Free A Mistletoe Proposal by Lucy Gordon Page A

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.

CHAPTER FIVE
    N EXT 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 nightclub 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.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜That’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Just you, me and my notebook.’
    â€˜Notebook?’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜What happened?’
    â€˜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?’
    â€˜Roscoe does a lot for you,’ she reminded him.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜Why don’t you tell me about it?’
    Once Charlie started to talk, it all came tumbling out—the years of growing up in the shadow of tragedy, the crushing awareness that he was all his mother lived for, the feeling that he could never be free.
    â€˜My dad killed himself,’ he said sombrely, ‘but Roscoe won’t allow it to be mentioned, especially to Mum. That’s his way. “Do this, Charlie, don’t do that. Join the firm, Charlie—”’
    â€˜Did he make you join his firm?’
    â€˜He suggested it, and what Roscoe “suggests” tends to happen.’
    â€˜Couldn’t you have held out against him?’
    â€˜I suppose. Actually, I feel a bit guilty about Roscoe. I get mad at him, but I do know the truth.’
    â€˜Which