Lovelink

Satisfaction not guaranteed…

To look at Vicky Lewis, no one would believe the willowy, red-haired owner of Lovelink matchmaking services hasn't had a date in months. The truth is, a broken heart drove Vicky away from home to set up her business in the quaint, low-key village of Brookleigh.

If it wasn't for Janice—her secretary—and her giant yucca tree named “Frank”, she'd have no social interaction at all. But then Marcus Foster storms into her office, furious over a match gone wrong that devastated his sister, Caroline.

Though his arrogance irritates her to no end, beneath his gruff exterior she senses a man who cares deeply about his family. And his blue-eyed, dark-haired good looks hint at dazzling warmth, should it ever be turned her way.

As Vicky investigates the reason Caroline Foster's match ended in shambles, she realizes things aren't adding up. If she can't figure out who doesn't want Lovelink to succeed, she could lose everything she's struggled to build…and any chance something between her and Marcus could grow into love.

This Retro Romance reprint was previously published in 1993 by Robert Hale, Ltd.

Lovelink

Tess Niland Kimber

Chapter One

Vicky Lewis slowed down and eased the car into second gear to take the sharp bend in the road.

It's a glorious day, she thought, as she approached the tunnel of trees.

At the base of the copse there was an old bridge, straddling the river, which gave the town its name of Brookleigh. Although she was a true “townie,” having only recently moved from the busy, noisy city of York, where she'd always lived, she never failed to appreciate the understated beauty of this area. It was an enchanting corner of southern England and even after living here for six months, she still found it delightful. Now in June, it was looking its very best with the early morning sun casting a dappling light through the greenery of the trees. It was one of those days when she felt glad to be alive. Sighing, she reflected how little she'd felt like that lately.

Her small whitewashed cottage, on the outskirts of the town, was about a five mile drive from the office, but she didn't mind the inconvenience of not living too close to where she worked. She found the drive enabled her to gather her thoughts, preparing her for the day ahead, which was always frantically busy. She liked it that way. It was true what they said—work could help you to forget. At least, for some of the time…

Humming to herself and tapping on the steering wheel in time with the music that poured out of the car stereo, she tried not to think about her business problems. It wasn't that the business was doing badly. On the contrary, it was proving to be even more of a success than she'd ever dared hope it would be. No, it was the chain of recent events which troubled her. A steady stream of complaints, bogus messages and strange deliveries.

Suddenly without any warning, she had to swerve to avoid a silver-grey Mercedes, which appeared virtually from nowhere and was travelling at breakneck speed, right in the middle of the narrow bridge. Wrenching the wheel sharply to the left, while at the same time slamming on the brakes, she just missed being clipped by the Mercedes.

“Roadhog!” she shouted, ineffectually as the crazy driver had long disappeared around the corner.

He probably hadn't even noticed her nor her evasive actions.

Vicky was shaking, but it wasn't only from fright—she was angry, too. He could have killed her! Just because he had a powerful, flashy car he obviously thought he could drive as he liked. Well, it just wasn't on. A few moments ago she'd been enjoying the scenery then she'd almost been involved in a frightening accident.

It wasn't as if she was an inexperienced driver; quite the opposite. She was used to negotiating the busy streets of York. But she hadn't expected to meet such dangerous driving in this relatively quiet area. It only went to prove you always had to have your wits about you, even when driving on country roads like these, she thought.

Starting the car engine again, which had stalled when she'd braked so violently, she wondered briefly who the driver could be. She'd not noticed the car around before and a Mercedes would have been very distinctive in these parts where par for the course was a durable Land Rover.

Although still feeling shaky, she continued on her journey to work and it wasn't long before she reached the quaint town of Brookleigh, famous for its small shops and twisting lanes. Indicating to the right, she turned the car into Cobbleton Road.

“Lovelink,” Vicky said, smiling as she drew into the side of the road and parked her red Metro car outside the office sandwiched between the library and the greengrocers.

She always took a few moments each day to study the fascia board over the smartly painted office. Her office. She still got a buzz from reading the words, in gold lettering, VICKY LEWIS—LOVELINK.

It wasn't smugness but a recognition of the long way she'd come. Six months ago her life had been in tatters. Now, through her own hard work, she was slowly getting back on her feet and, in some ways, she'd even improved her life. It was ironic really, that she should be running a dating agency…

Climbing out of the car, she changed her attaché case from her right to her left hand and locked the car door.

A witness to her entering the office would have been puzzled. What did this beautiful girl need with the services of a dating agency? Surely possible suitors were beating a path to her bedroom door all the time. At twenty-five with a thick, long mane of auburn hair, dazzling green eyes and a tall, slim figure, she more resembled an actress or a model rather than a lonely heart. It seemed the last thing she would suffer from would be difficulty in finding a date but what onlookers didn't realise was that Vicky was the owner, not a client, and therein lay a wealth of difference.

She unlocked the glass front door and let herself into the small but tastefully decorated room—the reception area, the room the clients saw first. Naturally most of them were nervous, not knowing what to expect on their first visit, so she'd made sure it was as relaxing and unimposing as possible, decorated in muted peach colours with huge grey sofas to sink into. There was also a profusion of flowering indoor plants and a fish aquarium, a world away from the usual hard plastic chairs and out-of-date magazines found in other waiting rooms.

Lovelink's image had been something she'd agonised over when she'd first bought the business. There's a certain stigma attached to using a dating agency; a stigma Vicky was anxious wouldn't be associated with her practice.

Just then the door burst open and a cheery voice called, “Hi, Vicky. Lovely day.” Janice Parker smiled.

In fact, she hardly did anything else except when she was really angry and then look out! A lot of the easy atmosphere at Lovelink was thanks to Janice, Vicky thought. She'd been lucky to find her. Jan was the receptionist-cum-secretary-cum-personal assistant.

At twenty-one years old, Jan had a bright, bubbly personality which matched her attractive looks to perfection. She'd huge, blue eyes and short, blonde hair which complemented her efficient, cool style. Vicky admired her conscientiousness and sense of ambition. She was a go-getter and Vicky realistically acknowledged that neither Brookleigh nor Lovelink would hold her attention indefinitely. But there was more than just a working relationship between them—they'd become firm friends in the six months Vicky had worked and lived in the area.

“Yes, it's a lovely day, but it's also going to be a hectic one if my appointment diary's anything to go by,” Vicky said, opening the door to her office where she interviewed clients and entered their particulars on the computer.

She was met, as usual, by her giant yucca tree, which she affectionately called, “Frank.” She'd had to move it into her office as it just wouldn't fit into her small cottage. “Deceptively spacious,” was only one of the descriptions the estate agents had used which she'd since proved to be an exaggeration.

“I'll go and put on the kettle. We'll grab a coffee break while we still can.” Jan disappeared from Vicky's office to the minute kitchen area at the end of the corridor.

Vicky smiled, amazed at Jan's constant good humour. She hardly ever let anything get her down and then not for long. She was someone Vicky could have done with earlier that year to help her through. It had been no good calling on her best friend, Gillian, for sympathy. Not under the circumstances.

Sighing, she banished the stirrings of any distressing thoughts from her mind. There was work to be done and the last thing clients wanted to see was the boss of a dating agency looking as if her heart was broken. If, indeed…

The shrill sound of the telephone interrupted her chain of thoughts and quickly switching off the answering machine, she picked up the call.

“Good morning, Lovelink. Vicky Lewis speaking.”

“Morning. Are you the manageress of that so-called business?”

The tone of the male caller was aggressive. She felt her hackles rise. Just what she needed first thing on a Monday morning. Fighting to be polite in return, she said, “Yes, I am. How may I help you?”

“I need to come in and see you. It's urgent.”

No doubt it was! If this man's attitude was anything to go by he'd absolutely no chance of keeping any self-respecting female. It wasn't a dating agency he needed but a behaviour therapist.

“Well, I'm sorry, Mr…”

“Foster. Marcus Foster.”

From the way he pronounced his name, it implied she should know him. Although the surname vaguely rang a bell, she was sure she had never had anything to do with this man before. But then again there were a lot of people on file and she couldn't remember all the two hundred or so clients' names she had on her books.

“As I was about to say, Mr. Foster, I'm afraid today is out of the question. I'm fully booked. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon at…”

“No, I'm sorry that just won't do. I have to see you today,” he said.

“Maybe I could send you an application form in the post.”

“For heaven's sake, I'm not interested in joining the agency. I want to make a complaint,” he shouted down the line.

Vicky felt a coldness creep over her. “In that case, I'll stay behind tonight and see you at say, six o'clock.”

With a gruff, “Yes, all right, six it is,” he hung up before she'd a chance to discover the nature of the complaint.

“What a rude man!” she said, aloud.

“Who is?” asked Janice, putting a mug of steaming hot coffee on the corner of her mahogany desk.

Vicky hadn't noticed her re-enter the room.

“Mr. Marcus Foster. Whoever he might be.”

Jan blushed slightly before saying, “Oh, him. Everyone knows Marcus Foster. He's the local racehorse trainer. Mind you, you've probably not come across him yet. He left for America just before you arrived here.” She picked up some papers from Vicky's desk and started leafing through them. “Wonder what he wants; he's not a client.”

She'd an excellent memory and often could be relied upon to supply Vicky with some detail about a customer before she'd time to consult the computer. If Janice said so, he wasn't a client—past or present.

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“To complain.”

“Another one,” Janice frowned.

“Yes,” Vicky nodded.

She was worried. The complaints were becoming more frequent. Almost an epidemic. “But I've no idea about what. He's coming in at six.”

“Better hope you finish on time,” Jan smiled, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

Vicky was notorious for running over time as she enjoyed talking to the customers so much. It was a bone of contention between them and Jan often ribbed her good-naturedly about it.

Hoping to change the subject, Vicky asked, “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Great. Keith and I certainly painted boring, old Brookleigh, red. I've hardly been in at all.”

Keith Manning, the local estate agent, was Jan's boyfriend. Being tall and dark, he was quite handsome but there was something about him which made Vicky uncomfortable in his presence and she secretly felt Jan could do a lot better for herself. However Keith Manning had done Vicky one good turn as it had been he who had recommended Jan for the vacancy of secretary at Lovelink when Vicky had taken over the business.

“How about you?”

“Quiet. I caught up on some paperwork,” Vicky said.

Janice pulled a face and then took a swig of coffee before saying. “You know what they say, all work and no play…”

“Yes, I know, makes Vicky a dull girl. You sound just like my mother.”

“Well, that's a first. I think that's the only time you've mentioned a member of your family. A real mystery girl,” Janice was smiling but her blue eyes held Vicky's unblinkingly.

Vicky froze. It had slipped out so naturally. She'd not really noticed. The guard was down and she suddenly felt very vulnerable. She knew she had to say something otherwise she'd look doubly suspicious.

“No great mystery. We're like a lot of families. Only get on when we're miles apart.” The lie stung Vicky's lips and she smiled, hoping to convince Jan.

“That's a shame. Mind you, I can never get a moment's peace from the hordes we've got indoors. I'd like a taste of your life for a change.”

Jan came from a large family and still lived at home.

She stood up then, saying, “Better go and sort out the mail before the rush starts,” as she disappeared in the direction of the reception area.

Vicky leant back in her leather swivel chair, cradling the mug in her hand, taking tentative sips of the steaming liquid. Didn't get on with her family. Huh! If only Jan knew the truth; if only she could tell the truth. But it was better this way—not so complicated.

Idly, she turned on the computer monitor and tapping in a few details tried to see if maybe Jan's memory had let her down for once and there was a Marcus Foster on file. She needed some pointers as to what type of person he was and what his criticism could possibly be. But the screen only revealed the message, “File not on record.”

Watching the flashing cursor, she began to daydream. This was worrying. If his objection was genuine that would be the third they'd had in the last two weeks. As yet she couldn't prove anything but she'd the uneasy feeling that someone was setting something up. She didn't know what or who was behind it. Maybe she'd find out some more later on when Marcus Foster arrived.

He really was a most arrogant man, expecting her to drop everything. How chauvinistic! As if her business couldn't possibly be important. If only he knew how busy she was. “So-called business.” She'd show him just how very professional Lovelink was. But his call had disturbed her. What was his complaint? He wasn't even a customer. Maybe he was just a busybody intent on spoiling her day, she thought. The type who delights in making trouble. But there was a nagging doubt at the back of her mind. She was proud of her business and cared about her clients. She didn't like the idea anyone had anything to complain about. Even if it was someone like the condescending Mr. Marcus Foster.