Bittersweet Passion

She lifted her knife and fork. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘Well, you won’t mind if I ask a personal question,’ Dane assumed. ‘Tell me, when am I to meet Max?’

Her fork froze half-way down to the crisp, golden omelette. ‘He’s out of town right now.’

‘And you discovered that without visiting or phoning him?’

He was uncomfortably astute. She still carved into the omelette. ‘I phoned a friend of his. Naturally I want to see him. I just can’t get hold of him right at this moment,’ she imparted, glad to be truthful on one count. ‘One half of me says that’s providential. I’m a bit worried he wouldn’t approve of all this and I was wondering if you had had any second thoughts.’

‘If you want to call it off just say so,’ Dane responded with irritating impartiality. ‘Think about it overnight.’

CHAPTER FOUR

THE dulled throb of the jet engines was giving her a faint headache. Or was it her nerves? Seemingly impervious to such sensibility, Dane was on the phone speaking in fluent French, the papers he had been studying with his legal advisor, Lew Harrison, resting on the luxurious cabin’s built-in desk. Receiving a cool glance from the lawyer opposite, Claire angrily dropped her eyes back to the magazine on her lap.

She had made Lew’s acquaintance early yesterday at the apartment. Dane had been out when the lawyer called with a document that required her signature. His hostility had needed no vocal utterance to be felt.

‘What exactly does this mean?’ she had asked apologetically.

‘It gives Dane control of your future inheritance, Miss Fletcher. A purely supervisory control lasting only for the next year,’ he specified, coldly concise, the bland smile on his face slipping. ‘At the end of that period the money becomes yours to do with as you wish. Dane considers this arrangement necessary.’

His unveiled contempt was an unpleasant surprise. ‘I take it you don’t approve, Mr Harrison.’

‘I don’t believe I said any such thing, Miss Fletcher.’

‘You don’t need to say anything,’ she replied as she signed. ‘It’s obvious you don’t approve. Perhaps you’d care to tell me why.’

He returned the agreement to his case. ‘I’m aware of the marriage that is to take place.’ As he dropped the news, he flipped down the lid on his case and locked it. ‘And I don’t like it at all. Dane appears to be distracted by your financial responsibilites and he wouldn’t agree to me presenting you with a pre-nuptial contract,’ he imparted tonelessly.

‘I wouldn’t touch a penny of Dane’s money, Mr Harrison,’ Claire protested, horrified by the insinuation. ‘The ceremony will only be a formality.’

His scrutiny showed he was unimpressed. ‘A formality which will legally entitle you to claim on Visconti Holdings, Miss Fletcher. Something more than a mere formality in my terminology. Dane’s worth millions. Yet because he trusts you he’s taking not a single step to protect his own interests,’ he informed her drily. ‘Naturally I disapprove but I reserve judgement. My apologies if I have misinterpreted your intentions.’

‘Of course, you prefer to be blunt,’ she said shakily.

He held her furious gaze. ‘It’s more in the nature of a warning, Miss Fletcher. It will be me whom you come up against should the situation alter.’

His cynical conviction that she had designs on Dane’s wealth had shocked Claire. That he believed she was relying heavily on the family relationship to allay any doubts Dane might otherwise have had shook her more. She had been too mortified to raise the subject openly with Dane. After all, Lew Harrison would soon see that he had nothing to worry about.

Over dinner last night she had deliberately asked Dane if Adam’s estate was likely to be sorted out in the near future. The sooner she was independent of Dane’s generosity, the happier she would be.

‘Getting i

mpatient?’ he had probed huskily. ‘I don’t understand why he let his affairs get in such a mess when he knew he was dying. I would have thought he would leave everything in apple pie order. Still, maybe he just lost heart. One could scarcely blame him in the circumstances.’

She studied him worriedly. ‘What’s causing the holdup?’

‘Nothing specific. Coverdale couldn’t trace those South African investments. I suspect Adam was up to tax dodging, he laid so many false trails.’

‘He wouldn’t have done that,’ she interrupted. ‘He was very straight in business.’

Dane shrugged. ‘Nobody as miserly as Adam could be entirely true blue, Claire. But there’s no need for you to worry. I’ve put the problem in the hands of my own staff. Let’s face it, Coverdale’s out of his element.’

She had been troubled by that conversation. Her grandfather had been compulsively tidy about keeping account books. A door shut and she sank back to the present as Lew Harrison left the cabin.

‘You’re extraordinarily quiet. We’ll be landing soon.’ Dane leant back with indolent grace in his chair, and rebuttoned his shirt collar and fixed the tie he had loosened. ‘Lew’s cold shoulder getting to you? I did notice, but a good lawyer is not one who keeps his mouth shut when you tell him to,’ he drawled. ‘And I reckon you can cope with it.’

In the expensively cut navy suit, he looked incredibly cool and sophisticated and rather unfamiliar. ‘Sticks and stones,’ she said lightly. ‘You know, I hardly recognise you in a suit.’