Dishonourable Proposal

by Jacqueline Baird

  At first glance the restaurant appeared to be full, but within seconds of entering the place the head waiter was t Lena's side. His dark eyes flashed appreciatively over her as he bowed courteously, declaring it was a great pleasure to see her in his restaurant and leading them swiftly to a small table for two set in the very centre of the room.

  Beside her, Jake, every inch the dominant male, immaculately dressed in a dark dinner suit and snowy-white shirt, exuded an elusive aura that went with wealth and sophistication. As every man's head in the place turned to watch Lena sit at the table, so too did every woman's head turn to study her strikingly attractive companion.

  Why wouldn't they? Lena thought wryly. She had almost forgotten how overwhelmingly masculine he was and it helped that he was a millionaire many times over.

  Thankfully she accepted the menu from the waiter, and assumed her role as hostess with a sophistication she was proud of. She would show Jake she was no young girl to be intimidated by his potent brand of charm.

  'What would you like to eat, Jake? I'm going to have avocado and salmon mousse, followed by the monkfish with the mild curry sauce, plus the fresh vegetables. How about you? The same?'

  She arched one perfectly shaped brow enquiringly at the man seated opposite her as she placed the menu on the table. She was still in shock, but she had controlled her earlier anger and was determined to take charge.

  He met her cool look with an equally chilling smile before turning to the hovering waiter and rattling off her order and a main dish of peppered steak in cream sauce for himself, plus a bottle of vintage champagne.

  'I may be your guest, Lena, but I never allow a woman to order for me, or to me...' His dark eyes flashed with a hint of anger then softened perceptibly as his gaze roamed blatantly down to the soft curve of her full breasts.

  She felt a flush of heat creep from her stomach to cover her whole body at his sensuous explicit look, and bitterly she cursed Claude under her breath. If only she had known who it was she was dining with she would have conveniently developed a dreaded allergy of some kind. Jake had the capacity to make her feel like a gauche teenager with just one glance from his knowing brown eyes.

  'Except, perhaps, in bed, and then I don't mind if the lady takes the initiative. Sometimes it can be quite exciting ...' He laughed out loud at her shocked expression. 'Don't you agree?' he teased.

  'Do you think you could possibly bring your mind out of the gutter long enough for us to enjoy our meal with some semblance of civility?' she said curtly. She was sick to death of his crude innuendoes. 'A truce, Lena, hmm?'

  'And there's no need for you to call me Lena. You always called me Katy when we were f—friends.' She hesitated on the word 'friends', then blundered on. 'It is only in France I'm known as Lena. Now I'm home I prefer Katy.'

  'Friend. I once had a friend called Katy, but I don't see her in the woman before me now. Would you like to know what I do see?'

  'Not particularly, but I have no doubt you will tell me anyway,' she said with a small laugh to cover the swift unexpected stab of hurt she felt at his denial of their friendship. It was stupid, she knew; they had not been close in four years, but before that she had believed he was her friend and more...

  'I see a very beautiful, very sexy young woman who has spent the last few years playing on those attributes, with great success. How does it feel, Lena—sorry, Katy— to know most of the men in two continents go to bed fantasising about your body? Does it turn you on?'

  'I'm a model,' she said flatly, and watched in amazement as Jake flung his head back and burst out laughing. 'I don't see what is so funny in that.'

  'Oh, come on.. .I saw the poster of you—it was on hoardings all over the world.' He was still chuckling as his brown eyes caught and held hers. 'Claude must have millions on that line. The original Eve could not have done better. Every man who saw it spent hours wondering how that basque stayed over your nipples and waiting for it to slip.'

  Her lips parted in an answering grin; she could not help herself. Her basic honesty forced her to admit that his opinion of the photograph was spot-on. She had been really quite well-covered, wearing a lot more than most women wore on a beach, but the photographer had shot her reaching for an apple on a tree.

  "They would have had a long wait,' she giggled. 'I had it stuck to my flesh with strong tape.'

  'Ah, another illusion bites the dust.' Jake groaned theatrically, and for the first time that evening they shared a smile of mutual amusement.

  The waiter arrived with the food and for the rest of the meal Jake encouraged Katy to talk about her modelling career. By carefully avoiding anything personal and sticking strictly to the kind of chat she would give to any interviewer, they managed to get to the coffee stage without an angry word.

  Katy quite happily spooned sugar into her cup and followed it with a hefty dollop of cream. The evening had not been half as bad as she'd first feared on seeing Jake was to be her companion. She could only hope the rest of the evening, at the nightclub, went as well... She stopped in the process of lifting the cup to her mouth. What was she thinking of? Enjoying Jake's company? She took a swift gulp of coffee and replaced her cup on the table.

  He had been charming and courteous, and had fooled her yet again... Which, she thought cynically, considering he believed she was little better than a whore, and had said as much, tonight and two years ago, only underlined what she had first discovered as a shy eighteen-year-old, fathoms deep in love with the man.

  He was a devious, ruthless devil, who could quite happily stab one in the back while smiling into one's face.

  'Don't you have to watch your figure in your business?' Jake queried, glancing at her creamy coffee, then more leisurely at her bare shoulders and firm breasts. A lazy smile curved his sensuous lips as his dark eyes finally made contact with Katy's.

  She easily recognised the male appreciation and the hint of more on offer in his dark gaze. How many women, she wondered, had fallen for that seductive smile and the potent masculine virility of the man over the years? Hundreds, no doubt. Her own stepmother Monica among them, she thought bitterly. Yet no hint of scandal ever touched him; to the world at large he was a highly respectable but rather boring banker.

  Carefully she raised her cup to her mouth and took another sip of coffee to give herself time to control the swift stab of angry self-disgust she felt that she had once been stupid enough to be one of his women.

  Replacing her cup on the saucer, she finally answered his question. 'Why should I?' She fluttered her ridiculously long lashes. "There are thousands of men to do it for me, darling.' She laughed, playing the flirt for all she was worth.

  'Of course, how could I forget the pin-up of the decade?' he drawled sarcastically, his earlier easy charm vanishing as with a bitter look at her beautiful face he beckoned the waiter for the bill.

  Chalk up one for me, she thought confidently, though why Jake should feel bitter Katy couldn't imagine; that was her prerogative, surely? Still, she was finally proving mature enough to handle him; perhaps the rest of the evening would not be such a trial after all. Reaching out t hand, she said, 'You're my guest; I'll take care of that,' as the waiter placed the plate with the folded paper beside Jake.

  'No, you won't,' he almost snarled and, throwing a bundle of notes on the table, he glanced at the fine gold Rolex circling his wrist and stood up. 'Come along. It's almost eleven; the car will be waiting. Let's get the rest of this farce over with.'

  She could not understand why his former easy charm had suddenly changed to bitter anger, but he was not ordering her about. 'Farce!' she snapped. 'May I remind you it was all your idea? You didn't have to bid; you're rich enough—you could have just given the money to the charity.'

  She was talking to his back as he headed for the door of the restaurant, but his innate good manners forced him to wait at the entrance for her. She deliberately made for the powder-room, and dawdled over combing her hair and repairing her lipstick.

&nbs
p; By the time they were once more seated in the back seat of the Rolls Jake's face was flushed dark with rage at the delay. Katy had to hide a smile behind a cough. Serves him right, she thought gleefully. He strode through life as if he were God's gift to women; it would do him no harm to wait for one for a change.

  'I'm glad you found that amusing, but I don't appreciate being kept waiting,' he grated.

  'Sorry,' she drawled, but she could not keep the amusement from her voice.

  'You will be if you keep me waiting again tonight,' he said stonily.

  Katy made no comment. It's better to quit when you're ahead, she told herself, and settled back into the plush leather upholstery. She imagined she could feel the heat of his thigh burning into hers, but her common sense told her they were not even touching.

  She chanced a glance at his face. His hooded lids closed half over his eyes, masking his expression; his mouth was set in a tight line. His ruggedly attractive face had a curious brooding quality about it. Totally different from the laughing young man she had once known. This cold remote man was a stranger to her, and that was how she wanted it to stay...

  ‘I asked you if you want more champagne, and I would appreciate it if you would acknowledge me when I speak to you.'

  They had barely spoken since leaving the restaurant and now, as they sat at a comfortable table in Annabel's, Kart's head shot up with a jerk at the sound of Jake's obviously angry voice. Lost in her own thoughts, she had not been aware he had spoken. 'Yes, please,' she responded coolly. The champagne arrived and she watched as the waiter carefully filled the long fluted glass, and her eyes widened s a squat tumbler of what looked like whisky and soda was placed in front of Jake.

  'Aren't you sharing the champagne? It is a waste of the bottle—I'll never drink all that.'

  'I need something stronger,' he replied tautly, and, lifting his glass, he took a long swallow of the fiery liquid, put the glass back on the table, and raised his head, his brown eyes oddly enigmatic as they clashed with hers. Though I might share one with you later.' She did not trust his sensuous smile. He needed something stronger; perhaps he had the right idea—getting now would be one way of getting through the next few days, Katy thought wryly. In the dim intimate atmosphere of the nightclub, the shock of seeing Jake again was beginning to wear off, and some of his earlier comments had begun to sound vaguely threatening as they registered in her stunned mind.

  'Have you seen David, your father, recently?'

  'What? Oh, no, about eighteen months ago,' Katy replied, flustered by his steady gaze and the incongruity of the question. She had been busily thinking of his earlier statement that he would have her tonight. She had thought it was the kind of sophisticated teasing she had encountered dozens of times before in the modelling world, where every man seemed to consider fashion models easy game... But now, with his changed attitude, she was not so sure, and yes, she was panicking...

  'You do know Monica and David are divorced, or does your family interest you so little now you are a celebrity?' The last comment was a sneer.

  Katy sat up straighter in her chair, the mention of Monica enough to stiffen her spine. 'Yes. I may not see Father very often, but there is such a thing as a telephone,' she informed him sarcastically. 'Not that my communications with my father are any of your business.'

  CHAPTER TWO

  On Sunday Katy was lunching with her father; they had never been particularly close—she had always considered him a womaniser—but as the years had passed she had come to accept he was no worse than most men.

  Tomorrow she was going to tell him she was joining the family business, Meldenton China, makers of fine china. A frown marred her smooth brow as she recalled her conversation the previous day with Mr Jeffries, the family solicitor, and the other trustee, along with her father, of the inheritance her grandmother had left her— a thirty per cent share in the family firm.

  She had a troubled feeling there was something the elderly man was not telling her. She gave a dismissive shrug of her elegant shoulders. She was twenty-two now, and the trusteeship was at an end. She had planned for this day for a long time...

  Circumstances had led her into a different career from the one she had intended. There was no point in denying she had enjoyed her success as a model, and now it was over she felt a tinge of sadness. She had made some good friends in the fashion business, and she had travelled all over the world, but she knew deep down that she had always been acting a part. It had been a game she'd played, albeit very successfully.

  She conceded it had taught her a lot. Claude had encouraged her to keep up her interest in design and on numerous occasions used some of her work for ornamentation. She had enjoyed the experience, but now she was happily anticipating a new job as a designer of fine china with the family firm—the career she had originally trained for at art college.

  Katy jumped and spilled a little of the champagne as Jake reached across the table and caught her free hand. Lost in thought, she had almost forgotten his stinging comment accusing her of ignoring her father.

  'It was not my intention to argue with you tonight, Katy,' brown eyes clashed and mingled with green, 'but your father is an old friend.'

  The use of her given name lent sincerity to his words. Obviously he had taken her early remonstration to heart, and the thought pleased her.. .until she heard 'old friend'. Oh, no! She wasn't falling for his easy charm, his lies...

  "Then mind your own business,' she snapped back, pulling her hand away. With a friend like Jake, who needed enemies? she thought venomously.

  'As a friend of the family I think I am entitled to interfere. Your father is getting old, you have barely seen him in four years, and now he is on his own he's bound to be lonely. If you weren't so wrapped up in your career, so damn selfish, you might have noticed.' Jake's scathing tone made her hackles rise. He had a damn nerve, she thought furiously as she listened to him berating her.

  'My God! Your father's house is not ten minutes away from the hotel you are staying in. Hardly the caring daughter, are you?'

  'Such regard for my father I find rather hypocritical, coming from you,' Katy shot back angrily. How dared he pretend concern for the man, when she knew to her cost Jake had been Monica's lover long before her father had married the woman, and probably still was? For her London home one could read menage a trois—her father, Monica and Jake. Katy herself had had a lucky escape from the machinations of Jake once before and there was no way she was going to sit here and listen to his hypocritical cant.

  'Just what do you mean by that?' Jake demanded, and as she would have risen from the table his large hand caught her wrist and forced her to sit down.

  She pulled her wrist free, but only because he allowed her to, and quite deliberately she refilled her glass and, raising it to her lips, drained the sparkling liquid. How dared he question her, the swine? And without thinking she refilled her glass again.

  'I asked you a question. I have been called many names in my time, but never a hypocrite; what exactly are you implying?' he demanded hardily.

  'Nothing,' she muttered, and, picking up her glass, she drained the sparkling contents thirstily. She did not like to remember that particular painful episode in her life. 'You need not worry about my father. I'm going to see him tomorrow.'

  'You've been in London days already. How gracious of you, sparing an hour or two for him before jetting off again with your French friend. But then, beneath the sophisticated image you are still a spoilt, selfish little girl,' Jake intoned furiously. 'I had hoped you might have changed...'

  Katy carefully refilled her glass, and drained it yet again. Her hand shook with the force of the rage boiling inside her. She had changed; she was no more the dumb girl he could manipulate. His sneering superiority was the last straw. For years she had avoided having a showdown with this man, preferring to hide her hurt under various excuses, but not any more; she was going to tell him just what a rat fink... No. Katy took a deep calming breath: she was a so
phisticated lady; she would not give him the satisfaction of losing her temper. Instead she answered coolly, 'I am not jetting off anywhere. I am going to my father's house tomorrow and I expect to stay. I am joining the family firm—something I have always wanted to do.'

  'You, Lena Lawrence, working nine to five, pushing paper? Don't make me laugh,' he mocked cynically, but his dark eyes were fixed with a strange intensity upon her beautiful flushed face.

  His mockery broke the slender thread of her self-control. 'No, not Lena Lawrence, but Katy Lawrence Meldenton. You were instrumental in stopping me once before, but not this time, buster. I know you for the rat you are. "Hypocrite" doesn't begin to describe you.'

  'I think you'd better explain that remark. I always treated you with the utmost care and consideration; I offered you my name, everything. Nothing would have pleased me more than having you stay in London. I did not chase you away, you ran... You wanted to see the world,' he said harshly, his mouth twisting cynically. 'Or so you said.'

  She had told him that, and now she had almost admitted she had lied. She reached for her glass; she needed to regain her self-control before she gave away more than she wanted him to know.

  'Why do you dislike me so much? Do I prick your conscience?' Jake continued seriously. His long fingers curved around her hand on the stem of the glass. 'No more drink,' he warned hardily.

  She looked down at his tanned fingers, then up into his black eyes; he was leaning over the table towards her, his face expressionless; only the glitter in the depths of his dark eyes betrayed his tightly controlled anger. 'I've put up with a lot from you over the years, Katy, because I valued our,' he hesitated, 'relationship, for want of a better word, but no one talks to me the way you have tonight and gets away with it. I want the truth and now.'