Passionate Revenge

by Sally Wentworth

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They discussed the project in some detail, Heath catching some of Zara's excitement. He was full of ideas, too, which fuelled her enthusiasm, so that their coffee grew cold as they batted ideas to one another. It was the kind of stimulating discussion that Zara revelled in, making her eyes and face glow as she talked eagerly. They were both leaning forward across the table as vague suggestions became concrete possibilities. But then Heath laughed and caught hold of her gesticulating hand. 'Hey, slow down! We'll have forgotten half of this by the morning.' He smiled at her animated face. 'You know, I was beginning to think you only come alive when you get angry, but I see I was wrong.' He looked round. 'We seem to be the last here. Shall we go?'

  Zara looked round in surprise, she hadn't even noticed that the room had emptied. 'Yes, of course.'

  A waiter was hovering nearby, the bill already made out, and she beckoned him over, but Heath took the bill himself. 'No,' he said firmly. 'Business or not, this was my idea.'

  She half opened her mouth to protest, but then shrugged. 'Okay, thanks,' and went to the cloakroom to collect her coat, automatically adding a spray of perfume and a touch more lipstick before she remembered who she was with. Which just showed how deeply interested she had been in their discussion if she could have forgotten that !

  But she was fully aware of Heath again during the drive back to London, although they didn't talk very much until he drew up outside her flat. Then he turned to her. 'Well, it hasn't quite worked out the way I expected it to, but it's been a very stimulating evening for all that.'

  'Oh? You mean you didn't believe me when I said it was to be a business meeting?'

  'No.' He slid his arm along the back of her seat. 'What I had in mind was that we would just talk, get to know one another again. Perhaps talk about old times.' He paused, then added deliberately, 'And maybe find the answers to some questions that have been puzzling me about you.'

  Zara turned her head away. 'I don't like talking about the past,' she said shortly. 'The present and the future are all that matters.'

  Heath gave her a shrewd look. 'Does that really work—trying to shut out the past? I should have thought that our pasts are what has made us the people we are now.'

  Slowly Zara turned her head to look at him again, a bitter smile on her lips. 'Yes,' she agreed, 'the past has made me exactly what I am now.' Heath, sensing her unhappiness, reached out a hand to cover hers, but she drew it quickly away. 'When can you start on the feasibility study?' she asked abruptly.

  He laughed, but accepted the change of subject. 'It will mean taking on more staff, but that shouldn't be too difficult, and I might need more people when we do your home furnishing promotions. I've already taken on extra staff to do the present advertising campaign and I'll probably try to keep them on. So shall we say in a couple of weeks?'

  'Fine.' Zara put her hand on the door catch. 'Thanks again for dinner. Goodnight.'

  'Hey!' Heath caught her arm. 'Aren't you going to ask me up for a nightcap?'

  'No.'

  'It would be much warmer in your flat,' he coaxed.

  'No.'

  He sighed. 'You're a hard woman, Zara.' Drawing her to him, he kissed her insinuatingly, then drew away. 'I think you must be made of ice. You don't even melt when I kiss you.'

  'Is that what I'm supposed to do?'

  He smiled a little, his finger running gently over her lips. 'It would be—encouraging.'

  'Maybe I don't want to encourage you.'

  'So I gathered.' But that didn't stop him from putting his arms round her and kissing her again, kissing her so thoroughly that the familiar ache of longing shot through her so fiercely that she almost moaned aloud, and it took all her will-power not to surrender to him as he wished. 'When can I see you again?' he asked huskily when he at last raised his head, adding before she could speak, 'And I don't mean a business meeting. I want us to spend some time together without even I h inking about work. I want to concentrate on just us— as people. As a man—and a very attractive woman.'

  He nuzzled her neck as he spoke and gently bit her car-lobe, his closeness making her bite her teeth together to stop herself giving way to the growing yearning inside. 'We can't—separate ourselves like that,' she stammered.

  Putting her hands on his shoulders, she tried to push him away, but Heath slipped his hands inside her loose coat and began to caress her. 'I can,' he said thickly.

  'Don't! Don't do that.' She pulled violently away from him, hitting the back of her head on the window. 'Don't touch me!'

  Heath drew back, staring at her. 'Zara, what is it? I don't ….’

  But she had pulled open the door and stumbled out of the low car, was searching feverishly in her bag for her key. Getting out of the car, Heath stood on the other side of it. 'It's all right,' he said brusquely. 'I get the message.'

  Zara bit her lip, realising that he must think her absolutely crazy. 'I'm sorry,' she managed to say. 'It's just that—that I don't like being handled.'

  For a moment they stared at each other across the frost-covered roof of the car, then Zara turned, let herself into her building, and ran quickly up to her flat.

  Richard came home a couple of days later, but Zara was away on business again and didn't see him until the weekend. She welcomed him warmly, making his face brighten with pleasure, and they spent an extremely pleasant evening at the theatre, going afterwards for supper to one of London's famous fish restaurants. 'We ought to eat more fish and vegetarian food,' Zara told him as they drove back to her flat. 'It's much better for you.'

  'You're not going on one of those health-food kicks, are you?' he asked as they went inside. 'You're thin enough already. I like you as you are.'

  Pulling her to him, he kissed her, and she gave a little sigh. 'I'm glad you're back, Richard.'

  'Are you? Really?' She murmured agreement and he smiled down at her. 'And there's nothing between you and Heath Masterson?'

  'No, nothing. Let's have a drink and put some music on.' Breaking free of his hold, Zara went over to the music centre. 'I feel like something light. How about this?' She put on a disc of movie themes and turned the volume up.

  'Good lord, that's much too loud!' Richard came over and turned it down, then watched her as she began to dance around the room, a glass in her hand. At first he looked amused, but his smile slowly faded, leaving him watching her intently. Catching hold of her wrist, he made her stop and pulled her close against him. She laughed. 'No, come and dance.'

  But Richard kissed her more fiercely than he had ever done before, then said urgently, 'Zara, I want you so much. I'm not going to let you put me off any longer. I'm going to stay with you tonight.'

  Immediately she pulled free from his hold. 'Wait till you're damn well invited!'

  have waited,' Richard said vehemently. 'I've been waiting for months for you to make up your mind. I've asked you to marry me time and time again, but you've always put me off. But now I want a straight answer, Zara. I want to know whether you'll marry me—or failing that whether you'll commit yourself enough for us to become lovers?' he demanded harshly, his face red with anger.

  'Why now? Why must you have an answer tonight, Richard?'

  'Because my patience has worn out. And because I think your feelings for Masterson are deeper than you admit.'

  Well, that was true enough, Zara owned inwardly; only Richard suspected her of entirely opposite emotions. Trying to be calm, she went over and turned off the music, then faced him again. 'Richard, I've told you before that I'm not ready to marry again yet. I'm very fond of you and I…'

  'Fondness isn't enough,' he said shortly. 'I want a total commitment, Zara.'

  Slowly she shook her head. 'Then I'm sorry, but I can't give you that. Not yet. But I'd be very happy to go on as we are.'

  His face going pale, he said, 'A platonic friendship isn't what I have in mind.' Making one last desperate try, he said, 'Zara, even if you don't love me we could still enjoy being—close to
each other. Maybe love would grow out of that.'

  'Maybe it would,' she agreed after a moment. 'But I'm sorry, I can't guarantee that, and right now I can't offer you more than friendship.'

  'I see.' He straightened up, his back very stiff. 'So it's goodbye, then. I suppose I've seen this coming for some time, but I've always hoped…' He broke off and shrugged himself into his coat. 'Don't bother to come to the door,' he said bitterly. 'You've shown me out often enough—this time I'll go of my own accord.'

  Zara watched him go with regret, she had enjoyed the times that they had spent together, but there was also a small inner feeling of relief; Richard had been getting too serious and she had no rime for emotional involvement, especially when she wanted to concentrate on getting her revenge on Heath. And with this in mind the first thing she did when she went into the office on Monday morning was to call her stockbroker. 'Is there any news on the Masterad shares ? she asked eagerly.

  'We've looked into it, Miss Layston, and we've found that the forty-nine per cent of shares not owned by Heath Masterson are divided between several people including an uncle and an aunt of his. The aunt and uncle aren't married to each other, by the way. We think that the easiest way to buy some shares might be by approaching the aunt, who is elderly and might be willing to sell. She owns fifteen per cent. Would you like us to make enquiries on your behalf?'

  'Please, but not mentioning my name, of course, although I want them for my private portfolio. And perhaps you could approach the others too. I want to buy as many as I can. What is the value of the shares at the moment?'

  They discussed the financial side of it for a few minutes, Zara surprising the stockbroker by the amount she was willing to pay. But the deal of Heath's ten per cent of shares in exchange for some in Panache was already taking place and if she could get even another fifteen per cent, it would give her a very decisive voice in Masterads' dealings.

  She had a meeting that day with the heads of her three textile factories, and as there were some present problems to be solved and new ideas to be planned for, the meeting went on all day and she didn't get back to her office until quite late. Mac had been holding the fort for her as usual and presented her with a formidable list of phone messages. As she glanced down it, Heath's name immediately caught her attention.

  'What did Masterads want?'

  'It was a personal call from Mr Masterson; when I told him you were busy he said he would call you at home tonight. Oh, by the way, I've got the papers here for you to sign to complete the exchange of shares.'

  'Good, I'll do that right away.' She signed the papers with a small smile of satisfaction. 'You get along home now, Mac. Thanks for taking care of things for me. See you tomorrow.'

  Mac went off willingly, eager to get home to his house in the suburbs where his wife and two young children were waiting for him. But for Zara her day still hadn't finished, there was the list of messages to deal with as well as several letters that had arrived by the second post. Some of the things she was able to deal with quickly and easily, but others demanded more time and attention. At eight she suddenly decided that she had had enough; she would go home and get something to eat and then deal with the rest at home. Putting the rest of the papers into her briefcase, she stretched tiredly, realising that she had been sitting down all day. She could do with some fresh air and exercise, but had such a busy schedule for the coming week that there was little chance of finding the time for it.

  It was raining again, as it had spasmodically for the past month. Zara couldn't remember a more miserable end to winter, the only consolation being that all the weather prophets were forecasting a very hot summer to make up for it. She paused on the step outside the main entrance to put on a jaunty rain-hat to match her mac—a Panache outfit, of course. The building was situated in what had once been an old mews about a quarter of a mile from Oxford Street, and she knew from experience that she would have to walk up to the busy main street before she would find a free cab, if she was lucky enough to find one in this weather. But as she stepped out on to the pavement she heard someone call her name and looked across the road to see Heath just getting out of his car. He came quickly over to her. 'Want a lift?' he asked with a grin.

  She hesitated for a moment too long, giving him time to grab her hand and hurry her across to his car. Once inside he raised a questioning eyebrow. 'Home?'

  She nodded and said, 'Were you waiting for me?'

  Heath, his eyes on the road as he threaded his way through the traffic, gave a brief nod. 'Yes. I saw your light on in your office and guessed you were working late, so I thought I'd hang around for a while.'

  'Why?' Zara asked suspiciously, afraid he might have got wind of her wanting to buy his agency's shares.

  But Heath merely smiled. 'Because I wanted to save you a walk in the rain, of course.'

  It wasn't far to her flat. Heath pulled up outside and came to open the door for her. She started to thank him for the lift, but her voice died in her throat as she looked up into his face. His eyes were warm but slightly mocking and his jaw was thrust determinedly forward. Putting his hand under her elbow, he firmly walked her over to the door and went up to her flat with her.

  There, as if sensing her tiredness, he began to take over, hanging their coats in the hall cupboard and quite naturally walking over to the drinks trolley and pouring out a couple of gin and tonics. 'Cheers,' he toasted, handing her a glass.

  Zara took the glass from him, her eyes on his face. 'Look, I don't know what you expect from coming here, but I've brought a lot of work home with me to do.'

  'I don't expect anything,' he told her. 'Have you eaten yet?'

  'No, but I…'

  'Then you're in luck, because I'm going to fix you one of my special meals. Which way is the kitchen?'

  'Hey, now wait a minute——————' Zara began to protest.

  But Heath came over and put his hands on her shoulders. 'Relax,' he said softly. But then his face hardened a little. 'Unless you mean that Richard is likely to turn up again. Do I make a meal for three instead of two?'

  'No.'

  His dark eyes became intent. 'That sounded a very definite no.'

  'Yes, it was.'

  'Because he's away on business again?'

  'No, he isn't away.'

  'I see.' His hands tightened for a moment, but then he nodded and became brisk again. 'Okay, so it's dinner for two.' Taking off his jacket, he took out his cuff links and turned back his shirt sleeves. 'Now, where's the kitchen?'

  'Over there.' Zara gestured in some amusement. 'Are you trying to tell me you can really cook?'

  'You shall be the judge of that in about half an hour or so. Now go and take it easy until I call you,' he ordered.

  Zara didn't, of course, instead going into her study to continue working, dictating the gist of letters for Mac to do the following day, checking over the contract of a shop they were buying, making notes and suggestions for a proposal to have a store within a store in New York, besides a lot of more mundane work.

  It was nearly three-quarters of an hour before Heath came to find her. 'Dinner's ready,' he told her.

  'Mm, I just have to finish this.'

  But he firmly took the pen out of her hand. 'It'll spoil if you don't come at once.'

  She gave him an indignant look, but then laughed and stood up. 'That sounds as if it ought to be my line.'

  'Not tonight. Your turn next. Come on, I'm hungry!'

  He had found her crystal candle-holders and put short fat red candles in them. That, and a couple of lamps, was the only light in the dining-room. He handed her into her chair, brought the first course from the kitchen and poured out some wine. It was, Zara noted, one of her good bottles, proving that he knew his wines. He had made mushroom soup, laced, if Zara wasn't mistaken, with sherry. She tried it warily, Heath grinning at her expression. 'Okay?'

  She nodded. 'It's good.'

  'Don't sound so surprised. I've been looking after myself for qui
te some years now.'

  'You've never married?' she asked with studied casualness.

  'No. But then you already know that.'

  'Do I?'

  'Oh, yes. You found it out when you had that investigation done on me.'

  There was no point in lying; he wouldn't believe her anyway. 'How did you find out?' she asked ruefully.

  'The people I worked for in America got in touch with me. They said they'd been asked for a detailed reference about me and they thought I was applying for a new job. So they asked me to go back to them.'

  'I see.' Zara shrugged. 'It was natural for us to want to know all about you when we were putting so much business in your hands.'

  'Fair enough,' Heath agreed, but then his voice hardened. 'But was it also necessary to question my neighbours and the staff of my company about my personal life?'

  'Did the investigation agency go that far?' Zara pretended to be surprised.

  'I'm quite sure you know they did,' he answered shortly, 'Why go to those lengths, Zara?'

  She shrugged noncommittally. 'I didn't give any specific instructions; I just asked for a report on you and your company. It was just a safeguard, that's all.' She gave him a quick glance under her lashes. 'I'm sure you've had a report done on my company as well.'

  Heath gave a short laugh. 'No, I haven't. I happen to believe in making my own judgements. And also in trust. Although you evidently don't.'

  Zara's face tightened and for an instant her eyes filled with hate. 'I have no reason to put any faith in people's promises,' she flashed at him. 'And I certainly don't put any trust in…' She stopped hastily, aware that she might say something she would regret. 'The soup was delicious,' she said instead. 'What's next?'

  With a rather wry smile, Heath said, 'Boeuf Bourguignon and rice. You don't have an awful lot of food in stock to work with.'

  'I eat out a lot,' Zara explained. 'And unless I'm entertaining I usually just make an omelette or something.'