Old Desires/A Stranger's Kiss (2-in-1 edition) (23 page)

‘Oh, no. You mustn’t do that!’ Tara exclaimed. ‘Promise me you won’t do that. Can you imagine the publicity?’

Beth pulled a face. ‘Perhaps it’s not such a good idea.’ Then she grinned. ‘Now I’ll be able to tell him you’ve left the country. That should head him off.’

‘Only if you refuse to tell him where I’ve gone. I wouldn’t put it past him to follow me.’

Beth laughed. ‘I wish I could inspire such devotion.’

‘No, you don’t.’ She wondered if Beth would think it quite so funny if she knew how close Jim had come to losing them any chance of working for Adam Blackmore. ‘It’s becoming something of a nuisance.’

Beth gave Tara a studied look. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing. I...’ She couldn’t possibly tell Beth her misgivings. ‘I just wish I didn’t have to go on this business trip. That’s all.’

‘Don’t be silly. I’ll manage here... Oh, I see. That’s not it. Has the stunning Mr Blackmore made a pass at you?’

‘How do you know he’s stunning? I never said...’

‘There was a piece in the Financial Times about him a few weeks ago. The photograph was a bit blurred, but it did its job. Don’t dodge the question. Has he?’

‘No. Well, yes.’ She lifted her shoulders in a hopeless little shrug. ‘To be honest I’m not entirely certain.’

‘I know you’re a bit out of practise, love. But it’s not usually that difficult to tell.’

‘It was almost as if he was testing me. Except...’ She shook her head. So why had he come racing to her rescue? She forced a reassuring smile. ‘He won’t do it again.’

‘Well, that’s alright then.’

Tara glanced at her partner, certain that she was having her leg pulled. ‘Yes. It’s strictly business.’

‘Of course.’

‘Will you stop doing that!’

‘Doing what?’

‘You know very well. Surely you don’t think I should have encouraged him?’

Beth pursed her lips. ‘That’s not for me to say.’

‘So why do I have the feeling that you’re going to anyway.’

‘I have no idea. At twenty-five you’re quite old enough to make up your own mind about whether or not to fall in love.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘There’s absolutely nothing ridiculous about falling in love. It hurts. You want it to stop almost more than anything else in the world. Except not stopping. Listen to the voice of experience.’

‘I know all about falling in love, Beth. What Adam Blackmore wants hasn’t anything to do with falling in love.’ Not the till death do us part sort of love. And that was the only sort she had ever been interested in.

Beth’s glance strayed to the photograph on the mantel. ‘You mean he’s not a half-grown boy. He’s a man and he’s not going to be content with holding hands and gazing into your eyes. Beautiful though they undoubtedly are.’ Beth shrugged. ‘So, take all sensible precautions and enjoy yourself. When he breaks your heart you’ll at least know you’re still alive.’ Tara’s face drained of colour and Beth leapt to her feet and took her friends hands. ‘I’m sorry. My mouth was talking before my brain was engaged. Again.’ Tara shook her head unable to speak.

‘I’d better go.’ She paused as if she would say something else, but changed her mind. ‘Don’t worry about the office. Everything’s under control.’

* * *

Tara was pretty well under control too. She was far too busy to worry about Adam’s motives during the next few days. He had at least stopped treating her like a useless junior and the workload before their trip had been so heavy that neither of them had had time to indulge in bouts of verbal fencing. Not that she was complaining about the extra hours. On the contrary, she welcomed the opportunity to demonstrate what she could do.

It was late on Monday evening when she took the completed sets of proposals into Adam’s office. He swung around from his computer terminal as he heard her and his forehead creased in a frown. He glanced at his watch.

‘What are you doing here? I thought you’d left hours ago.’

‘You said you wanted these tonight. I’ve just finished binding them.’

He glanced at the pile. ‘Very pretty. But tomorrow would have done just a well,’ he added, carelessly and apparently enjoyed the slight tightening of her lips which was the only outward sign of her fury. They both knew that their flight left before ten the following morning.

‘Have you had anything to eat?’

‘Eat?’ She repeated the word as if it was some strange foreign expression that she was unfamiliar with.

‘Apparently not,’ he said, a little dryly. ‘Good. You can have dinner with me.’

She backed off nervously, furious with herself for betraying by one syllable the effect his undiluted attention had on her. ‘It’s all right. Really. I have to get home and pack.’

He didn’t seem to hear her. Or if he did he ignored the words. He switched off the computer and came round the desk. If he saw her take a further step back he made no sign. ‘I’m glad you’re still here, in fact. I wanted to check over the last minute details of our trip, so you can call it a working dinner. I’m sure your boyfriend will understand. He can cook for himself tonight.’

‘If you’re referring to Jim, I can assure you that he cooks for himself every night.’

Adam having edged her up to the wall took her coat from the stand and wrapped it around her and then, his arm still draped casually across her shoulder, he led her across the hall and summoned the lift. ‘He doesn’t live in, then?’ he asked.

‘No, he doesn’t!’

‘In that case I’ll make sure our security people keep an eye on your flat while we’re away.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

Tara was too tired to argue. She had been working at full stretch for three days and all she wanted was to fall into bed. ‘Thank you.’

The lift deposited them on the first floor and they took the escalator to street level and entered the wine bar. The willowy blonde took their order and then left them alone.

‘Have you ever been to the Middle East before, Tara?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s interesting. The people are very friendly. Especially the men. It should suit you. You may even manage to pick up some — er — clients.’

Tara looked across at him. ‘How did you break your nose, Adam?’ she asked, finally.

He rubbed it thoughtfully. ‘It wasn’t an irate husband if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘No? I was rather hoping it might have been an irate secretary.’ She stood up. ‘There’s still time. I’m afraid you’ll have to eat both steaks yourself tonight, Adam. I’ve quite lost my appetite.’

She walked quickly from the restaurant and once outside broke into a run, desperate to get home, barely conscious of the tears pricking at her lids. ‘Damn him, damn him, damn him.’ She leaned against her door. Why on earth did he have to treat her like some sort of loose woman? She’d done nothing to deserve it. Only respond to the unexpected warmth of a stranger’s kiss.

She sniffed and hunted in her pockets for her key. It wasn’t there. Tara groaned. Of course it wasn’t there, it was in her handbag. And her handbag was standing on her desk, exactly where she’d left it when Adam had bundled her into the lift. She ran back down the steps and knocked on her neighbour’s door. There was no light and nobody came. She had already gone out for the evening and wouldn’t be back until late. She never was. So much for leaving her spare key there for emergencies.

‘This is an emergency!’ she shouted at the locked door, needing to vent her frustration on something. It was unmoved by her outburst.

With the utmost reluctance she retraced her steps along the street and lowered herself once more into the seat opposite Adam.

His confident smile mocked her. ‘Changed your mind?’

‘No, I haven’t. I’ve left my bag in the office. I haven’t got a key.’ He laughed. ‘It’s not funny,’ she said indignantly.

‘Yes it is. That the perfect — the infallible Miss Lambert should be human enough to forget anything is almost a relief.’

‘If you hadn’t rushed me out of the office...’ she protested, but he didn’t let her finish.

 ‘Never mind, the walk will have given you an appetite.’

‘I just want my bag, Adam.’

‘Then you’ll have to sit and watch me eat. Seems a shame.’ The food arrived. He hadn’t even bothered to cancel hers, so sure had he been of her return.

‘Are you going to keep me here against my will?’ she demanded.

He picked up his fork. ‘Certainly not. You are quite at liberty to do whatever you wish.’ His smile was infuriating. ‘I’ll bring your bag along later. When I’ve finished.’

She made one last appeal. ‘You don’t have to leave your meal. Just let me have your lift key.’

‘Well, now. There’s a switch. Usually you can’t get enough of my company.’

‘You are insufferable, Adam Blackmore,’ she hissed.

‘I know.’ There was a cynical twist to his mouth. ‘And I can’t tell you what joy it gives me to see you suffering so thoroughly. You were doing it so well, so nobly, that I was almost ready to forgive you. Such a pity to spoil it with that little outburst of temper. Now you’re going to have to start all over again.’

‘I have done absolutely nothing that you need forgive me for!’

‘No? Well, in that case you’d better put it down to simple envy. I had to work hard to get a start in business, Tara. I didn’t have a pair of big brown eyes and a mouth that could turn even an accountant’s head to win my way into the boardroom.’ Apparently satisfied that he had reduced her to wordless rage, he continued. ‘I’ll give you your chance. I’d have given you that if you’d just knocked on my door and talked to me. Everyone deserves that. But you tried to take a short-cut and now you’re going to have to work twice as hard to prove yourself.’

Tara blinked. She thought she was already doing just that. She knew it was too late to explain about Jim. Too late to explain about anything. It would only make things worse. She closed her eyes. How on earth could they get worse! But she had got herself into this mess and if the only way out was by sheer hard work, well, she had never balked at hard work.

She picked up her knife and fork. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal, Adam Blackmore.’

With the air cleared Tara found she could relax and enjoy her food. She sliced into the steak, suddenly very hungry indeed. Whatever Adam Blackmore did with Jane was no affair of hers; so long as he accepted that their relationship was on a purely professional basis she would be able to cope. Any lingering regret was futile. And throughout the meal she kept firmly on the subject of their forthcoming trip.

‘Why Bahrain?’ she asked, finally, allowing him to refill her wine glass. ‘It seems rather a long way to go to raise the finance for a manufacturing plant in North Wales.’

‘On the contrary. Offshore banking moved there in a big way when Beirut went to pieces. And there’s a lot of oil money looking for a good home.’

‘I thought it was all tucked up warm and cosy in snug little Swiss bank accounts.’ She giggled. ‘Or probably not so little.’

‘And what would you know about Swiss bank accounts?’ he asked, amused.

‘Oh, nothing. I have enough trouble keeping my High Street branch manager happy.’

This careless remark earned her a small frown. ‘You shouldn’t tell me things like that. It’s not good business. If I suspected you were desperate for work I might decide to pressure you on fees.’

‘You could try,’ she offered, impetuously. Two glasses of claret had considerably helped with the relaxation.

He subjected her to a long measuring look. She didn’t flinch, although it took a very great deal of willpower not to look away from the amusement in eyes that challenged her to a game of financial chicken.

‘You haven’t been in business long, have you, Tara?’ He knew exactly how long she and Beth had been in partnership, not quite twelve months. She had told him herself. ‘This recession must have been a blow and High Street banks are notoriously short in the wind when the going is tough.’ He spoke no less than the truth, but she managed to hold a smile and her tongue. She had already said too much. ‘I wonder how tough it is?’ He smiled briefly and her heart skipped a beat. ‘I could find out, of course. Cut your rates to the bone. But I’ll be generous.’ He sat forward and suddenly his face was far too close and instead of work she was concentrating on the deep lines etched down his cheeks and the way his mouth curved at the corners. ‘You can have all my business now, Tara, and go back to your safe little world down at street level.’

‘Yes?’ She waited for the coup de grace.

‘If you cut your rates by ten per cent.’

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her head. He had no need to be envious of her big brown eyes. He had charm enough of his own to distract and bemuse the unwary. But this was a game and she must smile too, laugh off an offer that might well have tempted her a week ago. Before she had worked for him. He would pay for what he had put her through. Every last penny.

She propped her chin on her hand, refusing to back away from his raking eyes. ‘Generous indeed, Adam,’ she replied, her voice loaded with irony. ‘And what are you prepared to forfeit in order to cover the reduction? Ten percent efficiency, or ten percent of the working day?’