Because the alternative was unthinkable. Prison. She couldn’t let this ruin her brother’s life. Miranda shuddered as memories plagued her. Her father had been arrested…and then he’d been dead. So final. It wasn’t going to happen to Adrian.
“Mr. Ironstone is not available.”
“I know, Callum’s going to New York—he told me. I presume he’s in that meeting,” she tacked on, trying to sound as though she was privy to his every plan.
The receptionist shot an indecisive look in the direction of a closed door leading off the reception area before turning her attention back and giving Miranda a curious look.
Just then the door cracked open. “Biddy, can you make four copies of this report, please?”
The receptionist came round the counter, and Miranda saw her chance. “Callum,” she called out.
He looked up, and his eyes crinkled into a smile. “Miranda, what are you doing here?”
“I have to talk to you. In private,” she added urgently as she glanced past him into the occupied boardroom.
“I’ll be with you in a minute.” He rapidly made excuses to his board members and ushered her along the corridor into his office.
“You’ve changed your mind?” he asked, closing the door. His eyes were warmer than she’d ever imagined the color blue could be.
Changed her mind? She blinked at him as she settled into the soft sofa beneath the bookshelves. Oh, the date! He thought she was here because she’d decided to accept?
“No—”
Help. He was moving closer, seating himself beside her. The heat that she’d sworn she would not allow herself to feel swamped her anew. His fingers closed on her upper arms. For a moment she was so incredibly tempted just to give in, to let him kiss her. But she couldn’t.
“Uh…I wanted to talk about…”
He bent his head. That smiling mouth held her entranced. In a second it would land on hers.
“No!” She ducked away to the far end of the sofa. “You can’t kiss me. You’re going to marry Petra.” She gabbled the first thing that came into her head.
He blinked. “I am?”
“You bought her a ring.” He must’ve spent a fortune on it. That meant he had to be serious.
The powerful surge of adrenaline ebbed, and her brains unscrambled. Petra’s father was an important figure in his life now that Gordon Harris held so much stock in Ironstone. That’s why men like Callum married.
Not for love. Or even desire.
But for cold, sound financial reasons.
And Petra would accept with alacrity. Callum was a catch. An Ironstone. Not everyone held the view of him Miranda did.
In her mind she replayed that disaster on Saturday night when she’d ended up sprawled over his kitchen counter, and later in his bed. All evening she’d been conscious of his gaze following her, setting her body aflame. Even while he’d listened to Petra, talked to her father, been ribbed by his brothers…the whole time he’d been watching her.
All his brothers had been there. To meet Gordon, he’d told her here in this very office. A celebration.
Celebration…
Of what? She’d thought he’d been referring to the merger. Had it been something else entirely?
“Those two guests you told me couldn’t make it because of the snowstorm up north. They were your parents, weren’t they?”
“Well…yes.”
Her suspicions crystallized into certainty. “You were going to announce your engagement.”
The utter silence told Miranda she was right.
“But you didn’t announce it…because you didn’t get around to proposing to her,” she said, following her line of thought through to the natural conclusion. “And you slept with me instead.” Miranda tilted her head. “Have you broken up with her?”
He stretched. “Miranda—”
Callum hadn’t broken off whatever relationship he had going with Petra. For some reason he’d simply decided he wanted her.
“Miranda, wait—”
He was despicable. She shifted farther into the corner of the couch. “Yes or no?”
He shook his head.
The phone on the highly polished desk rang twice before stopping abruptly. Callum glared across at it, then back to her. “The meeting is ready to continue. I have to go.” But he didn’t rise. “If you change your mind, call me.”
“I won’t,” she stated with absolute conviction. “And don’t invite me out again. Call Petra—she’s still the woman you plan to marry.”
There was no doubt in her mind that Petra would accept him.
Poor thing.
“If you say so.” His eyes cooled further. “So why did you come?” His hard mouth bore no trace of a smile.
She hesitated, aware of the chasm that yawned between them, much wider than the distance that separated them on the sofa. Adrian had asked her to be nice. This didn’t look like a man who would give her—or Adrian—the benefit of the doubt.
But she had to try. “How’s Adrian getting—” She broke off.
“Adrian? Getting along?” His gaze narrowed. “He’s doing very well. That’s why you came to see me? Because of your brother?”
The warmth he’d greeted her with had vanished. The smiling eyes had been replaced with blue chips of ice.
She backtracked hastily. “No, no, I just asked.” Now he must think her a total mother hen. Forcing a conciliatory smile, she said, “I’m pleased he’s getting on well.”
Callum rose to his feet. “I’ve been intending to suggest that he apply for one of the scholarships that Ironstone offers.” His cold gaze swept her. “And before you leap to any nasty conclusions, this is an opportunity offered to any school-leavers who work for us to go to university. I don’t even administer it.”
She’d done it now. She’d made him mad. And if she breathed a word about the car Adrian had crashed, her brother would not only lose his vacation job and the chance of a permanent position, he’d also lose all chance of a scholarship—and it would be her fault.
To placate him, she said, “It would be the answer to my prayers.” And it was true. The thought of Adrian studying toward a career. Having a chance of a successful future…
Except it would come from the Ironstone family. But she could live with that. She certainly wouldn’t stand in Adrian’s way.
Yet before she could say anything further, Callum continued, “So if you didn’t come to accept my invitation and you didn’t come see me about your brother, why are you here?”
Help. She sucked in a deep breath. There was only one thing left to say—sure, it meant she’d have to eat crow, but she could do that.
“I wanted to thank you for giving me the chance to cater for you.” Her stomach heaved. “I’ve already had a call as a result. Look.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a few of the business cards she’d had printed up yesterday. “One of your dinner guests on Saturday asked for a card. I didn’t have any. So I’ve had some printed up. What do you think?” She couldn’t restrain the lilt of pride in her voice as she passed him a card.
He studied it. “Not bad. Do you have any more?”