Beaumont Brides Collection by Liz Fielding Page B

best offer she was likely to get.
    But she wasn’t a schoolgirl, she had been playing for time. For some reason she hadn’t trusted him.
    Her personal life was equally incomprehensible. She lived alone. While her sister still kept an apartment in Edward Beaumont’s roomy house, Felicity had moved out when she was twenty. Yet if his researcher was to be believed she was the closest thing to a nun outside a convent. Except for those eyes.
    And now she had telephoned him. He had been certain he wouldn’t hear from her until the dot of twelve on Friday.
    She had wasted no time in contacting the bank about her loan and drawn a blank as he had known she would. But she wouldn’t give in until she had exhausted every other possible alternative source of finance. She wanted Melanie, but she wanted her without him pulling the strings. Which was interesting since he had been careful not to attach any strings, only money.
    It suggested Fizz Beaumont possessed a highly developed sense of danger.
    ‘What did she want?’
    ‘She asked if you would be in today. I explained that you were in meetings all day and not available.’
    ‘Did she leave a message? Ask for a appointment?’
    ‘No.’
    They why had she called? ‘Tell me exactly what she said, Liz. Word for word.’
    ‘Well, let me think. She said, “Good morning, is that Mr Devlin’s secretary?” I said, yes and could I help. She said, “Can you tell me if Mr Devlin will be in the office today?” and I said you had a number of meetings today and were unavailable. I offered to take a message, but she just said that it didn’t matter. Something like that.’
    ‘You didn’t ask who was calling?’
    ‘I didn’t have to. I recognised her voice.’
    ‘I see. You said I would be in meetings all day. Then what?’
    ‘She said thank you, and hung up.’ She waited. ‘Would you like me to get her for you now?’
    ‘No. Don’t bother. Just call the Metropole and see if Melanie is there.’
    Melanie, Liz reported a moment later, had gone out at about a quarter to eleven. He wasn’t a bit surprised.
    The recording of the soap went remarkably smoothly, mainly because Claudia was in London. They always had to make allowances for Claudia, in more ways than one. Melanie’s arrival would undoubtedly cause a fit of the sulks. Well that was something her father, as director, would have to deal with.
    She’d have to tell him about Melanie soon, her thinking time was running out. For heaven’s sake, her reluctance was ridiculous; she should be shouting it from the roof tops.
    It was just the feeling of helplessness that so rankled. The feeling of having her arm twisted. She had spent the last seven years making sure that every single strand of her life was in her hands, in her total control and she was sure she had succeeded, yet the moment she met Luke Devlin she felt as if she had stepped into quicksand.
    She sighed. It wasn’t just the sponsorship, or taking on Melanie. It was more personal. It was the flash of recognition, the electric charge that jars the senses, the raw desire for a man even before you have spoken to him, even before you know his name. The sensation of having the air knocked out of your body. Leaving you breathless.
    She had excused herself from lunch with Andy and Melanie. One look at Andy’s star-struck face had reassured her that he would behave himself. Not that he was likely to prove any competition for Luke Devlin. But then, who would? And she couldn’t pump the girl for information with Andy in attendance.
    After the phone-in she would invite Melanie for tea in the Green Room. On an emotional high after the programme she would be less careful about what she said. Susie would make sure they weren’t disturbed. She smiled to herself. Luke Devlin wasn’t the only one with a dragon for a secretary.
    Returning to her desk to catch up she was, on the whole, pleased with her morning’s work and partially reassured by the fact that Melanie was