'Cheer up, Sam, it isn't as if he'll be gone for ever, you know.'
'You're right, Gillian,' Samantha replied, making an effort to control her dismal thoughts. 'What's three weeks compared with a whole lifetime we shall spend together?'
'Exactly,' Gillian remarked emphatically. She changed the subject instantly and Samantha was grateful to her friend for trying to take her mind off her present unhappiness. But, despite Gillian's efforts, the immediate future looked bleak and empty without Clive.
Samantha took her usual bus home that evening and lingered only long enough to explain to her father that she would be returning a little later. She drove to the airport as fast as the speed limit through Walmer would allow and arrived there only minutes before Clive's flight was called.
'Sam darling! ' he cried as he saw her enter the building. 'I was afraid you might not make it.'
She flung herself unashamedly into his outstretched arms. 'Nearly all the traffic lights caught me. I was absolutely frantic!'
'All that matters is that you're here, my sweet,' Clive
told her seriously, kissing her waiting lips with a warmth that quickened her heart. Moments later his flight to Cape Town was called and he glanced at her regretfully. 'I must go, my pet.'
'Oh, Clive, I shall miss you!' she cried, unexpected tears brimming her eyes.
`And I shall miss you too, darling,' he replied, drawing her into his warm embrace as he kissed her for the last time before hastening towards the departure gate.
Samantha saw him go through a film of tears and remained where she was until the Boeing had soared into the swiftly darkening sky. For a moment she felt frightened and desperately alone before she shook herself mentally and told herself not to be silly. Clive would be returning and, if she kept herself busy, the time would pass quickly.
She went to work the following day, determined not to let Clive's absence upset her more than necessary, but half-way through the morning something happened that made her wish she had boarded that plane with him. The telephone on Gillian's desk rang shrilly and, after answering it, she placed the receiver beside the telephone.
`You're wanted on the phone, Sam.'
Mystified, Samantha went across to her desk and lifted the receiver, placing her hand over the mouthpiece. 'Who is it?'
Gillian shrugged. 'It's an internal call. The voice sounds familiar, but I just can't place him at the moment.'
`Who could it be?' Samantha questioned, frowning down at her anxiously.
'You won't find out that way,' Gillian remarked, grinning mischievously as she gestured towards the receiver. 'Talk to the man and find out what he wants, or I shall burst with curiosity ! '
A warning flashed through Samantha's mind, but with a curiosity to match Gillian's she raised the receiver to her ear. 'Samantha Little speaking.'
`Ah, I was beginning to think you couldn't be found,' a deep voice said abruptly.
Samantha's nerves were instantly electrified. `Mr Carrington '
'Were you expecting a call from someone else?' he queried mockingly, his voice vibrating across the line.
'N-No,' she stammered_ foolishly, clutching at the desk. 'What can I do for you?'
'I was wondering if I might persuade you to have dinner with me this evening.'
She sagged against Gillian's desk and stared into her friend's questioning eyes. `I—I'm afraid I can't. C-Clive is taking me out this evening,' she lied, grabbing at the only straw she possessed for safety. But safety from what? she wondered confusedly.
Gillian smothered a giggle behind her hand just as Brett Carrington's easy tones rang in Samantha's ear. 'Can't you think of a better excuse?'
`What do you mean?'
`I happen to know that Clive Wilmot will be out of town for the next three weeks. I am right, am I not?'
She was trapped, she realised with heavily thudding heart and flaming cheeks. 'Who—who told you this?'
`You could say I have my ear to the ground,' he replied mockingly. 'Will you have dinner with me this evening, and allow me to entertain you in his absence?'
'I—I couldn't. I
`I'll call for you at seven and we can have dinner at my hotel,' he interrupted, taking no notice of her stammered protests and precipitating her next excuse.
'There's no need to dress, it will be quite informal.' 'But I haven't said
'But you will,' he interrupted with an infuriating confidence that took her breath away.
'Yes,' she heard herself accepting as if she were listening to someone else.
'Seven o'clock?'
'Yes,' she agreed mechanically.
'Good,' his voice came abruptly over the line. 'I look forward to seeing you, Samantha.'
The line went dead and Samantha stared incredulously at the lifeless instrument in her hand.
'What did the great Brett Carrington want?' she heard Gillian ask as she dropped the receiver on to its hood with an angry gesture.
'He's invited me to have dinner with him this evening.' It sounded even more incredible speaking those words aloud and she felt quite dazed just thinking about it.
Gillian's eyes widened considerably. 'Well, well, well! '
'Don't say it like that!'
'Darling Sam,' Gillian laughed up into her friend's apprehensive blue eyes. 'Don't you realise what an honour it is to be asked to dine with a man like Brett Carrington? There are girls in this city who would give their false eyelashes for an invitation like that!'
'I know, I know, but ...' She swallowed violently, struggling to regain her composure before she met Gillian's glance with panic-stricken eyes. 'Gillian, I'm frightened! '
'For heaven's sake, Sam,' Gillian laughed reassuringly, drawing a chair closer and pushing Samantha into it. 'He can't eat you, and it isn't as if he has a reputation with women.'
Samantha smiled. 'I'm not afraid he might try to seduce me, if that's what you mean. And I'm not bluffing myself that he has any lasting interest in me. Besides, it would take an extraordinarily attractive woman to capture the heart of Brett Carrington.'
Gillian stared at her for several seconds with a gleam of tolerant amusement in her eyes. 'That's what I like most about you, Sam. You're always so unpretentious and so blessedly unaware of the fact that you're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever clapped eyes on.'
'You're a good friend, Gillian, but you do tend to exaggerate at times.'
'Don't underestimate yourself, darling,' Gillian continued unperturbed. 'Brett Carrington may have no interest in marriage to the local opposite sex, but I have yet to meet a man who doesn't appreciate beauty when he sees it.'
'I'm not interested in Brett Carrington's opinion of my appearance,' Samantha protested irritably. 'Oh, if only Clive were here! '
'But he isn't, so why not allow Brett Carrington to take your mind off Clive for a while? There can be no harm in that, surely?'
'But I don't want anyone or anything to take my mind off Clive,' Samantha cried, curling her small hands into fists. 'I love him!'
'More's the pity,' she heard Gillian mutter, but she was too disturbed at the thought of dining with Brett Carrington that evening to take offence. 'Just make up your mind that you're going to enjoy yourself this evening, and you will,' Gillian added with confidence.
Samantha returned to her own desk and wished five o'clock would never come. She thought strongly about pretending to be ill, but knew somehow that Brett Carrington would not let the matter rest there. Perhaps the only solution would be to get the evening over and
done with, she decided unhappily, but she would make it quite clear to him that after this evening she would not be available for further invitations.
James Little appeared rather doubtful when Samantha told him about the unexpected invitation she had received. If he had thought that she was merely pulling his leg, then he was forced to believe her when he found himself sitting down to a solitary meal while Samantha bathed and changed into a semi-evening dress that matched the colour of her
eyes superbly. With a billowing skirt and halter-neck top it was not too formal and cool enough for that warm summer evening. Without intending to, she had taken more than the usual care when dressing that evening, and her pale gold hair shone like a halo after she had brushed it vigorously away from her face to fall softly on her neck.
When she finally entered the lounge where her father was reading the evening paper, he glanced up and whistled appreciatively, but she found it difficult to hide the nervousness that seemed to twist her stomach into a permanent knot.
'If you would rather not go I'll make some excuse, Samantha,' he offered generously, but Samantha shook her head firmly.
`It'll be no use, Daddy. Brett Carrington isn't the kind of man to be fobbed off with excuses. I tried and failed.'
Her father folded the newspaper carefully and dropped it on the floor beside his chair to give her his undivided attention. 'I don't suppose it's occurred to you that you might enjoy his company?'
'I doubt it,' she remarked, firmly convinced that the evening was going to be a disaster from beginning to end.
At seven o'clock precisely the doorbell chimed and
Samantha turned frightened eyes towards her father.
'Brett Carrington is obviously a very punctual man,' James remarked calmly, and she laughed nervously as she rose to her feet.
'If he's punctual, then I don't suppose he would like to be kept waiting,' she tried to be flippant as she left the lounge. She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting to control her quivering nerves before she lifted the latch and opened the door.
'Good evening, Samantha,' Brett Carrington smiled down at her from his great height, and she could not help but admire his splendid physique which was clad in immaculate grey trousers, matching grey tweed jacket, and a silk scarf tucked into the neck of his white shirt.
'Won't—won't you come in?' she stammered, aware that she had been staring and furious with herself when she noticed the gleam of amusement in his dark eyes.
He followed her into the lounge and, to her surprise, some of the tension left her when, after making the necessary introductions, she discovered that there was an instant rapport between the two men. She could do nothing but stare as she saw Brett Carrington and her father, completely relaxed and at ease in each other's company, chatting as though they were old acquaintances. If only Clive and her father could get on in this way, she thought with a stab of pain.
Perhaps this was where the fault lay in the relationship between Clive and her father, she thought ten minutes later as she sat stiffly beside Brett Carrington in his silver Jaguar. Clive seldom took the trouble to talk to her father and, when he did, it always appeared as though he was in a hurry to get away. He never really gave her father the opportunity to get to know him, or endeavoured to spend time with him as Brett had done.
It was an awkward situation she felt incapable of rectifying.
`You look exceptionally lovely this evening, Samantha Little,' Brett Carrington interrupted her thoughts. He placed a hand over hers where she gripped them nervously in her lap. would prefer it, though, if you were more relaxed and not so silent.'
`I—I'm sorry.' Those warm, strong fingers sent an electrifying current along her ragged nerves and she was forced to clamp her teeth together for a moment to stop their chattering. 'I didn't w-want to come with you, you know that.'
He released her hands instantly and a tense silence hung between them. She was just beginning to think that she had mortally offended him when she heard him chuckle softly to himself.
`You're refreshingly honest, and I like that,' he explained as she glanced at him questioningly. 'Perhaps a good wine and excellently prepared food will alter your disposition.'
Samantha was not sure what she had expected, but she had certainly not bargained with going up to the third floor in his private lift to his elegantly and expensively furnished suite where a dinner for two had been laid out on a small table at a window overlooking the sea. Soft lights and subdued music added to the atmosphere while white-clad waiters discreetly served the most exquisite meal she had ever tasted and left them ostentatiously alone to enjoy it.
Samantha could not recall at what stage during the meal she began to lose some of the tension within her, but she never ceased to be wary of the man seated opposite her. She was aware of him in every fibre of her being, and it was an awareness that frightened her and placed her involuntarily on her guard.
`How did you know where I lived?' she asked curiously, recalling suddenly that he had not asked for her address when he had issued his unexpected invitation to have dinner with him.
Their coffee had been poured in small coffee cups of the most delicate china and Brett Carrington gestured to the waiter that they would help themselves to more coffee if they so desired.
`You've perhaps forgotten,' he began when they were alone once more, 'that I have access to the staff files?'
'Of course.' How foolish of her not to have realised this. No one would have thought it strange for one of the directors to ask for an employee's file which he could scrutinise at leisure. The nervousness which had lain dormant almost throughout the entire meal reared itself once more, and knowing that she was dining with one of the most sought-after men in the Eastern Cape only served to heighten her discomfort.
Brett Carrington offered her a cigarette from a slim gold case and, when she refused, he lit one for himself and leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at her through a film of smoke.
'I discovered also that after you left school you attended a secretarial college for a year before joining this firm. Eighteen months ago you were promoted to private secretary to the Assistant General Manager, but after a week you requested a transfer back to your old job.' His glance was intense and inscrutable. 'Why?'
Samantha's heartbeats quickened as she lowered her glance. 'My reasons were of a personal nature.'
'I could make it my business to find out.'
Her troubled blue gaze was pleading. 'I don't wish to discuss it.'
Brett Carrington's mouth tightened. 'Did the A.G.M. demand more than your secretarial services from you?'
Samantha felt the blood rush to her face as she stared at him incredulously. 'You know?'
'Everyone knows that his secretaries are specially chosen for that purpose,' he replied bluntly, crushing his half-smoked cigarette into the silver ashtray. 'There are girls who relish such jobs, but you obviously do not, or you wouldn't blush just talking about it.'
She could not bear the scrutiny of his dark eyes and lowered her glance. 'I've never discussed the subject with anyone before.'
'It's understandable,' she heard him say drily. 'I've discovered quite a lot about you, Samantha Little, in a short space of time. Perhaps you might care to fill in the missing pieces to the puzzle?'
Samantha felt her hands trembling in her lap as she glanced at him suspiciously. 'Is that why you invited me to have dinner with you?'
'Would it shock you to know that for some reason you interest me a great deal, Samantha?'
She considered this in silence for a moment before replying, 'It doesn't shock me, Mr Carrington, but
'Brett,' he interrupted swiftly. 'My friends call me Brett.' He smiled briefly at her discomfort. 'You were saying?'
'I fail to see why I should interest you.'
There was an unmistakable gleam of mockery in his eyes that did nothing for her confidence. 'Does there have to be a reason?'
'There usually is, when a man like yourself becomes interested in an ordinary girl like myself.'
'Are you in love with Clive Wilmot?'
The question was so sudden that for a moment Samantha stared at him blankly. 'Really! I don't see
'That it's any business of mine,' he finished for her
with a hint of impatience. 'Would you prefer it if I questioned others about your personal life?'
She stared at him aghast, floundering hopelessly but, as he was about to refill her glass, she be
gged: 'Oh, please, no more wine.'
'Come, Samantha, have some more and relax,' he coaxed and, without waiting for a reply, he replenished her glass. 'I don't intend to eat you,' he echoed Gillian's remark, topping up his own glass before glancing questioningly at her, his heavy eyebrows raised autocratically. 'Well, do I get a reply to my question?'
'If you must know ... yes, I am in love with him' 'Has he asked you to marry him yet?'
Samantha shifted uncomfortably in her chair. 'Not in so many words, but we've discussed marriage.'
Why on earth was she allowing him to drag all this information from her? she wondered angrily. It was none of his business, yet it was impossible not to answer his probing questions. He had her over a barrel and he knew it. Damn him!
`Do you think he will ask you to marry him?'
Despite her valiant efforts, her anger rose sharply. 'I fail to see why I should continue answering questions which have absolutely nothing to do with you. Your prying has gone far enough, Mr Carrington!'
One strong brown hand closed firmly over hers where it lay clenched on the table between them, and Samantha blinked her eyes in surprise as she stared at it.
'I would hate to think of someone as beautiful as yourself being hoodwinked, Samantha. I would also hate to see your innocence marred.'
His voice was warm and vibrant, and strangely sincere, yet she could not heed his obvious warning. She trusted Clive and she had to believe that he loved her as
much she she loved him. Dear, darling Clive, who was not there at that moment to defend himself.
'Clive would never do anything to hurt me.' 'Famous last words,' Brett observed easily, 'if you'll forgive the old cliché.'
She averted her glance, staring instead through the open window to where the calm sea lay shimmering in the moonlight, depicting a peace and serenity she was far from experiencing. She had always been able to trust her own judgment in the past, so why should she not trust it where Clive was concerned? Why was everyone so bent upon destroying their relationship? Why did they find it so difficult to believe that Clive was sincere? Was Brett Carrington's cynicism perhaps as a result of the argument that had taken place between himself 'and Clive? Surely not Brett did not appear to be the kind of man who would bear a grudge and then deliberately set out to destroy someone else's happiness.
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