An Autumn to Remember

By Tess Derbyfield

When the man he hired for the job turns out to be a woman, record industry hotshot Nicholas Blake would like nothing better than to show Bess Saint Clair the door. When Bess discovers her new client is a male chauvinist, she'd love to flip him the bird and walk. But he needs her talent and she needs his money.

Each is hell bent on teaching the other a lesson. Both are about to learn a lesson they'll never forget.

The debonair Nicholas soon proves to be a temptation Bess doesn't care to resist. Bess sets out on the most exciting adventure of her neat and tidy little life until her secrets are revealed, threatening to tear down all Nicholas has built.

Funny, tender and deeply sensual, An Autumn to Remember is a classy adventure romance set in a picturesque vineyard. Featuring Bones – a heroic dog with a sideline in sausage extortion – who is almost as human, and every bit as unforgettable, as Nicholas and Bess.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clever Pumpkin Pty Ltd
• Release date: Sep 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9780987178046

Book preview

Prologue

Elizabeth Saint Clair gazed into sublime blue eyes dancing with mischief.

Hello there, beautiful, he said softly, I thought you were going to sleep all day.  Do you know what the time is?

Hmm... I don’t know, she replied dreamily, nestling back into his shoulder for some more sleep.

Neither do I.  But you know what I do know?

Nope.

I know that Santa Claus is real.

Oh? she said, her eyes opening wide.  And how do you know that?

Because when I woke up, I found something nice.

Chapter One

Late.  Elizabeth raced through the airport as fast as her high heels and fitted linen skirt would allow, the despised word ringing in her head like a military cadence.  Late, late, late.

Ducking and weaving amid the throng of passengers on the concourse, she spilled from the airport terminal... only to be confronted by an empty taxi rank.

Furious horns jarred the cool morning air as a car launched across the median strip and hurtled towards her.  Elizabeth took flight on a shriek.  To her horror, the careening taxi mirrored her path.  Rocking on its suspension, the car stopped just short of running her over.

The one eye Elizabeth found the courage to open witnessed the tallest man she had ever seen emerging from the driver’s seat.

Good morning, he said pleasantly, as though he hadn’t almost just killed her.  Judging by your expression, you are a young lady who is very disappointed to be running late for a very important appointment.

Breaking into a broad, white toothed smile, he dipped down to pick up her suitcase.  May I be of service?

Elizabeth learned from the driver identification card on the sun visor that his name was Alan.  Each time they went over a speed hump and Elizabeth was launched from the seat, she got a clear view of it over his head before she bounced down again.

What’s your name, miss? Alan asked as they approached another speed hump.

E- she began as the front wheels hit, liz- then the back wheels, a- she gasped as the car became airborne, and then, as they hit the ground, beth!

Alan tossed his head back and bellowed with laughter.  That’s a funny name.  You make it sound like a sneeze!  Where to, Elizabeth?

Collins Street, Elizabeth replied.

The rich end of town it is!  Alan took the first turn out of the airport on two wheels.  And what waits for Miss Elizabeth on Collins Street today?

The chance of a lifetime, Elizabeth thought gravely.  I may have the chance to do some work for Falling Star Records...

I know that name...it’s high-end stuff, isn’t it?

It was true.  Falling Star was a small, fiercely independent label with a reputation for taking risks on talented new artists.

It’s run by that guy...

Nicholas Blake, she supplied.

He’s in the newspapers quite a bit, isn’t he?

He is.  And what the newspapers had to say about him was worrying the devil out of her right now.

He’s got a reputation as a bit of a big bad wolf, hasn’t he?  Maybe he’ll huff and puff and blow your house down.

Alan laughed, but Elizabeth couldn’t join in.  The stakes were too high.

There it is!  Alan, we’re on the wrong side of the road!

No problem.  The car careened across four lanes of oncoming traffic and rocked to a halt outside Falling Star Records.  Alan turned to face her.

Whoa!  What happened to your hair, girl?

Elizabeth stared at him.  You...

...are very late, he reminded her. 

Bolting from the taxi, Elizabeth charged through the revolving door and sprinted across the marble floor just as the elevator door closed with an officious ding!

Damn!

Double damn!  She ran back out through the revolving door.

Alan’s arm stretched from his taxi window, his fingertips dangling her forgotten briefcase, his upturned palm inviting her forgotten payment.  Maybe I should hold it for ransom, eh, Elizabeth?  And after all I’ve done for you! 

His laughter filled the air as she spun back toward the building.  Squealing tyres and protesting car horns spoke of Alan’s departure to deliver her luggage to her hotel.  She wondered if either would arrive in one piece.

Taking off her shoes and hiking her hem, Elizabeth bolted up the stairs.   She burst out the stairwell on the seventh floor, ran straight past Falling Star Records then realised her mistake and sprinted back.

Slowly, she pushed open the reception door.  Plush furnishings; warm lighting; soul music.  The desk was unmanned, the reception empty.  She took the opportunity to better her presentation.

Dropping her shoes to the floor, Elizabeth tossed her head forward and back then slipped her fingers through her hair.  Her crossover blouse had separated just a little, revealing a whisper of bosom. She gathered the pieces over her breasts then smoothed down her skirt, running her hands over her waist and hips.

"Please, please tell me you’re here to see me."  Broad shoulders in a suit, he lounged against the alcove windowsill, cloaked in shadow.

Startled, Elizabeth looked up.  I beg your pardon?

I said, please tell me you’re here for me.  Nicholas Blake emerged from the alcove, his voice promising laughter, his eyes telling a different story.  He regarded her intently, shadow and light playing across the planes of his face.

After all the running, everything was too still.  Suddenly parched, Elizabeth desperately wanted a glass of water.  I am, she managed to say.

You are?  His gaze travelled the length of her body. Then might I suggest you put your shoes on?

I took them off to run, she blurted, colour flooding her cheeks.  Her feet fumbled for her shoes as her hand sought the reception desk.  He caught it before it got there and held her steady.

Well now, he said, suppressed laughter warming his voice.  I think we know who I am.

The Big Bad Wolf.  Distracted, Elizabeth slipped one foot into a shoe.

That would make you Little Red Riding Hood.

Elizabeth froze.  I did not say that out loud.

It’s probably best if we pretended you didn’t.

Elizabeth made a chore of searching her other shoe out, waiting for the blush to pass.  His warm hand distracted her.  She hopped on one foot, steadied by a firm hand on her shoulder that was every bit as warm as the first.

You still haven’t told me who you are.

I’m Elizabeth Saint Clair, and I’m sorry I’m late.

"Elizabeth Saint Clair?  I was expecting James Saint Clair."  Nicholas Blake let go of her hand and stepped back.

There is no James Saint Clair – just me. I’m so sorry I’m late.  I can explain– 

Don’t waste your time.  We won’t be working together.

Just because I’m late?

No.  Because you’re a woman and a liar.

Involuntarily, she glanced over her shoulder.  As though he had read her mind, Nicholas demanded, Well, do you see anyone else here?

No.

So what does that tell you?

You were speaking to me but–

What did you think would happen?  That I’d take one look at you and let you away with lying to me?

Hey!  Elizabeth suspected there was backhanded compliment in there but it was more backhand than compliment. I’ve told no lies!

You look every inch a woman to me.

That can’t be a problem.

Not a problem, a policy.  I will not hire a woman–

"Number one: I did not lie to you.  Because of my business name, you presumed–"

Granted.  But you didn’t set me straight.

"I will not be accused of lying."

"And I do not hire women."

A petite blonde girl arrived and took her place behind the reception desk.  Elizabeth lowered her voice.  No?  It seems you make an exception for menial jobs.

The receptionist enquired brightly whether she could offer anyone something to drink.

Yes please. I’d be very grateful for a glass of water.

Don’t trouble yourself, Tracy.  Miss Saint Clair isn’t staying.  Then to Elizabeth, You.  In my office.  Right now.

He punched open a heavy swing door with the flat of his hand and waited.  It would seem she was expected to duck under his arm.  Elizabeth bobbed down then up again, trying unsuccessfully not to brush against him.  His billowing suit jacket beckoned her along the corridor.  He was so much taller than her that Elizabeth could barely keep up with him. 

Nicholas Blake closed the door behind her and propped against the front of his desk.  He considered her at length, the ice in his eyes robbing the heat from her bravado.

How do you think that young lady would feel to have her – very valued – role referred to as menial?

Her thirst was becoming dire.  Elizabeth’s head began to thud.  I–

And having described her thus, you would have her fetch for you, would you?

I was referring to your attitude, not mine.  Clearly you don’t mind women in non-threatening positions.

You don’t know the first thing about me.

Nor you I.

This ends here.  Miss Saint Clair, thank you for coming.  I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time.

You owe me an explanation.

I owe you nothing.

I ran in heels for you.

She would never know where it came from but it knocked him off his comfortable little pedestal.  Nicholas appeared to have stopped breathing.  Eyes darting all over Elizabeth’s face, he pushed away from his desk to stand upright. 

Are you serious?

Well, have you ever tried running in heels?

Then the strangest thing happened: dimples appeared in Nicholas Blake’s cheeks.  Sharp planes melted into soft, delicious curves; the smile caught his eyes, dancing opalescent flecks into life.  You’re something else, kid.  If you were a man–

We wouldn’t be having this conversation.  So you had better tell me why we are.

He leaned back against his desk.  Okay, in deference to that feat– his gaze dipped to her heels, let’s take this just a little bit further.  I do employ women and not just in entry-level positions.  I do not however, hire women for public relations.

Why not?

Because women fall in love too easily.

Elizabeth waited for the dimples to reappear.  They didn’t.  You’re not joking, she said. 

I’m afraid not. 

Let me get this straight.  You don’t hire women because you think they love too easily.

No, he said, leaning forward in emphasis of his words. "Fall in love too easily." 

With you.

Nice try, Miss Saint Clair, but no.  With our artists.  And I’m talking about stardust, not love.  Stardust that gets into everything.  The P.R’s eyes, then the P.R’s work...

I think I know where you’re headed.

Good, then I won’t need to spell it out.  He was already looking at the door.

That wouldn’t happen with me.

Nicholas regarded her with world-weary sophistication.  You have no way of knowing that.

Yes I do.  I could never make love with a man I didn’t love.  Then, as an afterthought: Not that it’s any of your business.

Interest warmed his eyes.  Elizabeth hoped she was seeing the temptation to yield, but just then someone knocked on the door.

Sorry Nicholas, I didn’t realise... well, hello there, beautiful!

Elizabeth spun around to face the familiar voice.  Nicholas glanced from one to the other.  Do you two know each other?

Blue-eyes answered. Not by name, no.  But a little while ago, we were blissfully asleep in each other’s arms.

And then everything went black.

When Bess came to, she was lying on a leather chesterfield, cradled against Nicholas Blake’s chest.  He called her name, but it wasn’t her name.

Bess!

Something slid along the hem of Elizabeth’s blouse.  Warm fingertips glided over her collarbone, followed by wonderful cool.

Elizabeth opened her eyes.  Nicholas Blake’s head was bowed over hers.  Her gaze traversed his eyes and lips before coming to rest on the acute angle of his jaw, just below his ear.

Bess, are you okay?  Resting his thumb against her jaw, Nicholas stroked her cheek.   She jolted fully into consciousness and tried to sit up but Nicholas held her still.

Quit it, Bess.  You need to lie down and cool off.

"I would very much like a glass of water please."

I’ll get it.  Just stay put.

Nicholas eased himself out from beneath her while Elizabeth closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing.  In a moment she heard running water and ice falling into a glass.

Where’s blue-eyes?

You mean Alex?

I can explain.

Not now.

She tried to sit up again, reaching with an unsteady