Roscoe regarded her, fascinated. It wasn’t his first sight of a beautiful woman in transports—in his arms, sometimes in his bed.
But this one was looking at his computer.
A touch of the switch had caused the machine to flower into glorious life, making her watch, riveted, as one state-of-the-art accessory after another leapt into the spotlight.
‘Oh, goodness,’ she breathed. ‘Why haven’t I ever—? I’ve never even heard of some of these.’
‘One of my clients owns a firm that makes software and computer peripherals,’ Roscoe said. ‘He’s at the cutting edge and I get everything ahead of the game. I’ll tell him you’re interested and I’m sure he’ll fix you up.’
‘Oh, yes, please! And look at the size of that screen, the biggest I’ve ever seen.’
‘You should try one,’ Roscoe said. ‘It’s useful for having multiple documents open at once.’
‘Ah, yes,’ she murmured. ‘Useful. How do I go online?’
He touched a switch and in a moment she’d connected with her work computer, entered the password and brought up a list of documents. A few more clicks brought Ginevra’s face to the screen just as Charlie entered the room.
‘Hey, that’s her! ‘ he exclaimed. Then he stared at the caption. ‘But who’s Biddy Felsom?’
‘She is,’ Pippa said. ‘Known to the police as a small-time offender and pain in the neck. She enjoys getting stupid boys to do things they shouldn’t, pulling their strings, like she pulled yours.’
‘Well, she’s history,’ Charlie said. ‘I know that you’ll save me from her.’
‘Good. Now it’s time I was going home,’ Pippa observed.
‘I’ll drive you,’ Roscoe said.
‘No you won’t, I will,’ Charlie was quick to say.
‘Neither of you will,’ Pippa said. ‘Mr Havering, will you call me a taxi?’
‘I’ll drive you,’ Charlie insisted.
‘Shut up!’ his brother said impatiently. ‘Can’t you see she’s had enough of the pair of us tonight? Miss Jenson, I suggest that the next meeting should be at my office. My secretary will call you to fix a time.’
‘Certainly,’ she said in her most efficient tone.
‘I know you can rescue me,’ Charlie said. ‘We’ll do it together because I’m going to take your advice in everything.’
He said the last word with a breathless sincerity that made her regard him wryly. His eyes twinkled back at her and they laughed together.
Angela came in and demanded to know what was happening. Charlie proclaimed his faith in Pippa, which made his mother embrace her.
Roscoe took no part in this. He was calling the taxi.
Just before it arrived, Charlie came to stand before her. ‘There’s something I’ve just got to know,’ he breathed.
‘I’ll tell you if I can,’ she promised. ‘What is it?’
‘This,’ he said, putting a hand behind her head and whipping out the clip in her hair, letting her glorious locks flow free.
‘I’ve wanted to do that ever since we met,’ he said.
‘Then you should be ashamed of yourself,’ Roscoe growled. ‘That’s no way to treat a lady.’
‘Pippa’s not offended,’ Charlie pleaded. ‘Are you? ‘
‘No, I’m not offended, but right this minute I feel like your nursemaid. I think you should call me Nanny.’
‘Not in a million years,’ he said fervently.
She gave a crow of laughter. ‘Well, my taxi seems to be here, so I’m leaving now. I’ll see you soon.’
Charlie and Angela came with her to the gate, but Roscoe stayed back, declaring curtly that he had work to do. At the last minute he pushed a scrap of paper into Pippa’s hand and turned away to climb the stairs.
As the taxi drew away she strained to read what was on the paper, mystified by Roscoe. When her hair flowed free she’d caught a glimpse of his face, full of shock as though he’d been stunned. But that made no sense. He’d seen her hair the night before. There was nothing to surprise him. Yet a man who’d been punched in the stomach might have looked like that.
Now he was giving her secret notes, and she wondered if his stern facade had melted long enough for him to send her a personal message. Could he be reacting to her as a man to a woman? She found herself hoping so. There was something about him that made her want to know more. In another moment she would find out.
Then she passed under a street lamp long enough to see what he’d written to her.
It was the address of his client’s computer firm.
NEXT morning Roscoe’s secretary called and they set up the appointment at his office for the following day. An hour later Charlie came on the line, wanting to see her that night. Since there was still much she needed to discover she reluctantly agreed to let him take her to The Diamond, although a night-club wasn’t the place she would have chosen.
She supposed she should notify Roscoe, but she stopped her hand on the way to the phone. He was just a tad too controlling for her taste, and yielding to it would only make him worse. She would make a report afterwards.
That evening she dressed carefully, choosing a fairly sedate black satin gown with a long hem and modest neck. She’d beguiled Charlie enough to secure his attention, but she had no wish to entice him further.
Downstairs, he had a car waiting, complete with chauffeur.
‘I hired it for the evening,’ he said, getting in beside her. ‘I don’t want to drive, I want to concentrate on you, now I have you all to myself.’
‘That’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Just you, me and my notebook.’
‘Notebook?’
‘Well, this is a professional consultation, isn’t it? You’re going to fill me in on any aspects of the case that were overlooked before.’
He grimaced.
At The Diamond she had to admit that he was a skilled host, recommending dishes from the elaborate menu, knowing which wine to order. He seemed in a chirpy mood, but at last she looked up to find his face pervaded by a wry, almost hangdog look.
‘I guess you were right about Ginevra,’ he said. ‘I tried to call her. I know you told me not to, but I had to try.’
‘What happened?’
‘She hung up. I can’t believe I was taken in so easily. But at least now I’ve got you. You’re my friend, aren’t you? Really my friend, not just because Roscoe has hired your legal skills?’
‘Roscoe does a lot for you,’ she reminded him.
‘I know I should be grateful to him. He’s always looked after me, but…but he does too much, so that sometimes I feel I don’t know who I really am. What would I do if I was left to myself? Stupid things, probably.’
‘Why don’t you tell me about it?’