If it was Tate’s fault he certainly didn’t look worried. He just grinned. ‘Nothing we can’t handle.’
Anger bristled through her at the arrogance of such an answer. Paul had told her in no uncertain terms that the situation was serious. Obviously Tate didn’t want her to realise this…it was probably m his best interests to keep a cool faade.
‘Well, I suppose the figures will speak for themselves, won’t they, Tate?’ Her tone was brisk and businesslike. Let him stew on that, she thought, with a gleam of satisfaction. She was nobody’s fool, and she wasn’t going to be palmed off with glib comments.
‘I suppose they will.’ He sounded most unconcerned, as if he found her frostiness merely amusing. His lips twisted in a half-smile that lit up his rugged features.
He was too attractive, she thought warily. Of course, he was not her type. There was a ruthless look about him—a light of harsh determination in his sea-blue eyes. It wasn’t hard to remember who his ancestors had been…what they had been. Her gaze fell on the jagged scar that ran down the side of his face and she shivered involuntarily.
‘Well, it’s been nice bumping into you, Tate, but I really must dash.’ She glanced pointedly at her watch. What she wanted was to get home—the sooner she found out exactly what was going on, the sooner she could start to take Tate Ainsley down a peg or two. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting someone—’
‘I know.’ His smile widened even further. ‘That someone is me.’
She frowned, totally perplexed. ‘But Paul promised to pick me up from the airport—’
‘Paul couldn’t make it. Your father asked me to come.’
‘I see.’ This piece of news totally astounded Helena. She had thought Paul would be here come hell or high water.
‘Well, it’s really very kind of you to put yourself out like this.’ She didn’t know what else to say—she was totally confused by this turn of events. Paul had told her that Tate Ainsley was the enemy, that he was out to ruin their father, so why was he allowing the man to pick her up like this? Why wasn’t he here, filling her in on events?
‘It’s my pleasure.’ His voice echoed the dry amusement in his eyes. ‘After all, we are practically family’
‘Hardly,’ Helena muttered swiftly. Was that the angle Tate was playing with her father? she wondered grimly. Was he giving him dodgy financial advice under the guise of being a concerned member of the family?
Helena found it hard to believe that her father could have been so naive as to be taken in by such sentiments. In the past Lawrence had always treated Tate with suspicion. Yet the fact that he had asked Tate to pick her up pointed towards how friendly he must now be with the man. It was all very puzzling.
‘So where is Paul anyway?’ There was a hint of brisk annoyance in her tone that she tried very hard to disguise.
Tate shrugged. ‘No idea…Probably with some blonde bombshell, if I know your brother.’
Helena glared at him, her green eyes glimmering deep emerald. Much as she had to admit deep down that this could very well be true, she was far too loyal to let it pass without standing up for her young brother.
‘It’s five years since I’ve seen Paul—I’m sure he would have been here if it was at all possible.’
‘If you say so.’ Tate picked up her bag, his attitude one of insouciant unconcern.
He headed for the exit, and Helena followed him with a feeling of reluctance. Just what was going on? she wondered nervously. Where on earth was her brother?
Paul was not renowned for being reliable. He was a tennis coach with a lot of skill, and he was also something of a ladies’ man. If a pretty young girl fluttered her eyelashes at him he was capable of forgetting what day it was, let alone that his sister was waiting to be picked up. Yet she didn’t think that was the reason why he hadn’t turned up today. His tone had been far too serious when they had spoken on the phone.
He had been the one who had insisted that he collect her when she had mentioned getting a taxi. He had said that he wanted to talk with her before she saw their father, that there were a lot of facts he wanted to arm her with first. What were the facts? she wondered for the millionth time. Apprehension knotted tight in her stomach.
The sunshine was blinding outside, the heat overwhelming. Tate led the way with long strides to where a very expensive Mercedes convertible was illegally parked on double yellow lines.
Helena’s mouth set in a firm line as she noticed this fact. Was Tate a man with little regard for authority? Did he think that because he was wealthy and powerful he was above the law?
‘You’re lucky you didn’t get a ticket,’ she said grimly as he opened the boot of the car and put her case in.
‘They allow you a few minutes to pick up from here, and your flight was exactly on time.’
‘In London you would have been clamped.’
He grimaced. ‘It’s no wonder you look stressed…living in London must be hell.’
He said the words with a teasing light in his eyes, and despite herself she had to smile.
‘Welcome home to sunny, laid-back Barbados.’ He reached out a hand and touched the smooth curve of her cheek in a gesture that made an instant flow of angry reaction flow through her body. ‘Is it really five years since you left?’
With complete disregard for the fact that her expression was now one of extreme displeasure, his gaze moved over her in a more leisurely appraisal. He took in the slender curves of her body, the classically elegant blue suit.
‘You’ve certainly changed,’ he murmured contemplatively. ‘What happened to the young skinny schoolgirl who left?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped with agitated impatience. ‘I was nineteen when I left—hardly a schoolgirl.’
He shrugged. ‘You’ve grown up, though…London has given you a very sophisticated air.’
It was true that London had given her a certain polish. The naïve and fresh-faced young woman who had left Barbados had blossomed into a successful career woman.
‘What do you do for a living these days?’ he asked nonchalantly as he opened the car door for her.
‘I’m a financial adviser with a leading bank.’ She met his blue gaze directly, trying to see if there was a flicker of unease in them. ‘I go through people’s accounts, and if there are any discrepancies, any problems, I always find them.’
She spoke the words succinctly—she wanted this man to know that she was a professional and damned good at her job. She wanted to wipe the look of complacency from those handsome features.
‘Really?’ He didn’t look in the slightest bit perturbed—in fact, he looked vaguely amused.
‘Have I said something funny?’ She frowned with annoyance.
‘Not at all.’ He watched as she settled herself in the comfortable leather seat, his gaze flicking briefly over her long legs. ‘It’s just that you don’t look like any financial adviser I’ve ever met!’ He closed the door on her before she had a chance to reply to that.
She watched in brooding silence as he walked around towards the driver’s side of the car. That was the kind of chauvinistic remark she would have expected from Tate Ainsley. He was a tough kind of man…a man’s man, with a hard edge. In those respects he was probably a bit like her father—Lawrence also was the type who thought that women had no place in the world of finance.
‘So what exactly is it that brings you back to Barbados?’ Tate enquired casually as he got into the seat next to her and started