Free Cat Burglar in Training by Shelley Munro Page A

voice.
    I calmly folded up my bank statement and thrust it inside my handbag, zipping my bag closed to keep the list safe. “I didn’t hide on purpose.” Beauchamp would need to be both blind and deaf to miss my annoyance. “It’s busy here today. I need to get home. Can you say whatever it is you need to say so we can leave?”
    “Can I get you a drink?” he asked abruptly. “I sure as hell need one.”
    “No, thanks,” I said, although I understood his need. Millicent Beauchamp didn’t strike me as a woman who stood for nonsense.
    Beauchamp stood and brushed against me—on purpose, I’m sure. “Won’t be long.”
    “Take your time.” A niggling instinct screamed the man wanted to tell me something I’d rather not hear.
    Beauchamp returned and moved his chair nearer to mine. He took a sip of his drink, whisky by the scent, before setting it on the table. “Your father owes me money.”
    “So you’ve said.”
    “He’s told you?” Beauchamp’s eyes narrowed on me in expectation.
    “Stop playing games and tell me what you want so we can both go home.”
    “Your father owes me half a million pounds.”
    The blunt answer stole my breath. I stared at Beauchamp, not pretending anything other than shock. “Half a million pounds?” That sort of money deserved reverence. Heck, I’d never seen that amount of money, let alone borrowed it. “Are you sure?”
    “I take it you didn’t know?”
    I shook my head, having difficulty forming words, and my thoughts whirred at breakneck speed. No wonder Father and Ben were pressuring me to do another job. They were up to their necks in trouble, but did they tell me—their innocent stooge? Oh, no.
    I picked up my handbag and stood. Heads were about to roll.
    “Where are you going?” Beauchamp scowled. “I haven’t finished yet.”
    “We don’t have the money.”
    Beauchamp’s voice cracked out sharp and determined. “Sit.”
    Like a well-trained dog, I sat. “What did you want me to do about the debt?” I asked through clenched teeth. Already, my mind was skipping ahead trying to calculate how many jobs it would take to earn a cool half million.
    “The way I look at it is that if your father can’t pay, you’ll end up fronting the cash.”
    “I don’t have it.”
    “That’s what I figured,” Beauchamp said.
    No mistaking that tone for anything but smug. I waited for the bomb to drop.
    “We can work out a deal.”
    “What sort of deal?”
    Beauchamp’s hand closed over my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I like you. We could help each other.”
    For a moment, I thought I was going to throw up. Deep breaths. One. Two. In. Out. I worked my way through the nausea before I risked a glance at his bloated face. “How can I help you?”
    He moved his chair closer. “I can be very generous with women I like.”
    A momentary twinge of sympathy for other women caught in a Richard Beauchamp snare struck me. I needed to concentrate on extricating myself from this mess I’d found myself in through no fault of my own. One thing was for certain—I was going to do some physical damage when I arrived back at Oakthorpe. I forced my mind off the pleasurable thought and back to dealing with Beauchamp.
    “Are you saying if I become your mistress the debt will be repaid in full?”
    Satisfaction flooded him before an affable smile curved his lips. “I’m afraid I can’t let you off that easily. No woman is worth half a million. Your father will still owe me the money, but I’ll waive the interest charges. How does that sound?”
    Words failed me. Many tingled on the tip of my tongue, but I was pretty sure they weren’t the words he wanted to hear.
    “I need to talk to my father. I take it you have proof of the debt?”
    “I thought you’d require proof.” Beauchamp’s hand slid into the inside pocket of his jacket and he pulled out a wad of papers. “It’s all there.” His gaze burned into me for long seconds. “I’ll give you a week to make