by Nicola West
But before she did anything at all, she sank down on her bed, wrapping the towel tightly around her shuddering body, her mind and body in turmoil.
Luke Seager, she thought. Lucifer. . . . And Jean's words came back to her again, insistent, inexorable. They say once he's kissed you, you're branded for life. You'll never be free of him again....
CHAPTER TWO
Flair was in command of herself when she came out again to the patio to find her father and Luke enjoying cool beers. She shook her head as her father offered to fetch her a drink, and collected a Martini and lemonade, dropping several ice-cubes into it. Then she joined the men, stretching herself casually in a sunlounger on the other side of her father from Luke Seager; avoiding, though acutely aware of his sardonic gaze.
'Luke's been telling me about his present assistant,' Jeff remarked, touching her glass with his. 'The one you're replacing. He didn't have time to tell you, I gather, but it seems she's had some kind of accident. I haven't heard the details yet.'
'Broke her leg, poor kid,' Luke supplied wryly. 'Hanging curtains in her new home, of all things— fell off a step-ladder. Of course, she won't be on her feet for a couple of months, which takes care nicely of the months' notice she was going to work for me plus the fortnight extra she was willing to stay to ease you into the job.' Flair felt him glance past her father at her, but she stared at her glass, refusing to meet his eyes. It was all too plain what was coming, and she experienced a sudden feeling of being caught in a trap. How could she go and work for Luke Seager, after what had just happened? And without even a month's grace in which to get to know her father and find her own feet in this strange country. Yet how could she refuse?
'What do you think, Flair?' Jeff asked, obviously realising as well as she did what Luke was about to ask. 'It'd mean starting work more or less straightaway—no time for that holiday we promised ourselves. But there'd be a chance for that later on. Luke's a good employer, so they tell me.' His eyes twinkled and Flair wondered just how much Jeff actually knew about Luke Seager. Did he, for instance, know of his reputation with women . . .?
She glanced across at Luke and met again that penetrating blue gaze. There was a quality of challenge about it—as if he were daring her to refuse. Resist me if you can, it said—if you can. And she felt her blood rise to the challenge. Her eyes locked with his and it was as if they spoke to each other without need for words, as if with their eyes they could say all that was necessary. All right, her green eyes said to his blue: all right, I'll take your challenge. I'll resist. My mind is set on higher things, Luke Seager. Whatever other women may say; whatever brand Lucifer may think he's put upon me—this time it just isn't going to work. . . .
Luke dropped his gaze as if satisfied, and the moment of communication passed, leaving Flair strangely exhilarated. She turned back to Jeff and found him watching her almost with anxiety; and, touched by the look on his thin, tired face, she smiled warmly at him.
'So long as it's all right with you, Dad,' she told him, 'I'm ready to start work straightaway. Only--' she glanced provocatively at her prospective employer '—I'd like just to have this weekend free, if I may? To get my bearings—get over any jet-lag I may have—that sort of thing? Unless you can't wait. . .?'
She heard a tiny intake of breath from Luke and knew that her shaft had gone home. But he made no other sign; merely inclined his burnished head and said casually: 'No problem at all. I'll expect you on Monday morning, then, about eight? Jeff will make sure you know the way.' He stood up, uncoiling his lithe body with an action that reminded Flair of a tightly-wound spring suddenly loosened. 'Thanks for the beer, Jeff. I'll have to be away now.'
'Oh, surely--' Jeff protested, making to get up too '—you'll be stopping for a bit of lunch?'
Luke shook his head. 'Can't, I'm afraid. Busy man till I get my new assistant!' He glinted a look at Flair. 'Better get plenty of rest between now and Monday,' he advised. 'You'll find you need all your energy—being my personal assistant can be a, very demanding position, I'm told!' He paused to watch with amusement as flags of colour mounted in Flair's cheeks, then nodded at Jeff. 'Be seeing you.' He swung on his heel and was gone; and it was as if he left a vast empty space behind him.
Slowly, Flair sank back into her sunlounger and sipped at her Martini. There was no doubt about it, Luke Seager was the most vital, the most compelling and—she had to admit it—the most devastatingly attractive man she had ever met. The memory of that kiss still made her stomach twist, while a vein of fire ran through her body, down her arms and into the palms of her hands when she thought of the way he'd held her. If she were going to work for him, to find herself in close contact with him every day, she was going to have to guard very carefully against that almost overpowering attraction.
But she could do it, she told herself firmly. No man had ever found the path to her heart yet, and there was no way Luke Seager was going to be the first. If the day ever did come when she gave herself to a man, it wouldn't be a man like him—a rake, a demon who branded every attractive woman he touched. So there was a streak of sensuality in her that she had never suspected—well, that could be controlled. Had to be controlled, she thought with a small shiver; or she would be lost. . . .
*
There was a heavy shower of rain falling when Flair woke on Monday morning, and she stood at the kitchen window watching it in some dismay. Jeff, coming in for a cup of tea, smiled and said reassuringly: 'Don't look so worried—it won't last long. That's one thing about rain out here—it comes down in a torrent when it does come, but it never lasts. You'll see, in ten minutes or so the sun'll be shining again.'
Flair poured some bran flakes into a bowl and added milk.
'It's just that I'd have liked a fine day to start my new job—silly, really, but it seems a better omen.'
'Look, you'll be fine. I don't know what you're so nervous about. Your qualifications are good, you've got experience in some of the best London hotels— what's the problem?'
'Oh, I don't know,' said Flair with a shrug. 'Yes, I suppose it's silly. I just get the feeling that English qualifications and experience in English hotels won't cut much ice with Luke Seager. He'll want things done his way—which is fair enough, provided he gives me a chance to find out what that is.'
'Well, of course he will. Luke's not an unreasonable man.' Jeff looked at his daughter, then came over to lay a hand-on her shoulder. 'You seem to be making him into some kind of ogre,' he said gently. 'Don't. Luke's a big man, a wealthy man—but he hasn't always been. He had a tough childhood—his father made a real mess of running the two hotels he left Luke and the boy had to put all he had into it just to break even. Nobody ever expected him to make it like he has. He knows what it is to come up from the bottom, Flair.'
'Yes, I know. It's just—oh well, you're right, I'm letting things get on top of me.' She turned away and rinsed her cup at the sink. 'Well, Dad, thanks for a really lovely Weekend—I just wish we could have had longer. But we'll promise ourselves that holiday later on, won't we?' She reached up and kissed his thin face. 'Look after yourself, Dad. I'll see you tonight.'
Giving him a bright smile, she picked up her bag and slipped out through the kitchen door to the carport where the small car stood that her father had bought for her to use during her stay. Flair had objected that it wasn't necessary, she could buy her own car—but she had quickly realised that this was something he wanted to do and that he would be hurt if she insisted. And as she drove it away, following the route Jeff had shown her the day before into the city of Perth, she reflected that in some way her father seemed particularly vulnerable just now. As if he was suddenly regretting the lost years between them. And she knew that, whatever it cost her, she would do a lot to avoid hurting him.
And if that meant fighting off Luke Seager every minute of every day and still holding on to her job, just to please her father who so plainly thought the world of the younger man, then that—she told herself grimly—was just what she
would have to do. . . .
Nobody, for some reason, had prepared Flair for the size and sophistication of the Seager Hotel. In spite of all she had heard about Luke Seager, in spite of her own impression of him, she had still carried the picture in her mind of a medium-sized, mediocre kind of place struggling to make a name for itself, perhaps even succeeding in this faraway country, but with little hope of matching up to the great London hotels in which she had worked. The tall, slender building just off St George's Terrace came therefore as a surprise; the surprise was bigger still when she walked into the foyer and took in the sheer grace and luxury that prevailed even here.
'Miss Pattison?' the svelte receptionist said. 'Yes, Mr Seager is expecting you. You're to go straight to his office suite.' She glanced across the foyer and a uniformed page hurried over. 'Miss Pattison, for Mr Seager,' the girl said, with a friendly smile at Flair, and the page led her over to the lift.
Everywhere Flair looked that morning the same air of quiet luxury and discreet good taste prevailed. It was clear that Seager Hotels aimed only for the moneyed client. Yet there was no flamboyance, none of the brashness she had half-expected from Luke Seager. He must have very good advisers, she thought as she followed the page from the lift and along a deeply-carpeted corridor. Good interior designers as well as a good architect.
Luke Seager's own penthouse suite did nothing to dispel this impression. As she entered, she was momentarily arrested by the huge window with its panoramic view over the Swan River. Forgetting everything else, she went forward, gazing with delight at the blueness of the water, dancing with coloured sails, and the grace of the Narrows Bridge with King's Park rising steeply beyond; while from another window she found herself looking almost directly along St George's Terrace, with the rest of Perth and its suburbs spread around it.
'Like it?'
The soft drawl startled her; she had thought the room empty when she entered. Swinging round, she saw Luke Seager standing near the door, a cynical smile touching his firm lips. She felt herself blush as her eyes travelled over him, all too aware that he was examining her just as closely, yet unable to glance away until she had taken in every detail of his appearance; the neat business suit that did nothing to hide his essential masculinity, the breadth of his shoulders, the easy grace of his body as he rested lightly on the balls of his feet like an athlete ready for the gun.
For a moment she wished that she had not worn the clinging lawn dress of pale sea-green that so effectively set off her auburn hair and reflected the colour of her eyes. She felt suddenly convinced that it was too low-cut, the wrapover bodice too revealing. Luke's eyes were lingering appreciatively on her curves, and she knew that he must be remembering the picture she had presented in her wet bikini by the swimming-pool. Embarrassed, she turned away—then remembered her determination that Luke Seager was never to know the effect he had on her—never even to be aware that he had any effect at all. With a tremendous effort, she controlled her breathing and turned back.
'It's a wonderful view, Mr Seager,' she said sincerely. 'Dad took me driving all around Perth at the weekend and I can certainly see why they say the Swan is the most beautiful estuary in the world. I've never seen anything lovelier.'
His smile widened, but whether from irony or appreciation of her words she couldn't tell. He moved across the room and stood beside her, pointing out various landmarks. Flair felt her skin tingle as his arm brushed hers, but she stood still and hoped that he couldn't hear the sudden thumping of her heart.
'And now to work,' he said at last, turning away from the window. 'I understand from your father that you've had experience in various London hotels. That should help you—but you'll have to remember that this isn't London, or even England. We have our own ways of doing things—I have my own ways of doing things—and we don't like to have them dismissed as second-rate just because they're not English.'
'I wouldn't dream --' Flair began, but he went on as if she hadn't spoken.
'It's a habit some of you Britishers have. Now, we're at a pretty busy time here. There's the Perth Seager, the Melbourne Seager and a few smaller hotels that I'm building up—we'll go into all that thoroughly. Added to those are the leisure centre and hotel I'm building on Blue Island, and the Seager Motel down on the Albany road. Your father's starting on the designs for that one any time now. That adds up to a lot of work, and I hope you're up to it, Flair.'
'I think I am, Mr Seager,' Flair said stiffly, and he cut her short with an impatient gesture.
'I told you, skip the formality. It's Luke and Flair, right? Now, I'm ready to make allowances seeing that you're fresh out from England, but if you don't think you can cope, better say so here and now. Your father seems to think you can, though what he'd know about it I'm not too sure, seeing the time it is since he saw you, and you were only a kid then. But I've got a lot of time for Jeff Pattison, so I'm ready to give you a chance if that's the way you want it.'
He paused and looked at her. Flair met his eyes steadily, though inside she was seething with fury at. his patronising manner and abrupt words. If she didn't think she could cope, indeed! Give her a chance— why, for two pins she'd ram his rotten job down his throat and walk out on him without so much as another word! In fact, she was strongly tempted to do so. And then she remembered Jeff, and knew that she couldn't. For his sake, she had to give it a try at least. If the whole thing did prove to be impossible later on, she could always resign. But she couldn't turn the job down without having given it—and Luke Seager, she reluctantly acknowledged—a fair trial.
'That's the way I want it,' she replied quietly, her eyes still locked with his. 'I'm ready to give it a chance too.' That should indicate that she wasn't here to be bullied, she thought, watching with satisfaction as his eyes narrowed fractionally. But he wasn't finished yet.
'And --?' he prompted, then when she looked blank: 'I'm accustomed to being given a name now and then.'
Flair took a deep breath. 'I'm ready to give it a chance too,' she repeated, adding reluctantly, 'Luke.' And felt a queer, unexpected thrill as her mouth shaped his name. She turned away quickly from the look in his eyes and stared unseeingly out of the window as he remarked softly: 'That's better.' Then, more briskly, he began to outline the day's activities and Flair realised that with the sheer bulk of work he expected her to get through there was going to be little time for introspection.
And that, she reflected later as she sat at her own desk in an adjoining office with papers already piling up in front of her, was probably just as well.
Rather to Flair's surprise, she settled in well at the Seager Hotel. There were, of course, differences in her work here and her experiences in England, but she soon adapted to them and kept quiet about those she didn't approve of. As both her father and Luke had pointed out in their different ways, she was the stranger here—the foreigner, almost—and when in Rome it was as well to do as Rome did. In fact, her criticisms were few and she found herself enjoying her work and making friends among the staff.
During the first week or two, she saw little of Luke. Once satisfied that she could cope, he spent most of his time in making visits to the other, smaller hotels he had acquired in and around Perth—hotels not yet of a standard to be dignified with the name Seager Hotel, and probably never to be large enough to be so designated, but still to be improved and stamped with the Seager brand. Flair knew that Luke wanted to make a thorough round of each of these smaller hotels in preparation for a visit to the Blue Island complex and the Albany motel. She wondered whether she would be expected to accompany him on these visits and, in spite of her resolution, felt a tingle of excitement at the idea. Sternly, she repressed it, telling herself that it would be interesting to see some different parts of Western Australia. After all, the trips would be strictly business. ...
It was while she was thinking about this one morning that she was interrupted by the secretary, Janet, who looked nervously through the door and said: 'Oh, Flair, there's a lady to see Mr
Seager.'
'Luke's not here, Janet,' said Flair, glancing up. 'He's over in Fremantle. Anything I can do?'
'I'm not sure --'Janet began, but she was interrupted by a cool voice from behind; a voice that was recognisably American, languidly amused, and that for some reason immediately caused Flair's hackles to rise.
'Don't worry, Janet, I'll wait in his suite,' the voice said. 'Luke won't mind. He's due back in an hour anyway.'
You know more than I do, then, Flair thought, half rising from her seat as the newcomer entered. She gave a quick startled look at the tall, beautiful brunette, then nodded reassuringly at Janet. 'It's all right, Janet. I'll look after Miss --?'
'Ryan,' the American girl drawled. 'Roxanne Ryan. Luke will have told you about me, I'm sure.' She swayed into the room as Janet closed the door, bringing a waft of heavy perfume with her, and stood looking down at Flair in a way that Flair found maddeningly condescending. 'So you're the new assistant! From England, aren't you? That's fascinating—I'm longing to see England some time. All those quaint thatched cottages and shepherds in smocks! You must tell me all about it one day.'
'Of course, Miss Ryan,' Flair said politely. 'When we both have time. Was there anything particular you wanted to see Luke about? Anything I can help with?'
A twitch of amusement showed on the brunette's tanned, flawless features. 'Something particular, yes. Something you can help with—no, I wouldn't really think so. It's rather more personal business that I have with Luke.'
'I see.' Flair found her dislike of the other girl growing. She looked at the tall shapely figure now standing by the window, gazing out over the Swan. She wondered who this exotic creature was, where she had come from; what was her connection with Luke. Clearly, whoever she was, she wasn't short of money; Flair could well appreciate the quality of her Italian silk suit in emerald green patterned with dark blue and the high-heeled gold sandals that so superbly set off her long, well-shaped legs. And she had the looks to carry off the somewhat startling colours, too; her skin tanned a deep gold, dark flashing eyes topped by a cloud of near-black hair, her figure statuesque and voluptuous. Presumably she was one of Luke's girlfriends, Flair thought, suppressing an inexplicable pang at the idea. Well, they'd make a good match, she had to admit that. Together, they couldn't look anything short of stunning.
