Novels by PENNY JORDAN - الصفحة 15

17-11-07, 01:27 AM

المشاركة رقم: 71

المعلومات
الكاتب:	Mai Ziyada
اللقب:	ليلاس متالق

البيانات
التسجيل:	Jul 2007
العضوية:	33118
المشاركات:	270
الجنس	أنثى
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كاتب الموضوع : نيارااا المنتدى : الارشيف

اقتباس :- المشاركة الأصلية كتبت بواسطة نيارااا
hiiiii Mai u r more than welcome but Mai i want 2 ask u something but i dont know how can i reach u i tried 2 send a privet message but i couldnt i think cauze u dont accept a privet message from anyone so i dont know what 2 do??????

Hi Nayara, I am really sorry for the inconvenience. It is only by mistake that I deactivated receiving private messages. It is activated now. But if you found difficulty in reaching me you can try contacting me on my gmail account: mai.zeiada@gmail.com

17-11-07, 07:35 AM

المشاركة رقم: 72

المعلومات
الكاتب:	نيارااا
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التسجيل:	Jun 2006
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المشاركات:	287
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كاتب الموضوع : نيارااا المنتدى : الارشيف

Past Passion

Past Passion

Synopsis

:

:

A one-night stand?

The party was crowded but Matt Hunt had noticed her straight away. She
was beautiful, innocent. and very young--too young to be taken
advantage of. So he'd taken her home, eased-off her shoes and let her
sleep.

Nicola Linton had never felt so ashamed. For years she barely looked
at a man. Then she met her new boss. But, apparently, Mr. Hunt did
not make the connection between the nervous eighteen-year-old who had
once shared his bed and his new, controlled personal assistant. And
Nicola had no intention of reminding him of the past.

CHAPTER ONE

As nicola climbed out of her small car, she smoothed down the skirt of
her neat suit before glancing anxiously towards the offices.

It was ten to nine, and the car park was almost full; today the new
owner of the company would be making his first official appearance.

Nicola had been on holiday when the shockingly unexpected negotiations
for the take-over of her employers had taken place, but her work mates
had been full of gossip about what had gone on.

It was well known locally that Alan Hardy, the owner of the small
building firm, had virtually lost interest in the business following
the tragic death of his son, but no one had expected that he would sell
out to someone from outside the area, to someone, moreover, to whom
apparently the acquisition of their small local company was merely
another addition to his growing business empire.

Her own job was safe enough, or so she had been assured. She had
worked for Alan as his secretary-cum-PA ever since she had returned
from the city over eight years ago, and very much enjoyed her work,
even though lately she had found herself having to double-check almost
everything her boss gave her to do.

Some of the staff were angered by the way Alan had kept the take-over a
secret from them;

she herself had known nothing of what was going on but, instead of
anger, she felt sympathy both for Alan and for his wife, Mary.

The death of their son in a car accident had destroyed their lives and
their hopes for the future. It was only natural that Alan should have
lost heart. lost interest in the business.

She sighed faintly to herself. She had been feeling reasonably
confident about her ability to work in harmony with her prospective new
boss, whom she had been informed would probably put a manager in charge
of the day-to-day running of the firm, only actually visiting them
himself once a week, so that in effect she would be working for the
manager he appointed; but over the weekend, Gordon,"her boyfriend, had
expressed unflattering doubts about her suitability as the right kind
of secretary for a high-flying entrepreneur.

His comments had made her angry, but she had suppressed her feelings.

Gordon was the kind of man who had a rather old-fashioned attitude
towards women. Nicola blamed his mother for that. She was one of
those women who, while appearing to be helpless and clinging, was in
fact extremely manipulative and domineering.

Depressingly, she was beginning to be conscious more and more these
days that the time she spent with Gordon often left her feeling
irritated and at odds with him.

They had known each other almost all their lives, although it was only
in the last two years that they had started seeing one another on a
regular basis.

At Christmas, Gordon had made noises about them considering getting
engaged, but she had avoided the issue.

The trouble was that living in such a small community made it difficult
for a single woman to enjoy a varied social life without the addition
of a male partner.

Single women over the age of twenty-five and under the age of thirty
were looked upon with a certain degree of suspicion by some of the
local diehards.

Nicola had her women friends, of course-girls she had been at school
with who had since married and produced families--and, if she was
honest, she preferred the fun she had in their company to the often
dull dates she had with Gordon.

Her mother had already commented rather drily that a lifetime of Gordon
might seem a very long time indeed, and Nicola was inclined to agree
with her, but Gordon represented respectability and old-fashioned
morality, and she had her own reasons for believing that she needed
those attributes m her life--that Gordon, no matter how dull and boring
he might be, no matter how difficult she might find it to get on with
his mother, was someone she was very, very lucky to have in her life.

As she walked towards the office-block, pleasantly acknowledging the
'good mornings' of the men in the yard, while ignoring the way they
looked at her legs, she reflected uncomfortably that, like her clothes,
her relationship with Gordon was part of her life--not because it gave
her pleasure but because it made her feel safe.

She was well past the men now, but just as she was about to open the
door to her office-block she heard one of them laughing.

Immediately her face flushed. She had no idea what might have provoked
their laughter; it might not even have been her, but the instant she
heard it she wanted to run. to hide herself away somewhere.

It was ridiculous, this burden she carried, which she could never allow
herself to put down, and all because of one mistake, one silly
adolescent error of judgement. It didn't matter how many times she
tried to reason with herself that that one mistake did not mean she had
to punish herself for the rest of her life; she had never been able to
put it out of her mind and ignore it.

In her moments of deepest despair and misery she even wondered if it
might not be worthwhile trying to talk to someone about it; but then
the old, familiar panic would come back, and she would remember how
hard she had worked to make sure that no one, but no one knew what she
had done, how hard she had worked to make sure that no one, especially
no man who looked at her, could ever, ever possibly think of her as the
kind of woman who.

She realised as she hurried towards her office that she was actually
physically trembling.

Of all days, why on earth did she have to pick today to start worrying
about the past? Today she needed to be at her most alert, her most
efficient, her most impressive. The one thing she had heard about the
new man was that there was no room in his organisation for the
unproductive or uncommitted worker. He had very high standards,
apparently, and expected those who worked for him to match them.

Needless to say there had already been a ground swell of mutterings
among the work force about the potential havoc he could wreak.

Nicola didn't need anyone to tell her that the firm wasn't very
productive, that its profits were very, very small indeed; or that its
work force was not efficiently deployed. that the foreman in charge of
the men often turned a blind eye to certain malpractices which were
expensive to his employers. The only reason they were still in
business was really because in this rural area they were the only
reasonably large builders around.

Their small market town served a large country area, and until very
recently there had simply not been the business potential to attract
any competition.

Now, though, things were changing; people were moving into the area and
buying up old property, empty farms and barns, and Nicola suspected
that, if they had not been taken over, a rival firm would soon have set
up in business, putting them into liquidation.

Many of the other employees, though, either failed to accept or did not
want to accept this, and consequently the fact that the firm had been
taken over was a cause of much resentment.

The new man had been described to Nicola as 'full of himself, a real
townee, smart as paint'.

Only a couple of her co-employees had had anything good to say for him;
one of them was her assistant, a pretty eighteen-year-old fresh out of
college, who had told her enthusiastically that Mr. Hunt was really
good-looking for someone so old, and that, if it wasn't for her Danny,
she might have quite fancied him.

Nicola had laughed a little at this. She knew from what Alan had told
her that Matthew Hunt was, in fact, not yet thirty-five years old.

Not just what one would expect, was how Alan had described him.

"A

shrewd businessman, but unconventional. "

He certainly was shrewd. Her own father had confirmed that. He was in
banking in the City, preferring to commute to and from his office
rather than to live somewhere more urban, and it had been he who had
filled Nicola in with all the background details of her new employer's
professional life. Not much was known about his private life other
than the fact that he wasn't married.

One of her own married friends had teased her about this, remarking,
"Well, he can only be an improvement on Gordon. Heavens, Nicki,
love!

He's so boring it just isn't true. I mean, these days we all know that
there's more to a good and enduring relationship than world-shattering,
exciting sex. Real reliability is one thing, but Gordon is another.
And as for his mother. "

Nicola had been forced to laugh. Anna wasn't known for her tactful
ness and tended to say what she thought. Nicola hadn't been offended;
she knew that her friend meant well although, as far as she was
concerned, the idea of her new boss as a possible source of new romance
in her life was completely out of the question.

And anyway, from what she had heard about him, he was the kind of man
who no doubt liked the women he dated to be of the high-profile,
physically attractive type, which she most certainly was not.

As he hurried into the cloakroom, she gave her reflection a hasty,
disapproving glance in the small mirror.

She wasn't very tall, five feet four, with a slender frame, delicate
wrist and ankle bones. From her mother she had inherited her fine pale
skin and her dark hair, and from her father her surprisingly deep blue
eyes.

It was an unusual combination, and one which, together with the
delicacy of her facial bone- structure and the soft, feminine fullness
of her mouth, earned her second and even third glances from
appreciative males.

Those members of the male sex who knew her, though, soon learned that
the apparent sensuality of her face and figure were not borne out by
her manner.

"Repressed' was how some of the more unkind ones described her,
generally after their advances had been rebuffed. Others, less
critical and with out a wounded ego to add malice to their comments,
said she was rather quiet and withdrawn.

Nicola knew quite well what men thought of her. She didn't mind,
though; in fact, she preferred them to think of her as prim and
unavailable. Once things had been different. Once she She swallowed
hard, snatching up her bag and heading for the door. It was five to
nine and she had far more important things to worry about than the
past.

Later she was to wonder if she might not in some odd way have been
touched by precognition-by an awareness that logic and reason had
refused to allow her to entertain. But that was later, when it was
much, much too late for her to take evasive action. for her to listen
to the warnings the airwaves were carrying to her.

Although all the legal requirements of handing over the business had
now been satisfied, Alan, her boss, was actually physically handing
over control to Matthew Hunt this morning.

There was going to be a small, brief ceremony when he introduced him to
the rest of the staff, and this ceremony was scheduled for ten
o'clock.

It had been her suggestion, and one which had caused Alan to ponder and
consider before agreeing that it would perhaps be a good idea.

When she opened the door to the small office she shared with Evie, the
younger girl was already seated at the switchboard. She smiled warmly
at Nicola when she walked in and, jerking her head towards the inner
door, told her, "Alan arrived a few moments ago. He doesn't look too
good. I offered to make him a cup of coffee, but he refused."

Unlike her, Evie was wearing a brilliantly coloured T-shirt teamed with
a pair of equally bright shorts. Her blonde hair was caught up on the
top of her head in a cluster of untidy curls, and the bright fuchsia
plastic earrings she was wearing clashed horrendously with her scarlet
lipstick.

The two of them could not have presented more of a contrast, Nicola
recognised wryly.

Evie at eighteen looked as bright and colourful as a parrot, while she,
at twenty-six, in her plain navy suit, her crisp white blouse, her neat
beige tights and navy pumps, her hair cut in a classic shiny bob,
looked as dull and plain as--as a secretary ought to look, she told
herself firmly, ignoring the faint lowering of her spirits that
comparing herself with Evie suddenly brought her.

"He hasn't arrived yet," Evie told her conspiratorially.

"I wonder what kind of car he drives... Something big and posh, you can
bet--probably sporty, too. He's certainly going to perk this place up
a bit... Danny was saying last night that we'll see some action now."

Danny, Evie's boyfriend, worked for the firm as well, as a trainee
carpenter. His clothes were almost as colourful as Evie's, although,
like her, he was an enthusiastic and hard worker.

Collecting the post, and pouring Alan a cup of coffee from the jug
which Evie had just made, Nicola walked through into her boss's
office.

Her heart sank as she saw him. These last two years since his son's
death had taken their toll.

He looked what he was--a man who had lost all purpose and motivation in
his life. Nicola also suspected that he had begun to drink more than
was good for him. There was a drawer in his desk which was always kept
locked, and sometimes when she walked into the room there was a sour
sharp smell of alcohol on the air.

She felt heart sore for him, only able to guess at how it must feel to
have suffered that kind of tragedy.

Tom, his son, had been twenty-two years old and just on the point of
leaving university. He had been an intelligent and well-liked young
man, and the accident which had killed him had been so meaningless that
it was no wonder Alan was even now unable to accept what had
happened.

The driver of the other car had been drinking. had crossed the centre
of the road, to plough right into Tom's car, killing both Tom and
himself outright. There was no easy way for any parent to accept
something like that, and now the business which should have been passed
on to Tom had been sold to someone else.

"I've called a meeting of the work force for ten o'clock," Nicola
reminded her boss as she put down his coffee in front of him.

"Luckily the men are all working locally on the house in Duke Street,
and although we're paying them for it I've arranged that they will take
an early lunch-hour to attend the meeting..."

The contract for renovation of a house just outside the town centre,
work they were doing for a local estate agency which was moving from
its existing modern premises to this much older and far more attractive
property, carried stiff penalty clauses for failure to meet time
requirements. Privately Nicola thought that, in view of the notorious
tardiness of their foreman, the penalty clauses were going to make the
contract unprofitable to them, and suspected that in accepting it Alan
was betraying just another indication of how Tom's death had affected
him. When she had first come to work for him, he had had his finger
firmly on the pulse of the business, with everything under his control.
Now things were different, and she often found she was gently having to
point out to him various pit-falls in the contracts they took on,
almost to the point where she was often the one redrafting the
contracts to make sure that they were actually going to be profitable
to them.

The only place which could accommodate all of the firm's employees was
an empty storage shed adjacent to the office-block, and it was here
that the staff were going to gather to officially meet their new
boss.

From the window of her office, Nicola had a clear view of the yard and
of everyone who came and went in it, and so at ten to ten, when a
battered looking Land Rover was driven noisily into the yard, she gave
vent to a small sigh of exasperation.

A potential client, much as his or her business was needed, was not
someone who could be properly dealt with right now, with their new
owner about to arrive at any moment.

The Land Rover was mud-splashed and had at one time or another been
involved in some kind of minor accident. It looked very much like any
local farmer's vehicle.

It stopped right in front of the office-block and the driver got out.

He was tall, with broad shoulders encased in a windbreaker jacket, his
jeans dusty and well- fitting, a pair of battered trainers on his feet.
His hair was thick and dark, not black, more a rich, warm brown,
growing a bit too low into his collar. His hand, she saw as he slammed
the Land Rover door, was brown from constant exposure to the
elements.

And then he turned his head, and in doing so caused Nicola's entire
world to turn upside-down, her body frozen with shock, her entire
life-force numbed by the sight of him.

No. It wasn't possible. it couldn't be possible. It was a mistake.

She was wrong. It couldn't possibly be the same man. After all, it
was all of eight years ago . and she had only seen him then in the
half-light, and only on that one occasion. But it was him. She knew
there was no mistake. knew there could be no way she would ever make a
mistake about a thing like that. And besides, she hadn't only
recognised him with her eyes, but with her senses as well, each one of
them reacting betrayingly to him. each one of them remembering. She
shuddered inwardly, wanting to close her eyes, wanting to block out his
image, odd, panicky flashes of memory swamping her. Men when drunk did
not make careful or considerate lovers--that was received opinion.
They were careless, thoughtless, unskilled and lacking in awareness of
their partner's needs or wants. That was what one always heard, but
he--this man--had been different. had left her-She shuddered again,
causing Evie to stare anxiously at her and ask, "Are you OK? You've
gone dreadfully pale." She came over to Nicola's desk, and then, as
her attention was caught by what was going on outside, commented
excitedly, "That's him... The new boss... Matthew Hunt. He's arrived
then... You'd better warn Alan."

Matthew Hunt? This was Matthew Hunt? Nicola had to grab hold of her
desk to keep her knees from buckling beneath her. Impossible! It
couldn't be. It must not be. Matthew Hunt. Her new boss. The same
man who. She swallowed hard as the full horror of the situation hit
her, her mind in complete turmoil as she sought frantically for
something to hold on to, something to stop her from drowning in her own
terror.

What if he recognised her? What if he. But no. That was impossible.
He had only seen her the once, her hair had been longer then, and she
had just had that dreadful disaster of a perm which had left her
looking like something out of a horror film. She closed her eyes,
shuddering deeply, trying not to remember how she had looked that
night. the dress she had worn, bought in a fierce, reckless mood of
defiant misery. the make-up she had put on. the way she had behaved.
No. He wouldn't recognise her. Her own parents wouldn't have
recognised her. Her heartbeat was returning to normal, her body still
tense, wary. She could hear Evie excitedly telling Alan that Matthew
Hunt had arrived.

Any minute now he would be walking into the office--his office. When
he did she must be ready. prepared. She must-She took a deep
breath.

The office door opened and he stood there, looking at her.

It shocked through her, as he studied her, how familiar everything
about him was, right down to the piercingly intelligent way he was
watching her. just as though he was somehow not quite a part of the
general run of the human race. as though somehow he was elevated from
it. superior.

She remembered how she had noticed that about him that night that and,
of course, his spectacular good looks, his very obvious maleness.
"Miss Linton?"

It was a statement, not a question, and she responded to it
automatically, saying a little shakily, "Yes, I'm Nicola Linton, Mr.
Hunt."

The smile he gave her wasn't kind or warm.

"Make it Matt," he told her coolly.

"Outdated lip-service to respect, when it's sycophantic and not
genuine, isn't something which appeals to me..."

His comment shocked her out of her personal terror, making Nicola stare
and frown.

He hadn't recognised her, she knew that, but it was evident from his
manner towards her that he was not well-disposed to her. Her eyelashes
flickered defensively; she knew she was not popular with the male work
force, who made fun of her behind her back and laughed about her
primness, but better that than She swallowed hard. This man was going
to be her boss. Unless she gave up her job, which she did not want to
do, she was going to have to find a way of getting on with him. Jobs
weren't easy to come by out here, and she had no wish to commute to the
city, and certainly no wish to move there. Whatever had caused his
antipathy towards her, it certainly wasn't the past. She was safe from
that horror, at least.

As she made some inane comment, she was aware of being in a state of
intense shock, of speaking and moving automatically, as a means of
defence, while really all she longed to do was to turn tail and run
just as far and as fast as she could from the man watching her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alan coming out of his office.

Evie beamed enthusiastically at Matthew Hunt, who gave her a
surprisingly warm smile.

A sensation unlike anything she had ever experienced before seemed to
pierce right through Nicola. It was like being stabbed, and she almost
gasped out loud with the shock of it. To her disbelief she realised
that the obstruction clogging her throat felt like a hard ball of
tears. Tears, when she hadn't cried since--since she was eighteen
years old. Evie's age. But at Evie's age she hadn't had one tenth of
her confidence, her belief in herself as a woman . a person, even.

She turned away, blinking rapidly, clenching her hands and gritting her
teeth as she" willed herself to control her stupid reaction.

Tears because a man treated her with coolness and uninterest while
smiling warmly and appreciatively on Evie. Why, for heaven's sake?

Especially when the man in question was this man. Hadn't she lea mt
anything from the past?

Hadn't'all these years of living with the burden of her own guilt
taught her anything--anything at all?

"It's almost ten o'clock. I believe we have a meeting to attend...1
want to keep it as short as possible. There's a good deal of work to
be done, and I've got a meeting in the City this afternoon..."

Silently Nicola walked towards the door. Her legs felt horribly weak,
her head as though it were stuffed with cotton wool. As she reached
the door, Matthew Hunt opened it for her. She made to walk past him,
her body tensing, the fine hairs on her skin standing up on end as she
drew closer to him. He was watching her closely. She could feel tiny
beads of perspiration breaking out on her skin, but she refused to give
in to the dangerous urge to him her head and look back at him just to
make sure that she was right that he hadn't realised. recognised. And
then mercifully she was through the door, with Evie behind her, Evie's
high heels clattering on the wooden floor.

All through the meeting she found it impossible to concentrate on what
was going on.

Matthew Hunt, their new boss!

Even now she could hardly take it in. Matthew Hunt, their new boss,
was the same man who. "Are you sure you're OK?" Evie pressed her.

"You still look dreadfully pale."

"I'm fine," Nicola lied hollowly.

"Just fine..."

She said much the same thing to her mother later in the day when she
returned home from work and was asked how her first meeting with her
new boss had gone.

It wasn't true, of course. All day she had been desperately conscious
of the fact that Matthew Hunt was watching her, assessing her.

"She felt anything but fine. She suspected, from the questions he had
subjected her to during the day, that he believed she had taken far too
much of the day-to-day running of the firm on to her own shoulders, and
he had given her the impression that under his control the company
would be very, very differently run.

She could have explained to him that it had not been any desire for
self-glorification or self- importance that had motivated her; that she
had acted simply out of compassion and concern-but pride had kept her
silent. Pride and a certain bitter stubbornness. He had misjudged her
once before, and now he was doing the same thing again, and it made not
one bit of difference that on both occasions, for different reasons,
she was really the one who had been responsible for his
misconceptions.

A new manager would be appointed to take over the running of the
company by the end of the week, he had told her; until then, Alan would
remain in charge in an advisory capacity.

Matthew had only stayed a handful of hours but, by the time he had
left, Nicola had felt as wrung out and exhausted as though she had
worked intensively and without sleep for a full week.

There was no doubt that professionally he was both dynamic and very,
very well-informed. She could understand after listening to him just
why he was so successful, but his success, his dynamism, weren't the
root cause of her tension.

And she could hardly tell her mother just what it was about him that
disturbed her so much.

"Oh, by the way, Gordon rang. He said to tell you that he had to
cancel tonight. Apparently his mother isn't feeling too well."

Heroically her mother managed to keep her voice light and uncritical,
but Nicola already knew her parents' opinion of Gordon and her
relationship with him. They had been going to play tennis this
evening, but she was not sorry their date was cancelled.

"I think I'll have an early night," she told her mother wanly.

"I feel rather tired."

"A good long walk would do you more good than an early night... Too
much sleep can cause depression," her mother told her firmly.

Nicola managed a weak smile. Her mother was always forthright and open
in her comments unlike Gordon's mother, who was exactly the opposite.

"Maybe you're right," she agreed.

"I am, and what's more you can take that fat, lazy dog with you," she
told Nicola.

Both of them looked at the placid labrador warming herself in front of
the Aga.

Nicola laughed again.

"I see. It's not me who needs the walk, it's Honey..."

"It will do you both good," her mother reiterated firmly.

A couple of hours later, leaning on a gate studying the pastoral view
in front of her, Nicola reflected that, while physically the walk might
have done her good, mentally. She glanced down to where Honey was
lying at her feet.

Until today she had thought she had put it all behind her; that the
past was the past and that she was safe from it. Now she knew she was
wrong.

It had been at her own insistence that she had left home to work in the
city and to share a flat with three other girls from college. Her
parents had thought her too young, but had given way when she'd pointed
out that at eighteen she was legally an adult.

She had found a job with a firm of City architects; she had been the
youngest girl there. She had felt shy and out of place with the other
girls,

who were all in their twenties and who to her seemed so sophisticated
and worldly. And then she had met Jonathon.

Jonathon was the son of the firm's head partner. He was being groomed
to take over his father's position. He was twenty-six years old, tall,
fair-haired, all smooth charm. She had been dazzled by him. awed and
bemused, and of course she had fallen in love.

Naively she had believed he had fallen in love too, and then had come
the fateful day she had overheard the conversation which had changed
the whole course of her life.

Nicola closed her eyes and gave a deep shudder.

In front of her the peaceful view had faded, and once again she was
standing in the small, dusty stationery-room at Mathieson and Hendry

17-11-07, 07:42 AM

المشاركة رقم: 73

المعلومات
الكاتب:	نيارااا
اللقب:

البيانات
التسجيل:	Jun 2006
العضوية:	7129
المشاركات:	287
الجنس	أنثى
معدل التقييم:
نقاط التقييم:	43

االدولة

مدونتي

الإتصالات
الحالة:
وسائل الإتصال:

كاتب الموضوع : نيارااا المنتدى : الارشيف

Chapter two

Chapter two

'of course I'm not interested in her, sweetheart. How can you even
think it? "

Nicola froze. She had recognised Jonathon's voice instantly, and the
shock of hearing him speaking to someone else in that soft, caressing
voice she thought he kept specially for her, the shock of hearing him
addressing someone else as 'sweetheart', held her rigid where she was,
the copy paper the head of the typing pool had sent her to get clasped
tensely in her arms as she stood rooted to the spot.

Jonathon was standing in the corridor, just outside the
stationery-room. Obviously he had no idea she was in here, but Susan
Hodges knew. She must have known because she had been there when Mrs.
Ellis told Nicola to come and get the copy paper.

"Well, you've been taking her out," she heard Susan saying now.

"Only because you weren't available, my sweet. Oh, come on, honestly
now. Can you really imagine that I'd be interested in someone as
sexless and boring as that dull little prude? Heavens,

she doesn't even know how to kiss properly. Not like you! "

Nicola heard the sound of laughter, followed by the unmistakable sound
of two people kissing.

She felt both sick and angry at the same time, so desperately unhappy
that she had to clench her fists to stop herself from crying, and so
furiously angry both with Jonathon and with herself that if she had had
to confront him right now she would probably have hit him.

How stupid she had been to believe that Jonathon actually liked her,
respected her, loved her, when in reality he and Susan Hodges. Susan
Hodges, the office bimbo, the pretty, pouting blonde who always wore
her clothes just that little bit too tight, who always seemed to giggle
just that little bit too loudly and for too long.

If anyone had told her that Jonathon was involved with Susan she would
have denied it instantly and immediately, claiming that Susan simply
wasn't Jonathon's type.

How naive she had been.

"So you won't be taking little Miss Prim and Proper to the party
tonight, then, will you?" she heard Susan saying to Jonathon.

He laughed.

"Hardly. I bet you've got something spectacular to wear, haven't you,
Susie? Something stunning and sexy...?"

"You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"

Susie replied provocatively, adding, "Of course, you could always come
round to my place and have a private view..."

They were both laughing as they moved off down the corridor. Inside
the stationery-room, Nicola remained frozen with misery.

It was true that Jonathon had not specifically invited her to partner
him at tonight's party to celebrate his father's birthday, but she had
assumed. had believed. She had even bought herself a new dress for
the occasion. She had bought it at the weekend, having enlisted the
advice and support of her mother, anxiously determined that Jonathon
shouldn't be ashamed of her.

The dress in question was prettily understated, in dark blue velvet
with a neat round collar and long sleeves, and suddenly, bitterly she
knew that in it she would look just as sexless and boring as Jonathon
had claimed she was. Tears blurred her eyes. She felt sick with shock
and a bitter, burning rage, possessed by a need to show Jonathon--to
show everyone--that she was not the dull, boring person they obviously
all believed her to be, that she could be just as exciting . just as
glamorous . just as desirable as the Susans of this world.

Later she was to wonder if she had been overcome by some kind of mental
instability to have reacted the way she had; certainly she had never
done anything like it before, and nor was she likely to do so
afterwards.

All she could think was that the pain of knowing what Jonathon really
thought about her, the trauma of coming down off her cloud and crashing
painfully hard back to reality, had mentally unhinged her in some sort
of way.

The celebration of the fiftieth birthday of the firm's main partner was
a major event within the small City firm. A room had been hired at a
very grand city-centre hotel for the occasion. There was to be a
buffet meal followed by dancing and, although she had tried not to show
it, Nicola had been nervously excited about the event ever since
Jonathon had started taking her out.

Both his parents would be there, of course, and his sisters, and in her
cloud-cuckoo dream-world she had somehow or other envisaged herself
being introduced to them. sitting with them. being accepted by them
as Jonathon's girlfriend. Now abruptly she was realising how idiotic
those day-dreams had been and, in some sort of confused way, she didn't
know now whether she hated Jonathon or loved him. All she did know was
that she was determined to show him just how wrong his cruel comments
had been, just how desirable she could be. Much, much more desirable
than the likes of Susan Hodges.

All the staff were being given the afternoon off in order to prepare
for the party. It was almost lunchtime now and, just as soon as she
was sure that Jonathon and Susan were out of earshot, Nicola emerged
from the stationery-room and hurried back to the typing pool with the
copy paper.

For what was left of the morning Nicola's thoughts were very far from
her work. She was mentally busy making plans, taking decisions and,
just as soon as she was able to do so, she collected her coat and
hurried out into the street.

The firm's offices were right in the centre of the City, in the banking
and business area, within easy walking distance of the shops.

Thanks to the prudent teachings of her parents, Nicola already had a
healthy bank-account balance, and luckily when she'd come out this
morning she had brought her cheque book with her.

There was a hot, burning sensation in her chest, a fiery, driving sense
of determination motivating her, pushing her. Without giving herself
time to hesitate, she rushed into the very modern hairdressing salon
which had recently opened close to the office.

It wasn't a bit like the hairdressers at home-no pink, no frills, the
decor all stark greys and blacks, the walls adorned with huge,
blown-up, unrecognisable photographs which she presumed were of
hairstyles.

The receptionist behind the desk had very short, very shocking pink
hair, and a supercilious stare.

Before she could change her mind, Nicola told her what she wanted. Ten
minutes later she was confronting the stylist, who was asking her
thoughtfully, "You are really sure about this...?"

Nicola could feel herself starting to bristle, sensitively knowing what
he was really saying--that he couldn't see someone as dull and boring
as her sporting such a modern, innovative hairstyle. "If you can't do
it..." she challenged.

He frowned at her.

"Oh, I can do it, it's just that it is a radical change." He gave her
an odd look, and said quietly, "Look, it's none of my business.. but
you really do have very pretty hair. A little bit old-fashioned
maybe--straight hair isn't really in right now--but to have it all per
med..."

Nicola gritted her teeth. She knew exactly what she wanted and she was
determined to have it. She remembered seeing the photograph in the
salon window on her way to work a few days ago. In it the model,
dark-haired like herself, had sported a mass of tumbled, wild curls
that had given her--even to Nicola's innocent eyes--a sexuality that
virtually hit the onlooker between the eyes. No girl . no woman with
that kind of hairstyle could ever, ever be described as dull, boring.
and certainly not as sexless.

"I want it," she told the stylist desperately.

Three hours later, staring at her transformed reflection in the mirror,
she felt her heart sink. She scarcely recognised herself, and as for
what her parents would say. Was her face really so tiny, so small that
it looked swamped by the heavy mass of her hair, its volume virtually
trebled by the intensity of the perm?

The stylist was watching her gravely, but she refused to let him see
how shocked and dismayed she felt.

Gravely she studied her reflection, ignoring the pallor of her face and
the hugeness of her eyes.

Equally gravely she paid the bill and collected her coat.

Once out in the street she felt oddly queasy and light-headed, but she
ignored this feeling, heading for one of the nearby department
stores.

The girl in charge of the trendy make-up counter she headed for pursed
her lips and studied her critically when she told her what she
wanted.

"Red lipstick, yes definitely red lipstick... with your mouth it will
look terrific. The look this year is for pale skin, so you're in luck,
but we'll have to do something to bring out your eyes."

Half an hour later, Nicola emerged from her hands and fought against
the impulse to run her tongue over her lips and lick off the gooey
lipstick that felt as though it was plastered on them inches thick.

As she caught sight of herself in a nearby mirror, she did a
double-take, barely recognising the wild-haired creature with the dark
eyes and glossy, pouting mouth as herself.

Sexless was she? she asked herself grimly as she took the escalator up
to the clothes department.

Firmly she ignored the section where she would normally have shopped,
heading instead for the store's more 'way-out' clothes.

"Minis are back in," the assistant told her when she explained she
wanted a dress for a party. And she was lucky enough to have the legs
to take them. and the figure to wear the stretchy, clingy number in
eye-popping purple crepe, which she assured Nicola was an absolute must
for any girl hoping to be taken seriously as socially acceptable among
her peers.

It was the same angry wave of bitterness and pain that had carried her
into the hairdressers that carried her back to the flat armed with her
new purchases and her new image, determined to prove to Jonathon just
how wrong about her he was.

When she got back she discovered that she had the flat to herself.

Her shopping had taken rather longer than she had anticipated, and all
she had time for now was a very quick shower and a bite of food.

Despite all her care, the bath seemed to leave her hair looking even
more wild and tangled than it had done when she'd first left the
salon.

She eyed it uncertainly, wondering if perhaps the perm hadn't been just
a little bit too much of a change, and then sternly forced herself to
remember Jonathan's cruel condemnation of her. No one looking at her
now would consider her sexless, would they? She looked . and looked.
A little uncomfortably, she decided she wasn't quite sure what she
looked like, other than it wasn't really herself. It took her a good
hour and several unsuccessful attempts before she managed to reproduce
something approaching the sales girl's artistically applied make-up.
The blue kohl pencil certainly did make her eyes appear an
extraordinary colour, but she still wasn't sure that quite so much
lipstick-Sternly reminding herself of what this was all about, she
ignored her own feelings of discomfort and struggled into her new
dress.

It was odd how something so insubstantial could make her slender body
appear positively voluptuous, even if she wasn't quite sure that purple
really was her colour.

There, she was ready.

Even the driver of the taxi she had booked to take her to the party did
a double-take when she opened the door. She lifted her head a little
higher and gave him what she hoped was a cool stare.

Just wait until Jonathon saw her. So he thought she was dull, did
he?

Dull and boring and sexless. Well, tonight she was going to make him
regret every single one of those unkind criticisms.

It was only when she was paying off the taxi driver outside the hotel
and seeing her fellow employees arrive in groups, even worse, couples,
that she realised that the very best way to show Jonathon just how
wrong he was about her would be for her to turn up at the party with
another man. But the problem was that she didn't know any other
men--not here in the city--and certainly none of her male friends at
home could hold a candle physically to Jonathon.

He was so very good-looking, so very sophisticated, so very charming.
A charm that meant nothing--nothing at all, she reminded herself
bitterly, ignoring the startled look of recognition from one of the
other girls from the typing pool who was approaching the main doors to
the hotel just as she stepped towards them.

"Nicola? It is you, isn't it? Heavens! Is that... is that a wig?"

she asked Nicola uncertainly.

"No, it's a perm," Nicola told her shortly.

She had never particularly liked Lisa. She was another blonde like
Susan Hodges. Nicola's chin tilted defiantly as she saw the way the
other girl was studying her appearance. Her male companion was staring
at her as well, Nicola recognised, and he was staring at her in a
manner with which she was not familiar. It made her feel both
uncomfortable and uneasy, but she ignored these feelings, concentrating
instead on the cruelty of the words she had overheard earlier in the
day.

The foyer of the hotel was busy with people coming and going. A board
just to one side of the reception desk had written up on it which
functions were taking place in which suites, and it was easy for Nicola
to find her way to the suite where their own party was taking place.

In point of fact she was familiar with the layout of the hotel, having
eaten there and attended several functions with her parents over the
years.

The gloomy dimness of the room made her blink a little when she first
entered it. Individual tables had been set up around the small dance
floor and she quickly headed for one occupied by some of the other
girls from the typing pool.

All of them commented on the change in her appearance, but only one of
them was unkind enough to remark that she was surprised to see her
turning up on her own.

"I thought you'd be coming with Jonathon," she added pointedly.

Now Nicola was glad of the gloom. She turned her head away and
shrugged her shoulders, feigning nonchalant uninterest.

But uninterest was the last thing she actually felt when Jonathon
walked in with Susie on his arm.

The two of them seemed to take a long time to walk across the room.

Jonathon never even looked in her direction, Nicola noticed
dispiritedly, but Susie certainly did, her eyes widening a little as
she took in Nicola's altered appearance.

Let her stare, Nicola thought defiantly, giving her head a bitter
little toss. Let them both stare. She was determined that, before
tonight was over, she was going to make Jonathon eat his words,
although it was becoming increasingly obvious to her that if she was
actually to achieve this objective what she really needed was to have
some other man paying attention to her, making it plain that he did not
consider her either dull or sexless. And not just any man. It would
have to be a very special kind of man, the kind of man who--Her eyes
widened, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at the man who
had just walked into the room.

Unlike the other male guests, who were all wearing formal suits, this
man was dressed casually, his soft blue shirt open at the throat, his
jeans clinging to his thighs.

"Wow! Just look at that!" one of the other girls at the table giggled
appreciatively.

"I wonder where he's come from.. "

"Who knows? But one thing's for sure... He won't be staying long--not
dressed like that."

"Wanna bet?" another of the girls commented drily.

"He just happens to be one of our most important clients. I knew he'd
been invited, but I don't think anyone actually thought he'd come..."

Behind her the girls were giggling and chattering excitedly about the
newcomer's good looks, but Nicola wasn't paying very much attention.

A waiter came round with a tray of champagne cocktails. Although
normally she didn't drink, Nicola took one, and gulped thirstily at
it.

The champagne tickled the back of her throat and made her cough a
little, but the delicious warm feeling that spread through her stomach
after she had emptied her glass was undeniably pleasant.

She felt better, too. stronger, more confident, more determined than
ever to show Jonathon just how wrong he was about her.

That she also felt decidedly wobbly when she stood up to accept a
second cocktail from another waiter was something she decided to
ignore.

It was just nerves, she told herself firmly. Just nerves. After all,
no one, not even someone who never drank, could get drunk on two
champagne cocktails--could they?

One of the girls got up and announced that she was going to the bar.

She asked Nicola what she wanted to drink and, unsure of what to ask
for, Nicola quickly repeated the order given by the girl sitting next
to her, although not entirely sure what a "VAT' might be.

When the drinks arrived, the odd, oily aftertaste of hers was a little
strange, but nevertheless good manners made her empty her glass.

Jonathon and Susie weren't sitting with his parents, she noticed
woozily as she searched the room for them. Jonathon was in fact
talking to the man in jeans while Susie simpered up to him, batting her
eyelashes and smiling. He was, Nicola recognised dreamily, far, far
better looking than Jonathon. He was also far, far more masculine than
Jonathon, and a tiny, delicious tremor of sensation suddenly and very
shockingly ran through her at the thought of being held against that
hard, male chest, of being touched by those very male hands.

Without even thinking about what she was doing, she got to her feet,
ignoring the muzzy, dizzying sensation in her head and the odd weakness
in her legs.

She walked unsteadily across the floor, and as she approached their
table she saw the way Susie clutched possessively at Jonathon's arm,
her eyes widening, her scarlet nails digging into his jacket.

Jonathon had seen her now. She saw the shock register in his eyes as
he looked at her, and immediately a pleasurable rush of warmth and
triumph ran through her stomach. She gave him a pouting smile. the
kind of smile she had seen Susie use so often, and then she tossed her
head, so that her wild mane of curls bounced everywhere. The motion of
tossing her head had, she realised uncomfortably, made her feel rather
sick.

"Hi, Jonathon." She ignored Susie, closing the gap between Jonathon
and herself so that she could look up into the jeans-clad stranger's
face.

"Would you like to dance?"

She could see the shock in Jonathon's face. hear the outrage in
Susie's gasp, but she didn't care--why should she? She was going to
show Jonathon just how wrong he was about her; she was going to show
him that she was desirable, sexy . that men did want her.

The man was looking at her now, an extremely odd expression in his
eyes. For a moment, as he studied her, they hardened and became so
cold that she actually flinched, tears threatening to blur her own eyes
as through the fog of alcohol and misery engulfing her she realised
that, despite all her efforts, he did not find her attractive--that he
was in fact going to reject her. She put a defensive hand up to her
face, and started to move back from him, her cheeks flushing with guilt
and humiliation. However, before she could move away his hands came
out and circled her wrist, stopping her. She stared at it in
confusion. She had never realised that it would be possible for a man
to hold her so lightly and yet so securely. He wasn't exerting the
slightest bit of pressure on her skin, and yet she knew that if she
tried to pull away those lean fingers would tighten around her bones
like manacles.

Shocked awareness cleared the drink-induced fuzziness from her eyes as
they focused on his and saw the relentless, determined glittering in
their grey depths. Too stupefied to resist, she stayed where she was,
bewilderment following shock as she wondered why she felt as though she
had suddenly stepped off the edge of the earth.

Was it the champagne cocktails? She pressed her free hand to her
stomach uneasily as she heard her captor saying coolly to Jonathon,
"Please excuse us. It seems the lady wants to dance..."

Despite the fact that she could hear no trace of irony of emphasis in
his voice, she still flushed at the sound of the word 'lady'.

"Ladies' did not dress the way she was dressed tonight ... they did not
wear the kind of makeup she was wearing, and they certainly did not
approach strange men and ask them to dance.

She half hesitated, nervously conscious of a tremor of doubt churning
her stomach, of a desire to escape not just from her captor, but from
the entire situation she had created, and then she looked at Jonathon
and saw the transfixed way in which he was regarding her, and saw also
in his eyes a look of mingled anger and caution. He was annoyed
because she was dancing with someone else, she recognised immediately,
and not only was he angry, he was also afraid of saying so--afraid of
challenging this man standing at her side for the right to dance with
her.

He was, she realised on a fierce thrill of awareness, if not jealous,
then certainly resentful of the other man's presence at her side.

It was working, she recognised shakily. It was actually working. her
hair, her clothes, her make-up were not, after all, the disaster she
had begun to think; they could not be, could they, if they were making
Jonathon see her as a desirable woman--as someone he did not wish to
see dancing with another man.

Elation filled her. She turned to her captor and gave him a dazzling
smile. His eyes widened again before his glance flicked away from her
to Jonathon and then back again.

"See you soon," she heard him saying to Jonathon, and then, somehow or
other, without her being too sure how it had happened, she was on the
small dance-floor and in his arms, swaying against him in time to the
slow, hypnotic beat of the music.

In fact the way he was holding her felt so comforting and safe, and the
pleasant heat coming off his body made her feel so warm, that she was
almost tempted to close her eyes and. She gave a small, cat-like yawn,
and half stumbled as she missed a step. Instantly the arms holding her
tightened.

"I think the proper place for you right now is bed, not a dance-floor,"
she heard him saying in her ear.

Muzzily she lifted her head from his shoulder and stared at him. It
had happened, she had been right. Men didn't care about the sort of
person you were. only how you looked. It had to be true, otherwise
why was this man, who had never set eyes on her before tonight, telling
her that he wanted to go to bed with her, when, in all the months she
had been working in the typing pool, only Jonathon had even asked her
out, and then he had not made any real sexual overtures to her? And
she knew why. Because he thought her sexless and boring. Well, if he
had just heard what he this man had said to her, he wouldn't think so.
Triumph filled her blood with a warm, singing heat which, mixed with
the alcohol she had consumed had an electrifying effect on her
perceptions and reactions.

Recklessly ignoring the inner voice warning her to be careful, she
stopped dancing and looked up at him.

"Well, if that's what you want," she told him breathlessly, 'and if
you're sure you don't mind leaving so soon. "

^LeavingT Nicola frowned at the sharpness in his tone, her eyes clouded
and puzzled as she looked at him.

"Do you live very far out of the city?" she asked him politely.

"Only I do have to be at work in the morning, and..."

"Nicola, why don't you come and join me and Susie...?"

Her frown deepened as she realised that the music had stopped and that
Jonathon was standing next to them. She hadn't even seen him leave his
table, never mind walk across the floor. Without even knowing she was
doing it, as he reached out to touch her she drew back from him,
instinctively pressing herself closer to her companion.

Since she was looking at Jonathon, she was unaware of the quick frown
that touched the other man's face as he watched the small tableau being
played out in front of him.

A drunken teenager, offering him her body, was the very last thing he
wanted right new. And, for all her make-up and that impossible hair,
she looked as though she was little more than a baby.

If he left her here in her present state, though, he'd be leaving her
to the mercy of Jonathon or another of his type. His mouth twisted
cynically. She might be a little idiot, but she definitely didn't
deserve that.

"Too late, I'm afraid, Jonathon," he interrupted smoothly.

"I'm afraid that Nicki and I were just about to leave..."

Nicola gave him a startled glance. He had called her Nicki. Only her
family and friends at home did that--and saying that they were leaving.
There was no need now--not now that Jonathon was here and wanted
her--but, before she could say anything, those lean fingers were
gripping her arm, and somehow or other she discovered that she had been
turned around and had her back to Jonathon, and that she was being
escorted very firmly across the floor.

"Do you have a coat?" she was asked when they reached the door.

She shook her head in bemusement.

"Pity..." she thought she heard him saying wryly as he glanced down at
her dress.

"Jonathon," she protested huskily, trying to turn round.

"Forget him. He's not the one for you," she was told firmly.

"Now come on, let's get out of here."

A tiny shock of fear ran through her. He was obviously impatient to
make love to her. Her body suddenly went very cold. What was she
doing leaving with this strange man? What if.

But if she went back now without him, Jonathon would know that he was
right that she was dull, and and boring . and sexless.

Her captor took her down to the underground car park, still holding on
to her arm as he unlocked the door to a sleek Jaguar convertible,
almost bundling her into it, and then fastening the seatbelt around her
and closing the door before going round to the driver's side and
getting in beside her.

The car smelled luxuriously of leather, and something else something
alien and exciting. It took her several seconds to realise that the
smell was him. When she did, she flushed and shivered, causing him to
frown at her and demand, "Look here, you're not going to be sick are
you? Because if you are..."

She shook her head.

It was true that she did feel slightly queasy, and that her head did
ache dreadfully, but she was most certainly not going to be sick. What
she really wanted to do, she acknowledged, as he drove out of the car
park and into the dark city streets, was to go to sleep.

No sooner had the thought formed than she was leaning her head back
against the headrest and closing her eyes.

"Right, now, if you just tell me where you live..."

Silence. Matt frowned and turned his attention from the road to his
passenger, his frown deepening as he recognised that she was deeply and
completely asleep. That she was, in fact, sleeping like the child she
was. How much had she had to drink? Enough to make her a danger both
to herself and to others. If he had had any sense he would have left
her where she was. Someone there would have made sure she got home
safely; or would they?

He had an early flight in the morning, and she really was an additional
problem he didn't need. The trouble was, though, that he had an
overdeveloped sense of responsibility. He suspected it came of having
three younger sisters.

Grimacing to himself, he acknowledged that it really was too late to
turn the car round and dump her back at the party, especially with a
wolf like Jonathon Hendry cruising around. The easiest thing he could
do would be to take her home with him, put her to bed in the spare
bedroom, and then evict her first thing in the morning before he left
for New York, when hopefully she would have sobered up enough to
realise how potentially self-destructive her behaviour had been.

He made one more attempt to wake her up,

knowing before he did so that he was wasting his time. It was true,
she did open her eyes and focus vaguely on him, but they closed again
before he could even say one word, and he could tell from the way her
body slumped against him that she was already deeply asleep once
again.

17-11-07, 07:46 AM

المشاركة رقم: 74

المعلومات
الكاتب:	نيارااا
اللقب:

البيانات
التسجيل:	Jun 2006
العضوية:	7129
المشاركات:	287
الجنس	أنثى
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كاتب الموضوع : نيارااا المنتدى : الارشيف

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

nicola opened her eyes and stared anxiously around the unfamiliar
bedroom.

It was decorated in shades of grey and white, with a plain Roman blind
at the window. The bed she was in was large, the bedding white and
crisp, the duvet grey and white striped. She knew immediately that
this was not a woman's bedroom, and panic shot through her; she
struggled to sit up and then gasped in fresh shock as she realised that
all she was wearing was her briefs.

She had no idea where she was or why. The last thing she could
remember was being at Jonathon's father's birthday party. She had been
dancing with someone. Someone. Her body stiffened, frantic stabs of
enlightening memory piercing the grey fog that covered the previous
evening's events.

She remembered drinking the champagne cocktails, seeing Jonathon with
Susie. seeing him-She groaned out loud and then shuddered. What on
earth had she done?

What had he, the strange man she had left the party with, done?

She shuddered again. She wasn't that naive.

There could have been only one reason she was here in his bed this
morning. The facts were selfevident.

There was a terrible wrench of nausea in the pit of her stomach, an
ache in her head that made her feel as though someone had kicked it;

and yet surprisingly there was nothing else--no unfamiliar aches, no
real awareness that last night she had crossed the final frontier that
separated the child from the woman . no memories of the man who had
been her lover, other than those she had of the events preceding their
departure from the party.

As she sat tensely in the middle of the large bed, trying to overcome
both her physical nausea and her mental and emotional self-disgust, the
bedroom door suddenly opened.

In the daylight he seemed even larger than she remembered. He had
obviously just had a shower, because his hair was slicked back and
still wet, his skin still showing faint traces of moisture. He had a
towel wrapped around his hips. His body was hard and muscular, a
shockingly masculine dark arrowing of hair bisecting his torso.

He was, she saw, carrying a mug of something hot, but as soon as he
approached the bed she instinctively shrank back from him, clutching at
the bedclothes and watching him with terrified eyes.

"So you're awake... Just as well since I have to leave in half an hour.
I'll drop you off on my way to the airport.

I've brought you some tea. If you want any aspirin, there are some in
the bathroom cabinet. "

He was so matter of fact, so casual. She could feel her own face
starting to burn as he sat down on the edge of the bed and it depressed
beneath his weight.

She could smell the sharp lemon freshness of his soap, see the smooth
sheen of his jaw where he had just shaved. His skin looked firm and
tanned, the sight of his body making her tremble and then shudder as
she tried not to think about last night, about how he must have-"If you
want to be sick..."

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip in an agony of
self-mortification. He was so obviously used to this sort of thing,
while she. There was a mirror on the wall opposite the bed. She
caught sight of their reflections in it. No wonder he had thought she
might be going to be sick, her face looked so pale, an unpleasant shade
of greeny-white. She frowned, suddenly realising something, her
fingers touching her bare face.

As though he realised what she was thinking, he told her drily, "I
washed it off."

She went from white to red and shuddered, all too conscious of
everything else he must have done while she had been too drunk to be
aware of it.

Revulsion rose up inside her, not just for herself but for him as
well.

How could he. how could any man make love to a woman while she
virtually had no awareness of what was going on? But then, men weren't
like women. men were different, dangerous, and if she was honest with
herself she had encouraged him to think--to believe. She had started
to tremble. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him reaching towards
her. Immediately she arched her back to avoid him, her eyes betraying
her feelings.

Matt frowned. Surely the little idiot didn't actually think he had.

He wasn't sure whether to give her a good telling off or burst out
laughing. Did she really honestly think. He remembered how small she
had felt when he'd carded her in from the car . how trustingly she had
snuggled up against him. How vulnerable she had felt when he stripped
off that appalling dress and then her tights, before washing her face
clean of her make-up and tucking her up in his spare room. He had, in
fact, treated her as matter-of factly as though she had been one of his
sisters, and now she was looking at him as though he was a potential
rapist.

It would have served her right if he had taken advantage of her, he
decided grimly, looking at her; and, if she carried on behaving the way
she had done last night, that was exactly what would happen to her.

It didn't take much intelligence to work out what had been going on.

The silly little idiot obviously had some kind of crush on Jonathon
Hendry.

More fool her. Now there was a man who would have used the situation
to his advantage without a thought for the consequences. He could see
how terrified she was, and what she thought. He opened his mouth to
reassure her, and then paused. Perhaps he ought to go on letting her
think the worst. She looked so scared and shocked that, if he did, it
might just be enough to shock her into reverting to what he suspected
was her true character, and never behaving so foolishly again. It
would in some ways be a cruel thing to do . but, if it stopped her
from behaving with another man the way she had behaved with him last
night, in the long run he would be doing her a favour.

And so, instead of telling her the truth, he put down the mug, and
reached across the bed, his hands on her shoulders, as he held her
firmly and asked, "What's wrong? You weren't like this last
night..."

He actually felt the shudder that went through her, and saw the
sickness in her eyes, but he hardened his heart against his compassion
and reminded himself that this was for her own good.

"I didn't disappoint you, did I?" he added, murmuring, "I know it was
your first time, but you seemed enthusiastic enough--especially
later..."

Nicola couldn't silence the anguished moan bubbling in her throat.

This was awful, unbearable. far, far worse than anything she had
imagined. She had no idea he would actually talk about what had
happened as matter-of-factly as though it meant nothing. But then, of
course, to him it did not mean anything. To him-She could feel the
warmth of his breath against her ear, and she knew that if she turned
her head--if she moved at all. She froze, locking every muscle in her
body, willing him to let go of her and yet terrified of closing her
eyes in case he moved, and-"What's wrong?"

His thumbs were stroking her skin--her bare skin, the delicate friction
sending two conflicting messages to her senses. The first was one of
shock and fear, the second. She shivered, a little unfamiliar with the
shivery tremulous sensation caused by the friction of his touch, her
eyes widening in sudden betraying bewilderment as beneath the
protection of the duvet she suddenly felt the tightening of her
nipples. A fierce tremor seemed to run through her body from where his
thumb stroked her skin to the centre of her breast.

Matt saw the anguish in her eyes and frowned.

Perhaps he was taking things a little too far. Perhaps she had already
learned her lesson; and then, beneath his fingertips, he felt the tiny
rash of goosebumps lifting her skin. His body reacted to it before his
brain, his senses aware before his intelligence, so that as she tensed
and twisted frantically against him he stopped her attempt to escape
with immediate masculine subjugation, sliding one hand up to her jaw,
and holding her still while he turned his head and looked down at her
mouth.

He told himself later that he hadn't intended to kiss her . that he
wouldn't have done so if she hadn't suddenly panicked and let go of the
duvet, which he hadn't even realised she was holding, to dig her nails
into his arm in an attempt to fight free of him.

The pressure of her nails he barely registered;

the sight of her full, soft breasts, her nipples flushed with arousal
and erect, he did, and to such an extent that his free hand was cupping
one of them and his mouth was on hers before he even realised what he
was doing.

If he hadn't already guessed at her innocence, her reaction to him now
must have proved it. She went still with shock in his hands, her mouth
trembling beneath his, and for the first time in his life he realised
how shockingly tempting such innocence could be.

For the space of a heartbeat he was over 9

whelmed by a dangerous urge to continue what he had started, to kiss
her until it wasn't just her mouth that trembled, but her whole body.

To caress her until the hard, flushed points of her breasts were
pressing eagerly into his hands. were begging for the moist caress of
his mouth. He felt his body grow taut with excitement and need, his
muscles straining as he fought to control his sexual response to her,
his mind torturing him with mental images of how she would feel, how
she would look, how she would sound if he were to make love to her now.
to show her that there was no need for her fear . to teach her
that-She was still struggling to break free of him, and automatically
he used his weight to pin her to the bed, fighting to control both her
and his own desire, so that he could explain to her that she had
nothing to fear, that he had only wanted to teach her a lesson. A
lesson which had gone badly wrong, he acknowledged ruefully, as she
bunched up her hand into a fist and thumped him in the solar plexus.

Physically the blow didn't do any damage at all but, as he recoiled to
avoid it, his towel came loose and slid free of his body.

He felt the shock run through her, and cursed under his breath as he
saw the expression in her eyes. She was even more innocent than he'd
imagined, and quite obviously had not had the benefit of growing up
around brothers or male cousins, he reflected wryly. Any minute now
she was probably going to start screaming 'rape', and all because he
had wanted to show her how dangerous and ill-considered her behaviour
the night before had been.

What he hadn't taken into account was his own reaction to her.

Ridiculous that an innocent with the clean-scrubbed face of a little
girl, who was quite definitely not his type at all, should have such an
intense and immediate effect on him, when he prided himself on his
self-control.

But if he let her go now. Sighing to himself, he took advantage of her
shock to reach for one of her hands, deliberately uncurling her fingers
before lifting it and placing it on his body.

Her fingers were icy-cold, their touch almost as much a shock to him
physically as what he had done was to her mentally. She tried to
snatch her hand away, shock burning hot flags of colour in her
cheeks.

"See what you've done to me," he told her softly.

"Shall I cancel my flight to New York, so that we can...?"

As he let go of her hand, she snatched it back, looking everywhere but
at him, her voice thick and choked as she denied his suggestion.

He really had no intention of cancelling his flight, and was hoping
that the suggestion that they might have sex again would be enough to
reinforce her shock and make her think once she got home that she had
got off lightly.

And then, when he saw her face, he knew he had to relent and tell her
the truth. She looked so sick and shocked, sitting there clutching the
bedclothes around her body, her eyes huge and dark with emotion, her
body trembling.

"Look," he began, stopping as he heard the phone ring.

"Stay right there," he told her as he reached for his towel and secured
it around his body.

The phone was in his bedroom and, as he walked out of the room to
answer it, Nicola could hardly believe her luck. Another few seconds.
She shuddered from head to foot, reliving the shocking moment when his
towel had slipped and she had seen--She swallowed sickly. And if that
had not been bad enough, when he had taken her hand and actually placed
it on his body . on that part of him. She could hear the muted sound
of his voice in another room. Her clothes were on a chair by the
window, and she realised suddenly that here was her chance to escape.

She got out of the bed, frantically pulling on her clothes, her heart
racing, her body tensing every time she beard him stop speaking. But
then he would start again, and eventually she was dressed and on her
way to the door.

It took her several precious seconds to find the main door to what she
realised was a flat and, when she did find it, it took her several more
to negotiate the complicated locking system;

but at last she was safely on the other side and in a small foyer off
which several other doors opened. Ahead of her lay a lift and a flight
of stairs. She opted for the stairs, hurrying down them, relieved to
discover she was only one floor above ground level.

The commissionaire in the foyer gave her a startled glance when she
almost ran past his desk and through the main doors.

Outside it was a clear bright morning. She was, she recognised, in a
suburb of the city which she vaguely remembered having travelled
through on several occasions with her father.

Fortunately she had money in her handbag, and she could see a bus stop
not far away. She could also see a bus approaching it, and, ignoring
the angry protest of the motorist she ran in front of, she raced across
the road, jumping on to the bus just as it was about to pull away.

"Dangerous thing to do that, miss," the conductor told her
disapprovingly as she paid her fare.

She started to laugh then, a high-pitched, almost hysterical laugh that
caused the conductor to frown and then shrug his shoulders. These
teenagers . all of them on drugs and what have you. Who could make
any sense of what any of them did?

It took Nicola three days to decide that she had had enough. She
endured Jonathon's taunts and goads about what had happened after she
had disappeared with MH--as he referred to the man she only knew as
Matt, and about whom she wished to know absolutely nothing more
whatsoever--for as long as she could, and then finally, when he had
accosted her in the corridor just once too often, demanding to know
what had happened, and sneeringly asking her if she thought she was
going to be able to keep a man like MH interested in her, she finally
snapped.

The oddest thing about the whole affair was that, from the moment she
had seen Jonathon on the morning after the party, she had experienced
such a sense of revulsion towards him that she couldn't understand how
she had ever even thought him mildly attractive, never mind wanted him
enough to have behaved in such an appallingly stupid fashion.

Just how appallingly and stupidly she had behaved was something she
could not bear to think about at all. Every time she recalled waking
up in his bed . every time she remembered how he had touched her.
kissed her . how he had made her touch him . how he had intimated
that during the night they had been lovers not once but several times,
she felt physically sick . was physically sick--at least, on the first
day.

That had been another cause of guilt and anxiety. The rhythms of her
body--normally so regular and orderly--quite obviously disrupted by the
stress she was under, had even caused her to think for a few dreadful,
agonising days that she might actually be pregnant.

Once she knew she was not, she vowed that never, ever again would she
behave in such a way . that never, ever again would she try to change
herself, to pretend she she was something she wasn't. And then
sickeningly she realised that that was exactly what she was going to
have to do, because she could not now go back to being the girl she had
once been. She could not now have the same self-respect, the same
belief and faith in herself. She was, she decided hollowly, a fallen
woman and, as such, thoroughly deserving of any decent man's contempt
and disdain. After what she had done it was no wonder that Jonathon
and his ilk should assume that she was ready and willing to indulge in
casual, meaningless sex.

If men treated her with disrespect and saw her as sexually available,
then she had no one to blame but herself. She saw clearly now just
what her impulsive behaviour had led her to. How long would it be
before Jonathon would hear from Matt's own lips confirmation of all
that he had said to her? She gave a deep shudder. She felt so . so
filled with self-loathing and disgust, so deeply ashamed of herself.

City life wasn't for her, she decided miserably. All she wanted to do
now was to go home where she could feel safe, where there would be no
Jonathon, no Matt. where she could put what had happened behind her
where she could start rebuilding her life in such a way as would ensure
that never again would any man ever be able to claim as Matt had--and
could--that she had had casual sex with him . where no man could
insult her with the insinuations that Jonathon had been making these
past few days.

By the end of the week she had given in her notice, and long, long
before Matt was back from New York she had left the city and was back
at home.

He made enquiries, of course. Despite the complexity of the business
negotiations, he had been involved in in New York, he had still found
time to worry about her and to wish she had not rushed out of the flat
before he had had a chance to explain what had really happened.

He pictured her worrying herself sick about the entire episode, trying
frantically to remember what had actually happened. He remembered the
look on her face when he had taken her hand and placed it on his body,
and cursed himself for having done so.

When he did get back one of the first things he did was get in touch
with Mathieson and Hendry.

In response to his carefully casual enquiry he was told that the girl
in question was no longer with the company and had returned to her
parents in the country, without leaving any forwarding address.

He told himself that there was really no reason for him to make any
further enquiries; she had obviously learned the lesson he had wanted
to teach her. He had been gone for over a month, long enough for her
to have realised that there were going to be no permanent consequences
from their supposed night together.

About the effect on her when she eventually discovered that she had
not, as she supposed, had a lover, but was, in fact, still a virgin, he
preferred not to think; pursuing her into the country to enlighten her
on that point was something he didn't really think it would be wise to
do, more for his own sake than for hers. He winced a little,
remembering how his body had reacted to her. It had been a long time
since he had last had a serious relationship. perhaps too long. And
as for the girl--Nicki--well, with a bit of luck she would have
realised by now the dangers of the way she had behaved.

He smiled a little grimly to himself, reflecting wryly that, although
she herself might not believe it, he had acted in her best interests.

He remembered the look' on her face when he had kissed her . how she
had felt--and then he stopped himself. There were, after all, some
avenues in life which it was wiser not to go down . because they led
nowhere . or because they led somewhere that was far, far too
dangerous?

It was a question he preferred not to answer.

Somewhere in the distance a dog barked, startling Nicola back into the
present. She gave a small shiver, rubbing her upper arms with stiff
fingers.

Even now, all these years later, she still could not shake off the cold
horror of the moment when she had realised that she and Matt--Matthew
Hunt--had been lovers, and that she could remember not one single thing
about it. The shame, the anguish, the self-disgust of that knowledge
would be with her for as long as she lived.

The make-up she had never used again, the dress had been thrown away,
and eventually even the perm had grown out of her hair; but nothing had
been able to eradicate her feeling of guilt and self-disgust.

And that was why she lived her life the way she did, keeping to the
shadows, sticking firmly within the boundaries of the kind of behaviour
she had set for herself, enjoying the company of her women friends,
even though there were occasions when the conversation turned to sex,

and they were making outspoken and sometimes rather outrageous if
amusing comments about their partners, and she had to bite on her
tongue and keep silent. That was why she dated someone like Gordon,
who was thankfully uninterested in making sexual overtures to her.

If sometimes she woke in the night, mentally grieving for all that she
was denying herself in living her life this way--the lover, the
children-she only had to recall the way she had behaved with Matthew
Hunt . the sick disgust and horror that had followed the realisation
that they had shared the most intimate act two human beings could
share, and that she had absolutely no memory of it . to remind her of
how unfit she was to encourage and accept a man's love.

It made no difference telling herself that she had only done what
thousands of foolish girls did every year; others might be able to
forgive her, but she could not forgive herself. Even though she knew
also that her attitude, her self- denigration, was self-destructive and
dangerous, and that the wisest, the most sensible course would be for
her to undergo some kind of professional counselling to help her put
what had happened in its proper perspective, she stubbornly refused to
even consider letting go of her selfimposed punishment.

While she alone knew what had happened, she had felt reasonably safe.

Now. She remembered the way Jonathon had taunted her when he had
realised she had spent the night with Matthew Hunt . the insults he
had thrown at her, the names he had called her. the way he had
terrorised her once he'd realised that no amount of mental blackmail
was going to make her allow him to have sex with her.

How bitterly she had realised then how very much more preferable it was
to be considered dull, sexless and boring than to be subjected to the
kind of pressure he was trying to exert. But by then it was too late.
by then Jonathon had told just about everyone she worked with just what
she had done.

She shivered again, and Honey, sensing her desolation, pushed a cold,
wet nose into her hand, causing her to look down and give the dog a
brief, painful smile.

"Oh, Honey, what am I going to do?" she whispered, kneeling down to
fondle the dog's silky ears.

"If he suddenly recognises me--realises..."

She could feel the tension invading her body, the panic starting to
claw at her stomach.

He wasn't going to recognise her, she assured herself. If he hadn't
done so by now--and he hadn't, that was obvious--then why should he
ever?

After all, he had probably forgotten she even existed. But if he did
remember. She shuddered deeply. The only way she could ensure that
that would not happen would be to give up her job and move out of the
area, to run away as she had done once before; but, like all creatures
who felt hunted, she had lea mt long ago that to move. to run was to
attract attention, and that her best chance of safety and protection
lay in the camouflage of not drawing attention to herself.

If she gave in her notice, her friends, her family would start
speculating. wondering. Her parents would be anxious, and want to
know what was wrong.

She could, of course, always say that there was a clash of
personalities--that she could not get on with their new boss--but jobs
as interesting as hers were hard to come by in this rural area, and she
had no wish to start a new career in the city, no wish at all. No, she
was safe enough for now. Just as long as she kept her head. just as
long as she didn't betray herself by doing something foolish.

Today, for instance, during this morning's meeting, Matthew Hunt had
glanced piercingly at her once or twice when Alan in his speech had
praised her for her hard work, but it had been the hard, assessing look
of an employer to an employee--not the look of a man to a woman.

But then, he was hardly likely to give her that kind of look, was he?

she derided herself. After all, the real her was so very different
from the Nicola--the "NickT--he had known so briefly.

At her feet Honey whined and pawed at her jeans-clad leg, indicating
that she had had enough of sitting waiting for something to happen, and
that it was time to mm around and go home.

"Have a nice walk?" her mother asked her cheerfully when she opened
the kitchen door.

"Your father's just come in, so I'd better serve supper. Oh, and by
the way, Christine rang. She asked me to remind you that you're having
dinner with them next week..."

Nicola nodded her head. Christine was one of her oldest friends. Her
husband, Mike, was a solicitor, just starting up in his own local
practice. They had two small children, and, as well as looking after
them, running the house, taking care of their large garden, Chrissie
also helped Mike out with his paperwork at home.

They were a well-matched, happy couple, and Nicola always enjoyed the
time she spent with them, even though sometimes their very evident
*******ment and love for one another made her feel a little envious.

Over supper her father asked her what she had thought of her new
boss.

Her heart started to beat frantically fast as she looked down at her
plate, knowing that if she looked up her real feelings would show far
too plainly in her eyes.

Already it was beginning . the deceit . the anxiety. "He seems very
well-informed.. very efficient," she answered unevenly.

"Mm. From what I've heard he's got a nose for a good opportunity. With
him behind it, the firm should really start to pick up. Will he be
running it himself or?"

"No, he's putting in a manager--someone from one of his other
companies. We haven't heard who yet."

"And this manager, you'll be directly responsible to him, I imagine?"

her mother interrupted.

Nicola nodded her head. That was the one bright gleam in the whole
sorry mess--the fact that Matthew Hunt would be spending a limited
amount of time with them.

"I wonder how old he'll be, and if he's married..."

Nicola put down her knife and fork. She was on familiar and much safer
ground here.

"Mother..." she warned.

"I'm sorry, Nicki. When you were in your teens, I promised myself I
wasn't going to turn into the kind of mother who was always on the
look-out for a potential father for her grandchildren, but when I look
at Gordon..." She gave a small shudder and said forthrightly, "What on
earth do you see in him? And as for that mother of his--' " Gordon is
a friend. Mother. nothing more," Nicola told her firmly.

"Mm. Still, this new manager ... I wonder what he'll be like," her
mother continued, undeterred

17-11-07, 07:51 AM

المشاركة رقم: 75

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الكاتب:	نيارااا
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التسجيل:	Jun 2006
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كاتب الموضوع : نيارااا المنتدى : الارشيف

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

her mother wasn't the only one to be curious about the new manager, as
Nicola discovered in the morning when she got to work.

The brief visit Matthew Hunt had paid them the previous day was not
going to be repeated until towards the end of the week, she had been
relieved to learn. Until then, Alan would, nominally at least, remain
in charge.

Nicola had got the impression the previous day that Matthew Hunt's
decision to take over the firm had been a rather impulsive one, and
that he was having to shuffle around his existing staff in order to
find someone responsible and whom he could trust to take charge of his
new acquisition.

The knowledge of the take-over seemed to add a new zest to the
work-force. There was talk of better rates of pay and working
conditions, now that they were part of a much larger organisation--of
bonus schemes and other perks.

Alan had opted not to have a formal retirement party and, knowing how
what was happening must be reactivating the trauma of losing his son,
Nicola didn't blame him. Even so, she thought it was very sad that
after a lifetime of owning the firm he should simply opt to walk out of
his office on Friday afternoon without any acknowledgement on the part
of those who worked for him.

All day Tuesday there was an atmosphere of excited tension in the
air.

They already knew that on Wednesday morning Matthew Hunt would be
introducing them to their new boss, the new manager.

Nicola, unlike everyone else, was frantically busy on the Tuesday,
gently prodding Alan into going through all their current files so that
she could prepare status reports on each of their current contracts,
giving details of work in progress.

She loved her job, and the more responsibility Alan gave her the more
she thrived on it. She had a talent for administrative work and,
although few people knew it, it was mainly thanks to her ability to
keep tabs on the various clients that the firm had not lost several of
its major contracts.

Naturally enough, Nicola wanted to make a good impression on the man
who was going to be her new boss, and not just for her own sake, but
for Alan's as well. Out of loyalty to him, she was determined to make
sure that he was presented with an efficient and up-to-date, as well as
comprehensive run-down of exactly what was going on.

Every time she walked into his office, Alan seemed to have amassed even
more paper from the filing cabinets. The shredder was going to be
working overtime, she decided ruefully, looking at the dates on some of
the files. Alan was something of a squirrel when it came to his files.
She reminded him gently that he would have to make arrangements to have
his large partner's desk removed from the office.

It was a very good antique piece of furniture, which he had bought in a
sale when he had first started the firm, and she suspected it was now
worth a considerable sum of money.

He gave her a wan smile.

"There won't be room for it in the bungalow;

and besides. " he touched the wood gently '.. where's the point?"

Nicola felt close to tears, and decided privately that, if Alan didn't
do anything about it himself, she would ask her father if it was
possible for them to store the desk in one of their outbuildings,
because she was sure that, given time, Alan would regret abandoning
it.

On Tuesday evening when she arrived home dusty and tired, her mother
commented, "You're very late."

"Mm. We've been cleaning out Alan's office-getting ready for the new
man... Has Gordon telephoned?" she asked.

She and Gordon were supposed to be attending a concert in the city, and
she had half expected him to telephone to confirm what time he was
picking her up.

"Not while I've been in," her mother told her.

After she had showered off the dust and dirt and changed into a pair of
jeans and a casual top, Nicola dialled the number of Gordon's mother's
house.

She sometimes thought that she and Gordon were an anomaly in these
modern times, in that both of them still lived at home, but then she
had read several articles indicating that, because of the exorbitant
cost of property, adult children were remaining in the parental home
for much, much longer than had once been the norm.

Certainly Gordon, at thirty-four, might be supposed to be able to
afford his own house. He had a good job with an insurance company but,
as he had once carefully explained to Nicola, his mother was widowed
and not very strong, and he felt he owed it to her to live with her.

She, too, could perhaps have afforded to buy her own small property,
but she liked living with her parents, enjoying their company and their
conversation, even though her friends sometimes teased her about the
fact that she was still living at home.

Gordon's mother answered the telephone, her faint, helpless whisper
hardening a little when she recognised Nicola's voice.

"Gordon is just about to eat," she told Nicola disapprovingly, 'so I
hope you won't keep him for too long. "

Sighing faintly, Nicola gritted her teeth.

Gordon, when he came to the phone, sounded tense and hesitant. When
she reminded him about the concert, he paused for a moment, and then
told her quickly, "I'm sorry, but I won't be able to go.." You see.

Mother hasn't been feeling very well and I really feel I should stay
here with her. "

In point of fact Nicola hadn't particularly wanted to attend the
concert. It had been Gordon who had suggested they go and not her, but
nevertheless when she replaced the receiver she was seething. Why on
earth hadn't Gordon telephoned her to say that the evening was off?

Why had he left it to her to get in touch with him7 And as for his
mother's supposed ill health. It wasn't so much that she minded
missing the concert, as she explained later to Christine when she drove
round on impulse to see her friend. It was the fact that he hadn't
even thought to let her know earlier that their evening was to be
cancelled.

"Why on earth do you bother with him?" Christine asked her
forthrightly.

"I mean, come on, Nicki, don't try telling me that he makes your heart
beat faster, or that you fancy him to death-- I've seen you with
him."

Nicola had to laugh.

"No, maybe not," she agreed.

"So then, why...?" Christine began, but Nicola very firmly changed the
subject and started to ask her instead how young Paul was getting on at
school.

It was quite late when she got home, but she knew the evening with her
friend had done her good. However, as she hovered on the point of
falling asleep, her strongest feeling was one of anxiety as she worried
about the morning. Not so much because of meeting her new boss, but
because of Matthew Hunt.

Please God, don't let him recognise me, she prayed desperately.

Anything, anything but that. "Matthew Hunt's here, but he's on his
own," Evie announced excitedly, as she came hurrying into Nicola's
office.

Nicola had already seen Matthew's arrival for herself. Today he wasn't
driving the ancient Land Rover, but a sleek and very expensive-looking
Jaguar.

"Isn't he just the sexiest man you've ever seen?" Evie drooled as she
watched him walk towards the office-block.

"I mean, just look at him.. even in that stuffy suit he still looks
wonderful."

Nicola hid a small smile. The stuffy suit in question might not appeal
to Evie as much as the jeans Matthew had worn on his previous visit,
but it did give him an aura of power and control that made Nicola
herself suddenly conscious of the fris son of tension that flashed
hotly over her skin.

She turned away from the window, appalled by her reaction to him, only
half listening to Evie's excited chatter. Evie had heard on the
grapevine that Matthew's take-over would mean an updating of their
office systems to include the very latest state-of-the-art technology,
and she was just asking Nicola if they were likely to be using new,
stream-lined word processors instead of their existing electronic
typewriters, when the door opened and Matthew walked in.

He smiled at Evie, causing her to blush and simper, and then gave
Nicola a much sharper, considering look.

She was wearing what she considered to be her working uniform of a
Prince of Wales check suit with a fine over stripe in crimson, a white
shirt, and a wide crimson belt which brought out the colour of her
suit.

As Evie had remarked innocently this morning, to colour-co-ordinate the
outfit she should perhaps have been wearing red lipstick, but the mere
thought of doing so had made Nicola feel physically sick. It had been
red lipstick she had been wearing that night. These days she stuck to
a dull, workaday soft pink which did little more than enhance the
natural colour of her mouth, and which certainly did not emphasise its
soft, full contours.

So there was really no reason why Matthew Hunt's gaze should linger
thoughtfully on her mouth for what to Nicola seemed like a lifetime,
but which she knew could only be a handful of seconds. As he studied
her, fear ripped through her. He had recognised her. He had-"Is Alan
in?" he asked her briefly.

She shook her head.

Alan had had to go out and visit a client who was complaining that they
were behind schedule with their work. Loyalty to him made her keep
back this particular piece of information as she explained where he had
gone, but to her consternation Matthew's mouth hardened a fraction and
he said immediately, "I hope we're not on a penalty clause with that
contract. We're already too far behind. Which reminds me ... the
foreman... Jackson.. 1 want to have a word with him some time--' "
Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Hunt? " Evie broke in.

The smile Matthew gave her made something wrench painfully inside
Nicola. It was the indulgent, appreciative smile of an adult for a
pretty child, and it struck her sharply that no man ever had, and now
ever would, look at her like that.

Don't be ridiculous, she told herself sharply. She wasn't a child, she
was an adult, an equal to any man, and wanted to be treated
accordingly. not humoured and indulged as though she were dimwitted.

"Matthew, please, Evie," he corrected her, reminding her that he had
already told everyone that they were to address him by his Christian
name.

"So when will Alan be back?" he asked Nicola.

"I'm not sure. Before lunch."

"Mmm. Well, while I'm waiting for him, I'll go through the work in
progress sheets--if you could just get them for me, Nicola..." He
paused suddenly and gave her another sharp look before walking through
into Alan's office and closing the door behind him.

Once she had the appropriate sheets, Nicola took the coffee from Evie,
knocked on the door, and walked in.

Matthew wasn't seated behind Alan's desk. Instead he was standing by
the window looking out into the yard. Without turning his head he told
her, "Sit down, please, Nicola. There's something I want to discuss
with you. Oh, and close the door, would you, please?"

Her heart started to pound with frantic fear. He had remembered her,
after all, and now he was going to tell her soto remind her of what she
had done. of how she had behaved, and tell her that in the
circumstances he could hardly have her working for him. She knew it.

Shakily she did as he had told her and sat down,

hoping that her body wasn't trembling visibly, betraying the intensity
of the nervousness she could feel inside.

She could feel sweat starting to break out on her skin, physical
evidence of her inward panic. She gritted her teeth and curled her
hands into tense fists as she willed herself not to lose complete
control.

"It's about Alan," Matthew told her without turning around.

"Nothing seems to have been arranged to formally mark his
retirement..."

For a moment Nicola was too stunned to speak. He hadn't remembered her
at all, she recognised in shaky relief. He wanted to talk about Alan's
departure from the firm, not hers.

"Are you all right?"

She hadn't seen him turn round and walk towards her, but now, as she
saw him coming towards her, she shrank back in her chair, causing him
to pause and frown while she stammered frantically.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I just..." She shook her head, trying to clear
her head, to fight her way back to normality, to dismiss her shock and
deal with his query.

"Alan--Alan wanted to leave without any fuss. You'll know about his
son... In the circumstances--' " In the circumstances, some
acknowledgement at least of the years he has run the firm is called
for, even if it's only an apparently informal col lection among the
staff to buy him some memento and present him with it. "

From the tone of his voice, Nicola suspected that he was criticising
her for not already having instituted something along these lines, and
her fear receded, professionalism coming to her res cue as she tilted
her chin and said firmly, "Something along those lines has been
organised."

As soon as she had known that Alan was leaving, she had organised an
impromptu collection, and with the money she had arranged that they
would buy Alan a presentation hand-cut goblet with the dates of the
years he had owned the company and its name inscribed on it.

All she hadn't done was arrange a time when the goblet could be
presented to Alan, and as she explained all this to Matthew she added
tentatively, "Of course, I'll have to have a word with our new
manager.

I had thought perhaps Friday afternoon. "

"I don't see any problem with that," Matthew assured her, 'and some
kind of informal buffet meal could be organised, if it isn't too
late.

By the way," he added picking up his coffee, 'there isn't going to be a
new manager ... at least not for the time being... The man I had in
mind is having to take some sick leave."

"So who will run the company?" Nicola asked him with concern.

He put down his cup and studied her calmly.

I shall. "

Nicola was glad that she was already sitting down, otherwise she felt
she might have betrayed herself completely.

"I think you and I will work very well together, Nicola," she heard him
adding quietly, confounding her completely as he added, "I like your
initiative, and your awareness ... your compassion for your fellow
human beings. Those are very valuable and necessary assets in business
today, and unfortunately they are not assets which the male sex is very
strong on."

He was smiling at her now. Not the same kind of smile as he had given
Evie, but it was a smile of warmth and approval, none the less, and she
was shocked by the sudden burgeoning of warmth in her own heart that it
gave her.

It was because he had shocked her with his concern for Alan . a
concern she had never expected him to display, that was all, she told
herself shakily. Yes, that odd feeling of warmth was caused by that.
that and the relief of knowing he had not, after all, recognised her.

Later, as she informed Evie of what was going to happen, she told
herself that, if she was going to ensure that Matthew did not recognise
her,

then she was going to have to stop behaving so irrationally every time
he spoke to her.

As the week progressed and she worked more closely with Matthew, Nicola
found herself discovering aspects of him she would never have guessed
existed. Far from being the callous business type she had first
imagined, she discovered that he was a very aware and concerned
employer, even if he was not a man to allow anyone to take advantage of
him.

He was already aware of those members of the firm who worked hard and
those who did not and, although he had said nothing specific to her,
Nicola suspected that it wouldn't be long before the foreman was
replaced.

She liked the way he made use of her own experience and expertise,
questioning her closely about their existing contracts, and listening
carefully to her answers, consulting her about his proposals for
expanding their customer base and discussing with her various aspects
of his business as a whole so that she felt her opinions and views were
valued.

In fact, if it had not been for her constantly recurring dread that he
might one day remember her, she had to admit that she would have
thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of working with him, and even perhaps
have been regretting the fact that it was only temporary.

He had, he had told her, a very able deputy who was more than capable
of taking over the day-to-day overall control of his empire while he
got his new business on its feet.

"In fact it will do both Giles and me good. I'm thinking of offering
him a partnership eventually. He's engaged to my youngest sister," he
added with a smile.

"Although that isn't why I want him as a partner... There comes a point
where running a business like this single-handed becomes a way of life,
rather than a part of one's life.

I enjoy my work, but I don't want it to become my whole life. One day,
hopefully, I shall marry and have children, and when I do. Well, let's
just say I don't intend to be an absentee husband and father.

"Have you any plans to get married, Nicola?"

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. It was just as well
she had the past to hold as a barrier between them, otherwise she
suspected she might come dangerously close to falling into the classic
trap and allow herself to become too vulnerable to his very evident
appeal. By falling in love with him? Surely even without the past she
was far too sensible to commit that kind of folly, even if her heart
did beat ridiculously fast when she happened to look up from her work
and find him watching her.

If she was ever foolish enough to imagine that the way he was regarding
her meant that he was attracted to her, she only had to recall the past
to realise how stupid she was being.

Of course it was possible that, following the mores of the times, his
own outlook on life had undergone a change, and that he now shunned
brief sexual encounters. He wouldn't be on his own in doing so, after
all, but she still found it hard to reconcile the man who had so
casually taken her home with him, stripped her of her clothes and then
made love to her, not once but, according to him, several times, and
all without her being able to remember a thing about it, with the same
concerned, compassionate man who was now her employer.

Alan was spending his last week with the firm going round making his
farewells to some of his old customers, more at Matthew's behest than
at his own instigation.

"It will keep his mind off the trauma of what's happening," Matthew had
told Nicola.

"And it will also give us time to organise the buffet luncheon for
Friday. I have asked Alan to stay on in an advisory capacity. This
firm has been his life, and I suspect he's going to find it very
difficult to adjust to life without it."

"He and Mary are leaving the area; they've bought a bungalow on the
coast..."

"Yes, I know, and I hope it isn't something he's going to
regret--moving away from an area where they've lived all their lives
from their friends."

"They have a married daughter and they're moving to be closer to her
and their grandchildren," Nicola informed them.

"I think they're both hoping that being with their grandchildren will
help to take their minds off the tragedy..."

For a moment both of them were silent, and then Matthew said slowly,
"I've often thought that must be one of life's hardest burdens to
bear--the death of a child. Now, about this presentation...1 take it
there aren't going to be any formal speeches? You did say that Alan
had said specifically that he didn't want any fuss. Do you think he
would prefer it if I wasn't here...?"

His sensitivity amazed Nicola. Gordon would never have behaved like
that, and he, for all his devotion to and fear of his mother, would
never have dreamed of asking the advice of a woman whom he deemed to
occupy an inferior professional position.

That evening, when her mother remarked how much more cheerful she had
begun to look since she started working for her new boss, Nicola
coloured up defensively, biting her bottom lip.

"I've heard he's very good-looking," her mother added, apparently
oblivious to her confusion.

"Very," Nicola agreed huskily.

"And single..." her mother pressed.

"Yes," Nicola agreed tautly, and then changed the subject, asking, "Has
Gordon phoned? We were supposed to be playing tennis this evening."

"Not as far as I know, although I have been out for most of the
afternoon."

She was halfway towards the telephone when she stopped suddenly and
turned round again. Why should she be the one to ring Gordon when he
was the one who had made arrangements for them to play tennis? As she
sat down again and poured herself a second cup of tea, she realised how
often she was the one who had to get in touch with Gordon, instead of
the other way round. Rebelliously she decided that this time she was
going to leave it up to him.

It was eight o'clock before Gordon rang her, half an hour after he had
arranged to pick her up.

As always these days when he spoke to her, his voice was edgy and
defensive.

After she had accepted his explanation that he had been delayed at
work, and his apology for neglecting to ring her, she reminded him,
"You won't forget that you're picking me up from work on Friday evening
will you, Gordon?"

She'd booked her own car in for a service earlier in the week, and
Gordon had offered to pick her up and run her to the garage to collect
it.

"Of course not," he responded in an injured voice.

After she had replaced the receiver, Nicola admitted that it was
probably time their relationship was brought to an end. She certainly
derived very little pleasure from his company these days, and she was
beginning to suspect that he felt the same way. The very staid and not
altogether enjoyable kisses they had once shared had degenerated into a
perfunctory peck on the cheek, if she was lucky and, while it had been
useful to have a comfortable male partner to escort her at various
social functions, she was suddenly becoming aware of how very sterile
and depressing she found the time she spent with Gordon.

A little bleakly she found herself comparing Gordon to Matthew. His
dates, she was quite sure, were not fobbed off with excuses about the
health of his mother, and arid pecks on the cheek at the end of the
evening. His dates would not need to fall back on the company of
girlfriends to have someone to talk to and laugh with. His
dates-Abruptly she tried to stern her dangerous thoughts. What on
earth was she thinking. doing? She started to tremble, a small ache
erupting deep within her body--a yearning, despairing need . emotions
she had sworn she could never, would never allow herself to feel
suddenly exploding inside her.

Emotions which she discovered were refusing to go away or be subdued.

That morning, she arrived at work to discover Matt frowningly standing
beside her desk.

"I'm sorry. Am I late?" she began, as she walked in.

Immediately his face cleared.

"Did you think I was glowering at you? If so, I obviously haven't made
a very good impression on you... No, I was just a little concerned
about a telephone call I've had from one of our clients. It seems that
Jackson has been pilfering some of the supplies from the job, or so
this chap thinks."

Ian Jackson was the foreman in charge of the men, and Nicola's heart
sank. She wasn't surprised by the client's complaint, only that they
did not receive more. For a long time she had had a strong suspicion
that Ian Jackson was involved in the theft of supplies which she knew
must be taking place, even though Alan never seemed concerned about
it.

"I need to go down to the site and find out what's going on," Matthew
told her, adding, "Are you busy here, or would you like to come with
me?"

Nicola stared at him, her face flushing a little.

"It's OK, you don't have to," Matthew told her drily.

"I just thought you might like a change from sorting through dead
files..."

His reference to all the extra work she had been doing to streamline
their paperwork surprised her. She hadn't known he had been aware of
all the extra time she had been putting in, and his thoughtfulness now
made her warm to him even more, especially when she remembered how
initially, when he had first taken over the business, she had thought
he was antagonistic to her. Now she suspected that that fear had
sprung from her own dread of being recognised by him.

"Well, if you're sure I won't be a nuisance," she said hesitantly.

He was looking at some papers on the desk, but now suddenly he
straightened up and turned round to look at her, giving her a look
which made her heart turn over and hammer against her ribs.

"I doubt that any man would ever consider you to be a nuisance,
Nicola," he told her gravely, 'and I most certainly do not. "

From another man she would have considered the remark to be
flirtatious, but it seemed so impossible that Matthew could be flirting
with her that she could say nothing, only swallow hard, and then say
huskily, "I'll just get my jacket."

Today he was driving the Land Rover, and Nicola was glad that her
pleated skirt allowed her to scramble up into it without having to rely
on him for assistance, even though the fact that he stood politely by
the passenger door to ensure that she made it safely into the seat made
her feel acutely self-conscious.

She was just about- to close the door when he stopped her, one hand
touching her arm lightly as he leaned forward and tucked the hem of her
skirt out of the way of the door.

"You've got incredibly delicate wrists and ankles," he told her easily
as he smiled into her eyes.

"There's something about that kind of fragility in a woman that makes a
man feel immensely protective..."

His hand was still resting lightly against her arm, the heat of his
skin burning through the fine fabric of her jacket and her blouse.

Suddenly she had a shockingly clear memory of how he had held her that
night at the party--of how his fingers had gripped her wrist then, of
how strong she had realised he was, of how vulnerable he had made her
feel, of how-Without realising what she was doing, she flinched back
from him, the colour leaving her face.

Immediately he frowned and released her, closing the door and walking
round to his own side of the Land Rover.

He drove to the site in silence, while Nicola tried to control her sick
trembling.

Just for a moment before, she had forgotten the past . forgotten
everything but the feeling filling her as he had looked at her.

Why was she reacting to him like that? She knew he was a very
attractive man, mentally as well as physically, but she had met
attractive men before without her emotions and hormones going
haywire.

Or was the cause deeper and more personal? Was it because her body
instinctively recognised and remembered his? Because her senses, her
femininity knew him? That she. But no. If she couldn't remember what
had happened between them, then surely her subconscious would not
remember either, and certainly not to such an extent that it was
responsible for the way she was feeling right now?

It dismayed her that, after years of believing that sexually she was in
full control of herself, she should suddenly start reacting like this
and to this man of all men--the very man she ought not to be responding
to at all.

And just because he'd paid her a compliment, just because he had for a
second looked at her mouth as though. She swallowed hard. As though
what? As though he wondered how she would taste . how her lips would
feel beneath his . how-Stop it, stop it! she warned herself
despairingly. What was happening to her? Why were her own emotions
turning traitor on her like this?

The Land Rover stopped, and she realised with

I

a start that they had reached the site. She made I to open the door
and get out, but Matthew | stopped her.

"It's a bit muddy underfoot. You might slip. Hang on a sec and I'll
help you down." j She was trembling long before he opened the door and
reached inside to place his hands either side of her waist and swing
her down on to the small, firm patch of ground at his feet