Old Desires

by Liz Fielding

  ‘And you keep it here?’ she asked, surprised.

  ‘This was the site of an old public house. There are very old cellars that run right under the road.’ He eyed her sideways. ‘The owner of this place lets me keep all my wine in them.’

  Tara nodded. ‘The Queen’s Head. I remember them uncovering the cellars during the excavations but I assumed the developers would have filled them in.’

  ‘You speak sacrilege, Tara Lambert. Good cellars are hard to find.’

  ‘It’s not a subject that crops up in my line of business. You must know the owner pretty well if you trust him with your personal wine stock,’ she said. ‘Especially if it’s all as good as this.’

  Adam Blackmore smiled slightly. ‘I suppose you could say we’re pretty close.’

  The waitress whisked their plates away and Adam asked if she would like a pudding.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you. That was delicious, but I’ve eaten far too much already. And I really must go.’ He signed the bill, brushing aside her insistence that she pay for her meal and unwound from the bench. He had seemed dangerous seated, but standing, facing her, she was able to truly appreciate the wide, square shoulders and the fact that he topped her own five feet and seven by a good six inches.

  He helped her on with her coat, the touch of his hand on her shoulder sending an unexpected lick of heat through her body. The urgency of it shocked and disturbed her and she moved quickly away, grabbing for her umbrella to cover her agitation. When she turned back he had opened the door for her.

  ‘Thank you, Adam. For everything.’

  ‘Everything? Are quite you sure about that?’ He laughed softly at her confusion, then took the hand she had offered politely and tucked it under his arm. ‘I’ll walk you home. Just in case your erstwhile pursuer has decided to hang around,’ he added, before she could object.

  A small stab of disquiet fluttered in her abdomen. ‘There’s no need. He’s not dangerous,’ she assured him.

  ‘No. Just a nuisance.’ His voice was cool. ‘I won’t be. Which way?’

  ‘But you haven’t a coat,’ she objected. It wasn’t especially cold for early March. But cold enough. He ignored her objection, simply waiting for her to answer his question. ‘It’s this way. At least it’s stopped raining.’

  ‘So it has and the fresh air is welcome.’

  Fresh? She wondered if he indulged in cold showers for fun but didn’t voice the thought. The idea of Adam Blackmore in a shower of any sort was far too disturbing and she made an effort to pull herself together.

  ‘After a day behind your desk?’ she asked, moderately satisfied with the light bantering tone she achieved.

  ‘After a day behind my desk,’ he agreed and then smiled and she knew that he hadn’t been fooled for a minute.

  ‘It’s along here.’ They walked up the side street until they reached the courtyard which had once housed the mews for a great house long since demolished. The stables, coach house and quarters above had been converted into small attractive apartments and Tara’s small first floor flat had been her home, her refuge, for six years. As they climbed the steps to the first floor walkway she wondered if she had been quite mad to risk it all on a business venture when she could be earning a good salary working for someone else. Someone like Jim. She suppressed a shudder at the thought.

  Adam looked around. ‘This is unexpected. I thought everything old had long since disappeared in Maybridge.’

  ‘The developers have done their best but there are still some gems and this was somehow overlooked in the rush to modernise. Maybe it wasn’t big enough for a car park,’ she added drily.

  Adam held out his hand for her key and after the slightest hesitation she surrendered it. He slid it into the lock and pushed the door open for her. She paused in the entrance and turned to face him. Risk seemed to be in the air. ‘Can I offer you a cup of coffee?’ she offered, tentatively.

  ‘You’re safely home, Tara. I think perhaps you’ve taken enough chances for one day.’ Heavy lids cloaked the expression in his eyes but his mouth curved into a crooked smile. ‘Goodnight.’

  He turned and was gone. His feet clattered briskly down the steps and she heard them ringing along the old rain-soaked cobbles of the courtyard before they were finally lost on the softer surface of the main road where they had to compete with the sound of traffic. She closed the door softly, not quite certain if she was glad or sorry that he had gone.

  *

  It was the sound of her telephone ringing that finally woke her.

  ‘Hello, Tara Lambert,’ she mumbled, still half asleep, into the receiver.

  ‘Tara? Are you ill?’ Beth Lawrence demanded.

  ‘Ill? No—’ She caught sight of the clock. ‘Beth, I’m sorry. I’ve overslept. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.’

  ‘No don’t come to the office. We’ve had a response to one of those leaflets you delivered at the weekend. You’ve an appointment at ten-thirty with a Jenny Harmon at Victoria House.’ She gave her the details and wished her luck.

  She ducked under a cool shower to finish the job of waking up, twisted her shoulder length hair up into a business-like chignon and then dressed in the expensive charcoal grey suit that she kept for important meetings. She checked her document case to make certain she had all the figures she would need and, after a final glance in the hall mirror, set off briskly to keep her appointment.

  The sun was making an effort this morning, lending an air of promise to the morning. Tara took only the very best secretaries on her agency books for temporary work and a client company that could afford accommodation such as Victoria House would make a big difference to their business. It would have a large clerical staff, all needing holiday, sickness and maternity cover.

  In the twelve months that she and Beth had been running their secretarial and computer staff agency, there was no denying it had been a struggle to break even. This response to her efforts to win new business was just what they needed and it was up to her to make the best of it.

  On one side of the ground floor was the wine bar that had been her refuge of the night before.

  The reminder of her evening with Adam Blackmore brought a faint blush to her cheeks and a lingering regret that their meeting had been in circumstances that had shown her in such an unfavourable light. She had spent a restless night disturbed by the thought that he might assume she regularly threw herself at strangers in the hope of getting a free meal. No doubt he thought she always invited them back to her flat for…coffee.

  For a moment the brilliant light-filled atrium, with its expensive boutiques lost its sparkle, but she took a deep breath and firmly banished him from her mind. If that was what he thought it was far too late to do anything about it. Certainly too late to withdraw her rash, uncharacteristic invitation. She should just be glad she would never have to face him again.

  She stepped quickly onto the escalator and tried to compose herself on the stately ride up to the mezzanine. The receptionist checked her name off a list and told her to take the lift to the top floor where she would be met.

  As she was whisked noiselessly upwards she mentally ran over all the things she would say to convince Jenny Harmon that she should give them a chance, determined to make a good impression. The lift came to a halt and the doors slid back.

  The figure that filled the space was shadowed, brilliantly backlit by the great floor to ceiling arch of window that faced the entrance to the lift. Then he moved and the light caught the harsh planes of his face bringing it into sharp relief.

  ‘Adam!’ Tara’s breath left her in a little exclamation of shock as she said his name. The impact made by Adam Blackmore was no less in the clear light of day. Rather the reverse. For a moment they both stood quite still while Tara’s confident smile, in place for Jenny Harmon, faded under eyes about as welcoming as the Atlantic on a bad day.

  Then the doors of the lift began to slide together, ga
lvanising them both into action, Tara in an attempt to escape before they closed and she was whisked away at the whim of some unseen hand, Adam simply to place a well-shod foot in the way so that they opened again. He stood aside to let her out.

  ‘Tara.’ Not a question. No surprise. Her name was simply a statement of some unwelcome, but not unexpected fact.

  ‘Hello, Adam. I didn’t expect to see you here.’ Her voice sounded incredibly small and unconvincing even to her own ears. ‘You said your office was convenient, but I hadn’t realised—’

  ‘No? This is a simple coincidence?’ He didn’t wait for her reply but gripped her elbow and hauled her across the thickly carpeted hallway.

  ‘Adam!’ she protested. ‘I have an appointment…’ She glanced back, hoping that Jenny Harmon might miraculously appear and explain. There was no one and she needed to get a grip of herself, to calm the hectic pounding of her pulse that his unexpected appearance had accelerated out of control. He didn’t give her the opportunity, but opened one of a handsome pair of doors, propelled her firmly through and deposited her in a chair.

  She had a brief impression of being on top of the world, of distant woods and the river framed in a series of arched windows that flooded the room with sunshine. Then he released her and she leapt to her feet. She wasn’t in Victoria House to admire the view.

  ‘I have an appointment with Jenny Harmon,’ she said, a sudden flash of anger finally releasing her vocal cords. ‘Will you please direct me to her office?’

  ‘Sit down, Tara.’ He settled himself on the corner of a large uncluttered desk and without taking his eyes from her face he leaned across and punched a button on his intercom. ‘Sit down!’ he commanded, when she did not immediately obey. She subsided into the chair, certain that he was not above picking her up and dumping her into it. But she perched on the edge, defiant in her determination not to stay a moment longer than she had to.

  ‘Jenny, are you expecting a Tara Lambert this morning?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, Adam. She’s from the secretarial agency I was telling you about. She has arrived, but she appears to be lost somewhere in the building.’

  ‘I very much doubt that she’s lost.’ His mouth curved in a smile Tara didn’t much care for. ‘In fact I believe she’s exactly where she wants to be. Leave it with me.’ For a moment he didn’t speak. He remained on the corner of his desk, regarding her with every evidence of irritation until, apparently having come to some decision he stood up and settled himself in the chair opposite her.

  He rested his elbows on the desk, the tips of his fingers touching his chin as he regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Once, Tara,’ he said, at last, ‘might be considered simple chance. Even an encounter as apparently contrived as the one you arranged last night.’ He ignored her furious denial. ‘But twice? Mrs Harmon is on the twentieth floor. This is the twenty-first. My private apartments.’

  ‘The receptionist said the top floor.’ She stood up. ‘A simple mistake, easily remedied.’

  ‘Stay where you are!’

  ‘Why? So that you can insult me some more? No, thank you.’ She didn’t sit, but she did stay where she was. It seemed improbable that there was any chance of business with this company now, but she owed it to Beth and to an increasingly tetchy bank manager, to make every effort to redeem what she could from the mess. ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Adam. I came here at the invitation of Jenny —Mrs Harmon — to talk to her about temporary secretarial help. I should like to do that now, if I may.’

  ‘You may not. Talk to me. Convince me that you have something worth selling.’ His eyes were cold. ‘Not quite so easy with your clothes on. But give it your best shot.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ The words were shocked from her.

  ‘That’s what you wanted, surely?’ He sat back. ‘You threw yourself into my arms last night. Invited me into your flat for what is euphemistically known as a ‘cup of coffee’. Unfortunately I didn’t take the bait. So now you’re here. Sit down, Tara. Make your pitch. Who knows? I might still be tempted.’

  Praise for Liz Fielding

  “effortlessly engaging” … Julie Cohen

  “Witty, heart-warming and totally spellbinding…” Tempted By Trouble - Cataromance.com

  “…a beautifully written story full of emotion, with characters I will remember long after finishing it.” Mistletoe and the Lost Stiletto – Mad About Romance

  “A magnificent setting, a feisty heroine and a sexy hero – a definite page-turner…who could ask for anything more?” A Wedding At Leopard Tree Lodge – Still Moments eZine

  Reunited: Marriage in a Million is a story that contains everything we’ve come to expected from Liz Fielding – a veteran of romance fiction. Her well-honed expertise is apparent at each and every perfectly-plotted twist and turn of this story. – Romance Reviewed

  Liz Fielding’s The Secret Life of Lady Gabriella is charming and funny, but has some dark emotional moments too. A keeper. – Romantic Times

  “Fielding’s deft handling is a triumph. The characters are fabulous, the relationship between them complex and nuanced…and keep a tissue handy at the end!”

  SOS: Convenient Husband Required – Romantic Times

  About the author

  Award winning author, LIZ FIELDING, was born with itchy feet. She was working in Africa before her twenty-first birthday and - gathering her own special hero and a couple of children on the way - lived in Zambia, Botswana, Kenya and the all over the Middle East, with pauses for sightseeing pretty much everywhere in between.

  She finally came to a full stop in a tiny Welsh village cradled by misty hills, and now mostly leaves her pen to do the travelling.

  The author of more than sixty romances, Liz has been nominated seven times for the Romance Writers’ of America RITA® award, winning twice with The Best Man & the Bridesmaid and The Marriage Miracle. She has also been nominated four times for the UK’s Romantic Novelists’ Association “Romance Prize”, winning with A Family of His Own and was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Award for her work by Romantic Times BOOKclub magazine.

  She gives talks and holds workshops on writing romance.

  For news of upcoming books visit Liz’s website at http://www.lizfielding.com, visit her blog at http://lizfielding.blogspot.com or follow her on Twitter @lizfielding

  Some recent books by Liz Fielding

  The Beaumont Brides Collection

  Eloping With Emmy

  A Stranger’s Kiss

  Dangerous Flirtation

  Flirting With Italian (Harlequin)

  Secret Baby, Surprise Parents (Harlequin)

  The Sheikh’s Unsuitable Bride (Harlequin)

  A Wedding at Leopard Tree Lodge (Harlequin)

  Non-fiction

  Liz Fielding’s Little Book of Writing Romance (Classic Romance)

  A full list of her books is available at http://www.lizfielding.com

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A STRANGER’S KISS - CHAPTER ONE

  Praise for Liz Fielding

  About the author