The Valentine Affair

by Lyons, Mary

  ‘According to James Boswell—-and he ought to know—you’ve had more girls lining up to climb into bed with you than he’s had hot dinners!’

  ‘Oh—really...?’ he ground out savagely. ‘Well, in that case... what have I got to lose...?’

  Later, try as she might, Alex was never able to work out the exact sequence of what happened next. It must have had something to do with Leo’s fast, lightning-quick reactions as a fencer, but quite how he managed the feat, she had no idea.

  One moment she was sitting bolt upright on a sofa, giving the awful man a piece of her mind. And then... almost faster than the speed of light...she found herself being dragged swiftly through the air—coming down to land on a sofa on the other side of the room. And, before she could even catch her breath, she found herself firmly pinned to the cushions by Leo’s long, hard body.

  ‘I’ve had it! I’m simply not prepared to put up with any more of your nonsense,’ he growled menacingly as she gazed helplessly up at him. her brain still in a complete whirl. ‘You’ve been nothing but a prickly thorn in my flesh for the past eight years. And it’s about time I plucked you out.’

  ‘What... what in hell are you talking about?’ she yelled, finding her voice at last.

  ‘I’m talking about you and me, Alex,’ he breathed, so quietly that she still wasn’t sure that she heard him correctly as his mouth came firmly down on her trembling lips.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘YOU’D better hurry, Alex. Mike Tanner was demanding to know where you were over five minutes ago. Incidentally, the word is that our dear editor is on the warpath.’

  ‘Oh, great! That’s all I need,’ Alex muttered, searching frantically through the pile of papers on her desk. ‘Do you know why he wants to see me?’

  ‘No, sorry—I haven’t a clue.’ Her friend Lizzy shrugged, sitting down at the desk beside Alex and frowning at the computer screen in front of her. ‘I feel totally uninspired today,’ she moaned. ‘What do you think of the headline; “Vicar says Vice is Nice”...?’

  ‘Not a lot.’ Alex gave her a brief, fleeting grin, before hurrying across the enormously large, noisy room towards a glass-walled suite of offices.

  It now seemed that Mike Tanner was busy, in conference with one of the newspaper’s lawyers. However, catching sight of Alex through the glass partition, he quickly held up his two hands, the outstretched fingers indicating that he would see her in ten minutes.

  Walking slowly back across the room crowded with desks and the noisy output of many journalists, most of them shouting at one another, she finally reached the sanctuary of her own corner.

  Almost groaning aloud at her own folly, she searched frantically in her handbag for the small bottle of aspirins which she’d borrowed from her colleague, Tessa, only two days ago. It seemed almost impossible to believe that so much had happened in such a short space of time. And she’d never had so many bad, thumping headaches in her life!

  But that’s your own problem—right? she told herself grimly, quickly grabbing the mug of cold coffee on her desk and swiftly swallowing the pills. There wasn’t a chance that the aspirins would start acting before she’d have to go and see Mike Tanner, of course. Still, they might eventually help to lessen the effects of what was, alas, a full-blown hangover.

  How could she have been so foolish? Quite certain that she hadn’t drunk all that much, Alex could only assume that her recent bout of flu had left her dangerously susceptible to the dire effects of alcohol. But it didn’t really matter what had led to her disgraceful conduct last night. In fact, she was so ashamed of her own behaviour that she’d hardly been able to look at herself in the mirror this morning.

  During that cataclysmic row with Leo, when she’d clearly been in the grip of some totally rash, alcohol-induced euphoria, she’d obviously been in no fit state to realise that the scene could only end in tears.

  ‘In vino veritas’—in wine is truth—might be an old Latin tag, but it was obviously as true today as it had been about two thousand years ago. Because there was no escaping the fact that her tongue had been loosened by the amount of alcohol she’d consumed, prompting her not only to tell all about her arrangements for the St Valentine’s Day Ball, but also to give Leo her full, frank views on both his reputation and Fiona Bliss’s folly in wishing to become engaged to him.

  And the net result of such stupidity...? Alex groaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment, hardly able to contemplate her temporary bout of reckless insanity.

  No wonder Leo had gone bananas! When she’d found herself lying on the sofa, pinned beneath his long, hard and very angry figure, she’d clearly had no one but herself to blame. As his dark head had come down towards her, Alex had realised that there was no escape. And, although fear and panic at the forces she’d almost deliberately provoked had been rapidly clearing the fumes of alcohol from her brain, it had proved to be far, far too late.

  Struggle as she might, Alex had realised she was helpless, totally at his mercy, as his mouth had crushed hers in a kiss of devastating intensity, forcing her lips apart to allow his tongue to conduct a ravaging exploration—a punishing, deliberate invasion of overwhelming sexuality.

  Time had had no meaning, hours had seemed to pass by before the relentlessly hard pressure eased, and he’d at last slowly raised his head to stare at the girl lying beneath him.

  Shattered and totally speechless, Alex had quickly clamped her eyelids shut on the weak tears she’d been able to feel threatening to flow down her cheeks any minute. But not before the sight of his tense, rigid expression had been indelibly printed on her brain, the green eyes appearing to be almost as confused and bewildered as her own. Despite her own shock and misery, she’d been able to hear him swearing violently under his breath, and had felt the surprisingly gentle touch of his hand as he brushed a stray, damp lock of hair from her brow.

  She’d managed to give a weak groan of protest as he’d lowered his dark head once more, and it had been some time before her dazed mind had realised that he was merely softly kissing away the droplets of tears on her damp, spiky eyelashes, pressing gentle kisses on the outline of her trembling lips. The soothing, warm touch of his lips on hers had seemed to possess a serene, tranquil sensuality that had quivered through her body—an ever-increasingly heady force that she’d seemed powerless to resist.

  Almost without knowing what she’d been doing, her lips had parted beneath the gentle yet insistent seduction of his probing tongue, the deepening kiss seeming to project her senses and emotions into the stratosphere. Somehow, it had seemed as if a swift tide of erotic pleasure was sweeping through her veins, responding instinctively to the arousal of the hard, muscular body holding her ruthlessly captive on the soft cushions. And then she’d become aware that he was withdrawing from her, had heard a slight groan and a heavy sigh as his lips had left hers, and had felt the release of his body’s heavy pressure as he’d risen slowly to his feet and walked away across the room.

  Forcing herself to open her eyes, she’d seen that Leo was now standing by the fireplace, one foot raised on the ornate copper fender as he’d stared steadfastly down into the flames.

  Full realisation of what had just taken place had suddenly hit her, like a hard blow to the solar plexus. Breathless, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and mortification, it had been all she could do not to groan out loud. Oh, Lord! The whole disastrous episode had been one hundred per cent her own fault. First of all drinking too much, and then stupidly provoking Leo to retaliate... She’d quickly turned her head away, clamping her eyes shut and drawing her knees up into a foetal position as she’d desperately tried to think what to do.

  Unfortunately, there had been nothing that she could either say or do which wouldn’t have made the whole situation twenty times worse than it had been already. Eventually realising that she couldn’t stay huddled on the sofa much longer, Alex had taken a deep breath and had rolled over, struggling to her feet.

  A thick, heavy silence had s
eemed to fill the huge room.

  ‘I... I’m sorry...’ she managed to whisper at last, her cheeks flaming with crimson once more as she realised that not only was her tweed skirt practically hitched up around her waist, but that she had no excuse nor, indeed, rational explanation for the extraordinary explosion of fierce, raw desire which had gripped her only a few moments ago.

  As Leo continued to stand staring blindly down at the flames, it suddenly seemed desperately important that he should understand that she didn’t normally behave like this. Indeed, having always prided herself on a cool, sophisticated approach towards her various boyfriends in the past, Alex was now totally at a loss to account for the utterly inexplicable surge of almost overpowering passion which had been triggered by the intimate closeness of his strong, muscular body.

  ‘I’m sorry...’ she muttered again, quickly pulling down her skirt. ‘I really don’t...I mean, I’m not in the habit of doing this sort of thing,’ she added lamely, her hands all fingers and thumbs as she struggled to tuck her thin silk shirt inside the waistband of her skirt.

  There is no need for you to apologise,’ Leo said at last, his voice and face devoid of all expression as he turned to walk across the room and pour them both a drink.

  ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t really... I’ve already had far too much...’ she protested as he held out a glass towards her.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Alex,’ he rasped. ‘It’s far too late to worry about a small trifle like that. In any case, I’ve already decided to send you home by taxi,’ he added with a heavy sigh. ‘So, let’s not have any more arguments, hmm? Besides, you look as if you could do with a stiff drink.’

  Oh, Lord—he was right! She must look a fright. After quickly asking for directions, she seized her handbag and practically flew out of the room. A few moments later, she was locking the door of the palatial bathroom firmly behind her.

  A swift glance in the mirror was enough to confirm her worst fears. She looked a total and utter mess! Opening her handbag, she was relieved to see that it held her brush and comb, as well as her make-up bag. And this was definitely a time to wear as much warpaint as possible, she told herself glumly. Although, how she was going to get herself out of this extremely awkward situa tion—and at the same time manage to retain any dignity—she had absolutely no idea.

  Quickly drawing a brush through her heavy, sunstreaked fair hair, she gazed around at the pale cream marble walls, the gold taps, and fluffy thick cream towels which were reflected in the cleverly lit mirrored walls of the bathroom.

  Having brought her thick mane of hair under some control, Alex was just about to renew her makeup when her eyes were drawn to some heavy-looking crystal bottles on the shelf beside her. Maybe it was her insatiable curiosity which had first led her into the field of journalism, but she couldn’t resist picking up one of the crystal jars. Removing the stopper and inhaling the rich aroma of musk, sandalwood and other spices, she instantly recognised the scent of Leo’s cologne.

  Quite suddenly, the conflicting emotions which she had experienced in his embrace, only a few minutes ago, swiftly rose up to torment her. There seemed little she could do to banish the throbbing, almost sick excitement now zigzagging through her body as she recalled the way she’d been crushed so tightly against his hard chest... the erotic touch of his lips, and...

  With a low groan, Alex quickly turned on the tap, splashing her flushed cheeks with cold water and roughly towelling them dry as she tried to wipe the erotic, sensual visions from her distraught mind.

  Despite renewing her makeup, and trying to make herself look as calm and sophisticated as possible, it was only with a super-human effort of will that she forced herself to leave the sanctuary of the bathroom and make her way back into Leo’s sitting room. As he handed her a drink, and blandly informed her that he had already phoned for a taxi to take her home, she could only be grateful that he appeared to have no wish to rub salt in her festering wounds.

  ‘Since we both, for one reason or another, seem to have lost control of our normal, sensible selves, there seems no point in discussing what happened just now,’ he drawled tonelessly. ‘After all, as I think I said in my office the other day, who can explain the inexplicable?’

  It’s all right for him, she thought gloomily. He probably has encounters like this with various women every day of the week! In fact, other than some stern lines about his mouth and a muscle beating in his rigid jaw, Leo seemed to be behaving as if what had just taken place was an everyday occurrence as far as he was concerned. Well, that’s bloody men all over! she told herself morosely.

  Burying her nose in her glass, Alex was highly relieved when the doorman rang through to the apartment to say that a taxi was waiting for her downstairs. And, despite the fact that Leo insisted on escorting her down to the foyer, she could only imagine that he, like herself, must have breathed a thankful sigh of relief as the vehicle in which she was travelling sped off down the street.

  It wasn’t until she was almost home that Alex realised she would have to face all the hassle of having to remove her car from where she’d left it outside Leo’s apartment some time tomorrow.

  And she had, therefore, been amazed and deeply thankful to find it parked outside her front door early this morning. Quite how Leo had managed to organise this, she had no idea—and she certainly wasn’t going to ask. Because the least contact she had with him in the future, the better.

  ‘Hurry up, Alex! What on earth’s got into you today?’ Lizzy’s voice broke urgently through her deep, gloomy introspection.

  ‘Hmm...?’

  ‘For heaven’s sake—get a move on!’ her friend hissed urgently. ‘Can’t you hear Mike Tanner shouting the place down? He wants you in his office, and I really wouldn’t keep him waiting, if I were you.’

  ‘Oh, Lord!’ Alex breathed, seizing up the buff folder and her notepad and pencil before rushing towards Mike’s office.

  Luckily, Mike Tanner didn’t seem to be too upset at her late arrival. In fact, it seemed as though the editor was in unusually high spirits.

  ‘Well, now, Alex. How’s your St Valentine’s Day article coming along?’ he enquired jovially.

  ‘Actually, I’m doing rather well,’ she told him, trying to sound bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Because, certainly as far as the Chronicle was concerned, the fact that she now fervently wished she’d never had the bright idea in the first idea was of absolutely no interest whatsoever. ‘I’ve got all three couples sorted out now, and have already written two thirds of the article,’ she said, placing the buff folder on his desk. ‘I just have to type up my notes on Leo Hamilton and Fiona Bliss—and then it’s all over bar the shouting.’

  ‘Excellent... really excellent news,’ Mike murmured, practically rubbing his hands with glee. ‘And you’ve arranged for everyone to attend an upmarket Valentine’s Day ball?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I thought it might be a nice touch to get tickets for the bash organised by Leo Hamilton’s mother, for an orphaned children’s charity.’

  Mike beamed at her. ‘Well done. In fact, it sounds as though you’ve got everything so well under control that there’ll be no trouble in bringing everything forward by one week.’

  ‘What ... ?’ She stared at him in consternation.

  ‘Yes. I want your article on my desk tomorrow afternoon. We’re going to run the romance supplement before Valentine’s Day!’

  ‘But, why...? Surely it doesn’t make sense...’ she protested.

  Mike gave a snort of sardonic laughter. ‘Oh, yes it does! Especially when I tell you that an old friend of the owner of the newspaper has been trying to bring a lot of pressure to bear in an effort to put a stop to the whole feature. Well, as I’ve just told the lawyer, I’m not having any of that nonsense!’ he said forcibly, jabbing a fat, half-smoked cigar firmly between his teeth, before rising to his feet and pacing about the room.

  She frowned. ‘But I don’t understand why...’

  ‘Oh, come on, Alex! Ther
e’s only one person with enough reason—and also enough social and financial clout—to want to stop the article!’ He paused for a moment. But when she continued to gaze at him blankly, he gave another snort of laughter. ‘It has to be that stepbrother of yours, Leo Hamilton. Doesn’t it?’

  When she continued to stare at him in silence, desperately trying to grasp the facts of the situation, Mike continued impatiently. ‘There’s no need to look so upset. As I told the proprietor on the phone just a few minutes ago, I didn’t agree to take on the editorship of this newspaper in order to make sure that his friends and acquaintances had a good press. As I pointed out, he can’t have it both ways. If he wants a successful paper with a rising circulation—he can get off my back!’

  ‘And has he... has he agreed to get off your back?’ she asked in a small voice.

  Mike laughed. ‘Of course he has. The guy isn’t a complete idiot, and he knows how much I relish a good fight.’ He chomped happily on his cigar. ‘Oh, yeah. Our revered proprietor caved in without a fight. And I should hope so too. I’m damn well not putting up with any censorship of my paper, thank you very much!’

  However, as Mike then pointed out, he wasn’t going to take any chances, since past experience had shown him that the Leo Hamiltons of this life didn’t give up so easily. Which was why, he told her, he’d decided to bring one of the articles forward by one week.

  ‘We’ll print all the nonsense about these couples’ romances in this Saturday’s supplement—and your report on the Valentine’s Ball, together with a large photo spread, the following week.’

  ‘The timescale is a bit tight,’ she warned.

  ‘So what?’ he demanded.

  She shrugged. ‘OK... OK, no problem,’ she muttered, anxious to prove that she was up to the job. And then, since he seemed to be in such a good humour at having vanquished the owner of the newspaper, she decided to chance her arm. ‘We’re going to need a photographer, of course. Can I have Sid the Snapper?’ she asked, mentioning the nickname of Sid Reilly, the paper’s top photo journalist.