When they'd finished their drinks they were shown to a corner table where they couldn't be overheard. Picking up the menu, Miranda said, 'They seem to have a good selection here. What would you like?'
'Just steak and a salad,' Jonathan Carter said without even looking at the menu.
'No starter?'
'No.'
Miranda gave him a surprised glance but gave her order for just a main course to the waiter.
'Let's get down to business, shall we?' Carter said as soon as he'd gone. 'I'd like you to go through the details of the offer once more.'
'All right.' Hiding her annoyance at his brusque¬ness, she carefully described the package she had to offer him. He listened in attentive silence, but showed no emotion, neither displeasure nor grati¬fication. His attitude puzzled Miranda; he had been pretty hostile to the idea at first on the phone, but had seemed quite enthusiastic the last time she'd spoken to him. She knew that he was married and wondered if his wife had been nagging him one way or the other, that sometimes happened when relocation was involved, but the firm she hoped to place him with was again in London so that didn't apply in this case.
Their meal came before she'd finished but her guest seemed to have little appetite because he hardly touched his food, and frowned in impatience when she paused to eat.
When she'd finished outlining the proposal he asked one or two questions and then sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed intently on her face. 'Tell me, do you enjoy your job?'
It wasn't the first time she'd been asked the question. 'Yes, very much, as a matter of fact,' Miranda answered pleasantly, but again uneasily noting the coldness in his voice.
'Were you headhunted into it?'
She smiled. 'Everyone asks that.'
'I'm sorry to be so predictable.'
The antagonism was open in his voice now and Miranda tried not to show her concern as she smiled and said, 'Of course you're not; it's only natural to wonder. No, I drifted into it. Most people do.'
'And just what qualifications do you need to be a cannibal—sorry, headhunter?'
'We prefer to call ourselves executive search consultants.'
His mouth drew into a thin-lipped smile, the first she had seen him give, but there was no humour, only mockery in it. 'I'm sure you would,' he said sneeringly.
Realising that this was one she wasn't going to win and angry at his attitude, Miranda gave up trying and said, 'You haven't yet said whether you want to accept the offer.'
'You haven't yet told me what qualifications you need,' he retorted. 'Other than being young, blonde and nubile, that is,' he added insultingly.
Miranda's chin came up. 'I have a master's degree in business administration and had three years of hard experience in venture capital and industry generally before I came into the firm.'
Jonathan Carter suddenly sat forward, his face dark and menacing. 'And because of that you think you have the right to lure away a man who's vital to my company! Doesn't it ever occur to you to think about the effects of what you're doing? Of the hole you could be digging for the man's employer? But no, I don't suppose it does—all you're interested in is the commission,' he finished in strong disgust.
'But I don't understand.' Miranda gave him a bewildered look. 'You don't have any stake in Compass Consultants. Why should you care when you can get a better deal somewhere else?'
'Exactly! That sums up your whole attitude, doesn't it? But this time you made a big mistake. You came up against friendship and loyalty instead of greed.' Getting to his feet he glared down at her in cold fury. 'Because I'm not Jonathan Carter.'
She stared at him open-mouthed. 'But then who—?' She broke off, already knowing the answer.
'That's right. I'm Warren Hunter and I own Compass Consultants.'
CHAPTER TWO
MIRANDA stared at the man who stood towering over her, a look of cold triumph in his grey eyes. For a moment she was completely disconcerted by the trick that had been played on her, but then the realisation that she was face to face with the man who had treated her sister so cruelly brought her to her feet on a surge of fury. He was so tall that he still towered over her but Miranda didn't let that stop her. Leaning forward belligerently, she said, 'So you're Warren Hunter. I might have known. You certainly look cold-blooded enough to treat women the way you do.'
His left eyebrow rose mockingly. 'Trust a woman to be a bad loser and take it personally.'
Anger tore through her; he was speaking of her, of course, but his attitude could apply just as easily to poor Rosalind. 'You louse!' she said clearly, not caring who overheard. 'You think you're so damn clever, don't you? You think you can just use women and then throw them aside. You're disgusting!'
Totally disconcerted by her attack, Warren drew back, staring at her. 'What the hell—?'
But Miranda swept on, her fury rising. 'But this is one time when you're not going to just walk away from the destruction you've caused. This time you're going to pay for what you've done. And I don't mean just money. You're going to really pay.'
She paused for breath, angry colour in her cheeks, but Warren, as irate as her now, cut in, 'My God, I've heard that you career girls could get vicious, but, lady, you beat the rest hands down. Just because the deal you set up has fallen through and you've lost your commission—'
Miranda laughed in his face and glared at him across the table. Other diners were watching quite openly now and the head waiter was walking hur¬riedly towards them. Determined to embarrass Warren as much as she possibly could, Miranda said loudly, 'I don't give a damn about the commission. Just as you don't give a damn about the people you hurt, whose lives you wreck.'
'Aren't you being over-dramatic?' he sneered.
'No, I'm not. You ought to take the trouble to find out the surname of the women you use before you discard them.'
His eyes widened in surprise but then drew into a sharp frown. 'And just what is that supposed to mean?' There was menace in Warren's voice now but he hadn't bothered to lower it, apparently indifferent to the watchers.
The head waiter had come up and tried to in-terrupt them. 'Please sir, madam, if you could—'
But he was swept aside with an imperative wave of Warren's hand. 'Well?'
'It means,' Miranda said furiously, her hazel eyes flashing fire, 'that this is one time when you're not going to get away with discarding a girl you've seduced like some—some toy you've used and gown tired of.'
'What the hell are you talking about?'
'As if you didn't know!'
'No, I don't, so tell me.' He leaned forward, putting his hands on the table, bringing his angry face nearer to her own level.
But Miranda had become aware of the people watching them with avid curiosity and realised that she didn't want the world to know Rosalind's secret. And just in time she remembered that she mustn't give away the other deals she had made with his employees in case Hunter thwarted those, too. So instead of answering, she swung her bag on her shoulder and strode past him towards the door.
His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, but Miranda swung round and said, 'Take your hand off me,' so fiercely, that for a moment Warren was so taken aback that his grip loosened and she was able to wrench her arm free and walk on.
The waiter, getting his priorities right, came rushing after her, getting in Warren's way as he also tried to catch her up. 'Madam, the bill?'
Miranda stopped, and turned, bringing them up short. 'He's paying,' she said forcefully, her arm outstretched as she pointed at Warren. 'By credit card—the same way that he pays for his girlfriends to have abortions!'
The whole restaurant fell into a stunned silence, broken only by the bang of the door as Miranda slammed it on her way out. Still on a tide of anger, she strode to the kerb and only had to wait a few moments before a taxi came along. As it drew away she saw Warren rush out of the restaurant and run across the pavement after her. But it was too late; the taxi sped away and had soon pulled into the busy main road to Piccadil
ly Circus and the web of streets that led from it.
Miranda sat back in her seat with some satisfaction, feeling that she had definitely emerged the winner from that conflict. Although it was a bitter disappointment that Jonathan Carter had proved to be more loyal to Warren Hunter than to his own interests. Now her plan to bring Compass Consultants to the edge of ruin wouldn't be so effective, but she comforted herself that it would still be a great blow. Instead of turning the tables on her, as he'd thought, Warren Hunter would find that he had a major crisis of his own to deal with. Maybe that would take his mind off young girls for a while, Miranda thought triumphantly.
Her mind went back over the incident. She ought to have realised who he was sooner; the antagonism had been so apparent. She was one woman he definitely hadn't set out to charm. But she could see now how easy it had been for Rosalind to fall under his spell. To a young girl, used only to her fellow students, Hunter must have seemed from a different planet; self-confident, successful, and very good-looking in that hard, lean way that women always went for. Even someone like herself, a career-girl with some experience of the world, could hardly be blamed if she fell for him, Miranda realised. Which was enough to make your flesh creep when she thought of what type of man he was.
Having an unexpected hour to herself, Miranda went to Knightsbridge and spent the time shopping for Christmas presents before going back to the office. She felt good; having that confrontation with Warren Hunter had been a whole lot more satis¬fying than getting back at him from a distance. She felt no regrets about it whatsoever. And worse, from his point of view, was still to come. Miranda smiled gleefully; maybe it would teach him to be more circumspect in future.
There were several messages waiting for her when Miranda got to work. Megan gave her the list, adding, 'Oh, and there was one rather strange call. A man rang to ask if you worked here, and when I said you did but that you weren't in, he just rang off without leaving any message or giving his name.'
It didn't take a million guesses to know who that could be. Deciding it might be wise to take a few precautions, Miranda said, 'Don't put any calls through to me unless you know who it is. And don't put any calls at all through from a man called Warren Hunter of Compass Consultants.'
'Had some aggro?' Megan asked sympathetically.
'You could say that.'
She settled down to do some work and was on the phone, in the middle of a delicate negotiation with an important contact, when the sound of raised voices out in the corridor intruded into her con¬centration. Miranda tried to ignore it, putting a finger against her ear as she listened to the voice on the other end. 'Well, yes, I'm sure the company will be happy to meet you over the choice of a car, but whether they will agree to—'
The door suddenly crashed back on its hinges and Warren Hunter burst in, with Megan hanging on to the back of his jacket in a useless attempt to try and stop him. Coming up to Miranda's desk, he put both hands on it and glared at her. 'I want a word with you.'
Miranda stared at him open-mouthed for a moment, then blinked and turned away to carry on with her phone call. 'As I was saying, I don't think the—'
But he reached out, wrenched the receiver from her hand and banged it down on the rest. 'You heard me; I want to talk to you.'
She glared at him, not in the least afraid. 'I have nothing further to say to you.'
'Well, that's where you're wrong—because you have some explaining to do.' He became aware that Megan was in the room and said peremptorily, 'Get out of here.'
Megan gasped and Miranda got angrily to her feet. 'How dare you order my secretary around?'
'All right, keep her here, for all I care. But I'm not leaving here until you explain that remark you made when you left the restaurant; about credit cards and what I use them to pay for,' he reminded her, his voice as cutting as steel.
'Shall I get Graham—and some of the men?' Megan added, after looking at the width of Warren's shoulders.
'No, I can handle this. It's OK, Megan, he's just a—a bad loser, that's all. Here.' She scribbled on a piece of paper. 'Call this man, apologise, and tell him I'll call him back very shortly.'
'Another fly being lured into your web?' Warren sneered as Megan went out.
'What I do is perfectly legal and provides a valuable service,' Miranda answered shortly.
'Tell that to the companies you pillage,' he said sarcastically, but then dismissed the subject with a curt movement of his hand. 'But that isn't why I came here. I want to know what the hell you were going on about in that restaurant.'
Miranda gave him a disgusted look. 'Don't try and play the innocent; you know very well what I meant.'
'Listen, lady, I don't know what you're hoping to gain, but if you think that you can get back at me by trying to ruin my reputation with a lot of lies, then you can—'
'Hah!' Miranda laughed in his face. 'It will give me great pleasure to blacken whatever shreds of reputation you have left. And they won't be lies, as you very well know. So don't think I won't, you louse!'
Straightening up, Warren took a swift stride round the desk and caught her wrist. 'I am getting extremely tired of you and your abuse,' he in¬formed her with scarcely suppressed rage.
'Don't think you can browbeat me,' Miranda retorted defiantly. 'I'm not a push-over like Rosalind.'
'And am I supposed to know who Rosalind is?'
'If you don't you have a damn short memory,' she said furiously, her voice rising. 'Rosalind is my sister. Rosalind Leigh. Do you remember her now? The eighteen-year old university student you seduced. The girl you got pregnant. The girl you walked out on! The girl you—'
Catching hold of her shoulders, Warren shook her, just once, cutting her off in mid-tirade. 'What the hell are you talking about? I don't know any girl called Rosalind.'
'Liar!' Miranda spat the word at him like a whiplash. 'And if you don't take your hands off me I'll scream the place down.'
Staring at her face, seeing the intense fury in her eyes, Warren slowly removed his hands and stepped back. 'You'd better explain. Because you're making one hell of a mistake.'
'Nice try,' she sneered back at him. 'But this is one time when you're not going to just turn your back on all the hurt you've caused.'
'What hurt? For God's sake, woman, will you stop yelling and explain what you're talking about?'
Miranda hadn't realised that she'd been yelling, but his words made her aware that people might overhear and she stopped to draw breath, her face alive with anger, chest heaving. Lowering her voice almost to a vicious whisper, she said, 'Just how many girls do you seduce, that you forget them so easily?'
His jaw thrust forward and Warren reached out as if he was going to take hold of her again, but then he thought better of it and doubled his hand into a fist. 'I have never met anyone like you before and I hope I never do again. You're enough to try the patience of every saint in the Bible! I am not in the habit of seducing girls. I don't know any Rosalind Leigh. And I certainly don't walk out on my responsibilities.'
'No?' Miranda glared at him as she came out with her trump card. 'Then how come you paid for her to have an abortion?'
'What!' He stared at her in disbelief. 'You're out of your mind. I tell you I don't even know your sister. Did she tell you all this about me? Because if so—'
'No, she didn't. But I know you paid for the abortion because I saw your name at the clinic. It was on the form saying how the—the patient was going to pay. And you opted to pay by credit card. If you don't remember why don't you look at your credit statement?' she flashed at him.
'Maybe I'll do just that because I certainly—' Warren broke off, his eyes widening. 'Wait a minute. When was this?'
'Don't tell me you're actually starting to remember now?' Miranda said with heavy sarcasm.
He frowned angrily. 'Just answer the question; when was this?'
'About six weeks ago—as if you didn't know.'
'My locker at a sports club I belong to was broken into
about that time and my wallet with all the credit cards was stolen. The thief used them a few times; maybe that was one of them.'
Miranda lifted her eyes heavenwards and laughed in amazed disbelief. 'Do you really expect me to swallow something as ridiculous as that?'
'Why not? You seem to expect me to believe that I've seduced a girl I've never even met.'
'Lord, what a snivelling coward you are,' Miranda said in scornful distaste.
His face hardening, Warren said acidly, 'I could call you a few names too, but right now all I want is to get to the bottom of this. Just what exactly did your sister tell you about this man who seduced her?'
'About you, you mean. She told me that you were the director of a computer company and that you were...' Miranda hesitated, then decided to leave out the bit about his being good-looking and sophisticated '...that you lived in London and were very experienced.'
'And my name, did she tell you that?'
Miranda had to be honest. 'No, she didn't, she said that she just wanted to forget that a louse like you ever existed. But I saw your name on that form the clinic had used when they booked Rosalind in, so there's no use you trying to crawl out of this one. I—'
'And hasn't it yet occurred to you that she could have had this affair with a different man entirely—the man who stole my wallet?'
For a moment it brought Miranda up short, but then she dismissed the idea out of hand. 'There's an easy way to settle this; I'll phone Rosalind up tonight and ask her if it was you.'
'I thought you said she wanted to forget everything?'
'I'll make her tell me. I'll—'
'Oh, no, you won't.'
'So you're ready to admit it at last, are you?'
Giving her an exasperated look, Warren shoved his hands in his pockets as if afraid of putting them round her neck and strangling her. 'Don't you ever listen? I've never met your sister. But either you and she have concocted this whole thing up be-tween you for some reason, or else she's made it up and you believe her. And there's no way I'm going to let you talk to her without me being there and finding out what this is all about.'
CHAPTER ONE Page 3
