Working With the Enemy by Susan Stephens Page A

much. The interview was all she had ever asked of him, and he wouldn’t let her down.
It was just her bad luck that Heath’s office was located in the most fashionable part of the city, Bronte reflected, slipping on a robe after her shower at the cottage. And in a gleaming new building that had won style awards, for goodness’ sake.
And look at me …
So she would just have to smarten herself up, Bronte told herself firmly. It might have been a while, but she could do it. Taking a deep breath, she stopped pacing her bedroom to open the robe and take a critical look at herself in the full-length mirror. The bits that showed outside her dungarees were tanned to a nice healthy shade, but the rest of her was pale and freckled.
And the tip of her nose was bright red.
Great.
Walking to the wardrobe, she opened the door and rooted inside. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to dress or what would be expected of her at a high-powered interview. She hadn’t dropped out of life completely, but she had gone country. There had been no reason to smarten up since she’d returned to Hebers Ghyll.
There wasn’t time to buy a business suit, Bronte concluded, but appearances were everything if she wanted Heath to take her seriously. Appearances were important if she wanted to hold her head up high. Toe rings and braids she had down to a fine art, but a more sophisticated look might require a little help …
‘You’re going to Heath’s office for an interview?’ Colleen exclaimed, clearly impressed and excited for her. ‘That’s amazing. Heath must think a lot of you to invite you down to London.’
‘That’s where the interviews are being held,’ Bronte explained. ‘It’s nothing special. And it was his PA who invited me, not Heath.’
‘Whatever you say …’
They were clearing out the old stables when Bronte shared her news. Colleen had picked up on her tension, Bronte realised.
Leaning on her sweeping brush, Colleen stared directly at her equally dishevelled friend. ‘So, tell me—what can I do?’
‘I’m just worried that the job of estate manager suggests someone older than me—someone more staid.’
‘I disagree,’ Colleen said firmly. ‘You’re the new generation.’
‘But what if Heath’s PA doesn’t see it that way? What if I don’t get any further than him? He sounds so snooty, and appearances matter in the city. I don’t think my muck-spreading look is going to cut it.’
‘You might have a point,’ Colleen agreed with a laugh as she took in the state of Bronte’s dungarees. ‘So you really think you’ve got a chance of landing the job? It would be wonderful if you did—it would give everyone such a lift.’
‘Thanks,’ Bronte said, smiling ruefully. ‘I have to believe I stand a chance or I wouldn’t go to London. I’ve got the right qualifications—and the right practical experience too. And I’ve got local knowledge, which hopefully will give me an edge. So, logically, I should be in the running…’ Though whether Mr Logical would see it that way remained to be seen. ‘But I must look as professional as I can, which is where you come in.’
‘Whatever I can do,’ Colleen offered.
‘Well, I’ve been off the radar for a while—so I’ll need a suit.’
‘And there are so many shops round here,’ Colleen said dryly.
‘Exactly, and there’s no time to visit the local town before my interview.’
‘Well, you must look good for Heath.’
‘This has nothing to do with Heath,’ Bronte protested a little too hotly.
‘Okay,’ Colleen soothed, holding her hands up palms flat in surrender.
‘Heath needs to come back to oversee this project,’ Bronte said thoughtfully. ‘An absentee landlord is no good to Hebers Ghyll.’
‘And an absentee lover is even less use to you.’
‘Colleen—’
‘I’m just saying. If friends can’t be honest with each other. Yes, of course I’ll help,’ Colleen confirmed when Bronte gave her a look. ‘Do you really think you can persuade