A Taste of Honey
Iris Leach
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
Copyright © 2012 by Iris Leach
ISBN 10: 1-4405-6054-4
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6054-5
eISBN 10: 1-4405-6055-2
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6055-2
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © istockphoto.com/EdgeofReason; 123rf.com
Michael. Thanks for all your support and love. I know I drive you crazy at times.
Chapter One
Courtship is a lost art.
“Are you okay, Charli? It’s a shock, but I didn’t know how else to tell you.”
Judy Jenkins’ voice bit into the sad confusion of her mind. “When did it happen?”
“Last night.”
She clenched her bottom lip. This was so sad. Grief tore at Charli’s heart. “Poor Mr. Knight. How did he — did he suffer?”
“His ticker gave out. He died in his sleep. He didn’t feel a thing, Charli. Just didn’t wake up, that’s all.” Judy came around her desk and gave her a warm hug. “Are you okay? You’re such a softie.”
She nodded. A thick knot caught somewhere in Charli’s throat. She couldn’t swallow. She was going to cry. She just knew she was. It was the shock. One moment she was joking and talking to Mr. Knight and the next he was gone. It was such an unreal sensation.
She looked over at his office door as if expecting him to poke around his head and say, “Any coffee, Charli?” Knowing full well she always had coffee percolating and iced buns in the stationery cupboard, a particular favorite of his.
“Was he alone?”
Judy gave a wry smile. “Only you’d ask that question, Charli. He was in bed and since I don’t think Mr. Knight had any love interest since his wife died, he was alone.”
She pulled herself erect. “Judy, you know what I meant. Was he alone in the house?”
“Yes, he was alone. His housekeeper found him this morning.”
She’d been so fond of Mr. Knight, and now she’d never see him again. It was too awful to bear. “He said he didn’t feel well. He complained of pain in the chest. I told him to go home and rest, but he wouldn’t. He said he’d be all right.” She ran her fingertips lightly across her brow. “I should have insisted.”
“Now don’t go and blame yourself. You couldn’t have known how ill he really was. Anyway he was bull-headed and always did exactly what he wanted.”
Tears dripped down her face. “He was a very private person.” She groped into her desk drawer for a box of tissues. Plucking one, she blew her nose loudly. “He always had time to listen to my woes.”
“He took a special interest in you; protective, like a dad would be, and he wouldn’t have a word said against you, no way.”
Charli smiled at the memory. Mr. Knight was considerate toward her. His greatest desire was to see her married to a nice man who’d look after her. He believed in the sanctity of marriage. The blessed union of one man and one woman until
death do us part
.
Get married, Charli, he’d said. It’s the only way to a contented life. And she’d smile and say she hadn’t met Mr. Right.
She was old-fashioned in her outlook on romance. She wanted to be courted like her father had courted her mother. She’d loved hearing the tales her mother told her about how her father had taken her out to dinner, bringing her chocolate and flowers. They picnicked at the beach and danced to a blues jazz band at the local dancehall. He wooed her until she fell in love with him, and he’d finally proposed and she’d gladly accepted. So romantic.
She didn’t expect a knight in shining armor on a white steed sort of thing, but a man who knew how to court a woman. How to make her feel special, assuring her that he’d do anything for her that was within his power.
“His work was his life.” Her eyes flew to Judy’s. “His work? What will become of the business now?”
“There’s a nephew, William Knight. I’ve heard he’s coming to take over the reins.”
“Does he know anything about publishing?”
“He runs a small publishing house in Darwin.”
Surprised, she said, “I didn’t know anything about that. Mr. Knight didn’t mention he even had a nephew.”
Judy was the office receptionist, and besides the fact that she’d been working here for years, what she didn’t know about everyone in the office wasn’t worth knowing. Mr. Knight always said that Judy had radar implanted in her brain. It focused in on all the office gossip. It wasn’t that Judy was malicious; to the contrary, she had a warm and giving heart. She was a natural born sticky-beak and loved to know everybody’s business.
“Don’t suppose he wanted to talk about it. The family was in shock for years.”
“Shock? What were they shocked about?”
“Over what happened to his nephew.”
Had William Knight taken a car on a joy ride in his youth? Or maybe tax evasion or failing to stop at a red light. “Something bad happened to his nephew?”
“Too bloody right it did.”
Her interest piqued. Charli leant forward and said, “Don’t leave out a thing, Judy. Tell me all.”
“Young Mr. Knight fell in love with his chief editor. They married, and a few years later, she ran off with his star author, taking half of his most popular writers with her. She started up her own business here in Melbourne. Might have heard of it. Powerful Press.”
“Yes, I have.” Charli loved gossip. What woman didn’t? “Tell me more.”
“Nothing more to tell. Young Mr. Knight struggled to keep his business afloat, and through hard decision-making and sheer business brilliance managed to do so.”
“This is so unbelievably juicy,” she said.
“He should have sued the pants off her.”
“Don’t be so pedantic, Judy. She was a witch with a capital B.” Charli placed a hand over her heart and said, “She broke his heart. Our Young Mr. Knight is sensitive and obviously very romantic.”
Would William Knight be a younger version of his uncle, short, slightly overweight, balding? Well, perhaps not balding, but hair receding slightly at the temples and forehead; a friendly man with a boisterous laugh and generous disposition who would visit the office twice, three times a week, just to keep his finger in the pie.
A beautiful vision came into her mind.
“Miss Honey, I need to express myself with my art and wish to lock myself in a turret and paint. So therefore I’m giving you a promotion and putting you in charge of running Knight Books. You are more than capable.”
A surge of excitement. This was her big opportunity, she just knew it.
“Ah, well, not my business.” Judy contradicted and Charli hid a smile. “Wanna do lunch?”
“That’d be great.”
“See you at one.”
Charli walked to her office window; the day was wet and windy as only Melbourne could be in May. She gazed out on to the multistory buildings. Everything must be perfect for the new boss. She would impress him with her professionalism; her efficiency; and, if he chose to stay at the helm, become his reliable right-hand.
In her mind’s eye she saw herself standing side-by-side with young Mr. Knight. They were staring off into the not-too-distant future. The wind was blowing through her hair, a look of grim determination on her face and his arm draped around her shoulders. No, no, too intimate. Shoulder to shoulder. Sort of like Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet in Titanic standing at the helm, or was it starboard? Their love much stronger than their fear of death. So romantic, she’d seen the movie four times.
Sighing deeply, she returned to her desk and made notes on a pad. Leaning back in her chair, she tapped her lower teeth with the end of a pen. Number one, she had to sort through Mr. Knight’s papers, and he wasn’t the tidiest of men, bluntly refusing to let her organize his desk when her hands were itching to do so.
There was a lot to do before his nephew arrived.
Would he, as she hoped, pass the running of Knight Books on to her, or would he have completely different ideas from his uncle on how to run the company? Either way, she could cope. She was a professional and knew the ropes. He would have to read her work reports and know how proficient she was and how she was an asset to Knight Books.
She threw the pen onto her desk. “Time will tell,” she said aloud. “Time will tell.”
• • •
William Knight sighed. He hadn’t quite come to terms with the loss of his uncle. Now it was only his mother and him. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d come to a decision. Leave Darwin in the capable hands of Stan McFee and take up the reins of Knight Books. He could think of no alternative.
Going back to Melbourne struck his quivering nerves like a snapped guitar string. He pushed his thumbs into the pits of his eyes and cursed softly. Darwin not being big enough for the two of them, Mavis’s words not his, she’d scurried off to Melbourne with Brad Wilde, his top writer, clinging to her side. She’d betrayed him both personally and professionally.
He’d fallen for Mavis’s dark beauty hook, line, and sinker. Taught her the ropes of running a publishing house, and, without warning, she’d started her own business and taken every worthwhile author she could with her. Charmed and armed, that was Mavis. Planned every move she’d ever made.
There’d be no escaping running into her at some time or another in Melbourne. How would he handle that ugly situation? Smile and a handshake, or snarl and turn his back?
Her stabbing him in the back didn’t happen immediately. It took years of clever planning, learning the ropes, ingratiating herself with everybody. Hell, even the cleaner loved Mavis and lit up like a Christmas tree every time she spoke to him. Come to think of it, he went with her too.
If she never gave him anything else, she’d given him a deep mistrust of women in business. He’d never work hand-in-glove with a woman again. He didn’t trust their soft smiles. The enticing lure that lay deep in their baby blues like a dangling worm to an unsuspecting fish. He’d learned a hard lesson and he’d learned it well.
He looked up as Stan McFee ambled into his office. He liked Stan very much and they’d become firm friends over the years. Often he had dinner with Stan and his wife, Lauren, a beautiful ex-model that men gave prolonged lustful looks. Will knew her as a woman whose life revolved around her family’s happiness. When they’d made Lauren, they had thrown away the mold. “All set to go, Will?”
“Yeah. Ready but not quite willing. Think you can handle things here, Stan?”
“You’ve asked me that question a hundred times.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” He flung his long frame into a chair, stretching out his legs in front of him. “So you know who you’ll be working with?”
“Charles Honey. And by all accounts, he’s one capable chief editor.” He glanced at Honey’s work reports. “Funny thing, Stan. He’s only temporary in the position. My uncle never made him permanent chief editor. No worries. I’ll tidy that up quick smart.”