Her Heart's Desire (2 page)

‘No, of course I wasn’t in bed, honey, just working on the Appleford series. It’s driving me nuts.’

‘Why work in the bedroom when you have a great study downstairs?’ she asked.

He glanced behind towards the bedroom and shrugged. ‘It’s quieter back there at this time of day, that’s all.’

Marisa eyed him suspiciously. He wasn’t dressed, his bathrobe was on inside out.

‘You’re not even dressed.’

‘Hey, it’s my birthday, cut me a break here!’

Marisa stared at the bedroom door. She knew something was wrong. She felt it in the pit of her stomach.

‘Honey, please, don’t,’ Mike pleaded, grabbing her arm as she pushed past him towards the bedroom.

‘Let go!’ she snapped, shaking him off as her anger overwhelmed her.

‘It’s not what you think,’ he called after her as she threw the door open.

‘Oh no,’ Marisa exclaimed at the sight of Adrianne standing awkwardly beside the bed, nervously smoking a cigarette. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing—her best friend!

‘You treacherous bitch, how could you!’ Marisa screamed at her before turning and bolting from the room. Adrianne didn’t say a word; what could she say? She looked down at the carpet, stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray beside the bed, and cursed herself.

Mike blocked Marisa’s exit at the top of the stairs as she fled towards them. He grabbed her by the shoulders.

‘Please, honey, let’s talk about it. She doesn’t mean anything to me. Nothing happened!’ She shook him off and stepped back, her eyes blazing with fury.

‘Oh,
please
, don’t give me that bullshit; I’ve heard it all before, remember!’

She drew her hand back and slapped him hard across the face. Mike reeled from the unexpected strike. She ran down the stairs, gulping for air as panic tore at her chest, making her desperate to get away from him.

‘Marisa, please!’ he shouted after her.

She looked back at him, his robe was undone, his cock flopping against his bare thigh, and she felt sick.

‘Now you can have as much
sex
as you want with
her
in
our
bed. No more chances, you lying bastard, we’re through!’ Marisa screamed at him while struggling to pull her coat on quickly.

‘No, no, it will never happen again, never! Please don’t leave me,’ Mike implored as he tied his robe and followed her downstairs.

‘Fuck off, Mike,’ Marisa said, slamming the door on her way out.

* * * *

‘Melanie, you will have to phone that dirty bastard and tell him to leave a key with Barry for you at the office. Please go and get my stuff out. I never want to see him again.’

Marisa paced up and down her sister’s apartment, tears blinding her. She blew her nose and crumpled onto the sofa, sobbing. Melanie put her arms around her.

‘Okay, hon, no worries. I will do it as soon as possible. He didn’t deserve you, he was a selfish prick.’

‘Yes, a rotten, selfish prick,’ Marisa mumbled. She sat up suddenly, her eyes wide with panic.

‘What am I going to do? I can’t go back to work, not with Adrianne in the same office.’ She collapsed on the sofa again as tears stung her eyes.

‘I wonder how long it was going on. Oh, I’m such an idiot,’ Marisa said. ‘I must be a total fool.’

* * * *

Mike paced his apartment, ringing Marisa over and over, but it went straight to voicemail. He rang Adrianne, who had made a fast exit after Marisa.

‘She won’t answer her fucking phone. Will you call her?’ he pleaded.

‘And say
what
exactly? She isn’t going to talk to me either!’

‘Okay, well, wait a day until she calms down, then try her again. Please tell her it didn’t mean anything, it was just the one time! Tell her anything.’

‘God, you really are something else. I despise myself for ever fucking you, and you’re not worth losing my best friend over!’

‘Why are you so pissed? It’s my relationship that’s ruined!’

‘Fuck off, Mike.’ Adrianne hung up.

* * * *

A week later, Marisa was still curled up on the sofa, eyes moist, watching daytime TV, eating Oreos, and pondering her future. She looked up from the screen as Melanie came in, looking excited.

‘Hi, honey, how you feeling today?’

‘Okay, you know…just thinking I’ve got to sort myself out. I can’t hide away in here forever.’

Marisa looked at her with puppy eyes while stuffing another Oreo into her mouth.

‘No, you can’t hide here forever. You’re costing me a fortune in cookies.’ Melanie snatched the box from Marisa’s hand. ‘Hey, it’s empty!’

‘Sorry,’ Marisa mumbled with her mouth full.

‘So, anyway, I was thinking; you know what you need, don’t you?’

Marisa blew her nose and pushed her hair back from her face.

‘What do I need? Apart from a new life.’

Melanie rummaged in her bag then turned to her sister, smiling broadly.

‘I’ve got something for you; I think it could be just the ticket,’ Melanie said excitedly, unfolding a cutting from the New York Times.

‘Here.’ She handed it to Marisa.

‘What am I supposed to be looking at?’ she asked.

Melanie stabbed the page with her finger. ‘There, the job ad in the box.’

‘But I
have
a job; I can’t seriously give it up, can I?’

‘Ah, but this job is in England,’ Melanie enthused. ‘I thought of you the minute I saw it. Just read it.’

Marisa’s interest ignited. She was a total anglophile. She had longed to go to England since she was a little girl. She read the advertisement, feeling a glimmer of excitement.

PA wanted for Businessman. Country estate in Buckinghamshire, England. Varied duties. Must have strong clerical skills and be willing to multitask.

‘Hmm, I could do that, I’m a PA, and I
do
want to go to England,’ Marisa said, the beginnings of a small smile playing on her lips. ‘Uh-huh, you could do it, of course you could. This could be a huge opportunity for you.’ Melanie clapped her hands in glee, pleased to see her sister smile at last.

Marisa took a deep breath and stood up. She walked to the window and gazed out. After a moment, she turned around and smiled for the first time in a week.

‘I’m going to do it. I’m applying for the job. I could go to England. I can do that. I would forget about that dirty cheater in no time.’

‘Yay, that’s the spirit!’ Melanie cheered. ‘Now, let’s have a drink and write the application letter.’

After several glasses of red wine, Marisa read the final draft of her application letter and asked Melanie to check it.

‘Yep, that’s good, really good. Professional, but friendly, and it has a really good tone.’

‘Okay, here it goes.’ Marisa hit the send tab.

‘Oh, my God, Marisa, you could be in England this time next month!’ Melanie shrieked.

‘I know...’ Marisa bit her lip, feeling overwhelmed but excited.

* * * *

Marisa was amazed to receive an email the next day, calling her to an interview in the Plaza hotel to meet her potential boss, a transatlantic businessman and a Lord nonetheless.

‘He is an aristocrat; I can’t believe it. Lord James St. John, what a mouthful!’ Marisa read the letter out to her enthralled sister.

‘Wow, that’s amazing, a real Lord,’ said Melanie, looking wide-eyed.

‘Oh, God, I have to get ready; they want me there at four o’clock today.’ Marisa ran to her room and rummaged in the wardrobe.

‘Did you get all my clothes from Mike’s? Where did you put my blue suit?’ she asked Melanie.

‘Should be in there, hon. I hung everything up.’ Melanie came to help her. ‘Here it is.’ She pulled out the elegant skirt suit..

‘Great, I’ll go and shower. I’ve got an hour to get ready. I‘ll have to leave by three, don‘t want to rush and be a sweaty beast by the time I arrive.’ She paused. ‘Oh, to hell with it, I‘ll take a cab. The subway’s no way to arrive in Fifth Avenue.’

Melanie clapped her hands and giggled. ‘I’m going to Google him. I want to see a picture of him, probably a grumpy old dude.’ She dashed to the lounge.

Marisa showered and dressed. Looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror, she smoothed her skirt down and adjusted her jacket. She felt really nervous.

‘Do my tits look too big in this?’ she asked.

Melanie looked away from the computer and rolled her eyes.

‘Don’t say tits in the interview, honey,
please
.’

‘Doh, of course I won’t! Did you find anything exciting?’

‘There’s no photo of him, but Jesus, Highcroft house is amazing! It says here it has twenty-five bedrooms. That’s not a house, it’s a freaking hotel,’ Melanie said.

‘Ooh, let me see.’ Marisa leaned over her sister’s shoulder, staring at the screen, wide-eyed. She was overwhelmed by the sight of the beautiful Georgian mansion set in sprawling, manicured grounds.

‘Oh, my God, it’s
huge
.’

‘It’s fabulous, I hope you get the job, I would love to come and visit you there! As long as you don’t have to clean the place, I’m not helping you do
that.
’

‘Don’t be insane; I won’t have to clean it. No, there will probably be cleaners, maids and cooks, a housekeeper, maybe even a butler.’

‘A butler?—No way!’

‘Yes, they all have butlers in big grand houses.’ Marisa giggled as she surveyed her appearance in the full-length mirror.

‘Will I do?’ she asked.

‘Oh, yes, you will
do
very well, Miss,’ Melanie said in a posh English accent.

‘Go get ’em, kid.’

* * * *

Marisa entered the grand lobby of the Plaza hotel and checked in at reception. The concierge directed her to the Oak Bar and told her to wait. She walked into the opulent grandeur of the vast Edwardian Art Deco room, gazing at the giant murals of central park covering the walls.

She sat down at a table with vibrant views overlooking Central Park and waited nervously. Marisa felt uncomfortable and out of place. She was a country girl born and bred in Texas. She was used to hanging out in fancy New York bars, and she had worked in some of the plushest corporate offices in Manhattan but had never been inside anything like the Plaza before.

Oh, well, if I get the job, I’ll have to get used to surroundings like these
, she thought.

She composed herself, anxious to make the best impression possible. She really wanted this; she needed the fresh start, the challenge. She needed to forget Mike.

‘Marisa Lowell?’ A severe-looking woman Marisa guessed to be in her early forties arrived at her table.

‘Yes, I’m Marisa, hello.’

She stood and took a step towards the formally dressed woman, her hand outstretched, and the woman grasped it, shaking it firmly. Marisa flinched, surprised by its coldness.

‘I’m Mrs. Reed, Lord St. John’s housekeeper and governess to his children. Please follow me.’ Marisa followed the woman towards the elevators.

They ascended to the ninth floor in silence. Marisa followed Mrs. Reed along the luxurious hallway towards a large door at the far end.

‘Lord St. John’s Suite,’ Mrs. Reed said as she knocked on the door lightly before opening it.

A strikingly handsome, dark-haired man stood from behind the desk as they entered. He was at least six-foot-two, his legs long and strong in beige chinos. He wore a smart, blue check shirt, gold cufflinks glinted at his wrists. His tie was silk, a beautiful shade of royal navy, and it matched his eyes perfectly. His startling deep blue eyes, fringed with heavy dark lashes, the most amazing eyes she had ever seen in her life.
Wow!

Marisa was stunned; she hadn’t even considered he would be young and handsome.

He smiled, and it nearly finished her off. He was so sexy it made her tremble. His teeth were pearly white and perfect. He was hot, he was masculine perfection.

She sucked her breath in as he strode towards her and thrust out his hand to greet her.

‘Hello, Miss Lowell, I’m James St. John, very pleased to meet you,’ he said, fixing her with his eyes. Marisa stared into them. She felt as though she were falling, such was the powerful effect he was having on her.

He flashed her a heart-stopping, sexy grin as he took her hand and shook it. His skin was soft and his grasp strong and firm. Everything about the man was gorgeous.

Marisa felt herself blushing furiously, her cheeks hot. His voice caressed her ears, so deep and masculine, and
that English accent, wow
. ‘Oh, my,’ Marisa murmured.

‘Excuse me?’ he asked.