The Beautiful Widow

CHAPTER ONE

STEEL LANDRY WAS running out of patience. A man who suffered fools badly, he’d spent most of the morning sorting out what he termed as a ‘pig’s ear’ of a mess. Since his property business had mushroomed into a multimillion-pound operation with tentacles reaching into a dozen major cities in the UK, out of necessity he’d been forced to rely on the personnel he employed in the various offices he had all over the country. He couldn’t be everywhere at once—much as he would have liked to have been. And one of his managers had let him down badly, ignoring contractual obligations and placing the name of Landry Enterprises in disrepute. The morning had been a damage control exercise and although the matter was now resolved it had left a nasty taste in his mouth. Add to that the fact he hadn’t slept well the night before—his brother-in-law had phoned an hour ago to say Steel’s sister was in hospital with a threatened miscarriage, and his very able and reliable secretary had given in her notice due to her husband’s job moving to the States—and it summed up the perfect Monday.

He glared at the smoked salmon sandwiches his secretary had fetched for his lunch and called the hospital for the second time in twenty minutes. The answer was still the same: Mrs Wood was as comfortable as could be expected, which in hospital jargon probably meant she was suffering the torments of the damned.

As soon as Jeff, his brother-in-law, had phoned, Steel had contacted the hospital and arranged for a private room and the top consultant. Now he resolved he’d put all further business for the day on hold and go across London to the hospital himself to make sure Annie was having the best treatment available. Jeff was a great guy and devoted to Annie, but a typical high-brow academic who was so absorbed in his job as an astronomer, researching satellite communication systems and space agency work at a top avionic company, that he barely saw what was in front of him on planet earth.

Decision made, he checked his diary. Nothing that couldn’t wait. And then he frowned. Although there was that woman he was interviewing at the end of the day for the post of interior designer, the one James had personally recommended. What was her name? Oh, yeah, Toni George. He glanced at the gold Rolex on one tanned wrist. Getting on for three o’clock, and Mrs George was due to arrive at five-thirty.

Steel flexed his muscled shoulders, rotating his head to ease the tension in his neck. The hospital was only a stone’s throw from his apartment; he didn’t particularly fancy battling back to the office after he’d left there only to retrace the journey once the interview was over. Flicking the switch on the intercom on his desk, he said, ‘Joy, this interview later with Toni George. See if you can contact her and arrange for her to call at my apartment instead of here. I’m going to be leaving the hospital about that time. Do it now, would you?’

Less than two minutes later his secretary tapped on the door and put her sleek blonde head into the room. ‘All arranged,’ she said briskly, ‘although I did mention you were visiting your sister in hospital close to your apartment when she seemed a little…wary about the change of location. She was fine after that.’

He surveyed Joy through amused eyes. He hadn’t thought this Mrs George might think he had ulterior motives; perhaps he should have. Reaching for his suit jacket on the back of his chair, he stood up. ‘Thanks,’ he said briefly. ‘Oh, and give Stuart my congratulations on the promotion.’

‘Will do.’ Joy regarded him sympathetically. She knew Steel thought the world of his sister and this news had knocked him for six, although as ever the hard, handsome face showed little emotion. She had worked for him for four years and not only was he the most generous boss she’d ever had, but the most attractive too. If she wasn’t so in love with her husband she could have fallen for Steel in a big way, she thought—for possibly the thousandth time. Perhaps she was in love with him a little, but he’d always been so businesslike and correct in his dealings with her it had been easy to conceal it.

Outside, the warm June air carried city dust and fumes in its embrace, but once in his black Aston Martin Steel relaxed a little. He liked driving and the car was a dream, the air conditioning and state-of-the-art luxury making the experience pleasurable even in the worst London snarl-ups. He drove automatically, his mind on Annie. She and Jeff had been trying for this baby for a long time; ever since they’d married, in fact, three years previously. At twenty-six, Annie was twelve years younger than him and he had virtually brought her up when their parents had been killed in a car accident when Annie was six years old. He’d been about to go away to university but he’d got a job instead, and this income, added to his half of the nest egg which his parents had been accumulating in the bank, had meant he could continue to pay the rent on the three-bedroomed house that had been home. Annie had lost their parents, he hadn’t wanted her to lose the familiarity and security of the home she’d lived in all her life. Annie’s half of the estate had been in trust until she was eighteen and had been a nice little inheritance for her.

They had managed. His mind wandered to the years of Annie’s childhood. Their paternal grandparents had already died, but his mother’s mother and father had stepped into the breach and looked after Annie every day after school until he collected her from them. Neighbours and friends had also been kind. And now Annie was a beautiful, well-adjusted young woman, and he was in a good place. Independent, autonomous, answerable to no one and no one relying on him.

Not that he’d resented caring for Annie. His mind immediately dealt with the issue as though someone had put the idea to him. He’d done it because he wanted to. Pure and simple. But the long years until she had met Jeff when she’d been twenty-one had taught him something. He didn’t want to be responsible for another human being again. He wanted a life free of emotional liability and obligation. A life where he could take off at the drop of a hat. No involved arrangements. No explanations. No…accountability. He’d done his time with all that—from the age of eighteen until he was thirty-three. Fifteen years. And now he relished his freedom, fed on it.

He’d had girlfriends from the age of puberty: a few long term, most ships that passed after a couple of months, due—he had to admit—to his determination to continue in the single state once his parents had died. Now he dated sophisticated, career-obsessed women: females who were as wary of commitment and for ever as he was. It worked—mostly. The last lady in his life, an intelligent, fiercely independent—or so he’d thought—lawyer, had suddenly decided she wanted to move in with him.

Barbara flashed on the screen of his mind: sultry, voluptuous—the sort of attorney who could have the opposition admitting anything with one look from her feline eyes. Their parting had been less than harmonious. That had been a couple of weeks ago, and although he missed her enticing and provocative body in his bed he had no doubts he’d done the right thing in ending their relationship.

His hand touched the back of his neck briefly as he recalled the resounding slap she’d delivered. It had all but cracked the bones in his neck as his head had jerked back with the force of it, and this from the woman who had insisted forever was a dirty word when they’d first got together.

Women…His firm, sensual mouth tightened for a moment. They were another species. Not that he’d given up on them; what red-blooded man would? And nine times out of ten it worked out fine. When the end of the relationship came there were no tears, no scenes, no recriminations. He was still friends with the majority of his exes; that had to say something.

It wasn’t as if he was ever less than completely honest. He made it a rule to be clear about his intentions from the first date. No promises, no roses round the door, just two healthy human beings sharing their lives and beds for a while. Straightforward and simple. Just the way he liked it.

The traffic was a nightmare. It took him nearly an hour to reach the hospital. When he pulled into the car park he found his heart was thudding with anxiety and his stomach was turning over with fear of what he might find inside. It was further proof—if he’d needed any—that he didn’t want anyone else other than Annie to have a piece of his heart.

Steel straightened his shoulders, reached for the enormous bouquet of yellow roses and white freesias he’d picked up en route and got out of the car.

Her hands were shaking, not something that was likely to inspire confidence in a prospective employer. And from what she knew of Steel Landry he would expect a cool, composed and completely professional approach.

Toni willed the tremors to cease as she tried breathing slowly and deeply. She’d read somewhere that worked for nerves.

It didn’t. All it did do was to make her feel slightly light-headed and now she was ten times more panic-stricken. What if she fainted at Steel Landry’s feet?

Rising from the edge of the sofa she was perched on, Toni walked across to the large bay window and stared down into the busy London street three stories below. The excellent double glazing meant traffic noise was reduced to a mere whisper, and although the pavements were crowded no sound from the people below penetrated her luxurious surroundings. And they were luxurious…

Turning, she surveyed the fabulous room Steel Landry’s ‘daily'—as the small bustling woman who had answered the door had described herself—had shown her into when she had arrived at the impressive South Kensington flat ten minutes ago. The cream and dove-grey sitting room was all soft leather sofas, glass tables and light maple wood. Several bowls of fresh flowers scented the air and a beautiful cream marble fireplace with floor-to-ceiling glass bookshelves in the alcoves either side provided the focus of the room.

Luxurious, stunning and clearly meant to impress any visitors, but a little…cold for her liking, Toni decided. It was as though the person living here had no intention of giving anything of himself away. Which would fit the little she knew of Steel Landry to a T.

She didn’t have time to reflect further. The door opened and a tall, dark-haired man strode into the room. ‘Sorry to have kept you waiting; an urgent call I had to take which couldn’t wait. Steel Landry, and you must be Toni George? Sit down, won’t you? Maggie’s bringing us coffee in a moment or two,’ he added, shaking her hand.

Toni was glad to sink down on one of the sofas. James had described Steel as a handsome so-and-so, and he hadn’t been wrong. The dark, rugged good looks were certainly attractive but it was his piercing silver-blue eyes that had thrown her. His lashes were thick and black and framed the metallic orbs dramatically, emphasising the silvery hue to his blue eyes perfectly. Many a model would have paid a fortune to have eyes like his, she thought inconsequentially. It didn’t seem fair nature had wasted them on a man.

Before she could voice the polite ‘It’s nice to meet you’ social opening appropriate for such occasions, he further threw her when he said, ‘May I take your coat?’

This necessitated her standing up again and as he helped her off with the coat she caught a faint whiff of his aftershave, a subtle blend that held warm, woody notes and a hint of citrus fruits. She shivered involuntarily, glad he had turned away to lay her coat over the back of one of the sofas so he didn’t notice. Toni was tall at five feet ten, but he had towered over her by another six or seven inches and she had found it disconcerting. She found him disconcerting.

Nevertheless, by the time he had sat down opposite her she was outwardly composed, her voice calm and smooth when she said, ‘Thank you for seeing me today, Mr Landry. I know how busy you are. I hope your sister is feeling better.’

He frowned. It clearly hadn’t been the best thing to say.

‘She’s pregnant and things aren’t going too well,’ he said briefly, the tone of his voice ending further comment.

Toni knew her cheeks had turned pink but there was nothing she could do about it. Gamely, she struggled on. ‘I’ve brought my portfolio for you to look at with a list of past clients who would be only too pleased to give me a reference should you require it. I—’

The cutting motion of his hand stopped her in mid-flow. Leaning forward, he fixed her with his eyes. ‘I’ve already made my own enquiries before I agreed to this interview. James is the best architect I know but he’d be the first to admit he’s no interior designer. When he mentioned you in passing for this job he said very little beyond you were a damn good designer and you’d worked for his practice for six years before leaving to start a family just over four years ago. Is that correct?’

‘I—Yes. Yes, that’s correct.’

‘And now you want to get back into the workplace and take up your career?’

‘Yes.’ Toni felt as though she were a prisoner being interrogated. On the rack.

‘Why?’ Steel Landry asked coolly.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Why do you want to return to work? Was it always part of the plan after a specific amount of time or are you bored or are there financial implications? And are you sure you’ve done having babies?’

She couldn’t believe this. It wasn’t so much what he said as the way he said it, but that last bit about having babies had been downright aggressive. Or it felt like that anyway.

Toni’s deep brown eyes took on the consistency of polished onyx. Her small chin rose sharply. ‘Quite sure, Mr Landry,’ she said crisply. ‘And my reasons for resuming my career are my own business.’

‘Wrong.’ The silver gaze held hers and his voice was lazy and without heat. ‘I’m sure James explained I’m looking to diversify from what has hitherto been a property business encapsulating office blocks, shops, warehouses, that type of thing? This latest venture is a conversion of an old factory into several apartments for the very rich, and I mean very rich. They’ll expect nothing less than the best from the smallest, most functional item in their home to the biggest. Space-age technology but without losing the cosy feel-good factor. I could have employed any number of excellent interior designers but a chance conversation with James raised your name. This first project is merely a stepping stone. I want the right folk on side from the beginning, people who are in it