It surprised him that she’d chosen to confide in him. Normally she worked so hard to keep him at arm’s length. “You won’t be affected.”

She nibbled her lip. “I wish I could be so certain.”

Callum got the sense she didn’t share personal fears easily. “What makes you think that? You’re overqualified for that place, you’re diligent.” He leaned back. “And you cook like a dream.”

She gave him a quick smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ve stayed at the Goose because of the convenience-it’s close to home. But I’m the junior chef-and the other chef makes life hard.”

“I get it. You’re young. You’re good at what you do. And you probably don’t earn what he does. I’m not surprised you threaten him.”

Spreading her hands, she said, “Maybe you’re right. I’ve wondered if it’s that. But it doesn’t help that whenever there are accidents in the kitchen, Gianni always manages to blame me-even if I was somewhere else. Not to mention the times he tells Mick I’m late when I arrive bang on time.”

“You don’t need to put up with it. You could get a much better job if you wanted. In a place like this.” He gestured to the fine white linen and sparkling silverware on their table, then waved his arm to encompass the rest of the restaurant with its elegant high ceilings, bay windows and alcoves, and the ivory curtains draped in swags.

“Can I? There’s a cloud over my father. People remember scandals like embezzlement. They worry about the fruit not falling far from the tree.” There was no bitterness in her voice.

“You’d have references.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of a reference would I get?” Her expression was skeptical. “Gianni and the boss are friends-they even flat together.”

Callum resisted the impulse to tell her that he would supply a reference to any restaurant she chose. He suspected she’d rather do things her own way. “Then focus on the catering business that Adrian says you’ve always dreamed of. You’ve already made a start. Have you got a business plan?”

She nodded.

“I’ll look at it if you want.” He drew an envelope from his pocket. “Here’s a list of names with contact numbers of executives I know who would be more than happy to give you work. Go the whole way.”

Hesitantly she took the list from him, unfolding it to glance through the names. From her expression he knew that she’d recognized several of them as movers and shakers in the city.

“I’ve already contacted most of them to let them know you’ll be calling them.”

“It’s not that easy,” she protested. “I’d planned to ease in gradually, but times are hard. Even established businesses are failing, and I have responsibilities.”

Despite her confident façade, Miranda was afraid. Something inside him cracked a little. “The last name is an accountant who’ll be able to steer you through the pitfalls of running a small business-she’s an old friend of our family.”

There was an expression in her eyes he couldn’t read. Was she thinking of her family? Her father? Was she blaming him for how her father’s death had landed her in this position?

Again that smothering sense of guilt closed in on him. She shouldn’t have borne it all alone.

He’d tried to help-to ease the family’s precarious financial position and give Miranda and her brother some sort of education. And now he was determined to help her get her catering business off the ground. But nothing could bring her father back.

He reached out and closed his hand over hers. “Let me help you.”

She jerked away, clearly recoiling from the idea…from him.

He gave her a moment, then said, “You blame me for killing your father, so why is it so hard to let me sponsor you?”

“And make it easy for you? Throw money at the problem and your conscience is clean?” Her eyes sparkled with what he hoped was anger and not tears. “I don’t think so.”

He couldn’t bear tears.

“My conscience will never be clear,” he confessed.

She blinked frantically, then her shoulders slumped. “I wish Dad were here. Lately I’ve been wishing for that a lot.”

Her raw admission caused an ache to splinter deep in his chest. He again tightened his hand around hers. She started, but didn’t withdraw this time.

“I’m sorry, Miranda-more than you’ll ever know.”

Her eyes were full of anguished shadows. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

He glanced at the list. “Call those names. You’re going to be a success. And don’t think what I’m doing for you is unique. I often give someone a break. And that’s what we do with our company scholarships, too. Adrian’s got a real chance to get one of those. He’s hardworking and smart. No reason why he shouldn’t.”

Her eyelids lowered, veiling her gaze. “I appreciate your nominating Adrian. Now that he’s finished school, he’s going to have to think hard about his future.”

“He’s a big boy now. He has to make his own choices.”

Her lashes fluttered up and she gave him a rapid, indecipherable glance, then sighed. “You’re probably right. But I’ve been so used to looking out for him. Which brings me to something else I have to discuss with you tonight.”

“What’s that?”

“Flo.”

“Your mother?”

She nodded. “She’s been running up accounts all over the city. And the stores are letting her do it because they think you’re guaranteeing her expenditure. You need to write to them so it can stop.”

His fingers played with hers. “I can afford it.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Then I’d lose my self-respect. Please, Callum, let them know. I don’t want to be further in your debt. It’s going to be hard enough paying you back as it is.”

“You don’t have to pay me back.”

“Of course I do.” Cent by backbreaking cent.

A frown darkened his expression. “That’s not what I ever intended.”

“I know.”

“So why don’t you forget about it?”

She’d thought she could. But how could they ever move into any kind of relationship-even an uneasy friendship-if she owed him money? She’d forever feel indebted to him, some kind of charity case. She needed to be able to face him as an equal. The news that he’d broken up with Petra had caused her heart to leap. For a brief moment she’d entertained a wild hope of more than friendship…then she’d doused it.

She freed her hand from his. “I can’t.”

Originally it had been her hatred of Callum that had had her refusing his help. She’d wanted him to feel responsible-guilty even. But then she’d discovered he’d already spent so much she hadn’t known about-on her, on her family-because he really had felt guilty about her father. And clearly still did. It didn’t sit well with her that for almost three years she’d cursed him, hated him, wished that lightning would strike him.

Besides, if she accepted his money, Callum might view her in the same way that he must see her mother-pretty, but fundamentally a parasite.

“There’s an easy way around all this,” he said.

Nothing was ever easy. She gave him a suspicious look. “What?”

“We make a good team.”

Miranda snorted. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“The Christmas cocktail function was a huge success. People loved it. And it’s given me the opening to secure opportunities I’ve been trying to tie up for a long time.” He drew her hand back into his. “I need a hostess.”

It was part of the reason marrying Petra would’ve been so convenient. But he’d never desired Petra with this raw, physical ache.

“I was hardly a hostess. I just made the food,” she said dismissively.

He tipped his head to one side and considered her for a long moment. What was it about this woman that drew him? Even when he wasn’t with her, all he could think about was her. She was starting to consume him. “No, you did so much more than that. It was the little touches that made the evening memorable.” Even his PR officer had commented on the unique feel of the party.

He massaged her fingers and they went stiff beneath his. “You’re asking me to hostess your functions?”

“More than that.”

Suspicion glistened in her eyes at his throaty statement. “You’re asking me to be your mistress?”

“No!” Even he wasn’t fool enough to think she would accept such a preposterous proposition. But, God, he was tempted to ask. To have her in his bed, fulfilling his every desire…

Perhaps there was another option.

“So what do you want?”

Miranda had never been one to back away. So it was to be expected that she’d get to the crux of the matter. What did he want?

He lifted her rigid fingers to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on each fingertip, watching her eyes grow wide with shock.

“I suppose,” he said slowly, “I’m asking you to be my wife.”

Seven

“Your wife?”

Miranda’s lips parted in astonishment and her pulse picked up. Opposite her, Callum looked almost as startled by his proposal as she. Had he meant to ask? Or was this an impulsive mistake? Her brain worked furiously. Did his proposal have anything to do with his break-up with Petra? Surely it couldn’t. That had happened a week ago.

“Why on earth would you want to marry me?”

The corners of his mouth crinkled up into a heart-stopping smile. “Lots of reasons.”

So he had meant to ask. And at least he wasn’t insulting her intelligence by claiming to love her.

Tilting her head to one side, Miranda studied him. The tantalizing thought of hardheaded Callum in love was impossible to envision. He hadn’t loved Petra-even though she would’ve made him a perfect wife. Especially considering her father was a major shareholder in Ironstone Insurance. Callum and Petra came from the same world. Whereas Callum imagined Miranda’s father to be nothing more than a thief.