a suitable dress, she didn't really. It had been a show of bravado on her part and even though the sort of gown he would expect his companion to wear would make a great hole in her savings she had no intention of letting him see her in anything but the best.

      The gowns she looked at were very beautiful, and very expensive, and she tried on several before making her final choice. It had to be something sophisticated, but not too old for her, and the black gown seemed to fit both those requirements. It was what she would call slinky, clinging in all the right places and yet retaining an air of mystery. The thin satin shoulder straps did not allow for a bra, but as she had never had any qualms about the suppleness of her body this didn't concern her too much. The low neckline made the dark curve of her breasts just visible, but the bareness of her throat alleviated the darkness of the dress.

      It had just gone five when she entered the flat and her father was just in the middle of making a cup of tea. He smiled at her as she sat down tiredly in an armchair. ‘Been shopping?’ he indicated the bag in the chair beside her.

      ‘A new dress,’ she explained.

      ‘You're going out tonight, then?’ he asked interestedly.

      ‘Yes. You're going over to see Uncle Ben, aren't you?'

      ‘Mmm, we'll probably sink a few jars at the local and talk ourselves silly like we usually do.'

      ‘You know you enjoy yourself,’ she smiled.

      ‘Farrah, I don't want to seem too inquisitive, but did you talk to Joel Falcone today?'

      ‘He spoke to me,’ she corrected. ‘I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier.’ So much had happened since she left home this morning that she had completely forgotten her father's anguish. ‘Joel Falcone has agreed to drop the charges.'

      ‘Oh, that's wonderful!’ exclaimed her father. ‘At what price?’ he asked shrewdly.

      Farrah evaded her father's questing look. ‘No price, Daddy.'

      ‘No price! But I—– He must have a reason for this, Farrah! Unless you told him about your mother—–'

      ‘No!’ she denied sharply. ‘I didn't tell him anything.'

      ‘Then I don't understand,’ he shook his head.

      Farrah shrugged, standing up impatiently. ‘Perhaps I just caught him in a good mood, Daddy. Everything should be sorted out within the next few days.'

      ‘Did he say anything about my job?'

      ‘No, he didn't! But I should think you'll be sacked, don't you?’ she said shrilly. ‘It was a silly thing to do and it'll probably ruin the rest of your life.’ And mine, she groaned inwardly. ‘Mummy wouldn't have wanted you to do it and you know it. I know it was for her, Daddy, but she would hate to know what trouble you've brought upon yourself.'

      ‘Your mother always had second best, Farrah, she didn't deserve to die that way too.'

      This was an old argument and one Farrah always lost. She had loved her mother too, and if she had died believing the money for her private nursing came from an insurance policy then perhaps it was all to the good. ‘I could have left work and nursed her, Daddy. You know I wanted to.'

      ‘She didn't want that. You're young, Farrah, nursing your mother would have cut you off from your friends, denied you a proper social life. Your mother wanted you to enjoy your youth.'

      ‘And I have, Daddy, but this threat over our heads is worse than any hardship I might have had nursing Mummy. I loved her too, you know!'

      Her father put a comforting arm about her shoulders. ‘It was better this way, poppet. Your mother died having had all the medical and nursing care there was available. The trip to Switzerland was the most expensive, but I had to make sure the English doctors were right when they said there was no hope.'

      ‘But company money, Daddy!'

      ‘I know,’ he said wearily. ‘I know it was wrong. I still have a couple of thousand of it, Farrah, I can give that back,’ he added almost eagerly.

      ‘A couple of thousand! That won't even dent the twenty-five thousand. He's a powerful man, Daddy, you should have known better than to try and trick him.'

      ‘I wasn't tricking him personally, only the company.'

      ‘He is