CHAPTER ONE

by The Devil's Kiss (html)

  'That isn't true.' Miranda lifted her head to contradict him, but saw the steely look in his eyes and lowered it again.

  'As I was saying,' Warren went on, 'your sister was so hell-bent on getting even with your boy-friend that she tried to do the dirty on me by using her company to suborn one of my employees, but luckily for me—and for her as it turns out—it didn't work.'

  Miranda's face tightened with horror as she remembered the other seven employees that she had succeeded with and who were due to hand in their collective notice in just a few days' time. Oh, no! she groaned inwardly. When he finds out he really will kill me!

  'You did that for me?' Warren raised his eye-brows as Rosalind saw only what her sister had tried to do for her and went to kneel beside Miranda.

  Miranda took her hand and gave her a wan little smile. 'I was so mad that you'd been treated so badly. I thought I'd try and teach him a lesson. Only the whole thing has gone so horribly wrong.'

  'Serves you damn well right for going through with such a stupid idea,' Warren put in.

  She shot him an angry look under her lashes. The man had a right to his triumph, but there was just so much she could take. Then she remembered his threat to make her grovel and it occurred to her that he was expecting an apology, and an abject one at that. Her heart sank all over again; what was the use of apologising now when he still didn't know the half of it?

  'But thanks, anyway,' Rosalind said and gave her a hug.

  'Are you over it now?'

  Rosalind's face shadowed for a moment, but then she shrugged. 'As much as I'll ever be, I suppose. I've been taking your advice to keep busy; there's hardly an activity in the university that I haven't joined.'

  'That's great.' Miranda stood up reluctantly. 'I suppose we'd better go.'

  'Already?' The disappointment was plain in Rosalind's voice.

  Warren looked from one to the other of them, the two girls so much alike with their fair hair and slim figures, but Rosalind so obviously the younger and much more vulnerable sister. 'I'm not going anywhere until I've eaten,' he said firmly. 'Thanks to your wildcat schemes I've had hardly anything today.'

  Remembering the way he'd been too angry to eat at the restaurant at lunchtime, a flush of guilt filled Miranda's cheeks and she raised an unsteady hand to cover it.

  'Is there a take-away or something near here?' Warren asked Rosalind.

  'There's a really good Chinese on the main road. I'll go and get some, shall IT

  'No, I'll go.' Warren gave a sardonic smile. 'I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about—and maybe you'll even get your facts right this time.'

  She deserved that, that and much more, Miranda realised. She stood aside as Rosalind gave him directions, but when he turned to her and said, 'What would you like to eat?' she shook her head.

  'I—I'm not hungry, thanks.'

  He gave her an intent look, noting her unhappy face, and didn't argue. 'I'll be back shortly.'

  When he'd gone Miranda slumped into a chair again and said, 'Oh, God, Roz, I've made the most dreadful mistake.'

  'Yes, I know; he told me.'

  'No, you don't, it's much worse than that. I wanted to ruin him, you see, the same way he ruined your life. Only not Warren, this other man—your boyfriend, only I thought it was Warren. Oh, hell, you know what I mean.' She saw that Rosalind was grinning, and snapped, 'It isn't funny. He thinks I only tried to lure one person away from his company but there were—' She stopped abruptly. This was her problem and she had no right to thrust it on to Rosalind, who had enough problems of her own. 'It doesn't matter. I'll sort it out.'

  Agitatedly she got up and went to the window. There was an electric fire and a radiator in the room and it was warm enough, but the cold wind blowing outside was strong enough to lift the thin curtain. 'This man—Piers Warren-Hunter, was he really in computers?'

  'Yes, he was one of the owners of a shop that sold them.'

  Which was a world away from what Warren did, Miranda realised with a heavy sigh, although she supposed the description still fitted. She turned back to Rosalind. 'Are you really OK?'

  'Yes. Aren't you going to tell me what you were going to say?'

  Miranda shook her head and gave a lop-sided smile. 'I suppose I'm like you; can't bring myself to admit my mistakes.'

  'When did you meet him; Warren Hunter?'

  Miranda sighed. 'At one o'clock this afternoon.' Without mentioning the other employees, she told Rosalind the rest of the story.

  'Wow, no wonder he's so furious with you,' Rosalind said in awe when she'd finished. 'What do you think he'll do—go to your boss and try and get you sacked or something?'

  Miranda hadn't thought of that one. Graham wouldn't be at all pleased, of course; in fact he'd probably be stunned, but she was sure that he wouldn't sack her when she explained the circum-stances. But it was still a very unpleasant thought. 'I don't know; he might. He said—he said that he was going to make me grovel.'

  Rosalind stared at her, then said rather hollowly, 'He looks the kind of man who means what he says.'

  The front doorbell sounded down below as Miranda raised her eyes to meet her sister's. 'Yes,' she agreed unhappily. 'I'm very much afraid he does.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  THERE was a thin coating of snow on the shoulders of Warren's jacket when he came back into Rosalind's room, carrying the spicy-smelling bag of Chinese food.

  'It's getting extremely wintry out there,' he remarked.

  He glanced at Miranda but she had gone over to the table and was looking blindly down at Rosalind's essay. It was impossible to distance herself from Warren physically in the small room, but she was trying to mentally distance herself from the situation, putting off the moment when she would have to confess the whole truth.

  'I'll get some plates. Perhaps you could clear that table for me, Miranda?' Rosalind said tactfully.

  Miranda did so but was unnecessarily fussy about stacking the books tidily, so that the other two were ready to sit down to eat before she'd finished. Warren held a chair for Rosalind then stood by the table, waiting. 'Are you going to sit down or do we eat standing up?' he demanded impatiently.

  Reluctantly she came over and took the chair he offered, but edged it further away from him. Warren's lips twisted in ironic amusement but he made no comment.

  He had brought enough food for her as well, but Miranda couldn't eat. The dread of his reaction when she finally told him just what she'd done tightened her throat so that she could hardly swallow. But Warren had also brought a bottle of wine and she drank her glass down greedily, hoping that it would serve not only to ease the tension but to give her some badly needed courage. She sat silently in her chair, her eyes fixed on her plate and with nothing to say, but Warren chatted to Rosalind easily enough, asking her about her college course and carefully refraining from mentioning the reason for their visit. The younger girl responded somewhat reluctantly at first but he soon had her laughing, and drew her out until Rosalind was talking animatedly, her face flushed and eager. So he had charm as well, did he? Miranda thought morosely. And she couldn't help wondering what the outcome would have been if Rosalind had had an affair with Warren instead of his distant relation.

  As if feeling her eyes on him, Warren turned to-wards her but Miranda looked quickly away, pushing a few beansprouts round her plate. Seeing that her glass was empty, he picked up the bottle of wine and refilled it. She murmured a word of thanks and reached out for it, but as she glanced up found that he was watching her. His eyes held hers compellingly for a long moment, letting her see the contemptuous amusement in their grey depths.

  'Not hungry?' he asked derisively. 'Now what can have spoiled your appetite, I wonder?'

  A thought occurred to her and Miranda said stiltedly, 'I owe you for the food. And for—for the meal in the restaurant at lunchtime.'

  'This is my treat,' Warren replied. 'But yes, you do owe me for lunch—' he paused deliberately '—and for a whole lot more. But you don't ha
ve to worry; I won't ask you to pay by credit card.'

  He let that sink in, turning away to continue eating, but as soon as he'd finished his meal he stood up and went over to the window.

  'The snow is coming down more heavily. Would you mind if we put the radio on to get a weather forecast?' he asked Rosalind.

  'Of course not. I'll make some coffee.'

  Warren tuned into a local radio station and it wasn't long before they got a weather report of heavy snow and strong winds for the rest of the night. 'We'd better get going,' Warren decided. But almost immediately there was a traffic warning of a big jam on the main road leading from the city due to a lorry overturning and spilling a dangerous load.

  'There are already long tail-backs and the road isn't expected to be opened for at least two hours,' the announcer reported.

  'Is there an alternative route?' Warren asked Rosalind.

  'There's another main road but that will probably be jammed with traffic, too, and it's a long way round. But there's a lesser road which is easy to reach from this side of York and goes right down to the motorway. It's only a B road and tends to wind rather a lot but—'

  'Sounds fine,' Warren cut in. 'I'll get my road map and perhaps you could show it to me.'

  As soon as he'd left them to go down to the car, Rosalind turned eagerly to Miranda. 'Why don't you stay here tonight and go back to London by train tomorrow? Then you won't have Warren gloating over you the whole way back.'

  It was an incredibly tempting suggestion. For a few moments Miranda almost succumbed, thinking that she could give Warren the bad news about his other employees by letter, but then she squared her shoulders and shook her head. 'I would love to, I really would, but I have to see this through.'

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Warren came in. He looked at the two of them standing so close together, and his left eyebrow rose as Miranda immediately moved away. He spread the map on the table and Rosalind pointed out the alternative route.

  'Mm, it's longer, but asyou say it should cut out the worst of the jams. We'd better leave now before the weather worsens.' He turned to Miranda and added grimly, 'And you're coming with me, so don't get any ideas about staying behind.'

  Rosalind made a sound of protest but Miranda held up her hand, silencing her. 'I had no intention of staying here,' she told him steadily.

  His brows rose in disbelief but Miranda put on her coat then went over to say goodbye to Rosalind. 'Take care of yourself, you hear me?'

  'I will. And thanks for—for caring about me so much.' She glanced uneasily at Warren. 'Are you sure you'll be OK?'

  'Yes, of course. I'll give you a ring tomorrow evening.' The two girls hugged each other tightly for a moment and then Miranda resolutely turned and strode out of the room without waiting for Warren to follow her.

  The snow was falling so thickly that there was already a coating of white over the cars in the street. Miranda put up the collar of her coat against the wind as she waited for Warren to unlock the Lotus. Once inside he put the map book in her hands. 'Here, we want the B1228.'

  The streets were well lit but the orange glow of the lamps had a ghostly effect in the snow. There were other cars going along, enough to keep the roads clear, and they made quite good progress to the outskirts of the city where they came to a big roundabout and pickedup the minor road. Miranda had been concentrating on following the direction signs, but once they were on the lesser road she sat back, knowing that they had to stay on it for several miles before they reached the motorway.

  This must be the time, she realised. She had to tell him now before they reached the motorway and Warren had to concentrate entirely on his driving. It was a lonely, open road through flat fields and there were no more street lights and very few houses. Miranda was grateful for the darkness; she didn't want to see his face when she told him. The Lotus purred along, taking the bad conditions in its stride, the one windscreen wiper swinging rhythmically from side to side. The interior of the car was warm and comfortable now and Warren sat relaxed in his seat, as capable as the car of dealing with the snow. Glancing across at her he said, 'Are we going to sit in frigid silence again all the way back?'

  It was as if he'd deliberately given her an opening. Clearing her throat Miranda said, 'As a matter of fact there is something I want to say to you.'

  'Don't tell me I'm actually going to get an apology from you?' he said scathingly.

  'No, not yet.' She paused, desperately seeking the words to soften the blow, but knowing that there weren't any.

  Mistaking her hesitation, Warren said in chau-vinistic amusement, 'You just can't bring yourself to admit that you made a mistake, can you? You're a poor loser, just like all women; they always hate to admit that they're in the wrong.'

  'You sound as if you have a lot of experience with women,' Miranda remarked, making it sound like an accusation.

  'Some,' he admitted. 'Well? I'm still waiting for your apology,' he pointed out.

  Miranda felt a flash of hatred at his malevolent tone, but, realising how quickly it was going to change to dismay and anger, gathered up her courage and said, 'There's something I haven't yet told you.'

  'Oh, really.' Warren slowed down as they came to a crossroads. 'Which way?'

  'What? Oh, straight ahead,' Miranda answered with only a glance at the increasingly snow-compacted windscreen. 'Stay on this road. It—it was about your company. You see, Jonathan Carter wasn't the only one of your employees that I headhunted.'

  She had his full attention now. 'And were you successful?'

  'Yes.'

  He glanced at the road then back at her. 'All right; who is it?'

  Her hands balled into tight fists, her heart thumping, Miranda managed to say, 'Actually there was more than one.'

  Warren's mouth set into grim lines. 'How many?' For a moment she couldn't answer and he said impatiently, 'Don't stop now. How many?'

  Taking a deep breath, Miranda said, 'Seven.'

  'What?' Warren jammed his foot on the brake, too amazed and angry to drive. But he must have hit a patch of frozen snow because the car skidded across the road, swinging towards the edge, then suddenly slewed over on to the driver's side as they went into a ditch.

  Miranda cried out in alarm and grabbed hold of his arm as she fell against him. Warren swore ex¬plosively into the sudden silence as the engine stalled. 'My God, this is all I need.' He turned his head towards her. 'Are you all right?'

  'Yes.'

  'Then you don't damn well deserve to be.'

  Shaken out of one fear by a greater one, Miranda retorted, 'Well, it's no thanks to you if I am. It was you who landed us in this ditch.' She groped for the catch of her safety strap and released it but fell across Warren's lap.

  'Don't mind me,' he said sarcastically.

  'I won't. Lift me up so I can open my door.' He did so, none too gently, and Miranda managed to struggle out of the car and on to the road. It was bitterly cold; hastily Miranda did up her coat and thanked her stars that she was wearing boots. 'Can you pass up my gloves and bag?'

  Warren gave her a look that was even more freezing than the weather, but passed up her things, the map book, a big torch, and his briefcase, before clambering out of the car himself. Putting up the collar of his jacket, he walked round it, then shook his head. 'It's hopeless; we'll have to get someone to tow it out.' He looked all round but there were no houses, no lights anywhere. 'We'll just have to walk until we find a phone, though God knows how long it will take for anyone to get out here with a tow truck in these conditions.' He gave her a mur¬ derous look. 'You certainly couldn't have picked a better spot to make your charming little admission.'

  'It isn't my fault you're such a rotten driver,' Miranda retorted, driven into childishness by guilt.

  Warren gave her a disgusted look, picked up his briefcase and started to stride off down the road, the beam of the torch lighting the way.

  'You might wait for me,' Miranda panted as she hurried to catch him up.
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br />   'If you can't keep up, go and wait in the car,' he answered unfeelingly.

  'And freeze to death? No way.'

  Like most men who drove everywhere by car, in London anyway, Warren had no overcoat and was wearing only a thin shirt under his suit jacket. But he didn't seem to feel the cold too, much. Probably it was anger that kept him warm because he snapped out, 'So who are these seven people that you've coerced to leave my company?'

  He had to raise his voice against the wind but Miranda had no difficulty in hearing. 'Can't it wait until we—?'

  'I want to know now.'

  Reluctantly she told him, tilting her head high because he was so much taller, her heart sinking as his face became grimmer with each name. 'What—what are you going to do?' she faltered as she came to the end of the list.

  'When are they due to leave?'

  'They are all going to hand in their notice on the first of December.'

  'Oh, nice. The sort of touch only you could think up,' Warren remarked harshly. 'I'll just have to phone each of them and...' He broke off. 'Lord, what fools we are; you've got a phone in your bag.'

  'What? Oh, yes, of course.' Her fingers were so cold, even with gloves on, that Miranda had dif¬ficulty unzipping her bag, and then almost dropped the phone when she fished it out.

  'Careful.' Warren grabbed it and pulled out the aerial.

  'Who are you going to call?'

  'The police. I'll get them to phone the nearest garage.'

  Turning her back against the wind, Miranda huddled into her coat as she waited, her hair blowing across her face, snow settling on her dark lashes.

  Warren held the phone against his ear, struggling to hear. 'I can't seem to get anything.' He tried again, then reached out an arm and pulled her towards him, making a cave with their bodies against the noise of the wind. 'No, still nothing,' he said in exasperation.

  'There should be a little light that comes on when you switch it on,' Miranda said helpfully. 'It was OK when I...' She stopped suddenly, a ghastly thought entering her brain.