Socialite's Gamble

Because the only help he could think of her offering right now was the kind that came with them both naked and sweaty on his bed.

‘Yes.’ She shoved her hands on her hips and stared at him mutinously. ‘In case it escaped your notice almost everyone on the island is dressed like this. Even some of your conference attendees are wearing shorts.’

Were they? He hadn’t noticed.

‘Why do you want to help?’

Some of her anger seemed to leave her at his question. ‘I don’t know … I like to keep busy. I can’t stop thinking about that horrible bet.’ She checked herself and smiled faintly. ‘Plus, you helped me out yesterday and after I took your limousine I feel like I should do something to make up for it. With your PA having quit … oh, never mind. I can see by your face that you think it’s a stupid idea.’

Unable to remember the last time a woman had offered to help him out, Aidan paused. Women usually approached him for a job in his office or a job in his bed.

Sometimes both.

They didn’t just offer to do things for him whether they owed him something or not. It was just expected that because he had the monetary resources he would provide for them. Which he didn’t mind. It was just that Cara Chatsfield of all people offering to help him out …

Again he wondered if he hadn’t misjudged her and it wasn’t easy to get his head around because, yes, part of him still harboured the belief that deep down she was just a grubby little socialite with a lofty sense of entitlement.

‘What can you do?’ he asked gruffly.

Her face immediately brightened. ‘I could answer your phone for you while you’re in sessions.’

‘No one has this number unless they’re important.’

‘Okay, well, maybe I could check your emails and tell you if there’s anything urgent.’

‘The information in my emails is sensitive.’

‘Oh, right. Well, do you need any typing done?’

He was curious. ‘Can you type?’

‘Of course.’ She scrunched her nose. ‘But if you mean fast, then … no.’

‘Can you use Excel?’

‘On second thought, forget I asked. There isn’t anything I would be any use to you for so … I’ll just sit on the beach.’

Aidan wasn’t at all sure he wanted her sitting on a beach in that bikini without a chaperone.

‘There is one thing you can do for me. I need someone to check the building of the school in the local village.’ It wasn’t true. He had a surveyor coming at some point who would carry out an independent assessment of the work done, but hell, there was only so long he could look at those long golden legs without wanting to wrap them around his hips. His very naked hips. ‘Last year the school needed to be rebuilt because of flood damage. It’s been a massive undertaking and I haven’t had a chance to look it over to assess whether the work carried out was adequate. You could go down there, wander around and give me your impression of how it looks. Nothing formal, just … impressions.’

‘Really?’

‘You wanted something useful to do.’

‘Yes!’ She beamed a smile at him that made him feel instantly guilty. ‘Yes, I did.’

He nodded. Cleared his throat before he spoke. ‘Great. It should only take an hour. Lunch will be served on the main restaurant terrace at one o’clock.’

‘I’ll be there.’

He watched her head back to the bungalow until she was out of sight before turning towards the specially designed conference facilities. He couldn’t quite get into his head that she was as genuine as she seemed. In his experience where there was smoke there was fire and she was a Chatsfield—one of Britain’s most notorious families. And while her reputation didn’t make her a bad person per se, it did confirm his view that women generally prioritised their own needs above and beyond anyone else’s.

And two hours later she proved the rule.

‘Are you sure she’s coming, Aidan. I’m really looking forward to meeting her. She’s so beautiful.’

Aidan unlocked his jaw long enough to answer Ben’s charming wife, Kate. ‘I believe she said she would come, but—’ she’s probably off chatting up another surfer ‘—I suspect she’s lost track of time.’

He got up and stalked over to where Dinesh was seating conference attendees—the ones in shorts!

‘Dinesh, have you seen my guest?’

‘Ms Chatsfield. Yes, boss. I showed her where the school was earlier. She’s a keeper, that one.’

No, Aidan wanted to correct him: she needed a keeper.

Irritated by the other man’s assessment, he snapped, ‘Hold off on serving our table lunch, will you. She’s supposed to be here.’