ANDREO PASCALI, cursing the day the admirable Knox had left his employ, taking retirement to make her home with her recently widowed sister in Kent, impatiently lifted the final sheet of paper, scanned it in a nanosecond and even more impatiently tossed it aside.
âNo details,â he dismissed tersely, his wide sensual mouth tightening with annoyance, lancing a look of displeasure at his current lover.
Though current was on the verge of becoming past. Trisha was becoming far too demanding and clingyâdefinitely against his emphatically stated ground rules.
Only last evening heâd returned from the agency with the intention of wrestling with the problem of how to come up with an idea for a sensational TV commercial, one bearing the inimitable Pascali stamp of excellence and selling clout for something as deeply uninspiring as a brand of ready meals, only to find that Trisha had let herself in and was waiting for him with a wretched Chinese takeaway festering in the oven. Sheâd done that fluffing up thing with her hair, accompanying it with the usual pouty mouth bitâonce sexily amusing but now utterly boringâand had told him, sounding deadly serious, âWhat you need, light of my life, is a wife. Then you wouldnât be facing these dreary interviews and wasting the time you say is so precious.â
His scowl darkened. As a hint, it seriously raised his annoyance threshold. She knew darn well he didnât need or want a wife. He wanted an unobtrusive housekeeper and at this rate it didnât look as if he was going to get one!
âThe last two girls seemed perfectly fine,â he snapped. âThough, I grant you, the first applicant was a nightmare.â Eighty if she was a day, even though her letter of application had given her age as fifty, dotty as they came. Heâd had Trisha make her a cup of tea and had personally put her into a taxi. Sheâd given the address of a retirement home to the driver and waved maniacally as sheâd been driven away.
âThere was nothing wrong with the other two,â he reiterated tightly. Vital energy, constrained for too long, had him on his feet, pacing the confines of his home office. âGood qualifications, excellent references,â he reminded with a bite.
âDarling,â Trisha soothed with a sycophantic smile. âDonât get cross. I offered my help and advice when you said you didnât do domestic stuff. And my advice is that both those girls wouldnât stay for longer than a few weeks. Reasonably bright, passably pretty, leave to get married in no time. You need a middle-aged home body. And there are no details because she didnât send a letter of application; she simply phoned yesterday afternoon and asked for an interview.â
Had sounded bossy, too. Andreo wouldnât find bossiness in the least bit sexy. Whereas either of the previous twoâ¦
And having seen her when admitting her to Andreoâs darling home, and again when seeing the third applicant out, sheâd reached the conclusion that Mercy Howard would do very nicely. Twenty-two years old, so sadly not middle-aged, but plain as a house brick and decidedly, wholesomely dumpyâno competition. Beginning to feel on shaky ground herself, she didnât want the complications of round the clock competition. Andreo never gave a thought to marriage. Before the start of their relationship heâd stated that he didnât do long-term stuff. Sheâd gone along with that. Well, sheâd have been a fool to throw a spanner in the works at that stage. Her sole aim was to make him change his mind, decide he wanted her as his wife, setting her up for a life of ease and giving her access to untold wealth.
No, the woman who didnât find Andreo Pascaliâs perfect bone structure, tall lean physique and dark charismatic Latin looks seriously lust-worthyânot to mention his wildly impressive bank accountâwas yet to be born. The Howard female wouldnât be any different, but darling Andreo wouldnât be remotely tempted to take any notice of her no doubt clumsy attempts to hit on him.
âYou might as well see her since sheâs here,â Trisha cooed, running her fingers through his midnight hair. âYou never know, she could well be just what weâre looking for.â
Disliking the proprietorial âweâ bit and even more disliking the impression of being humoured, Andreo jerked his head away, stiffened his impressive shoulders and positioned himself behind his desk again, a massive frown bringing his brows down in two straight black bars. Trishaâs time was definitely up. Heâd have his PA select a suitably expensive piece of jewellery and deliver it to her apartment first thing in the morning accompanied by his standard note saying farewell and no regrets.
And, unless the fourth applicant was over eighty and completely doolally, the job was hers. He had important creative work to get stuck into.