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56 pages

English

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Alison a woman with secrets must choose between loyalty and love if she is ever to find lasting happiness.

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Romance

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Publié par	eBookPartnership.com
Date de parution	13 février 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781908886026
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE ART OF ROMANCE
By Frances M Carr
Copyright
2012 Frances M Carr
Frances M Carr has asserted her rights in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
Published by Frances M Carr
First published and printed in 2005
First published in eBook format in 2012
eISBN: 978-1-908886-02-6
(Printed edition: 978-1-405-63978-1)
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the Publisher.
All names, characters, places, organisations, businesses and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Ebook Conversion by www.ebookpartnership.com
Contents
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
About the Author
From the same Author
CHAPTER ONE
There were three phones on her desk and all of them were ringing as Alison Wareham made her way across the office floor.
It s been like this all morning, her secretary offered as she pushed back a loose strand of hair.
Well, not to worry, Sharon, I m back now.
Alison lowered her tall, willowy figure into the chair behind her desk and answered the three telephones in quick succession. As Personal Assistant to the chairman of Harker Harker, a small exclusive interior design establishment off Oxford Street, Alison warranted her own comfortable office next to the chairman s, and Sharon as her secretary.
Have you found a replacement for the Maurice Kyle designs then?
Sharon cupped her chin in her hands and stared across the room at the woman who was her friend as well as her boss.
Yes. A very promising newcomer, one Penelope Sharpe.
Sharon Lisserman drew air in against closed teeth.
I thought Mr Harker didn t like newcomers.
Mr Harker isn t here and work must go on. He left me in charge because he knew he could trust me, and so must you.
Oh, I do, Sharon said turning back to her computer.
Alison was checking then signing a pile of letters and spoke without looking up.
The job will be well in hand by the time Mr Harker returns and I m sure the customer will be very pleased with Miss Sharpe s work. It will show that egotistical Maurice Kyle that he is not irreplaceable.
Later that day Sharon was on the phone when Alison returned from overseeing some recovering work for an important client. Holding her hand over the mouthpiece Sharon hissed at Alison, Maurice Kyle.
I m not available.
Sharon made an apologetic murmur and replaced the phone.
He wasn t happy.
I ll call him back tomorrow.
Sharon laughed.
You do have it in for the man, don t you? Have you ever met him?
Not to my knowledge, but then I doubt if we move in the same social circles.
They say he s very rich and just broken off his third engagement. I read in one of the glossies that his designing work is just a hobby. He doesn t have to work at all.
I m not surprised it explains his casual attitude to the work he does for us. He lets us down time and again keeping clients waiting, and worrying poor Mr Harker to the point where he has had this dreadful heart attack.
Sharon screwed up her face as she switched off the computer.
But that s not all Maurice Kyle s fault surely. I mean Mr Harker s always been a worrier.
I m not saying it was all, his fault but it was certainly a contributing factor.
By six o clock the building was empty. As Alison made her way silently along the carpeted corridor of the second floor offices she couldn t quite suppress a smile at the heavy, Victorian interior of the building. It was not what might be expected of a modern company, but epitomised the character of its creator to perfection.
Alison was usually the last to leave when Mr Harker was away. Even though there was George, the caretaker, on the ground floor, she felt it her duty to check every door on her way to the lift and again the window at the end of the corridor.
As usual the lift was on the ground floor. She raised a hand to press the button when suddenly the light indicator above the door showed the lift to be rising. Alison frowned. George never came upstairs until he d had his first cup of tea. So who on earth had he let in at this time of night? The lift stopped and the door was thrust towards her.
The words formulating in her head were never spoken as she found herself facing a tall, dark and extremely angry man.
George tells me there is only William Harker s PA left in the building. Is that you?
Alison gave her head a slight shake to clear this sudden onslaught.
That s correct, Alison Wareham, and what can I do for you, Mr, er
Kyle, Maurice Kyle, so tell me what the devil is going on here.
Blue eyes flashed down into quiet grey ones.
Outwardly calm, Alison suggested they continue their conversation in her office. Inwardly her ribs were playing basketball with her heart. He was everything she had known he would be-obnoxious, bad mannered and those scruffy clothes were a disgrace for such a wealthy man.
She led him back down the corridor, silently thanking Mr Harker for having installed an emergency alarm beneath her desk. Taking a bunch of keys from her bag she selected the correct key and opened the door.
Please take a seat, she said, keeping her tone cool and businesslike.
Walking over to her desk she placed her purse and briefcase on its tidy surface.
Well?
Alison jumped at the sudden explosion of sound. Flaring anger forced her to count to ten before she could trust herself to speak.
I cannot tell you anything, Mr Kyle, until you explain to me what it is you want of me.
Did you or did you not tell Madam Nicolopoulou that I was not available to work on her Sussex house?
I did.
And who authorised that decision?
It is the board who leave all the decisions to Mr Harker, who in turn has left that responsibility with me while he is ill.
His eyebrows shot up and disappeared beneath the overlong hair that lay across his forehead.
How long have you been with Harker s, Miss er ..?
Wareham, Alison Wareham. I have been with Mr Harker for ten years.
Then how is it, Miss Wareham, that in all that time you still fail to appreciate where your bread and butter comes from?
Alison s anger surged to the fore.
Why you egotistical brute! You think this company would flounder and collapse through lack of your great talent? Well, let me tell you something, Mr Kyle. I have seen talent equal to yours emerging untried from colleges. You have held Mr Harker to ransom for years with your so-called artistic temperament and I think it is time to put a stop to it. Mr Harker is not a well man, the blame for which could well be laid at your door.
How dare you come bursting in here telling me that Harker Harker depend on your talent for their solvency!
At this point Alison ran out of breath, her anger so great that she was having difficulty drawing air into her lungs.
I made no such claim. His voice dripped icy shards into the overheated silence. He stared down at her from across the desk. What Harker was thinking of to hire you I can t imagine. Before you go any further, you should get a few facts straight. Whatever rule you measure my talent by, Miss Wareham it is my social connections that bring business to this establishment. My interest in the success or failure of Harker s is between myself and the board of directors and no-one else.
I have informed Madam Nicolopoulou that she may rest assured of my full attention as soon as I am free. Please send a note to that effect.
With this final word he swung away from the desk and left the room without a backward glance-which was just as well when the echo of Alison s briefcase hitting the door followed him down the corridor.
* * *
On the morning of Mr Harker s return to work Alison did not wait to be invited into the inner office but tapped on the door and went in. William Harker was a small man with a bald head and a beautiful smile. His spaniel eyes masked a quick wit and a sharp if somewhat idealistic sense of business.
My dear, whatever did you say to Maurice Kyle?
How typical of the man to go whining to Mr Harker, she thought, forgetting for the moment her own rush to the office that morning.
I broke the rules, she admitted. I went into battle before studying the opposition.
You certainly did. Gave Madam Nicolopoulou to some little newcomer, I believe.
I was given no indication that the lady objected to the change.
No doubt, but then she promptly went to Maurice and cried all over his shoulder.
She can t have much taste then because he looks like a tramp.
Mr Harker chortled.
Mr Kyle has been playing us up for months, Alison insisted. There is a backlog of work grinding to a halt. I have to alter schedules and finishing dates. This upsets the clients and all because of high-and-mighty Mr Kyle.
She could feel the flush of anger mounting her cheeks and sending feathery prickles up the nape of her neck.
William Harker was nodding his head and rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
My dear girl, I am well past sixty-five, as you know, and have little family of my own, my brother having died several years ago and my two sisters happy just to collect their dividend at the end of the year. I actually enjoy coming into the office every day. I would be quite lost without the routine you know.
Yes, quit