'Is there nothing I can say that will make you change your mind? Do you want more money, is that it?'
'No, it is not.' She gave him an angry look at the suggestion.
Coming over to her, he put his hands on her arms. 'You said that the affair with Warren Hunter was only partly why you wanted to leave; does the other part have anything to do with me?'
Miranda's heart had skipped a beat at his choice of words but she realised he didn't mean 'affair' in the romantic sense. She nodded, and her chin came up. 'Yes. I—I think that we're getting too close.'
'Too close?' His face hardened. 'I thought we were close already. I thought that was what you wanted.'
'So did I,' Miranda admitted honestly. 'But I'm afraid my feelings have changed. I'm sorry, but I think it was seeing you in my home surroundings that made me realise that—that I don't want to get serious.'
Graham stared at her and dropped his arms. 'I see. And just what was it that I did at your parents' house that convinced you that I was all wrong for you?' he demanded harshly. 'I thought I got on very well with your parents.'
'You did. I think they liked you. It was nothing that you did, or didn't do.' She shook her head helplessly. 'I told you; I'm the one who's changed. I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you. I—'
Graham gave a loud, unnatural laugh. 'Oh, I'm not hurt—just bloody annoyed at the time I've wasted on you.' He walked to the door. 'I'll expect you at the office tomorrow morning. Sharp at nine, not when you feel like coming in as you usually do. Goodnight.' And he slammed out of the flat.
When he'd gone Miranda gave a long, shud¬dering sigh and slowly relaxed. There were marks on her hands where her nails had dug in as she'd clenched her fists. Her head ached from pent-up tension, and she had a feeling that she hadn't handled it very well, but at least it was over now; she'd told Graham and it was finished. He wasn't the kind of man to pursue her and beg her to change her mind; he would take her rejection as a personal insult, which in a way she supposed it was. Miranda sighed again—she hadn't wanted to hurt him but there had been no help for it. The next few weeks at work weren't going to be very pleasant, but she would try to keep out of Graham's way as much as possible, and she had quite a lot of holiday leave due to her which she could use to shorten the time she would have to work.
So now all she had to do was to decide whether she was going to keep this baby or have an abortion.
New Year's Eve Miranda spent alone at home instead of going to the big party given by a neighbour of Graham's in Wimbledon, to which they'd been invited. It was the first time she'd ever been by herself on that night in her life, and she couldn't help but feel lonely. At just after midnight she rang her parents to wish them a happy New Year 'and made out that she was having a wonder-ful time so that they wouldn't worry about her. There was plenty of time yet to tell them about Graham, when she finally reached a decision about her future.
That decision! It hung over her head like a great black cloud. Leaning back in her chair, Miranda raised her glass in a solitary toast, pushing making a decision aside and wondering what Warren was doing tonight—and who with. He was so experienced; he must have a string of women he went around with, if not one special one. Perhaps that was why he had cursed when he had woken up; perhaps he had wanted to be faithful to the girl in his life. Miranda realised that she would never know; that, whatever she finally decided, Warren wouldn't play any part in her life. There was no way she was ever going to slap a paternity order on to him. The decision must be hers and so must the responsibility, either way.
And neither was she going to saddle her parents with an illegitimate grandchild while she continued her career. Although they would love it, she was sure, and would want to help her all they could, but it wouldn't be fair on them when they had reached the time of life when they could rightly expect to relax and take life easier. Their feelings and happiness also had to be taken into consideration.
January was always a busy time at Executive Search Consultants. Companies who had hung fire over Christmas were calling and asking for new employees to replace those who had left or retired at the end of the year. Miranda was kept busy, especially as Graham pushed a lot of boring research work at her, his look cold and long-suffering. Everyone in the company soon realised that they had broken up, and were both curious and sad when they heard that Miranda was leaving. Miranda didn't allay their curiosity and she was quite sure that Graham wouldn't either; he was far too proud for that.
One day in mid-January Megan rang through to her office and said in a strange kind of voice, 'There's an—er—gentleman here who wants to see you. He's looking for a new sales manager.'
'He's here? But I don't have an appointment with anyone?'
'No, he says that he's talked with Graham, and Graham told him to come along at any time.'
'I see. You'd better bring him in, then,' Miranda answered in some puzzlement. 'What's his name?'
'Mr Hunter of Compass Consultants,' Megan said, and put the phone down.
'Hey! Wait!'
But it was too late; a few seconds later Megan rapped on the door and ushered Warren in, keeping a wary distance from him as she remembered that he had almost knocked her out of the way the last time he'd burst into Miranda's office. But this time he strolled casually in, his thumbs hooked into his trouser pockets, completely at ease.
Miranda, on the other hand, got nervously to her feet. 'What do you want?' she demanded agitatedly.
Warren's eyebrows rose. 'To consult you on a business matter.' His eyes met hers. 'What else?'
'Oh.' Miranda looked quickly down at her desk. 'I really don't see why you want to come here after—well, after...'
'After your monumental mistake, I think you're trying to say,' Warren supplied for her. 'But that's precisely why I'm here. Your boyfriend promised that he would headhunt—I beg your pardon—search for,' he corrected himself with heavy irony, 'a new sales manager to replace the one you stole from me.'
'I see. Well, perhaps it would be best if you saw Graham—Mr Allen, then.'
'I've already spoken to him on the phone, and he directed me to you,' he informed her with a thin smile. Then, impatiently, he said, 'Look, can we sit down or do you keep all your customers standing?'
'Oh, yes, of course.' There was a conversation area in one corner of her office with a comfortable leather settee and a couple of easy chairs, but Miranda gestured to the swivel chair opposite her desk. Warren's smile deepened into irony but he took the chair. Sitting down herself, Miranda looked at him frowningly, trying to still the beating of her heart; it had been a shock to have him walk in like that. For a stupid moment she'd thought that he must have somehow found out about the baby. But that was quite impossible, of course.
'Is something the matter?' Warren asked, watching her.
Quickly she pulled herself together. 'No, of course not.. It was just that Graham hadn't mentioned that you were coming.' Probably on purpose to punish her, Miranda realised, and felt a flash of relief that she and Graham were finished. 'You said that you're looking for a new sales manager.'
'Yes. Your boyfriend offered to find me a re-placement free of charge.'
'Perhaps you'd tell me what qualifications you require and what package you're offering?'
Warren did so, and Miranda tried very hard to concentrate as she made a note of the details, but at one point Warren put his hand up to his chin and stroked his finger ruminatively across his cheek a couple of times. Miranda remembered the way he'd stroked her body with that hand and her own hand shook so much she couldn't write. As soon as he'd finished she said briskly, 'Very well, I'll pass this on to one of my colleagues to put in hand for you.'
'I don't want one of your colleagues, I want you,' Warren said firmly. Adding mockingly, 'After all, I know how extremely good at your job you are.'
Her cheeks flushing a little, Miranda glanced quickly at his face before saying, 'I'm sorry, but it's better that you have someone else do it, because I'm leaving the
company shortly so I won't be able to see it through.'
'Leaving?' Warren's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. 'But I made Graham Allen swear that he wouldn't fire you.'
'You did?' Her eyes widened as she raised her head to look at him. 'I didn't know that.'
'Has he fired you?'
She blinked and looked away, shaking her head. 'No. I resigned.'
'Really?' Warren sat back, steepling his hands together, one leg crossed over the other knee, relaxed again. 'What company are you moving to?'
Miranda picked up a pencil from her desk and fiddled with it agitatedly. 'No one you'd have heard of. Outside London.' She stood up and dropped the pencil on the floor. 'I'll put your request in hand and get back to you with a list of names as soon as possible.' She spoke abruptly, wanting him to go, and walking towards the door.
Swivelling round in his chair, Warren watched her for a moment, then got quickly to his feet and caught her wrist. 'Why are you really leaving? Did you tell Graham what happened between us? Have you broken up because of it? Is that it?'
'No!' She tried to pull her wrist away but he wouldn't let go. 'It—it's nothing to do with you.' She tried to say it firmly but it didn't come out as she'd intended.
Warren looked into her face for a long moment and she managed to return his look, but then her eyes dropped away. But thankfully he must have believed her, because he let her go and stood back. He gave a curt nod. 'All right, let me know as soon as you've found a list of possibles.'
When he'd gone Miranda sat at her desk with her head in her hands, feeling shattered, but she sat up when Megan poked her head round the door.
'Want a coffee?'
Miranda nodded gratefully. 'Please. Black and strong.'
She couldn't settle to any more work that morning, just sat and gazed blankly down at her desk, for the thousandth time trying to work out what to do. She looked round at her office, thinking how proud and pleased she'd been when she'd got this job, how it had been a big step up the career ladder. Up until now she had seen her way in life very clearly; a career that would take her to the top in business so that she would one day be able to start a company of her own. And, somewhere along the way, there would be marriage with a like-minded man, and possibly two six-month leaves to have a couple of babies when the time was right. It had all seemed very simple and clear-cut, but now everything was turned upside down. Although it oughtn't to be. She ought to be able to just go and have an abortion as Rosalind had, then completely forget about it and about Warren as she got on with her life again. Put it all down to a rather unfor¬tunate experience.
But somehow she couldn't do that. Miranda found that she just wasn't that emotionless. She kept wondering what a child of Warren's would look like. Would it have hair that curled at the neck as his did, and his long-lashed grey eyes? I must be getting broody, she thought, angry with herself. I must think clearly; I mustn't let it get to me like this.
On the dot of twelve-thirty, Miranda put on the new black woollen cape that she'd bought to replace her lost coat, and went out to lunch. It was a sharp winter's day, but nowhere near as cold as it had been in Yorkshire. Emerging from the office building, she paused on the step to put on her gloves, then turned, startled, as someone put a hand under her elbow. 'Warren!'
'Hello, Miranda. Let's go for a walk in the park.' 'But I'm just going to lunch. I...' Her voice faded as she looked into his face. 'Why?'
'You didn't really expect me to believe you back there, did you?' He gestured with his head towards the office. 'I want to know the truth.'
Increasing his grip on her arm, he led her pur¬posefully to the kerb, waiting until the lights changed, and then across the street and along for about half a mile until they came to the park. Only then did he let her go.
Frost clung to the branches of the leafless trees still, and squirrels and birds, made tame by years of being fed, came close in the hope of being given some nuts or bread. They walked deeper into the park, until the traffic noise was just a hum in the distance, before Warren stopped and said, 'All right, now tell me the truth.'
'There's nothing to tell,' Miranda lied as confi¬dently as she could. 'I've decided to leave the company, that's all.'
'Did you tell Graham?' She shook her head wordlessly, but Warren put his hand under her chin so that she had to look him in the eye. His hand was very warm despite the cold. 'Say it,' he demanded.
Able to speak the truth, she said with relief, 'I didn't tell him.'
'And is your leaving anything to do with me?'
'No.' But this time her eyes flickered away.
Warren laughed, 'You'll never succeed in business, Miranda; you're a rotten liar.' He tucked her hand through his arm and kept hold of it as he turned to walk along again. 'So if you didn't tell him, why are you leaving?'
There was no way that Miranda was going to tell him the truth, but she knew that it would take something pretty convincing if she was going to persuade him otherwise. Her brain racing, she tried the only thing that she thought might do. 'It really wasn't because of you,' she told him. 'At least, not directly. But that—that night...' she paused, her cheeks flushing with colour '...it made me realise that—that I wasn't in love with Graham.'
He swiftly turned his head towards her. 'Are you saying that you—care about me?'
Miranda was somehow able to make her sur-prised laugh sound almost believable. 'Good heavens, no! That night on the boat meant as little to me as—as it did to you. It was just that if I'd really loved Graham I would never have let it happen, no matter how drunk I was. Surely you see that?'
'Yes, I suppose so.' He turned away again.
Breathing a small sigh of relief under her breath, Miranda went on, 'I must admit it made me do a lot of thinking. I'm—I'm not into casual sex, es¬pecially with virtual strangers. Although the cir¬cumstances were—unusual, I suppose.' She added that as a small sop to her own pride, but then went on hurriedly, 'So when I decided that I wasn't in love with Graham and didn't want to marry him, my only course was to tell him and resign from the company.'
'Had he asked you to marry him?'
'No, but he would have done after he spent Christmas at my home.'
Warren gave her a speculative look. 'He went home with you for Christmas? It must have taken some time, then, for you to decide that you weren't in love with him. It didn't happen overnight,' he emphasised.
Miranda flushed. 'I wanted to be absolutely sure of my feelings,' she said stiffly. 'I wanted to be sure that—that the mistake I'd made with you didn't push me into making a bigger mistake that I'd regret later.'
'So you look on it as a mistake, do you?'
'Yes, of course. I wasn't in a responsible state. And if you'd been a gentleman it would never have happened,' she added tartly.
'How pompous you sound. Just like your boy-friend—I beg your pardon, ex-boyfriend—sounded when he came round to apologise to me and deny all responsibility for your actions over my employees, while at the same time saying that he would do all he could to put it right.'
Pulling her hand from his arm, Miranda stopped and swung round. 'If you've quite finished—'
'No, I haven't. Where are you going to work?'
'For a company out of town; I told you.'
'Strangely enough, I don't believe that, either. Have you got another job?' Slowly she shook her head. 'I thought not. You haven't even applied for one, have you?'
'No.' Shoving her hands in the pockets of her cape, Miranda turned to walk on, her breath creating little clouds of steam in the frosty air.
'Why not?' Warren caught up with her in two strides.
'I don't know. Perhaps I might go home for a month or so. Maybe my whole career needs to take a new direction; I need to think about it.'
They walked in silence for a few minutes, then Warren said abruptly, 'There's an opening for you in my company, if you want it.'
'What!' Miranda turned to gaze at him in astonishment. 'But you don't even like...' She
broke off abruptly, feeling totally confused. 'Look,' she said shortly, 'just because the—the experience with you made me reassess my feelings, it doesn't mean that you're in any way involved with me. I can find my own job, thanks. No one has more contacts than I do, for heaven's sake!' she added on a high-pitched laugh.
She went to walk away from him again, but Warren grabbed her and pulled her back. 'I don't run away from my responsibilities, Miranda.' He looked searchingly down into her face. 'Should I feel responsible for you?'
Desperately Miranda tried to keep all emotion but anger out of her eyes. 'No, you damn well shouldn't!' she snapped back. 'I've already told you once that I never want to see you again, and I meant it. So will you please stay out of my life?' And this time she succeeded in shaking him off and walking quickly away.
She dived into the first eating place she came to and ordered soup and a roll, sitting in a corner, her thoughts turned inwards. She felt hungry, but when the soup came found that she couldn't eat it, and only picked at the roll. For the past week she had been sick every morning, and even at lunchtime she sometimes felt queasy. She supposed she ought to go to a doctor to have the pregnancy confirmed, but there didn't seem to be much point when he would only tell her what she already knew. Her thoughts flew back to Warren and the way he had looked at her so intently when he'd asked if he ought to be responsible for her. He couldn't poss¬ibly have known. No, but he might well suspect. Their lovemaking on the boat had been completely impulsive—there had been no time for clinical pre-cautions. So it was only natural that Warren must wonder.
So what if she told him? Miranda couldn't help but try and picture what might happen. Would Warren, like Rosalind's boyfriend, pay for her to have an abortion? At a good clinic, of course. He certainly wouldn't want to be landed with a paternity order for the next sixteen years or more because of one indiscretion, she thought bitterly. Maybe that was why he'd questioned her so closely: to make sure that if she was in trouble she had an abortion straight away and didn't get any ideas about keeping the baby. In a man's view, of course, that would be a totally irresponsible attitude. Miranda sighed; as a career-woman maybe it ought to be her view, too. But primitive maternal instinct was at war with modern precepts and she just didn't know what to do. Trying to push it out of her mind, Miranda went back to work.
CHAPTER ONE Page 9
