Guardian to the Heiress by Margaret Way Page A

inconvenient?” she asked and gave a little laugh. She was loath to think of him in bed with some beautiful girl.
    “Then, too,” he said.

CHAPTER FOUR
    T HE RUN UP to Christmas was hectic. She had long talks with all of her key people, almost family style, with everyone gathered around a conference table and coffee, sandwiches and Danish pastries were brought to them. Just as she had studied hard to get good results with her end-of-year exams, she now turned her attention to finding out as much as she could about The Chancellor Group and the several foundations her grandfather had caused to be set up. Her grandfather had been bred to big business. Her father and Uncle Maurice, as well. She had not. She did, however, have a good business brain, even better than she had supposed. Enough to impress her mentors, anyway. She really wanted to be effective. She had been given duties, big responsibilities, even if she had to remind herself of that from time to time when she was force-feeding herself a wealth of information that threatened to choke her.
    Her task was huge, but it was a great comfort to her to know she had a powerhouse of support.
    To take a little pressure off her and offer some benefits, Damon suggested she might like to visit the gym where he worked out. The owner, an ex-heavyweight boxer, Bill Keegan, was a friend. He would look after her.
    “He’s a great guy.”
    “I’ve heard of him,” Carol said. Jeff had been a big boxing fan. “You can’t be expecting me to lay into him?” she joked.
    Damon’s answer was serious and to the point. “I believe every woman should be taught basic rules of self-defence, Carol.” It was a dangerous world out there. He didn’t stress that. But Carol, in her current position with so much media attention, could find herself a target for some loose cannon or someone seeking to snatch her bag. All right, she had security. He had seen to that. But he knew she found a bodyguard irksome. She was naturally adventurous. She could take risks. She had already, he had been advised, which was not unexpected. She didn’t need to know how to throw punches. But naturally light on her feet, she could learn how to score points, allow herself enough time for flight.
    At first Carol didn’t know what to make of Damon’s suggestion. She didn’t think she would have much chance against just about any male. Men used their physical superiority to threaten and terrorise. Her friend Tracey had had plenty of experience of that. Tarik thankfully was out of the picture. A bit of a surprise there; Trace could be sadly weak.
    Damon had taken her along to meet his friend, Bill Keegan, who had greeted her with a big smile.
    “Don’t you laugh at me,” she said as he took in her size and weight, his bushy eyebrows raised.
    “Would I dare?” He threw up huge hands. “Look, Ms Chancellor—”
    “Carol, please.”
    “I can help you, Carol,” he replied. “I can even show you how to throw a man. It’s not as hard as it sounds. Damon here is my friend. He’s a damned good boxer. No one as yet has managed to break his nose. I can show you easy moves at first. Then, if you stay focused, we can move on. You’re small, but you can still be an effective opponent. More women should come to me, then they wouldn’t be so vulnerable.”
    His expression lightened. “Had a little lady come to me not so long back! Her husband used to pound her when he felt like it. Eventually she decided she had to learn to fight back. They’ve since split up, I’m happy to say. That was after she managed to inflict certain damage, all swingin’ elbows and fists and a good solid knee.” He laughed, well pleased.
    In the end, she stayed well over an hour, talking to Bill, who had a fund of funny stories, while observing Damon going through his paces out of the corner of her eye. Stripped to a navy singlet and navy boxing shorts, he looked jaw-droppingly virile, his bronze skin gilded with sweat from the heat of