‘No, thanks,’ the architect said brusquely.
Jess’s spine stiffened. She had been about to object to the second description herself, but she saw no reason for him to be so anti!
‘OK, we forget the whole idea of bodyguards,’ Gerard declared, with a careless wave of his cheroot. He smiled at her through clouds of cloying smoke. ‘Sorry you’ve had a wasted journey.’
‘It isn’t a problem,’ she replied, thinking that for someone who, minutes ago, had been insisting on taking precautions he had undergone a swift change of mind. Yet perhaps Lorcan Hunter was getting a long way up his nose, too?
‘We won’t forget it,’ Sir Peter declared, suddenly sitting up straight and taking charge. ‘I’m willing to accept that you prefer to take care of yourself, Lorcan, but I still believe we should consider protection for Harriet. It’s another week until you return to Mauritius so there’s no need to make a final decision until then, but I’d like her and Miss Pallister to meet. To see if they get along together, if needs be. Do you have any experience of four-year-olds?’ he asked her.
She shook her head. Two of her brothers had children, but they were still only babies. ‘None.’
‘Harriet is four and a quarter,’ Lorcan said, and grinned. ‘She considers the quarter is of the utmost importance.’
Jess stared. It was the first time he had smiled and it transformed him. His blue eyes had warmed and sparkled, and attractive little dents had appeared in his cheeks. When he relaxed, he was handsome. Her gaze fixed on his mouth. Several years ago, she had illustrated book jackets and Lorcan Hunter had the mouth of a hero. His upper lip was thin and sculpted, the lower sensually full. It was a mouth which any artist would drool over. A mouth which ought to be cast in bronze.
‘Do you have an hour or two to spare?’ Sir Peter enquired. ‘Do you have the rest of the afternoon free, Miss Pallister?’ he said, and Jess realised, with a start, that he was talking to her.
She sprang back to attention. ‘Um—yes,’ she replied.
The businessman spoke to Lorcan. ‘Then perhaps they could meet this afternoon? You mentioned how you’d brought Harriet up to London with you today to see your folks, so it would seem the perfect opportunity.’
A beat went by before he nodded. ‘Whatever you wish.’
Jess frowned. Instead of concocting some polite excuse, turning down the assignment and walking away, she had allowed herself to be drawn in. Though only for the next couple of hours. The architect’s hesitation had made it plain that he had agreed to the meeting to oblige his paymaster and was merely going through the motions. And if she went through the motions, too, it would burnish the name of Citadel Security and could persuade Sir Peter to use them should his company require a bodyguard—or hotel guards or mobile patrols or closed circuit TV systems—at some time in the future. Which would delight her brothers.
‘You said you didn’t tell your parents about the threat, Lorcan, and we don’t want to alarm them or Harriet unnecessarily,’ the older man went on, ‘but I’m sure you can come up with a reason for the introduction.’ Rising to his feet, he held out his hand. ‘Thank you for your time and your trouble, Miss Pallister. We’ll be in touch with your office to advise them of what action we decide to take, in a few days.’
Ten minutes later, Jess was seated beside Lorcan Hunter in his black Alfa Romeo coupé heading out of Central London and north towards Hampstead Garden Suburb where, he had told her, his parents lived in a small private retirement community.
‘So,’ she said, ‘what role do you wish me to play in this charade?’
He shot her a look. ‘Charade?’ he repeated cautiously.
‘I’m well aware that we’re engaged in an exercise in futility because you intend to veto the bodyguard idea, come hell or high water. Yes?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I see no need for one.’
‘Your choice,’ she said. ‘So, who am I supposed to be?’
He frowned, thinking. ‘Before I formed my own company I was with an international design firm called the Dowling Partnership, working first here and then in the States—’
‘Which explains the American twang,’ Jess cut in.
‘I lived there for several years.’
‘It’s a super country.’
He nodded. ‘It has a lot going for it. How about we say you were a colleague at Dowling’s London office?’ he went on. ‘We met by chance in the street today and you said you’d like to meet Harriet?’
‘OK, but—’
‘But, what?’ he enquired, when she paused.
‘Whilst you may consider your daughter to be the best thing since hole-in-the-wall cash dispensers, the only reason a single woman would show such an interest in her would be because she’s interested in you.’ Jess offered him a sunny smile. ‘A bizarre concept, I know, but such are the foibles of human nature.’
‘You’re good at the smartarse comment, Miss Pallister,’ he remarked, ‘but do you have a better idea?’
‘No. I was just pointing out—’
‘Then we’ll stick with it.’
‘Yes, sir. If we’re supposed to be one-time colleagues you ought to call me Jess. Short for Jessica,’ she told him.
‘And it’s Lorcan,’ he said, a mite reluctantly.
She angled him a look. ‘Lorc for short?’
‘Only if you’re a dear, dear friend,’ he said grittily.
‘But I don’t fit into that category?’
‘Not quite.’
‘You don’t believe Charles Sohan has any connection with the note?’ she asked as they skirted the grassy area of Regent’s Park and sped up past Lord’s cricket ground.
‘None. Granted, he and Sir Peter are in competition, and Sohan was eager for me to build him a flagship hotel in Mauritius, but—’
‘Why Mauritius?’ Jess interrupted.
‘Because he originally comes from the island. Around seventy per cent of the population are of Indian extraction, mainly descended from labourers who went there to work in the sugar plantations.’
‘And the other thirty per cent?’
‘Creoles, Franco-Mauritians and Chinese. When Charles Sohan discovered I’d been engaged to design a hotel complex for the Warwick Group, he immediately offered to double my fee,’ Lorcan continued, ‘and later to treble it. I refused. Although I’d barely started, it wouldn’t have been ethical to pull out.’
‘Mr Sohan was annoyed?’
‘Hopping mad. Apparently he’d been on the point of contracting me himself and he swore that Sir Peter must’ve found out and sneaked in first. But he’s not the type to seek revenge and, besides, he has a soft spot for Harriet.’
‘Sir Peter believes that although the note threatens you and your daughter it’s intended to hit at him,’ Jess said, ‘but it could also be hitting against you. Is there anyone you know who might bear a grudge?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t have any enemies—or, at least, none that I’m aware of. But the note is mischief-making,’ he dismissed.
‘It was still sent for a reason. You may not have enemies as such, but there could be people you’ve annoyed,’ she continued, and skewered him with a look. ‘For example, people whom you’ve shouted at or blamed for something which was beyond their control.’
His fingers