The Price of a Wife

CHAPTER TWO

Josie found that she was frowning ferociously out of the window the next morning as she travelled to Hammersmith by taxi, a bulging briefcase and a wad of papers at her side on the back seat.

Luke Hawkton. Hawkton. She should have known the name but she just hadn't connected it with Hawkton Marine—not until she had got home from the gallery the night before, that was. She still remembered the shock of the moment when she had glanced at the data Mike and Andy had thrown at her earlier in the day, and realised she had just given the brush-off to one of the most powerful men in London.

'Luke Hawkton…' She groaned the name out loud as she twisted in her seat. But who in their right mind would have expected the illustrious head of the Hawkton empire to be at the opening of a small art gallery that he could buy and sell a hundred times over? she asked herself wretchedly. And she had dared to think he was actually interested in her as a person, that he was making a move on her!

She shut her eyes tightly as she remembered her cavalier treatment which had bordered on rudeness. That would teach her to keep her vivid imagination under control, she told herself bitterly. Oh, wouldn't it just! She'd had the opportunity of a lifetime, to sell both herself and the firm as the best thing since sliced bread, and she'd blown it.

The data from Mike and Andy stated that Hawkton Marine, one of the interests of the Hawkton empire first created by the present Luke Hawkton's great-grandfather, decades ago, were contemplating a grand-slam publicity extravaganza to launch their new yacht in the South of France later that year and were interested in hearing ideas from several promotions firms—of which they were one. Or had been, she corrected herself miserably, before she had put the proverbial boot in. Mike and Andy would kill her if they ever found out what she'd done. She opened her eyes as the taxi drew up outside the tall building in which Top Promotions was housed and gathered her things together quickly.

Once she had realised the enormity of her gaffe the evening before she had stayed up most of the night working on ideas for the publicity venture, her conscience searing all thoughts of sleep.

Mog had decided she was quite mad as she had paced the flat periodically, muttering and mumbling to herself, and he had finally retired, dignity and hauteur severely dented after she had fallen over him twice within as many minutes, to the comparative safety of the large sitting-room balcony, from which Josie had teen quite unable to coax him in spite of the fact that it had begun to rain in the early hours.

He was clearly disgusted with her and she couldn't blame him, she reflected now as she walked up the wide steps to the building. She was disgusted with herself. How could she have missed such a gift of a chance to get in before their competitors? How could she? She glanced down at the briefcase in her hand, seeing in her mind's eye the photograph of Luke Hawkton that had been included in the data.

If only she had had time to glance through the information Andy and Mike had given her before she had left for the gallery the day before. But she hadn't. She shook her head as the lift took her swiftly upwards. All the regrets in the world, the sickening disappointment, wouldn't help now. Top Promotions would be the last firm, the very last firm Luke Hawkton would use. Damn! Damn, damn, damn…

'Josie…' Top Promotions occupied one floor of the large office block and as she left the lift, her small figure clad in a smart white linen suit and pale grey silk blouse that were both businesslike and feminine, she almost collided with Andy as he came shooting out of his office like a bullet out of a gun. 'Thank goodness you're here. Are Mitchell and the others with you?'

'No.' She stated at the elder of her two bosses in surprise. She had never seen him so agitated before. 'Should they be?'

'The meeting.' Andy took her arm as he hurried her along the corridor to Mike's slightly larger office. 'I told them eight-thirty sharp. Where the hell are they—?'

'Andy!' She shook his hand off her elbow at the same time as she came to an abrupt halt and glanced at her watch. 'It's only ten past eight now, for goodness' sake. What on earth is the matter with you this morning? What's happened?'

'It's Luke Hawkton.' For an awful moment, a breath-stopping moment, she thought Andy was going to tell her that Luke Hawkton had rung up to complain about her, but in the next instant she found her head against Andy's as he thrust his face so close to hers they could have been embracing. 'He's here.'

'Here?' Josie glanced wildly about the empty corridor. 'Where—?'

But before she could ask more Andy had taken her arm again and pressed her in front of him, reaching out and opening Mike's door as he urged her forward into the room and almost into Luke Hawkton's arms. He had clearly been standing just behind the door, and her urgent entry, aided by Andy's agitation, brought her to within an inch or two of the big, masculine body she remembered so vividly.

'Good morning.' The tone was deep and expressionless, but his eyes were wicked as they looked into her face, which she just knew was turning a deep shade of pink. 'You're obviously eager to start work, Miss Owens,' he said silkily.

'You know each other?' Both Andy and Mike spoke in unison, their faces quite unable to hide their hope at such an unexpected bonus, and Josie found herself struck dumb as she opened her mouth like a tiny stranded goldfish in the middle of a group of sharks.

'We've met briefly.' Luke Hawkton spoke smoothly and swiftly into the infinitesimal pause. 'I happened to be at the opening of the Duet art gallery yesterday which Miss Owens was overseeing for this firm. My aunt is a great art-collector and had received an invitation.'

'But you said—' Josie had found her tongue, but not words in any coherent form, and as the silver-grey gaze turned back to her she found herself fighting the urge to turn and run. 'You said, yesterday—'

'Yes?' The word wasn't encouraging but she couldn't leave it.

'You said you were at the opening to see me,' she stated breathlessly. 'Yon said that.'

'And I was.' He eyed her unblinkingly, his mouth twisted in a cold smile. 'This latest project is very near to my heart, Miss Owens—the new yacht. My father died last year and it was he who first started the marine side of the business nearly forty years ago, always having had a great love of boats and water. This yacht was his own baby, if you like, something he had waited to see come to fruition for some time.'

'Of course, the Hawkton name is second to none in the boat-building business, but this particular yacht is special, both to my family and myself. I want it to be successful-very successful.' His gaze now swept over the three of them

and not one of them could have moved even had they wanted to.

'I always expect the best, Miss Owens, expect and receive it, and your name cropped up with monotonous regularity in my secretary's investigations regarding the best. Your name along with several others, I might add,' he finished drily, with a glance at Mick and Andy which warned them not to get too confident.

'I see.' It was all she could manage. She was stunned.

'And so I did my own investigations on each name and firm I had been given.' His eyes slanted on her pink face. 'And I discovered Top Promotions was owned—partly owned—by an old university friend.' He nodded at Mike, who returned the nod with eager enthusiasm, obviously anxious to make the most of the connection. 'Yesterday you were the last of three possibilities I have narrowed the field down to. The other two are excellent, incidentally…'

That's right, turn the knife a little more, she thought furiously as she kept her face pleasant with a superhuman effort.