CHAPTER ONE

by The Devil's Kiss (html)

  That afternoon she was about to hand over Warren's request for a new sales manager to a col¬league as she'd intended, and was halfway down the corridor with it. But then it occurred to her that the very least she could do to make amends to Warren was to find the very best person for him, so she took it back to her office to handle herself. Luckily the request for sales managers was quite a common one and they had lots of information on their files from previous searches, so it only took about ten days to narrow the field down to the hundred or so companies that might have a suitable candidate. Then Miranda phoned the searcher and asked him to get all the up-to-date information that she needed.

  Most of the staff left the office early on Friday afternoons, but Graham was being so pedantic about her hours that Miranda stayed on till five, not wanting to give him any excuse to have a go at her. Whatever decision she came to she was still going to need another job, which meant that she needed a reference from this company. It was quite likely, though, that Graham wouldn't give her a good one anyway. He would use her mistaken vendetta against Warren as the reason, of course, but in reality it would be a way of getting back at her for her rejection of him. He was still smarting over it, and had put it round the office that he had ditched her. Miranda didn't much care; she had far more important things on her mind, so made no attempt to deny the rumour. All she wanted was to leave as quickly and as quietly as possible, and she wasn't going to run the risk of antagonising him further.

  Picking up the folder for Warren's search, Miranda became involved in it so that it was almost five-thirty and everyone else had gone when Graham came along to her office and walked in without knocking. He asked her several brusque questions about work, which Miranda answered as calmly as she could, then he hesitated before saying, 'Have you found another position yet?'

  'No.' She shook her head warily.

  He gave a snort of anger. 'I suppose you don't care where you go as long as you get away from me?'

  'It isn't like that at all,' she protested.

  But he didn't listen, instead saying harshly, 'I should like to know just what it is about me that you've decided isn't good enough for you. Just for the record, of course.'

  'It isn't you, Graham, please believe that. I'm the one who's changed.'

  'Then why?' he burst out. 'We were happy enough together until Christmas. In fact I'd intended...' He broke off, unable to bring himself to be that honest. 'I almost thought we had a future together,' he amended. Angrily he walked round to her side of the desk. 'You've got to tell me what went wrong. I have a right to know.'

  It was obvious that he had been brooding over it, and maybe he did have a right to know at that, but it would only hurt him more to tell him. 'No, there's nothing. I—'

  But she had hesitated a fraction too long and Graham caught hold of her arms and pulled her to her feet. He shook her angrily. 'Tell me. Tell me what went wrong.'

  'All right!' Becoming annoyed at his rough treatment, Miranda pushed him away. She glared at him, and was suddenly filled with a glorious rage at his nastiness to her over the last few weeks. 'All right, if you really want to know, then I'll tell you.'

  Forgetting the need for a reference, Miranda's temper boiled over, and she found herself telling him things that she'd glossed over in her mind before. 'You became predictable, Graham. I knew what your attitude would be in any situation. I could even guess what your answer to a question would be. I found that I knew how to cajole you out of a bad temper into a good one; I could coax you like a child. There was no surprise, no excitement any more. In other words, Graham, you had become dead boring! And I've since found out how small-minded you are. So, yes, since you ask, I would rather go anywhere than face the possi¬bility of a life of boredom with you.'

  He stared at her, too thunderstruck by her out¬burst to move, then gave a cry and lunged at her, his face ugly with rage. 'Boring, am I? Then see if this is boring.' Grabbing hold of her, he bent Miranda back over the desk as he pressed his mouth against hers, trying to kiss her.

  'Let go of me. Don't you dare touch me!'

  But it was the wrong thing to say and only enraged Graham further so that he hurt her, bruising her lips as he forced himself upon her.

  It was impossible to kick him because the desk was pressing into the tops of her legs and she was off balance. But Miranda tried to fight him off, hitting out at him with her clenched fists, until Graham put his hand in her hair and jerked her head back, making her cry out and tears come into her eyes. With a laugh of triumph he pinned her down on the desk and put his hand on her chest, pawing her. Miranda read the intent in his eyes and screamed, then managed to get one hand free and raked his face with her nails, 'You pig! Get away from me.'

  He gave a snarl of fury and raised his arm to hit her.

  'I shouldn't do that, if I were you.'

  The cold, sharp voice sliced through Graham's anger. He looked up, startled, then, with almost as much surprise, realised what he was doing. He had been trembling with rage, but now he slowly lowered his arm and began to shake in reaction as he stood back.

  As soon as she was free, Miranda swung off the desk and turned round. 'Warren!' She ran into his arms where he stood in the doorway and clung to him tightly, desperate for his strength and protection.

  'It's all right. You're OK now,' he soothed.

  Graham's face was very pale, but he had re¬covered a little and tried to bluster his way out of it. He gave a forced laugh, ugly in its unnatu¬ralness, and said, 'Afraid I got a bit carried away there. Miranda and I were just indulging in a little horseplay, you know.'

  'Really?' Warren's voice was scathing.

  'Yes, of course. What else? You—you should have knocked, Hunter.' He saw that Miranda was still clinging to Warren and said nastily, 'I don't know why she's making such a fuss—she usually enjoys it.'

  Miranda stiffened, and swung round angrily, but Warren said in a voice of silky menace, 'If you so much as touch her again you'll have me to answer to. Do you understand?'

  Graham's eyes widened, then he saw the familiar way that Warren's hand rested on Miranda's waist. 'Yes. I do understand—now,' he said bitterly.

  'Good. And the same goes for any nasty little rumours you might feel like spreading about her—or Rosalind.' Warren gazed at him for a minute longer, making sure that his threat had gone home, then said, 'Get out.'

  Whatever Graham's feelings on being ordered about in his own company, he didn't voice them. He threw Miranda a look of pure hatred and strode quickly out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

  When he'd gone, Warren turned to Miranda, 'Get your things together. All of them. You won't be coming back here.'

  'Oh, but...' She turned to look into his eyes, read the determination there, and capitulated. 'All right.'

  Finding a couple of plastic shopping bags, Miranda stuffed all her belongings into them, and at the last moment added Warren's search folder. Then she put on her coat and nodded to him. 'I'm ready.'

  'Let's go, then.'

  He picked up the bags for her and she followed him to the door, but paused to look back. What a way to leave! And she had started this job with such high hopes, had been really happy here, especially when she had started going out with Graham. Now it was all a mess.

  'It's only a job,' Warren said behind her.

  She turned to look at him, and realised that everything she had said to Graham was true and sooner or later she would have admitted it to herself, so all this would probably have happened anyway. The thought was such a great relief that she straightened her shoulders, flicked her hair off her face, then gave Warren a big grin and said, 'Sure. What's a job?'

  His eyes lighting with astonishment, he shook his head and said wonderingly, 'You always smile at the most unexpected moments.'

  They walked out of the building and it wasn't until they were in Warren's car and were driving along that it occurred to Miranda to ask, 'Why did you go to the office?'

  'I rang to find out who
was undertaking the job I'd given you, and was told that you were handling it yourself, after all. So I thought I'd call in and find out why. And how you were progressing with it, of course.'

  'It's only been just over a week.' He didn't answer as he concentrated on neatly driving through the gap between a bus and a taxi. 'And why did you come so late? I'm not usually still there at that time.'

  'I was going in that direction and went by on the off-chance. Your light was on so I went up.'

  Luckily for her, Miranda realised. 'Just in time to save me from a fate worse than death,' she said lightly. Then she remembered that she had indulged in that same fate several times, very eagerly, with the man beside her. He must have remembered, too, because when she stole a look at him Warren was grinning widely. She punched his arm. 'Stop it.'

  Laughing openly, he said, 'You do seem to get yourself into some strange situations.'

  'Only lately. And one—well, that led from the other.'

  Her voice had become serious again and Warren gave her a quick glance. 'How?'

  'I told him the truth,' Miranda said simply. 'Oh, no, not what you're thinking. I knew that I didn't love him, but I didn't realise why until it all sort of burst out tonight. I was bored with him. There was no novelty any more, and certainly no excitement. I would have broken with him eventually anyway. But it was my fault; I should have realised sooner, before he started getting serious. I wonder why I didn't,' she added musingly.

  'Perhaps you tried to convince yourself that he was what you wanted. It happens. Especially if one person is keener than the other. And he obviously was very keen on you.'

  'Yes.' She glanced out of the window. 'Where are we going?'

  'Out to dinner. And we're almost there.'

  Soon afterwards he pulled into the car park of a pub overlooking the Thames.

  'Have you been here before? They specialise in seafood.'

  It was still early and dinner wasn't being served yet, but there was a comfortable bar with an open fire where they sat to wait. It seemed strange being with Warren socially like this. Although they had been so intimate, they still hardly knew one an-other, and the memory of his anger when he had woken after their night together acted as a compelling restraint.

  He bought drinks for them and sat next to her on a small settee beside the fire. 'I've always thought it would be nice to have a house with a real fire,' he remarked.

  'Do you live in London?' she asked stiltedly.

  'Yes, I have a flat in Pimlico.'

  Miranda would have liked to ask him if he lived there alone, but it was none of her business. Instead she said, 'I really don't know what I'm doing here. I should have asked you to drop me at a tube station.'

  Warren studied her face for a moment, then said, 'We really don't know each other very well, do we? Despite—'

  'Knowing each other wasn't—necessary,' Miranda said quickly. 'It isn't now.'

  Warren's brows flickered. 'Oh, I don't know. It might be interesting to start again. After all, we must have had something going for us.'

  Deciding that the conversation was getting much too personal, Miranda said, 'I've never just walked out of a job before. I was supposed to work for another two weeks.'

  'You're not going back,' Warren said in a tone that was more like an order.

  She glanced at him, wondering why he should care. 'No, I certainly don't want to.' But then she gave a sudden smile. 'But somehow I doubt if I'll ever be able to give Graham's name as a reference.'

  Warren grinned back. 'I wonder what he'd put.'

  'Probably that although I was useful as a commercial matchmaker I turned out to be a very un-satisfactory girlfriend,' Miranda said only half jokingly.

  Warren gave her a speculative look. 'Does it worry you, losing your job?'

  'Not in the circumstances, no.'

  'You look as if you've been worrying about it—or something. You don't look well, and you're thinner than you were.'

  Miranda's heart skipped a dozen beats but she managed to laugh and say, 'Well, thanks for the compliment; I've been trying to lose the weight I put on over Christmas. My mother always thinks that I don't eat enough and fattens me up every time I go home.'He continued to look at her for a moment but Miranda returned his gaze steadily and he sat back. 'Have you decided what you're going to do?' he asked after a few moments.

  She shook her head and reached down to pick up her glass, her hair falling forward to hide her face. 'Not yet, no.'

  'My offer of a job is still open.'

  She turned with a refusal on her lips, but found herself gazing into his grey eyes and the words died. She wanted to be near him again like this, she realised. She wanted to know him better—and she might even want to keep his child.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THIS sudden self-knowledge held her still for a long moment, but then Miranda said rather faintly, 'Thanks. I'll—I'll think about it.'

  'All right.'

  A waiter brought the menus over to them and they were soon ushered to their table in the oak-panelled dining-room.

  'This job you're offering,' Miranda said after a while, 'what sort of work is it? Just clerical work, that kind of thing?'

  'No, rather more than that. I'm thinking of moving into larger premises and I need someone to go round to agents and ferret out suitable office buildings. Weed out the ones that are impossible and arrange for me to see only those that are the most likely. In other words, to save me as much time as possible.'

  'I see. So this would only be a temporary job, then?'

  'Yes. I thought it might interest you while you were making up your mind what you wanted to do.'

  A very apt description, if only he knew it, Miranda thought. 'And how would you pay me?' she asked practically. 'A retainer, and commission only if I found something suitable?'

  Warren looked amused. 'Is that how head-hunters get paid?'

  'It's how our clients pay the firm, yes.'

  'You can do it that way or I'll pay you a weekly salary, whichever you prefer.'

  Tilting her head to one side, she gave him a speculative look. 'Which leaves only one question to ask. Why? Why offer me a job at all?'

  'Because I think you'd be good at it.'

  'So would a million other people.'

  Picking up the bottle of wine, Warren went to pour some into her glass but she quickly put her hand over it. 'I'd rather have mineral water, please.'

  He gave her a mocking look. 'Afraid of getting drunk again?'

  Sharply she said, 'I'd rather forget about that, if you don't mind.'

  His eyebrows rose at her tone. 'You're not ashamed of it, are you?'

  'Yes.' But even as she said it Miranda knew it was a lie. 'Aren't you?'

  He sat back and didn't answer at once, as if he was carefully considering his reply. Then he said, 'Perhaps it was regrettable in the way it happened, but I see nothing to be ashamed of in two people behaving perfectly naturally.'

  'But not with perfect self-control,' she pointed out tartly.

  Warren grinned. 'No, there definitely wasn't much of that—on either side, as I remember.'

  The way he spoke about it, one would think that he'd enjoyed it. But no, he'd also said that it was regrettable that it had happened at all. Filled with humiliation, Miranda glared at him. 'I've already said that I want to forget it. If you mention it again I won't come and work for you.'

  'Does that mean that you've accepted the job?'

  'You still haven't told me why you're offering it to me,' she pointed out.

  'Because I've a feeling that if we hadn't spent that night together you would still be working for Graham—and you might even be engaged to him by now.'

  Miranda shook her head firmly. 'No, seeing him in my home surroundings made me realise that he wasn't right for me.'

  'Really? You told me it was realising how—er-easily susceptible you were to me that convinced you that you weren't in love with him.'

  'That, too,' Miranda replied, and felt
her cheeks flushing. To cover it, she said as firmly as she could, 'I don't know why you're making such a fuss about that night. It was no big deal.'

  'So why are you ashamed of it?'

  For a moment her eyes grew dark and vul-nerable, but she ducked the question by saying briskly, 'OK. I'll take your job. You can pay me two hundred pounds a week as a retainer, plus expenses, and a commission if I find what you want.'

  Warren burst out laughing. 'I should have re-membered you know how to drive a hard bargain. All right. When will you start?'

  'On Monday.' The job shouldn't take her that long, she thought. Only a few weeks. And at the end of that time she must have made up her mind, either way, about the baby, otherwise it would be too late. And in the meantime she would have the opportunity to get to know Warren a little better.

  Lifting her head, she found him watching her. 'You look very solemn suddenly,' he remarked.

  'Do I? It's been quite a day, one way and another. By the way; this sales manager you want—'

  'Ah, yes, I suppose I'll have to look for someone myself now.' But Warren didn't sound all that put out.

  'No.' Miranda's eyes danced. 'I brought your file with me. I'll find your sales manager for you as part of the deal.'

  'No extra charge?' Warren asked with a grin. 'No. I owe you that.'

  'Owing doesn't come into it,' he said, so sharply that she gave him a startled look.

  'All right.' Miranda gave a slight shrug. 'Let's say I'll do it to keep my hand in.'

  'In case you decide to start up your own head¬hunting company?'

  That hadn't even occurred to Miranda as a poss¬ible alternative, but now she nodded thoughtfully, her brain racing. It would take a London base, of course, but she could work from home to start with. And plenty of contacts, but she had those. Enough capital to get started would be the biggest problem and—