The Big Bad Boss. Susan Stephens

was all logic while Bronte was the flip side of the coin—all that passion with so little curb on it made it so easy to outmanoeuvre her, it was hardly fair. He hadn’t made a final decision yet. The problems at Hebers Ghyll were nothing new for him. There had been no work in his old neighbourhood, but he had known that if there was enough money for tools and equipment there would be more than enough jobs for everyone. ‘There’s only one problem,’ he said, reeling her in.

      ‘Which is?’ she demanded on cue.

      ‘You.’ He stared directly at her. ‘You’re the problem, Bronte. If I consider you for the job I have to bear in mind you took off once and went travelling. How do I know you won’t do that again?’

      ‘Because my travels had a purpose and now I’m home to put what I’ve learned into practice.’

      ‘That’s good,’ he agreed, ‘but if I take this on there will be nothing but hard work ahead, and a lot of difficult decisions to be made. I need to be sure that whoever I employ as estate manager has both the staying power and the backbone for what needs to be done.’

      ‘What are you implying, Heath?’

      He lifted the latch on the wooden gate that led through to her parents’ garden. ‘I’m saying I don’t know you, Bronte. I only know what you’re telling me. It’s been a long time.’

      ‘For both of us,’ she reminded him tensely.

      He propped her rucksack against the front door.

      ‘Hey,’ she said when he turned to leave. ‘Where are you going? We’re in the middle of a conversation.’

      ‘We’ll continue it another time. I have to get back now.’

      ‘Can’t we talk first? What’s the hurry?’

      Strangely, it pleased him that she wanted to keep him back. ‘I have appointments I can’t break. My work is in London, remember? It’s where I make the money that might just keep this place alive.’ He stopped at the gate and turned to face her. ‘Just promise me one thing before I go.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Parts of Hebers Ghyll aren’t safe, Bronte, so please stay away.’

      ‘The Great Hall’s safe,’ she insisted stubbornly. ‘Uncle Harry was living there up to a few months ago.’

      ‘And I’m telling you not to go near it until I get back.’

      ‘So you are coming back?’

      As her eyes fired he propped a hip against the garden wall. ‘You’ll be telling me how much you’ll miss me next.’

      ‘Ha! Don’t hold your breath.’

      ‘If you need me you’ve got my number.’

      ‘What use is that when your PA won’t put me through?’

      ‘You give up too easily, Bronte.’ Raising his hand in a farewell salute, he thought himself lucky to be out of range of any missiles she might have to hand.