Blackmailed Into Her Boss's Bed

by Sandra Marton

  She nodded. ‘All right.’

  ‘And try not to take too long, will you?’ He frowned. ‘I want to get this meeting started promptly.’

  So much for dreading special treatment, Talia thought, and she nodded again. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ Her voice was as crisp as his.

  ‘Do that,’ Logan said, and then turned to the little group behind him, a gesture that made her dismissal clear.

  He barely spoke to her during lunch, except to issue an order about a dinner meeting to be held the following week.

  ‘I’ll pass it along to Bianca,’ Talia said, scribbling a note in her memo book. ‘She can tell my successor and—’

  Logan’s head rose and his eyes met hers for the first time. ‘I’ll want you to handle this yourself,’ he said pleasantly.

  ‘Perhaps you’ve forgotten. I won’t be here then. I’m leaving on the—’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ His tone was casual, but there was something shark-like in his smile. ‘I spoke with John Diamond, and we agreed that the programme’s too new to let anyone else handle it. You’ll be staying on.’

  Talia felt as if the air were being sucked out of her lungs. Easy, she told herself, there’s a table filled with people here; if you say the wrong thing or look the wrong way, there’s no telling what Logan will do. ‘We had a three-month trial agreement, remember?’ she said finally, clasping her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking.

  He waved his hand. ‘My attorney assures me that such a personal services agreement within the contract isn’t binding. My deal with Diamond—which includes your participation—is for a full year.’ His lips drew back from his teeth. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to withstand the rigours of Brazil a little longer, Talia.’ He laughed, and she wondered if she was the only one who heard the falsity in it. ‘I must say, you’re the only one of my people who’s complained about the climate. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?’

  There was a murmur of agreeable laughter around the table. Talia forced herself to smile along with the others. So, she thought, that was the story he’d told. Well, it wouldn’t work. And she doubted if what he’d said about the contract was true. At the next staff meeting, he could damned well try explaining why she’d gone back to the States despite his neat little speech.

  She spent the rest of the day in quiet anger, and she welcomed the feeling. It was better than the despair with which she’d begun it. At least anger was an emotion you could do something with. When the lift doors slid open at six that evening, she was spoiling for a confrontation.

  Logan was waiting for her with a smile and a glass filled with sparkling, pale golden wine.

  ‘Hello.’ He held the glass out to her. ‘You’re five minutes late.’

  ‘I had a lot to do this afternoon,’ she said coolly. ‘And I don’t want anything to drink.’

  His smile broadened. ‘This isn’t “anything”, it’s vintage champagne. Go on, take it.’

  She took the glass from him reluctantly. There really wasn’t much choice: Logan effectively blocked her way.

  He lifted his glass to hers. ‘Cheers.’

  Talia hesitated, then sighed. ‘Cheers,’ she said, taking a sip.

  ‘Good?’

  It was. The champagne was cool and dry. Denying it would be pointless. ‘Good,’ she admitted, giving him a grudging smile over the rim of her glass.

  They had played this scene before, she thought suddenly, the time Logan had met her at the lift with a glass of caipirinha. But things were different then. He hadn’t made love to her, he hadn’t held her all through the night…

  She tore her eyes from him and swept past him into the living-room. ‘That was a nice bit of nonsense you tried at lunch,’ she said, putting her glass down on the coffee-table. ‘But it won’t work. I’m leaving next week, Logan, and you can’t stop me.’

  He smiled lazily and leaned back against the wall. ‘Can’t I?’

  There was a huskiness in his voice that made her pulse race. Somehow, he’d made the simple question into a challenge. She knew he might be able to damage her career. But her career wasn’t half as fragile as her heart.

  Talia’s chin lifted. ‘Last night didn’t change anything. I still intend to return to the States. In fact…’ She fell silent. Logan was coming slowly towards her, his eyes dark, his face tense. ‘Logan. What are you—?’

  ‘You’re going to have to learn to do things properly,’ he said softly. He put down his glass, then stopped beside her, so close that, if she lifted her hand, she could touch him. ‘There’s a way to say “good morning” and a way to say “good evening”, and you don’t seem to know either.’

  Her mouth went dry. ‘Don’t.’

  He smiled crookedly as he bent to her. ‘Don’t what?’ he whispered. His lips brushed her temple, her cheek, touched her ear. She felt the heat of his breath, then the touch of his tongue. A tremor went through her.

  ‘Don’t—don’t do that. I can’t—I can’t concentrate when you…’ She moaned softly as he lifted the hair from her neck and pressed his mouth to her skin. ‘Logan. Please. Please…’

  He moved behind her; she heard the rasp of her zip as he drew it slowly open the length of her silk dress. His lips moved against the nape of her neck, his hands slid into the gaping dress and cupped her breasts.

  ‘Oh, God.’

  A dizzying sweep of sensation flamed through her. This wasn’t fair. Logan was—he was…

  Her dress fell away, a silken puddle lying softly at her feet.

  ‘You’re so beautiful, Talia,’ he whispered.

  She wanted to turn in his arms and demand that he stop. She wanted to push free of his embrace and tell him that this meant nothing to her. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t. His hands were everywhere, touching, teasing, adding to last night’s mysteries.

  Logan groaned and drew her back against him.

  Her lashes fell to her cheeks as she felt the aroused press of his body. He wanted her—not forever, but for now. And she wanted him. Oh, yes, she wanted him. His kisses, his caresses, his love…

  He turned her to him and looked into her eyes. ‘I told you that you couldn’t lie about wanting this,’ he whispered.

  Desperately, she cast about for something—anything—that would stop him. ‘What about—what about Vitoria Branco?’

  His teeth glinted in a feral smile. ‘To hell with Vitoria Branco.’

  ‘But I thought—I thought you and she—’

  ‘You thought wrong.’ His mouth dropped to hers in a long, hard kiss. When he raised his head, his eyes gleamed with a dark fire. ‘You’re not leaving Sao Paulo,’ he said.

  Talia shook her head. ‘I must.’

  ‘Damn you,’ he growled. His hands tightened on her as he bent and kissed her. His mouth bruised hers; when he looked at her again, she was shaking. ‘You’re not leaving,’ he said again. ‘I need you.’

  For a breathless moment, her heart soared. He wanted her; he was asking her to stay with him. He was asking her to—to…

  ‘There won’t be any strings attached, if that’s what’s worrying you.’ His voice was hoarse, almost angry. ‘That’s how we’d both want it, wouldn’t we?’

  Her throat constricted. How foolish to have let herself think he’d ever want anything else. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘that’s how we’d want it.’

  ‘That’s how it will be, then. An understanding between consenting adults.’

  ‘No. I didn’t say that, Logan. I…’

  He swept her into his arms and strode through the apartment to his bedroom. Gently, he lowered her to the bed and came down beside her, watching her through hooded eyes as his hand moved over her.

  ‘It’s what you want, isn’t it?’

  When she didn’t answer, he kissed her. Slowly, she lifted her arms and wound them around his neck.

  * * *

  A long time later, when they finally lay sated in each other’s arms, Logan’s heart was racing as violently as hers. He
raised himself up on one elbow and looked down at her in the pale light that drifted in from the quiet, night-time city.

  ‘I’ll have your things moved down to my rooms in the morning,’ he said softly.

  Talia’s lashes fell to her cheeks. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  With that one word, she knew she was doomed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘TALIA?’ Bianca knocked lightly at the half-open office door and stepped inside. She smiled when Talia looked up from the papers on her desk. ‘I just wanted to tell you I’m leaving.’

  ‘Goodnight, then. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Bianca hesitated. ‘It’s late, you know. Everyone else has gone. I can stay and help you with those reports, if you like.’

  Talia smiled. ‘Thanks, but it’s not necessary. Besides, it’s been a long day. Go on home.’

  ‘Longer for you than for me. Must your Mr Diamond have so many reports each week?’

  Talia sighed wearily. ‘He says it’s the price of success—half a dozen companies have expressed interest since we instituted our programme for Miller International.’

  ‘Here in Brazil, you mean?’

  ‘And in other places. Apparently there are lots of American firms that think John’s on to something clever. He’s working up a set of fact sheets and a brochure, and he needs all the information I can send him.’

  ‘Sim, I understand. But you look—’

  ‘Tired. I know that—you’ve told me often enough.’ Talia’s voice had sharpened, and she paused and drew a careful breath. ‘Stop worrying about me,’ she said, more gently. ‘I’m almost finished. Really. I’m going to wrap things up in just a few minutes.’

  Her assistant nodded. ‘Good. Senhor Miller has already left for the day. He must be wondering what is keeping you.’

  Talia’s head rose sharply, but Bianca’s face was a study in innocence. After a moment, she smiled through stiff lips. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘I doubt he’s even noticed.’

  The young woman nodded. ‘As you say. Well, then, boa noite.’

  ‘Goodnight. Oh, Bianca—close the door after you, would you, please?’

  Talia’s smile faded as soon as the door had shut. Her facial muscles felt as tense from holding the artificial smile as did her neck and shoulders from the hours she’d spent at her desk.

  She’d have to stop bristling every time her assistant seemed to hint that she knew that Talia’s relationship with Logan had changed. Hadn’t she told him, after the first time he’d made love to her, that she wouldn’t try to hide an affair if they had one? Her words had been brash but safe. One night didn’t constitute an affair. Logan had seduced her, and she hadn’t been about to let it happen again.

  Now, weeks later, those words had a hollow ring. Talia sighed, got to her feet, and walked across her office. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of living with Logan. It was just that this was South America and women were not judged by the same standards of morality as men, and…

  No. That wasn’t it at all. She and Logan moved in a sophisticated circle of people who were no different from the ones she’d known back home. Besides, she was a grown woman. Her thirtieth birthday was staring her in the face; how she lived her life was no one’s business. Anyway, Logan and she had both been discreet.

  A rueful smile touched her lips as she unscrewed the top from a vacuum flask of hours-old coffee. It wasn’t as if they were moonstruck lovers. The only visible change between them was the way he behaved when she hostessed the occasional business dinner in his apartment. He seemed to touch her more often than in the past. There was nothing intimate about it—his hand would fall on her shoulder or curve lightly around her waist as they greeted his guests or bade them goodnight.

  But there was something proprietorial in the gesture. She could see it reflected in the changed way his colleagues looked at her, and she had yet to decide if it pleased or disturbed her to see the sudden awareness in their eyes.

  Talia grimaced as she poured the coffee. The black liquid was oily, almost thick on her tongue, but she held her breath and swallowed it. She needed something to keep her going. Hours of work lay ahead of her—much more than she’d admitted to Bianca—and she was tired, although she suspected that her weariness was as much of the spirit as of the body.

  No strings attached. That was what Logan had said, and her reply had marked her agreement. And that was the heart of the trouble. She wasn’t ashamed of her relationship with Logan—she was heartbroken by it. Being his lover wasn’t enough. What she wanted was to be his beloved. And that was impossible.

  She sighed and sank into her chair again. It was probably a good thing they spent so little time alone. Otherwise, who knew what foolish thing she might blurt out? But they were out every evening—dining, dancing, or at the theatre. Logan kept up the pace he’d been accustomed to before they’d become lovers.

  Talia had been a little disappointed at first, but then she’d realised that it had been silly to think he’d change, just because of her. Clearly, he was a man who liked going out. Long, lazy evenings at home weren’t his style. Which was just as well. There was little time to talk—really talk—at the theatre or the cinema or even in a chic restaurant.

  ‘Did you see this bit about the drought affecting coffee prices?’ he’d say.

  Or, ‘Have you read the reviews of the new James Brooks film? I thought we’d see it this evening.’

  Sometimes, as they exchanged polite, meaningless chatter, Talia felt as if she were two people, one the woman who sat opposite Logan, paying polite attention to what he said about explorations for manganese in Minas Gerais or the prowess of a concert pianist, and the other someone who longed to silence him with a kiss, then ask him to tell her things he’d never told anyone else.

  ‘What were you like when you were little?’ she wanted to say. ‘Did you cry when Bambi’s mother was shot? Did you laugh when Mickey Mouse couldn’t sweep all the water down the steps of the sorcerer’s castle?’

  But she couldn’t. Logan had laid the ground rules for their relationship at the start, and everything he’d done since then had only refined them further. Intimacy was for the bedroom. He wanted to know Talia’s body, but not her soul.

  Sighing, she swallowed the last of the stale coffee, then put down the empty mug and rose from her chair. Slowly, she walked to the window, drew open the narrow-slat blinds, and stared out into the darkening street.

  What was it she’d learned in a long-ago biology class? You needed certain basics to survive. Food. Drink. Shelter. And, for most people, sex. Nobody had ever mentioned love. Not in biology. ‘Love’ wasn’t a scientific concept. It wasn’t a Logan Miller concept, either. In truth, Talia knew little of it herself. She only knew that she wanted more from this man than he was giving her.

  Her eyes filled with sudden tears as she stared into the dark street, remembering a rare evening they’d spent at the apartment. Logan had apologetically explained that he had had some work to do.

  ‘You can call Bianca, if you like,’ he’d said, watching her as he spread his papers on the table in the living-room. ‘She might like to see a film or—’

  ‘No,’ Talia had said quickly, ‘I—I’d just as soon stay here.’ With you, just sitting quietly beside you, watching you, offering you a cup of tea. She hadn’t said that, of course. She’d smiled instead and patted her own briefcase. ‘I have some work, too, if it’s all right.’

  He’d said nothing, his face expressionless, and then he’d nodded. ‘Certainly.’

  But she hadn’t worked. She’d pretended to, but in reality she’d simply sat there, surreptitiously watching him from under her lashes, noticing the tiny lines that fanned out from his eyes, the way he had furrowed his brow and thrust his hand into his hair when something in the report he had been reading had puzzled or displeased him.

  She had ached to get up and go to him, to put her cool hands on his forehead and soothe him, to kiss the corners of those weary eyes and tell
him she—

  ‘Talia?’

  The sound of his voice had made her jump. Logan had been watching her steadily, his mouth narrowed to a hard line.

  ‘Sorry.’ She’d cleared her throat. ‘I must have been—I was so immersed in my work that I—’

  ‘You weren’t working at all.’ His voice had been curiously flat. ‘You were looking at me.’

  She’d felt the sudden rise of colour in her face. ‘Was I?’ Her laugh had sounded forced, even to her ears. ‘I—I don’t think so. I think I was just staring into space and…’

  Why had he been looking at her so strangely? There had been a knotted muscle just beside his mouth, his nostrils had been flared…

  ‘What else could I have been doing?’ she had finally managed to say, although it came out a raspy whisper.

  Logan’s eyes had grown dark. They’d locked with hers until she could hardly breathe and then, at last, he’d given a tight little laugh and looked away. ‘Nothing else,’ he’d said. ‘Absolutely nothing else.’

  With that, he’d risen from the table and swept his papers together. ‘I’m afraid I can’t concentrate in this light. I’m going to work in the study—if you don’t mind.’

  Talia’s heart had constricted, but her smile had given nothing away. ‘No, of course not.’ She’d pushed back her chair and risen, too. ‘In fact, I think I’ll finish up in my rooms.’ She’d laughed nervously. ‘Well, you know what I mean. The rooms upstairs.’

  Logan had nodded. ‘Good idea. I’ll see you later, then,’ he’d said, as if they had been going to meet at the theatre or some other neutral place.

  Now, as she stared blindly into the street, Talia’s breath quickened. The place they met—every night—was in Logan’s bed. There, in his arms, they came together with a passion that made the empty days and evenings almost bearable. When he made love to her, Logan changed into a different man, one who held back nothing. He was generous and giving, tender as often as he was demanding.

  Once, when she’d cried out her pleasure, Logan had drawn back and stared into her flushed face. Talia had reached out for him, but he’d caught her wrists.