‘So can I see your portfolio?’ he asked.
‘My…portfolio?’
‘You do have a portfolio showing me examples of your work?’
‘Of course I do,’ she said. She just hadn’t been planning on using it… ‘But unfortunately I had to leave it with a client in Ireland. Anyway, word-of-mouth is the best recommendation—and the only way you can assess my work is to speak to some of the people who’ve hired me in the past.’
‘I already did.’
She shouldn’t have been surprised. But she was. ‘Who?’
‘Cormack Casey. His was the only name you gave me. Fortunately he’s the kind of man I trust.’
Fran blinked. On the phone he had said tha
t he knew Cormack, but the warmth in his voice suggested a deeper relationship than mere acquaintanceship. ‘You mean you’re friends?’
‘Yes, we are. What’s the matter?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘You sound surprised?’
Well, she was. Because Cormack, for all his good looks and sex appeal, was fiercely loyal to his wife, Triss. A one-woman man. A man with morals. So how come he was matey with the arch-heartbreaker Sam Lockhart?
‘What did Cormack tell you about me?’
‘That you were good.’ There was a pause. ‘Very good.’
‘Now you sound surprised!’ she observed.
He shrugged. ‘People who are good don’t usually have to go out looking for business. Not in your line of work. Cormack was a little taken aback when I told him you’d rung me. In fact, he found it difficult to believe.’
Fran felt the first prickle of apprehension. ‘D-did he?’
‘Mmmm. He said it was completely out of character. Said you were cool and sought-after and he couldn’t imagine you ever touting for trade.’ He emphasised the words with a brief, black-hearted smile.
It was an offensive way to put it and Fran prayed that she wouldn’t start blushing. And not to be disconcerted by the intense question in those blue eyes. Maybe not looking at him was the only way to guarantee that.
‘So why start now?’ he mused.
‘Well, I’ve been working in Ireland,’ she defended, swallowing down her anxiety. ‘No one knows me here in England—and I needed to do something. Something big to get me established over here.’
‘And working for me will do that?’
She met his gaze reluctantly, feeling the erratic pumping of her heart in response. Did he have this effect on anyone with two X chromosomes in their body, she wondered? ‘You know it will,’ she answered bluntly.
There was a brief hooding of his eyes as he nodded, as if acknowledging her honesty. If only he knew, Fran thought, with the slightest shimmer of guilt. Until she remembered Rosie’s tear-stained face. And her damning list of just how many hearts he had broken along the way. Sam Lockhart deserved everything he was about to get! That is, if she got the job….
‘So my Valentine ball will put you firmly on the map?’ he observed.
Fran nodded.
‘That’s what I can do for you,’ he mused, and his voice was a soft caress which whispered temptingly at her senses. ‘Which leaves me wondering what I’ll get from you in return?’
It was blatant. Flagrant. Outrageous. Fran’s hand hovered above and then clutched onto her pearl necklace, her fingers sliding over the slippery surface of the lustrous jewels. Rosie had said he was rampant—but she had been expecting a little more finesse than that. ‘W-what exactly did you have in mind?’ she demanded hoarsely.
He frowned, and his gaze seemed to scorch her skin as he searched her face. He seemed to be keeping a straight face with some difficulty as he observed her reaction. ‘This is purely a business transaction, Miss Fisher,’ he reminded her wryly. ‘Not a sexual one.’
Fran’s face went scarlet. ‘I wasn’t suggesting for a moment—’
‘Oh, yes, you were,’ he contradicted softly. ‘It was written all over your face. And your body.’ His voice lowered. ‘I’m flattered.’