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had washed her skin that she had been feeling a trifle awkward, he smoothly turned the conversation to enquire, ‘You enjoy working for Hector?’

      ‘Very much,’ she answered, but felt honour bound to add, ‘Though I’m not his PA. She’s Carol Robinson and I assist her.’ Alethea’s voice started to fade as it suddenly dawned on her that he probably knew that anyway. ‘Didn’t Mr Chapman want to know what you wanted my address and phone number for?’ she asked, and had to admit that she liked the way Trent de Havilland’s mouth quirked at the corners whenever she managed to amuse him.

      ‘You’re too sharp to be a mere assistant,’ he responded charmingly.

      She enjoyed his charm, though she had sense enough to see that it wouldn’t take a genius to guess from where he had obtained the information he needed. Though Hector Chapman giving that information spoke volumes. She knew, indisputably, that Mr Chapman would never have imparted anything about her unless the enquirer was not only very well known to him, but also a man whom he knew to be trustworthy.

      Given that she had been brought up to be distrustful of all men, Alethea was feeling more relaxed with Trent than with any man she’d ever known. To suddenly realise, too, that she already had all the evidence she needed, because Trent must be well known to her boss to have been invited to his anniversary celebration, only went to make her feel even more relaxed.

      Relaxed, and able to ask him what she considered to be a most natural question, ‘What sort of work do you do?’

      ‘I’m in science engineering,’ he answered.

      ‘Well, that leaves me dead in the water,’ Alethea laughed, ‘Science was my worst subject at school.’

      ‘I’m sure you were brilliant at others,’ he commented. ‘So tell me more about you.’

      For no reason, she started to feel tense again. ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she replied.

      He wasn’t having that. ‘You live at home with your mother and sister—plus your sister’s children,’ he documented. How much had he guessed? Alethea started to feel wary of him. ‘Are there no men in your household?’ he asked, and Alethea, knowing she was being prickly, but somehow unable to help it, resented his questioning.

      ‘Are there any women in yours?’ she asked bluntly.

      ‘I live alone,’ he answered quite openly, adding drily, ‘though it’s true that I have a dear soul who comes in and sets the place to order three times a week.’

      There were traces of a smile about his expression, but suddenly the evening was going badly for Alethea and she could not respond. ‘Have you ever been married?’ she asked abruptly.

      Trent he Havilland studied her unsmiling face for some seconds, as if trying to gauge what, if anything, lay behind her question. ‘No, never,’ he stated at last. But his eyes were alert, his expression all at once unsmiling. ‘Have you?’

      ‘Good Heavens, no!’ Alethea exclaimed.

      ‘You sound as if you find the idea appalling?’ he suggested, his dark eyes steady on her violet ones.

      Suddenly her tension vanished, and her sense of humour quite unexpectedly bubbled to the surface. ‘So long as you weren’t asking,’ she replied and, when his eyes remained unflinching on hers, she continued, ‘I should hate to hurt your feelings.’

      ‘Like hell you would,’ he rejoined.

      ‘I’d never hurt anyone on purpose,’ she informed him coolly.

      Her coolness didn’t so much as touch him. ‘Turn them down gently—is that your motto?’ he surmised, as if he truly thought she must have received several marriage proposals by now. She wasn’t interested in marriage, for goodness’ sake! Nor did she care much for the subject under discussion, she decided. Though, before she could open her mouth to change it, she discovered that Trent had had enough of it too, and was heading in another direction himself to ask, ‘May I enquire after your father?’

      Alethea was not sure that she cared for this new subject any better. ‘My father?’ she prevaricated.

      ‘He doesn’t live at home?’ Trent pursued, not a man to give up easily, even if her look did have a chilly edge to it.

      Had her mother told him that? She did not want to think so. But, much as she loved her parent, she was not blind to the fact that her mother could be manipulative when it suited her. She remembered the sour expressions on both her mother’s and her sister’s faces when she had gone into the sitting room. And, even though she had earlier been convinced that she didn’t want to know what had gone on in that room before she had come downstairs, she found she was asking in a rush, ‘What did my mother say to you?’

      ‘Nothing to cause such distress in those beautiful violet eyes,’ he answered. Quite gently, she thought, but it was a non-answer just the same.

      ‘So tell me,’ she insisted.

      He shrugged, but he was watchful as he revealed, ‘Apparently you’re more interested in your career than you are in men.’

      She could cope with that. ‘Anything wrong in that?’ she asked.

      ‘Not a thing,’ he replied pleasantly. Only, remembering her mother’s expression, Alethea couldn’t leave it there.

      ‘And?’ she further insisted.

      ‘You’re a devil for punishment,’ he murmured lightly.

      ‘So?’

      ‘At the risk of sounding ungallant, I don’t believe it.’

      ‘This is like drawing teeth!’ she exclaimed frustratedly. ‘Don’t believe what?’

      ‘You have beautiful teeth too,’ he said, delaying a moment more. But, having flattered her, he went on to reveal the appalling truth. ‘According to your mother-though I must say she couched it in much better terms... basically what she meant to convey was that you are only going out with me in the interests of career advancement.’

      Alethea, innocent of all charges, went scarlet. ‘I... You...’ she tried, but was rendered temporarily speechless. It was left to Trent, his eyes on her unhappy colour, to try to make her feel better.

      ‘I’m too conceited to believe that, of course.’ He attempted to coax a smile out of her.

      Alethea could not have smiled had her life depended upon it. How could her mother have said such a thing? She would have liked to have believed otherwise, of course, but she knew her mother. ‘You have your own company, don’t you?’ she guessed.

      ‘I do,’ he owned.

      ‘You told my mother, and...’

      ‘I didn’t so much as tell her—just gave her my name.’ Her mother never ceased to amaze her. Some days she never went outside the house and yet, when Alethea arrived home from work, her mother was up to date on all the gossip. But now, local gossip aside, it seemed her mother had mental index cards on the London business world!

      ‘Shall we go?’ she offered bluntly. The coffee they had ordered to finish their meal had only just arrived, but her sensitivity was such that she was wondering why Trent hadn’t left her home there and then, without waiting for her to present herself downstairs. That was what her mother had wanted, of course.

      ‘You’re not going to let what I’ve told you spoil what has been a very pleasurable evening for me—and I hope for you too—are you?’

      ‘Trent—I...’ Alethea halted, and realised that, in addition to her mother not wanting her evening with Trent to start, her parent would be quite pleased, if, since start it had, it should end badly. Alethea knew her mother hadn’t wanted Maxine to leave home and thereby break her mother’s sphere of influence. Mother had done everything in her power to prevent Maxine’s marriage. But, from what Alethea could see now, her mother wasn’t waiting for her to go so far as to become

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