At The Millionaire's Bidding. Lee Wilkinson

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      Robert’s smile held a hint of mockery. He greeted her as though she was a guest. “Miss Smith…welcome to Greyladies.”

      The shock of meeting those tawny eyes literally took her breath away, and she was forced to drag in air, like a swimmer who’s been under water too long, before she could answer.

      “Thank you.” She had tried to tell herself that his effect on her would have faded, that on further acquaintance she would find him ordinary, dull even. But rather than lessening, his impact was stronger. It made her heart beat uncomfortably fast, set her nerves quivering and scattered her wits.

      LEE WILKINSON lives with her husband in a three-hundred-year-old stone cottage in a Derbyshire village, England, which most winters gets cut off by snow. They both enjoy traveling and recently, joining forces with their daughter and son-in-law, spent a year going around the world “on a shoestring” while their son looked after Kelly, their much-loved German shepherd dog. Her hobbies are reading and gardening and holding impromptu barbecues for her long-suffering family and friends.

      At the Millionaire’s Bidding

      Lee Wilkinson

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ONE

      THE latch clicked, and Dave Benson came into the dark, cramped cloakroom that adjoined the office, closing the door behind him with care.

      After that lunchtime’s unexpected phone call, it had been agreed that he, with his technical know-how, should tackle their possibly important visitor.

      Eleanor glanced up from making the tea he’d requested, her clear grey eyes hopeful.

      Dave answered her unspoken question. ‘Yes, it is Robert Carrington the financier, and the job on offer is just the kind of thing we were hoping for…’

      Though his words were encouraging, it struck her that he was looking far from pleased.

      ‘Apparently Carrington’s fed up with living and working in London, and he’d like to start running his business from home. He owns some manor house or other near Little Meldon, and he wants to set up an office and a communications network with state-of-the-art equipment.’

      ‘That sounds wonderful!’ she exclaimed.

      ‘It would be if I could clinch the deal, but he’s an awkward man…’ There was irritation in Dave’s voice and a scowl on his darkly handsome face.

      ‘Though he must have known we were a small firm, he keeps quibbling about our capabilities, and about the travelling time involved. ‘I’ve assured him we can cope, but so far I’ve been unable to convince him.’

      While she watched him, trying to hide her anxiety, Dave poured himself a mug of tea and, sitting in the single rickety chair, reached for a ginger biscuit and dunked it moodily.

      Through the small, grimy window Eleanor could hear the roar of passing traffic on the Edgware Road, and closer at hand the rattle and bang of a tailgate being dropped, as goods were delivered to one of the ground-floor shops in their building.

      As Dave continued to sit there, she asked, ‘Shouldn’t you be getting back?’

      ‘He’s talking on his mobile. When it rang, the arrogant swine lifted an eyebrow and asked, “Would you mind?” as though I was the office boy.’

      ‘When you do go back, for goodness’ sake be careful,’ she begged. ‘Don’t let him see how you feel about him.’

      ‘I think he already knows,’ Dave admitted. ‘We’ve rubbed each other up the wrong way from the word go. You’d better see if you can handle him.

      ‘According to the media, he’s tight-lipped about his private life, but in public, at least, he seems to like the ladies, so maybe a woman will stand more chance.’

      Knowing it shouldn’t have to hinge on sex, and wishing, perversely, that he’d said a beautiful woman—but knowing full well that the adjective wasn’t justified—Eleanor agreed, ‘I’ll do my best. Though I remember reading an article about him in Finance International that suggested he has a reputation for being a tough nut.’

      ‘Well, if we don’t manage to crack him, we’re in big trouble.’ Dave ran a hand through his black wavy hair. ‘It’s a miracle a man like Carrington came to us in the first place, and we just can’t afford to lose this chance, so promise him anything he wants.’

      ‘I can’t see the sense of promising something we may not be able to deliver,’ she objected uneasily.

      ‘Damn it, Ella, don’t go all ethical on me. By the time he finds out whether or not we can deliver, we’ll be well into the job. He’ll be forced to settle for what he can get.

      ‘Our best card, maybe our only card, is that he wants the work put in hand straight away, and the job done as quickly as possible. The big firms will already have full order books, which means a wait. Tell him the next job we had scheduled has been put on hold for the present…’

      There was no next job. Despite all their hard work the order book had remained depressingly empty.

      ‘And emphasise that we can make a start as soon as he says the word go. Monday, if that suits him. Though we’ll need a substantial cash advance before we can order any equipment.’

      ‘But surely Greenlees will—’

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