She straightened in her chair as she realised she was staring at him, and that he was returning that stare with questioning eyes. ‘Sorry.’ She blushed ruefully. ‘It’s just—you aren’t quite what I was expecting either.’ That had to be the understatement of the year! ‘But then we’ve agreed the feeling is mutual,’ she added briskly as she sensed a sarcastic reply was about to leave his lips. She put down her empty teacup. ‘I have some papers in my bag for you to look at—
‘If it’s about the filming of Palfrey, then I’m not interested,’ he interrupted harshly.
Arabella looked up from picking up her bag. ‘You can’t possibly know that until you’ve seen what the film company has to offer,’ she pointed out gently, not wanting to antagonise him further but at the same time aware of just how lucrative the film contract could be for him. For Atherton Publishing, too, she acknowledged ruefully, sure that he would lose no time in pointing that out.
It was obvious, from this house and the presence of the elderly couple who worked for him, that he was comfortably off. And she knew better than most how much money he earned from the Palfrey books. But the film company was talking major money for this author. It would be slightly reckless on his part, she felt, to say no to the idea without even looking at the contract...
His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Palfrey would become a Hollywood caricature—with all the hype that goes along with it!’ he dismissed easily.
Arabella took out the offending contract before snapping shut her bag. ‘I’m sure the film company will be completely open to negotiation about your own amount of involvement in things.’ After his obvious reluctance to talk to them at all, they seemed agreeable to any terms he cared to make! ‘With a contract to match,’ she added encouragingly.
‘A contract they would instantly break, if and when it suited them to do so,’ he returned scornfully.
‘Of course they wouldn’t!’ she gasped indignantly.
‘Just how many Hollywood contracts have you, or your publishing company, been involved in, Miss Atherton?’ he said tauntingly.
Atherton Publishing was not that sort of publishing company; had made its name and money mainly from educational books. It had been Arabella who had introduced successful contemporary fiction to the list, and Merlin was definitely her most successful author to date. A fact which, looking at the intelligence in those blue eyes, she had a feeling Robert Merlin was completely conversant with!
‘How many have you?’ she returned somewhat tartly, knowing she was getting nowhere with this man.
The mockery left his face as his expression hardened once again, a tense stillness settling over his muscular frame. ‘I don’t have—’
‘Daddy, I’m in the swimming team!’ The study door had burst open, and the excited statement had come from the young lady who stood framed in the open doorway.
Despite her considerable height, she was young, Arabella realised, probably about thirteen or fourteen, poised on the brink of womanhood. Raven-black hair fell silkily past her shoulders, her glowingly lovely face had none of that puppy-fat that could be so annoying at her age, and her body was tall and slender, with the promise of curves yet to come. In another couple of years she was going to be a stunningly beautiful woman.
And she had called Merlin ‘Daddy’...
Arabella looked at him with new eyes. There was a Mrs Merlin somewhere, then...?
It was ridiculous of her to feel surprised, even faintly disappointed. Robert Merlin must be the most attractive man she had ever seen in her life; of course there would be a woman in his life, possibly even a wife. The latter was not just a possibility; the existence of his daughter was proof of that.
‘Daddy, did you hear what I said?’
‘Of course I heard you, Emma,’ he acknowledged indulgently. ‘But can’t you see we have a guest?’ He gave a pointed look in Arabella’s direction.
Eyes the same deep blue as her father’s suddenly became shy as the young girl looked at Arabella. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured ruefully. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I couldn’t wait to tell Daddy my good news,’ she added determinedly.
Arabella smiled her sympathy, remembering occasions when she had rushed home to tell her own father equally exciting news from school. Unfortunately, it had only been exciting to her, her father listening with a complete lack of interest. Although Robert Merlin didn’t look uninterested; it was just that she happened to be taking up his time at the moment.
She smiled at the young girl. ‘I’m sure your news takes precedence over anything I have to talk to your father about,’ she assured her lightly.
‘What are you and Daddy talking about?’ Emma asked guilelessly, moving to perch her bottom on the side of her father’s desk.
‘Emma!’ her father reproved abruptly.
Arabella couldn’t help laughing softly at the young girl’s unrepentant expression. ‘I’m from your father’s publishing company, and—’
‘A. Atherton?’ The deep blue eyes glowed interestedly.
Robert Merlin sat up straighter in his chair behind his desk. ‘And exactly what do you know about A. Atherton?’ he said slowly.
Emma grinned at Arabella, completely unabashed by her father’s grim expression. ‘Are you A. Atherton?’ she persisted. ‘I always had a feeling you might be a woman.’
‘And just why the hell did you feel that?’ her father demanded impatiently.
She shrugged slender shoulders. ‘Just the tone of the letters.’
‘And what sort of tone might that have been?’ Robert Merlin frowned at his daughter in complete bafflement.
The young girl grinned unconcernedly. ‘Unfailingly polite and reasoning—even when you were at your rudest!’ She gave her father a mischievously teasing look. ‘I always thought another man would have given you back as good as you gave.’
Her father looked outraged. ‘I was never rudel’
Emma Merlin gave Arabella a conspiratorial grit mace. ‘Oh, I think you’ll find that you were, Daddy. Although I’m sure Miss Atherton forgave you,’ she added soothingly as he still looked furious at the accusation.
Arabella was impressed with the maturity of this young girl. And her perception! Her own father and Stephen had often been incensed by this man’s fanatical wish for privacy—as witnessed by the blundering way Stephen had tried to force his way in here two days ago! Arabella had always respected that wish for privacy, often diverting the attention of the media away from this popular author.
It was a view her father and Stephen didn’t share. In their opinion, if Merlin wanted the glory—and the money!—his writing brought, then he also had to accept some of the negative aspects, and that included interest in his private life. To her father it wasn’t a negative aspect anyway...
Yes, Emma was right; if Merlin’s editor had been either her father or Stephen, then he would have been handled very differently.
‘Of course,’ Arabella confirmed smoothly.
Robert Merlin looked far from pleased at the slightly patronising air the two females seemed to have adopted towards him, his blue eyes flinty and cold. ‘I was not—’
‘Your father is such a wonderful writing talent,’ Arabella continued conversationally to Emma. ‘He