Love's Only Deception

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Thanks, Bill,’ she said gratefully. ‘Now let’s get this little man dressed and his suitcase packed. ‘You’re going to stay with Nanny, poppet,’ she told him.

  ‘But not for too long,’ Bill muttered as he went into his own bedroom to start packing.

  Callie gave a husky laugh, although her smile faded as Bill drove off with Paul in the back of the car. It was going to be lonely in the flat knowing Bill and Marilyn weren’t next door if she needed them.

  She had to rush around to get ready for work, only just making it on time. Her job as personal secretary to the manager of an advertising agency was a hectic one at the best of times, giving her no time for her personal call to Logan.

  ‘You look a little peaked,’ her boss remarked as she went to lunch first. ‘Late night?’

  Callie was used to his probing into her personal life, his lightly flirtatious manner, and she fended it off with her usual flip comment, waiting until he had left the office before slumping down in her chair. Her lack of sleep from the night before was beginning to catch up with her now, and the thought of an early night was very inviting.

  But now was no time to collapse with exhaustion; she had the perfect opportunity to call Logan Carrington. Luckily Carrington Cosmetics were in the phone book, although getting through to Logan wasn’t so easy. He was right, his new secretary was very competent, so competent that she refused to put Callie through to his office, merely taking the message that she had called arid her own telephone number.

  So much for that, she thought with a frown. Oh well, if he was interested he would take her call as a sign that she was sorry for the way they had parted and would call her back.

  There was no return call by the time she went to lunch, and the afternoon proved as fruitless. As the time passed she became more and more despondent She told herself it was because she didn’t like to be bad friends with anyone, but she knew that wasn’t the real reason. Logan Carrington had made a big impression on her, and it was him in particular she didn’t want to be bad friends with.

  Besides, her mother had always told her never to let the sun go down on an argument, and she had already let one night pass.

  By four-thirty she had gained enough courage to call again, but the secretary put her off for a second time, saying Logan wasn’t in the office, but that yes, she had given him the message before he left.

  So that was that. Logan had received her message but hadn’t followed it up. There was nothing more she could do.

  It was just her luck that she had to work late that evening, her tiredness a physical as well as mental thing now, her movements sluggish and disjointed—not least because of Logan’s lack of communication. She had liked him, really liked him, and she had thought he liked her. She must have been wrong. One little argument couldn’t have changed his opinion so completely.

  ‘Well, that’s it.’ Mike sat back with a sigh. ‘You can type that report in the morning, Callie.’

  ‘Right.’ She didn’t have the energy to do it now anyway!

  He looked at his wrist-watch. ‘I think I’ve made you late for your date:’

  She gave a rueful smile, shaking her head. ‘I don’t have a date.’

  ‘Of course you do.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh hell!’ he groaned, searching through the piles of papers on his desk. ‘I took this message for you while you Were at lunch,’ he handed her a slip of paper. ‘I forgot to give it to you,’ he added regretfully.

  She read it with avid eyes, then looked up frowningly. ‘It just says eight o’clock, Roberto’s.’

  ‘Well, that’s what the man said,’ Mike shrugged. ‘He was in a hurry, said he wouldn’t have the chance to call again. And could you meet him there.’

  ‘Who is he, Mike?’ she asked exasperatedly, wanting to be sure of her facts before she gave a whoop of joy.

  ‘Well, I thought you’d know that,’ he grumbled. ‘I didn’t bother to write his name down, and I’ve forgotten it now. I’m not used to taking down messages about dates for my secretary.’

  Callie blushed. ‘I’m sorry about that, Mike. But please try and remember the name.’ There was always the possibility that she was wrong and that it wasn’t Logan. She wouldn’t start celebrating until she was sure.

  Mike looked thoughtful. ‘It began with an M, I think. Malcolm…? Morgan…? No, I remember now,’ he smiled, ‘his name was Logan. Ring any bells?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ she cried excitedly, standing up to hug him. ‘Thank you, Mike. Oh, thank you!’ Logan had called after all. He had called!

  ‘He’s special, hmm?’

  ‘He could be,’ she admitted shyly. ‘If we ever get past the stage of arguing all the time.’

  ‘Mm, he sounded the forceful type.’

  ‘He is,’ she nodded.

  ‘And you aren’t backwards in coming forward yourself,’ Mike said ruefully. ‘Callie, I hate to interrupt your ecstasy, but it’s seven-thirty now, and if I remember correctly, Roberto’s is on the other side of town.’

  ‘Lord, yes! And I have to go home and change. I’ll never make it,’ she groaned.

  ‘Of course you will. Now just calm down,’ Mike soothed. ‘You drive home, carefully, and I’ll call Roberto’s and tell this Logan you’re going to be a little late.’

  ‘Would you really do that?’ she gasped.

  ‘Yes,’ he laughed. ‘After all, it’s my fault you’re late. Now off you go—and be careful.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said cheekily before hurrying out of the office.

  The traffic was heavy, and she seemed to have to stop at every set of traffic lights, drumming her fingertips impatiently on the steering wheel until the lights turned to green. Then the lift at the flats was out of order, meaning she had to run up the six flights to the flat, and then the telephone was ringing when she got in. It was Marilyn, and so Callie talked soothingly with her friend for ten minutes while she told her all about her father’s illness, the problem of her own lateness for a date, even with Logan, completely unimportant by comparison.

  She finally got off the telephone, found the shower water was cold, and then there was a stain on the dress she intended wearing. She didn’t have that many evening dresses, so she was left with the brown velvet she had been wearing the night she and Logan had met. When she had finished getting ready she still wasn’t satisfied with her appearance, but it was already eight-fifteen and Logan wouldn’t wait for ever. He hadn’t come across as a patient man at all.

  Once again everything seemed to be out to delay her—the traffic lights, a little old lady strolling across the road as if she had nothing better to do with her time. By the time Callie arrived at the restaurant she was in a complete state of panic, sure that Logan would have left by now, despite Mike’s promise to call and let him know she would be late. It was almost nine o’clock, Logan certainly wasn’t the type to sit around for an hour waiting for a woman, and certainly not one he had argued with the night before.

  The doorman looked very formal and correct, and she hesitated about entering, conscious of the elegance and obvious wealth of the other people patronising this fashionable restaurant.

  Logan was sure to have left by now, and—

  ‘Can I help you?’ The doorman had approached her.

  ‘Er—I’m a little late, but I—I think Mr Carrington may be expecting me inside—’

  ‘Mr Carrington?’ His haughty manner instantly changed to one of deference. ‘Mr Logan Carrington?’

  It was amazing what the mention of a man with money could do to these people, she thought ruefully. ‘Yes, that’s right. You see—’

  ‘And you would be Miss Day, Miss Callie Day?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You know me?’

  He gave her a look that said ‘hardly’. ‘Mr Carrington told us to expect you. We’re to show you straight in.’

  She wondered if he consciously used the royal ‘we’ or if it was done without him realising it!

  ‘Then Mr Carring
ton hasn’t left?’ she said eagerly.

  ‘Mr Carrington?’ The man frowned. ‘I was led to believe that the two of you were dining here.’

  ‘Oh, we are. But—Oh, never mind,’ she dismissed. ‘Maybe I’d better just go inside.’

  ‘Certainly, Miss Day.’ He held the door open for her.

  Thank goodness she was wearing her best dress; this place was for the elite with a capital E. There was a bar to the left of her, where several people were having a pre-or after-dinner drink, the women dripping diamonds, the men all in meticulously tailored suits, cigar smoke drifting to the ceiling. It was the sort of place Logan would feel at home in, but she wasn’t so sure she—

  Then she saw him, and the diamonds and obvious show of wealth didn’t mean a thing. He had been sitting at the bar, but he was coming towards her now, the black dinner suit and snowy white shirt emphasising the darkness of his hair, the tan of his skin.

  ‘Callie!’ His hands came out to grasp hers, his gaze warm as he looked at her.

  ‘Logan…’ she breathed, spellbound, sure that she was falling in love with this man. She blushed with the confusion of her thoughts. ‘I’m sorry I’m late. Mike said he would call—’

  ‘He did,’ Logan confirmed huskily.

  ‘It was so disastrous. He forgot to give me your message, all the lights were against me, the lift was out of order, my dress had a stain, and then—’

  ‘Hush,’ Logan placed gentle fingertips over her lips. ‘You’re here now, that’s all that matters.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed huskily, knowing that it was, that Logan was as aware of the spell of love being wound about them as she was.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THEY gazed into each other’s eyes for timeless minutes, and Logan was the one to finally break the spell. ‘Are you ready to eat? Or would you like a drink first?’ he asked briskly, probably as puzzled by what was happening to them as she was. ‘I think I should warn you,’ he added ruefully, ‘I’ve already spent an hour in the bar.’

  Callie laughed, as the mood lightened, the tension eased. ‘Then I think we’d better eat. This is the last place you want to be thrown out of for being drunk and disorderly,’ she teased, giving her jacket to the waiter.

  Logan’s hand on her arm was compelling. ‘I’m not drunk, Callie—at least, not with wine. You understand?’

  She swallowed hard, understanding perfectly. ‘Yes,’ she said huskily.

  His arm was about her waist as he hugged her to his side. ‘I really think you do. Let’s go and eat,’ he said more practically. ‘We can talk over our meal.’

  She didn’t even care what she was to eat, leaving it to Logan to order the food for them both, gazing at him with adoring eyes as they talked.

  ‘How is your friend’s father?’ he asked once the waiter had left with their order.

  His thoughtfulness warmed her. He was a busy man, he must have had many other things on his mind all day, and yet he hadn’t forgotten Marilyn’s father ‘He’s a lot better. Actually, that was another reason I was late. Marilyn called just as I got home, and—’

  Logan laughed softly, his hand holding hers across the table. ‘The odds really were against you, weren’t they?’

  ‘Yes,’ she smiled too, her expression suddenly serious. ‘I want to apologise for last night—yes,’ she insisted as he shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Over the years I’ve received a lot of criticism from a lot of hotheads who don’t seem to realise there has to be people like me, that this country needs industry. I think I overreacted to some of the things you said, took out my frustrated anger towards them on you. I’m the one who’s sorry.’

  ‘No—’

  ‘Oh yes. I’m also sorry I couldn’t pick you up this evening. A family crisis involved my driving out of town, and it was late when I got back.’

  ‘Your mother…?’

  ‘Is fine. It’s the rest of them I could do without. Let’s not discuss them,’ he dismissed with impatience. ‘I get angry just thinking about them.’

  ‘And do you still get angry when you realise you’re out with a twenty-two-year-old?’

  ‘I asked for that,’ he groaned. ‘I wouldn’t want you another day older than you are—but neither would I want you a day younger,’ he added hastily.

  Callie laughed. ‘Poor Logan,’ she teased.

  ‘Lucky Logan,’ he corrected. ‘But I believe my secretary wouldn’t put your call through today?’ he added hardly.

  ‘It was understandable. She didn’t know who I was—’

  ‘She does now,’ he said grimly. ‘And from now on your calls will be put straight through to me.’

  She eyed him mockingly. ‘What makes you think I’m going to call you again?’

  ‘You’d better!’ he said with mock sternness. ‘I’m going to insist you call me every day from now on.’

  Her heart gave a happy leap. ‘My boss won’t like that,’ she teased gently.

  ‘In that case I’ll call you,’ he said determinedly.

  ‘And what would we find to talk about every day?’

  ‘The evenings we’re going to spend together.’

  ‘Logan!’ she laughed. ‘You can’t telephone me every day and then want to see me every evening too.’

  ‘Who says I can’t?’ he was arrogant.

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘I’m not losing you, Callie.’ He was deadly serious now. ‘I knew there was something different about you the moment I met you. I’d like to explore that special something about you over the next few weeks.’

  ‘I’d like that too,’ she admitted huskily.

  The rest of the evening passed in a daze for Callie. She and Logan discussed everything under the sun, discovered similar tastes in books and music, a liking for ballet.

  ‘I usually take my mother if she’s in town,’ Logan told her on the drive back to her flat. ‘Maybe I could take you both some time. The Festival Ballet are going to be in town next month,’ he added thoughtfully.

  She gave a start of surprise at his mention of her meeting his mother. In her eyes meeting a man’s parents, especially a man of Logan’s age, meant he was serious about her. Oh, she hoped so!

  This evening with Logan had been the most enjoyable she had spent in a long time, and she hoped they would have many more of them together. Logan’s possessive manner seemed to say they would.

  ‘…would that be all right with you?’ he was asking now.

  ‘Er— Sorry?’ She had been so deep in thought she hadn’t heard a word he said!

  ‘Sleepyhead,’ he chided softly, his smile warm. ‘I said my mother usually likes to see Swan Lake, it’s her favourite. How about if I arrange tickets for the three of us?’

  ‘When would it be for?’

  ‘A few weeks’ time. Does it matter?’ he frowned.

  ‘I was just wondering if I would still be seeing you then.’ She eyed him mockingly. ‘I read an article about you in a magazine once, it said your girl-friends last an average of four weeks.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘In my maturity that’s increased to two months,’ he derided.

  ‘In that case, get the tickets. I should just make it!’

  ‘I can’t wait to reach your flat,’ he muttered.

  Her eyes widened. ‘Wanting to get rid of me already?’

  ‘No,’ he said grimly.

  ‘Then what— Oh,’ she blushed as his gaze caressed her, ‘I see.’

  ‘Do you?’ he chuckled.

  ‘You like teasing me!’

  ‘And you like teasing me.’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘Well, fair’s fair. And I like your teasing, Callie. Although this time you’re wrong.’

  ‘Wrong?’ she frowned.

  His hand came out to grasp hers. ‘You’ll be in my life a lot longer than two months.’

  ‘Will I?’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘You know you will.’

  ‘Maybe I need—convincing.’

&nb
sp; ‘Maybe I intend—convincing,’ Logan said throatily. ‘Maybe that’s the reason I can’t wait to get to your home.’

  Callie was flushed with excitement by the time Logan parked the car outside her home, although she let out a groan as she saw the ‘Out of Order’ sign still on the lift. ‘I should have realised, British workmen being what they are, that the lift won’t be mended until tomorrow.’

  ‘Lazybones,’ he mocked. ‘Think of the poor people who live above you.’

  ‘Goodness, yes. There are fifteen floors altogether,’ she realised as they trudged up the stairs.

  To give Logan his due he wasn’t even breathing heavily by the time they had walked up the six flights, whereas she was puffing away like an old woman.

  ‘You’re out of condition,’ he taunted as he took her key from her hand, opening the door to switch on the light. ‘Mm, nice,’ he commented, appreciative of the uncluttered homeliness of her home.

  ‘Thanks,’ she moved to switch on the electric fire. ‘And I’m not out of condition, I happen to have walked up and down those stairs already once tonight.’

  ‘So you do,’ he smiled. ‘Come and rest, Callie,’ he pulled her down on the sofa beside him.

  ‘Maybe I can get you some coffee? Or a drink? Or—’

  ‘You?’ he asked throatily.

  She swallowed hard. ‘No, not me. I told you, I always sleep alone.’

  ‘And I heard you.’ His voice hardened. ‘And I respect that. Going to bed with you wasn’t what I had in mind.’ He had moved away from her, both physically and mentally.

  She put her hand out to him as he stood up. ‘Logan, I’m sorry—’

  ‘I know I have a reputation.’ He was prowling the room. ‘But I hadn’t met you then. Do you know that I didn’t even sleep last night after I walked out of here?’ he rasped.

  ‘Neither did I,’ she admitted softly.

  ‘And that I’ve thought of nothing but you since Saturday night?’

  ‘Neither have I.’

  ‘I’ve known you only four days, Callie.’ He pulled her up into his arms. ‘And yet I feel differently with you than with any other woman.’