‘I HEARD that Alistair Devereaux had his challenges. He must have had to take his own life.’
Maya winced. ‘So you know about that?’
‘He was probably one of the most inspirational and influential artists of his generation. How could I not have known that he’d killed himself?’ Blaise’s brow creased. ‘But you still haven’t told me how you came to sit for him.’
Eight years he had been gone, but the pain never seemed to lessen… Maya experienced the familiar tumult of despair and shuddering shock that she always felt when the subject of her father’s death came up, and she restlessly linked and unlinked her hands as she mentally stumbled to stay upright against the great swell of hurt that surfaced in her heart. She could see that Blaise was clearly puzzling over how on earth someone like her could have sat for one of the country’s most illustrious artists, and she couldn’t help resenting the unspoken judgement that out of habit she naturally assumed.
‘He was my father.’ An edge of defiance underlined her tone.
‘Your father?’ Genuinely taken aback, Blaise stared.
‘That’s right.’
‘I wasn’t aware that he’d left children behind.’
‘Well, he did…me.’
‘But your name’s Hayward, isn’t it?’
‘After he died I started using my mother’s maiden name.’ Maya lowered herself into the armchair because her legs suddenly felt disconcertingly wobbly. Visitors to her humble little home inevitably remarked on the portrait—why should Blaise Walker be any different? The picture was the only beautifully crafted thing in the room, and therefore it was bound to draw attention. But most of her friends didn’t even know who the artist was, and Maya had not been in a particular hurry to enlighten them.
Now, linking hands that were suddenly icy, she watched silently as her enigmatic visitor lowered his tall, fit frame onto the couch, moved cushions out of the way to get comfortable, then briefly speared his fingers through his hair.
‘Why? Because it was difficult to live with the attention from the press and the public?’ Blaise speculated.
‘Something like that.’
‘What about your mother? Presumably she must have outlived him?’
‘No. She died when I was four. I hardly remember her.’
‘That’s tough.’
Silence, then… ‘So you were left on your own?’
‘I managed.’ Embarrassment was crawling over her skin with debilitating heat, and Maya shrugged. Then, riding the crest of her unease, she observed her handsome visitor with a steely look. She’d had enough of this awkward exchange, and the truth was after the week she’d just had she was in no mood for playing games with anyone—least of all with another man who was possibly only after one thing.
‘I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you want with me, Mr Walker? You must be a very busy man, and it’s really not clear to me why you’re here.’
Meeting her gaze equally frankly, Blaise leant forward to rest his elbows on his knees. ‘I was hoping you’d call,’ he said.
A flame of hope flickered and blazed with the strongest compulsion in Maya’s heart. Then cynicism and hurt moved swiftly in to douse it.
‘I didn’t call because I’m not interested in seeing anyone at the moment… To be absolutely blunt with you it’s the very last thing I need! The only thing I really need right now is—’
Her guest cut across what she’d been going to say with that devastating smile of his—the one that seemed to have the disturbing ability to suspend her thoughts and dive deep down into her most secret core, awakening every fragile dream and hope that slumbered there, making them flare into vibrant and dangerous life again.
‘How do you know that I’m not the perfect answer to what you need if you don’t even give me a chance?’
Oh, he was good. For a fleeting, vulnerable moment Maya almost wanted to give him that chance—but then she quickly remembered who he was. Hadn’t she had enough examples of men in the arts like him, who completely disregarded women’s feelings and lied to them as easily as breathing? Artists were a selfish, self-obsessed breed. She’d learned that to her cost…her father being a case in point. His constant lies and unfulfilled promises about taking care of her had demolished every bit of trust she’d had, and it had been obvious that he preferred to put his work and so-called friends first. She was under no illusions about what men like him could or couldn’t deliver when it came to close personal relationships.
Now, as she levelled her glance at Blaise, every single one of her defences slammed and then double-locked into place.
‘You have no idea what I need…none! But I’ll tell you this much—it isn’t another man who’ll lie to me and make promises he has no intention of keeping! And it isn’t a man who hasn’t the slightest inkling of who I really am and…worse than that…can’t see past what I look like to even trouble to find out!’
‘Maybe you’ve just been seeing the wrong kind of men, Maya.’
‘And maybe we should just change the subject.’ Pushing to her feet, she crossed the room to a curtained-off area that secluded the small confined space that was the kitchen.
‘Do you want some tea or coffee? I have fruit tea if you don’t want caffeine.’
Her heart still thudding with emotion, she splashed water into the kettle and then inserted the plug into the wall socket. She sensed a tangible, perturbing shift in the air with the realisation that Blaise had stepped up behind her.
‘I didn’t come here to distress you,’ he said, quiet-voiced, and it was as though sensuous strokes from the softest sable brush had skimmed across Maya’s skin. A deeply sensual pull in the pit of her stomach made her long to close her eyes, so that she could revel in the pleasure of it for a little while longer.
‘You told me you were intending to quit Faraday’s agency and, apart from wanting to see you again, I came here to offer you a job.’
She turned at that and blinked at him, disconcerted to find him suddenly so close. In those electrifying few moments as she gazed at him every thought in her head was emphatically silenced—even the one that insisted she wasn’t interested in dating anyone…especially someone like Blaise Walker, whose looks and credentials were too reminiscent of her father’s phoney celebrity friends all those years ago and threatened to awaken ghosts she’d prefer to let lie dormant.
‘A…a job?’ she echoed, unable to stem the sudden quaver in her voice.
‘I need a personal assistant for a few weeks to help me gather information for my new play. I’ll be working from my house in Northumberland, so if you don’t mind being away from London for a while, the job’s yours.’
‘And why would you offer me such a job? You must know people who are far more qualified and capable, I’m sure.’
‘If you must know, I spoke to someone at the temp agency you work for and they told me you’re hardworking, quick to learn and extremely reliable.’
Maya knew she was well liked at the agency, and that she did indeed do her job well, but it was still a bit of a shock to learn that Blaise had personally spoken to someone to discover that for himself.
‘And this job you’re offering…it’s on the level, as they say? I mean…’ she flinched a little ‘…you’re not just stringing me along?’
‘It’s a real bona fide job, Maya.’ He dropped his hands to his hips and one corner of his mouth nudged fleetingly towards a smile. ‘And I swear I’m not stringing you along. In fact, if you want, I’ll give you my agent’s number and you can verify it with her. Her name’s Jane Eddington and her office is in Shaftesbury Avenue. She’s been a theatrical agent for years and is well known in the business.’
‘I believe you… If you went to so much trouble to find out if I could do the job then I don’t think I need to check.’
There was a brief look of surprise on his face, then his features seemed to relax.
‘To put you in the picture, the play I’m writing has a strong historical context and needs quite a bit of research. I normally get secretarial help via Jane, but I’ve decided to try a different approach this time. To have someone I can directly call upon for help who’s staying in the house with me while I’m writing makes much more sense.’
‘I see.’ Maya swept some long strands of silky, still slightly damp hair behind her ear. To get away from London for a while, away from the noise and constant restless movement of people and traffic, definitely had its allure. But she didn’t doubt it wouldn’t be easy taking on this particular assignment. She already sensed a powerful magnetic pull between herself and Blaise, and that revelation alone potentially signalled the sort of emotional turmoil she should definitely be running a mile from, given her history.
But on the other hand she really did need a job, and it had been a long time since any kind of lucky break at all had knocked on her door.
‘It sounds like the work might be very interesting,’ she admitted cautiously, ‘and frankly it’s a much more appealing prospect than sitting by the phone waiting for the agency to ring.’ She forced herself to gaze steadily back into the long-lashed blue eyes that confronted her…at all that sculpted, breathless masculine beauty and burning intelligence…and knew with sudden stunning clarity that she would have to doubly strengthen her emotional armour against falling for such an incredible man. Even now Maya’s heart throbbed with anxiety.
‘Does that signify a yes or a no?’ Blaise enquired, a definite hint of impatience in his tone. ‘I have to have your answer today, I’m afraid. I’m going back the day after tomorrow.’
‘What kind of remuneration are you offering?’ she asked, dry-mouthed, uneasy at discussing money—but she had living costs and bills to pay, just like everyone else.
He told her, and her jaw almost hit the floor at what he was willing to pay for her services.
‘Okay,’ she heard herself reply, managing to keep her voice surprisingly steady given the circumstances. ‘I’ll do it. I’ll need to make some arrangements with my neighbour about keeping an eye on the flat for me while I’m gone, but…well, when would you want me ready by?’
‘We leave the day after tomorrow. I’ll pick you up around six-thirty or seven in the morning, to beat the traffic. Pack enough for a few weeks, and don’t forget to bring something waterproof. There might still be sunny skies around at the moment, but it’s almost September and the region is notorious for sudden heavy showers of rain.’
Linking her hands in front of her, and feeling suddenly awkward now that the business part of their discussion was ended, Maya nodded towards the just boiled kettle.
‘Right, I’ll remember that. Would you like that drink I offered you now?’
Blaise glanced at his watch and she caught a tantalising glimpse of a strong-boned wrist scattered with fine dark blond hairs. Something inside her—some long-suppressed need to know the sheer physical touch of a man again without the attendant complications and potential deceit—was shaken dangerously awake.
‘I don’t think so.’ The summer blue eyes locked onto hers for an instant. ‘I’ve got various appointments I need to keep this morning, so I’d better get going. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, as arranged.’
Relief and regret pulsed through Maya at the same time. Right then she was finding it hard to stem the sense of vulnerability and need that Blaise’s presence so disturbingly seemed to arouse, and because of that she definitely wanted him to leave. Yet deep in her heart some perversely opposite feeling silently protested because he wasn’t going to stay longer.
‘Six-thirty or seven, you said? I’ll be waiting.’
She followed him to the door and down the stairs, and now it was her turn to study him more closely… Her skin prickled with warmth as her gaze swept the back of his tarnished gold head, the strong, masculine shoulders lovingly encased beneath the fine wool of his suit jacket, the long and no doubt hard-muscled legs negotiating the worn carpeted staircase with languorous yet athletic ease. Maya’s too acute awareness was all but deluged by all she saw.
Just before opening the front door, Blaise turned back for a moment. ‘I’m glad you’ve agreed to take the job. Where I live there’s a wild beauty that if I’m away too long inevitably lures me back. Perhaps you might find it has the same effect on you, Maya?’
A flash of a strangely enigmatic smile, a turn of the head, a final glimpse of that perfect knife-edged jaw and he was gone…
There was taking risks in life and then there was knowingly setting out on a course that was hell-bent on delivering nothing but trouble… Blaise couldn’t help reflecting on the latter as he expertly directed the silver Jaguar onto the long fir-tree-lined drive that led to the place he called home—a stately Jacobean dwelling nestling within towering conifers, with wisteria tumbling down its aged stone walls.
Maya had been the ideal travelling companion. She’d been perfectly amenable to conversation—if a little guarded—but had largely left him alone with his thoughts as he drove. Thoughts that had been inevitably consumed with her, did she but know it, along with constant musings on how he was going to survive the next few weeks working on his most challenging play with her distracting presence around… The woman had the saddest eyes Blaise had ever encountered. With the knowledge that her illustrious father had taken his own life, and having been on the receiving end of that defensive diatribe she’d launched into about men not being able to see past what she looked like, he could understand why she had such a fierce need to self-protect.
One glance into those melancholy green eyes of hers and he should have been instantly warned to steer well clear, instead of offering her a job and inviting her to stay with him in the one place where he could work in peace without intrusion. Yes, right now Blaise seemed determined to court the worst kind of potentially disruptive trouble as far as he was concerned…woman trouble. But here was the thing…regarding the gorgeous but clearly wounded Maya Hayward, he just couldn’t seem to help himself…
‘We’re here. Welcome to Hawk’s Lair.’ He rolled his shoulders to ease out the stiffness accumulated there from miles of concentrated driving, then turned to smile at the slim, dark-haired woman beside him. It had been a long journey, and to be frank he was extremely relieved to have reached their destination. But instead of having his gesture reciprocated, he saw his passenger’s lush pink mouth tighten worriedly, and the tension she exuded was tangible. Blaise sensed a muscle flex in his cheek.
‘Struck silent, huh?’ he teased, but felt an odd kind of tension of his own seizing his muscles.
‘I didn’t realise—’ She swallowed, tucked some strands of that waterfall of black flowing hair behind her ears, and looked as though she were trying hard to compose herself.
‘What?’ he demanded.
‘I didn’t realise the house would be quite as…as grand as this,’ she answered, her glance wary.
‘It’s a Grade One listed building, but it’s still my home,’ Blaise remarked matter-of-factly. ‘I inherited it from my parents. You might be surprised to know that sometimes it didn’t seem large enough when we lived there together.’
‘Any particular reason why?’
‘My father was apt to outbursts of quite violent temper. It just wasn’t easy being around him for my mother and me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No need to be. It’s all in the past.’
Sensing the muscles in his taut stomach bunch tight at the way he’d so easily glossed over what he had been through, Blaise shrugged, silently cursing himself for being so frank…too frank. In future he would have to more closely guard against such off-the-cuff personal revelations.
Feeling a sudden urgent need for some fresh air, he stepped out of the car onto the gravel drive into the rapidly cooling afternoon. ‘I’ll get our bags out of the back,’ he threw over his shoulder.
Up ahead, the front door of the house opened and a huge Irish Wolfhound bounded towards the car. It was a faintly surreal sight. In the process of making her way round to the front of the car, Maya felt her heartbeat drum painfully at the realisation that the hound was making a beeline for her. Remembering a childhood incident when she had been winded by the powerful bulk of an Alsatian running at her at full pelt, she froze in horror, her whole body tensing in expectation of being similarly winded again as the large dog drew nearer.
‘No, Sheba! Stay!’
The forceful tone of Blaise’s commanding voice cut through the mild breeze that was blowing round them and the dog came to a sudden obedient standstill, pink tongue lolling, massive head slightly bowed as it looked sheepishly towards him.
‘You okay?’
It took a couple of seconds before Maya found the breath to reply. Her heart was still pounding like a hammer inside her chest. ‘I’m fine… I think…’
‘She was just excited to see you…weren’t you, girl?’
He stooped to ruffle the hound behind the ears, and she responded by rolling on the ground in apparent ecstasy.
Maya sensed her heartbeat slowly return to normal, but she was still disturbingly emotional at the raw childhood memory that had suddenly flooded back to her. The incident had occurred at one of her father’s infamous parties. The Alsatian had belonged to a world-famous rock star that Alistair Devereaux hadn’t wanted to offend because he’d just spent a ‘shed-load’ of money buying one of his paintings, and he’d made no effort whatsoever to comfort his shocked and sobbing daughter other than to tell her to ‘stop making a fuss about nothing and go to bed’.
‘All animals are basically wild and unpredictable.’ Standing tall again, Blaise was studying Maya with a direct look that left her with nowhere to hide. ‘But I’m fairly certain Sheba wouldn’t have hurt you. She was just excited to meet someone new.’
‘Why do owners of dogs always assume that those without dogs don’t mind if they jump up at them or practically knock them down?’ Maya snapped, shocked at her own lack of control over her temper, and her failure to keep her voice at all steady.
‘There’s been an incident in the past when that happened to you? I mean when somebody’s dog knocked you down and hurt you, perhaps?’