Wild Jasmine

by Yvonne Whittal

  Memories came flooding back of the last time she had seen her father alive. That had been eight months ago, and she could still see him sitting there behind his desk with his favourite cigar between his fingers.

  'You will complete your studies, and you will forget about this idea of yours to open up a boutique. Do I make myself clear?' he had shouted at her, and she had turned away from him without saying a word. She had walked out of his office, and had not seen him again before her return to England.

  The memory hurt. It could have been so different, but fate had decided, and Sarika could not put back the clock no matter how much she wished she could do so. This was now, and she had to make the best of the situation.

  She trailed her fingers lightly over the polished surface of the desk and sat down gingerly in the high-backed swivel chair. It felt odd sitting there behind her father's desk. She could almost see him standing next to her, puffing his cigar and looking smug.

  'Well, here I am, Dad,' she spoke her thoughts aloud. 'Right where you always wanted me.'

  'Your father always used to talk to himself.' Sarika looked up sharply to see Miranda Davis smiling at her from across the room. 'It's good to have you in the office, Sarika, and please don't hesitate to buzz me if you need any help.'

  She gestured towards the intercom system on the desk as she spoke, and walked out of the office, her sensible shoes making no sound on the carpeted floor.

  Sarika swallowed nervously. She was certainly going to need assistance, and Miranda Davis was perhaps the right person to give it to her. Miranda was a woman of almost forty, and she had been Dave Maynesfield's secretary for many years. She knew every aspect of the administrative side as well as Sarika's father had done, and now, Sarika imagined, she was most probably also acting as Sean's secretary.

  A little sigh escaped her as she put aside her handbag. She had to acquaint herself with her new environment, and, opening one of the top-drawers in the desk, she studied its contents. Her glance fell at once on a gold pen she had given her father some years ago as a birthday present. It was still in its box and it had presumably never been used. Her mouth tightened and, slamming the drawer shut, she worked her way systematically through the contents of the other drawers.

  Sarika had never had difficulty in grasping something, but she had never considered it a blessing until now. She was determined to succeed at what she was doing and, with Miranda's help, she found herself settling slowly into her father's position at the office. The weekend came too soon, and with it came that stab of anxiety. She had one more week to prove herself, and she had a feeling that Sean was not going to be lenient.

  The weekend started on a sour note when Ayah came up to Sarika's room after dinner that Friday evening. 'You are treating Sean badly. You speak to him only when he speaks to you, and you are creating an atmosphere in this house which is unpleasant and unnecessary.'

  'Ayah's accusation came so unexpectedly that it took several seconds for Sarika to formulate a reply. 'If there is an atmosphere, then I apologise, but you can't say that I haven't been civil.'

  'Civil?' Ayah threw up her hands and the gold bangles tinkled against her wrist. 'Do you call it civil to snap your answers at him when he has asked you a question? Sarika, the man has been trying very hard to make you feel at home, and I am ashamed of the way you repay him. When you were a child I taught you manners, but it seems I shall have to start over again!'

  She walked out of the room, her white sari floating about her, and Sarika stood there speechless as the door closed behind the older woman's ample figure. She wished she could explain to Ayah how she felt, but she could not even explain to herself the reason for this unfamiliar turbulence in her usually placid nature. Even time Sean came near her she could feel her hackles rising, and she would invariably prepare herself for battle. It was as if she had acquired a built-in defence mechanism which kicked over every time she saw him, but she was not quite sure what she was defending herself against.

  Sean left the house early the Saturday morning; Sarika saw him from her bedroom window, and only then did she go down to breakfast. Ayah shook her head as if she suspected the reason for Sarika's lateness in coming down to breakfast, but this time she did not say anything. Sarika wished Sean would stay away all day, but he returned just before lunch and poured himself a whisky which he drank out on the terrace until Ayah called them into the dining-room.

  'What about a game of tennis?' Sean suggested when they finally left the luncheon table and went upstairs.

  'I would rather go for a swim, thank you,' Sarika declined in a cool voice as she turned away from him to enter her bedroom, and she closed the door firmly behind her as if something had warned her that he might follow her inside.

  She realised that her heart was beating against her ribs as if she had been running. You're scared, a little voice accused. Scared of what? she wondered. Scared of yourself and your own feelings, came the answer, but Sarika brushed it aside cynically and changed into her bikini.

  It was a hot, humid afternoon, and she had settled herself comfortably on the recliner beside the pool when Sean appeared beside her in blue swimming trunks and a towel draped across one tanned shoulder. His long muscular legs were covered with short dark hair, and the aura of raw masculinity that surrounded him was so overpowering that her body went oddly limp and heavy on the recliner while she lay there looking up at him.

  'You don't mind if I join you, do you?' he broke the silence between them, the silver medallion about his throat glinting in the sun, and Sarika pulled herself together with an effort when she saw his dark glance flicking over her scantily clad body.

  'It's your pool,' she replied stiffly, sitting up with a jerk.

  'I'm master of this house, and I can do as I please, is that what you're saying?' he demanded in a lazy drawl.

  'Exactly!' she snapped.

  Sean's mouth tightened as he flung his towel on to a chair and studied her with his hands resting on his lean hips. 'You're looking for trouble, Sarika, and you're going to get it if you're not careful.'

  'Are you threatening me, by any chance?'

  'I'm not threatening you,' he corrected, a dangerous flicker in his eyes. 'I'm warning you.'

  'Thanks!' she snapped again as she got to her feet.

  'Where the hell do you think you're going?' he demanded harshly.

  'I'm going up to my room,' she glared at him as she walked to where she had left her towel and her robe. 'Any objections?'

  'You came out for a swim, and that's what you're going to do!' he insisted with a menacing look on his face.

  He moved with the speed of lightning, and before she had time to guess his intentions she was being lifted high in his arms. She knew then what he intended doing, but it was too late. One moment she could still feel the hard, bunched-up muscles of his arms about her, and the next she was flying through the air. There was just enough time to draw breath before she hit the water, and her body went down like a rock to the bottom at the deep end of the pool before she could right herself and kick herself up to the surface.

  'You despicable beast!' she cried chokingly, wiping the lank, wet hair away from her eyes, but her heart almost stopped beating when she saw Sean diving into the water.

  She turned and tried to get to the edge of the pool before he reached her, but trying to get away from him in that environment was like trying to escape from someone in a nightmare. Her limbs felt heavy, and her movements retarded. Fear almost choked her, and she had difficulty in suppressing the scream that rose in her throat when a heavy hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her away from the tiled edge.

  'You're not going anywhere just yet, Sarika,' he smiled at her in a devilish way that made her all the more determined to escape.

  'Get away from me!' she cried, making a renewed attempt to escape his strong hands, but her efforts were futile.

  His arm was hard about her waist, and her body was clamped against his in a way that she could feel the roughness o
f his thighs brushing against hers while he trod water. Being so close to him, flesh against flesh, was in itself an intimacy that set her pulses racing madly, and she clutched helplessly at his broad, damp shoulders as the cloudless sky dipped and swayed crazily.

  'I did warn you that you were looking for trouble, didn't I?' he mocked her, his strong teeth white against his skin as he eased her towards the side of the pool where he could detain her with more ease.

  'You had no right to throw me into the pool!' she accused, her fingers touching the smooth tiles, and she breathed a little easier when he released her.

  'Be thankful I didn't pull you over my knee and spank you.'

  'You wouldn't have dared!'

  'Is that a challenge?'

  He gripped the edge of the pool and moved towards her with a dangerous glitter in his eyes. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and the drops of water glistening on his tanned, rugged face added a devastatingly attractive touch to his appearance. She knew the danger of challenging him, and she turned from him to rest her arms along the tiled edge of the kidney-shaped pool.

  'Oh, go away!' she groaned, resting her forehead against her arms, and wishing suddenly she had not been so foolish as to pit her wits against him.

  'Stop fighting me, honey.' His arm circled her waist from behind, and when his hand came to rest against her flat stomach she went hot despite the coolness of the water. 'I'm not your enemy, and there's no reason for you to consider me a threat in any way.'

  If only he knew! His nearness and his touch against her bare flesh was threatening her at that very moment. She could feel herself weakening and becoming suffused with a longing she did not dare analyse.

  'Please let me go,' she begged, her voice horribly unsteady while she still fought desperately for control.

  He removed his arm from about her waist, but he stayed close to her in the water. 'If we have to work together as partners, then we could at least be civil to each other.'

  'Partners?' she snorted disparagingly, turning her head to risk a glance at him. 'I'm simply a small cog in that big wheel which comprises your entire organisation. Although I possess shares in Apex, I'm no more really than an employee of yours, so we could never actually call ourselves partners.'

  'You're forgetting something,' he mocked her. 'As the only other shareholder in Apex you're automatically elected on to the board of directors at Premier International, and that makes us partners whether you like it or not.'

  It was an overwhelming discovery, and she was totally unprepared for it. Her head went down on to her arms again, and she groaned, 'Oh, God!'

  'What's the problem now?' Sean demanded with a hint of exasperation in his deep, gravelly voice.

  'I've only just realised that doing my father's job entails a hell of a lot more than I'd originally imagined.'

  'Do you want to throw in the towel?'

  'Never!' she cried adamantly, raising her head to meet his glance squarely. 'I don't give up that easily!'

  'I didn't think you would.' He smiled at her in a way that made her feel as if her bones were melting, then his expression altered, and his eyes were thoughtfully intent upon her face. 'You're quite a woman, Sarika, and I must admit that my opinion of you is changing rapidly.'

  'For the better, I hope?' she asked before she could stop herself, and his smile deepened with mockery as his fingers tapped her lightly against the cheek in chastisement.

  'Now you're fishing for compliments.'

  'Heaven forbid!' she laughed away her embarrassment and the feelings he was arousing when his punishing touch became a caress, and he did not try to stop her this time when she lifted herself out of the pool and walked to where she had left her towel and her robe.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sarika was seated at her father's desk studying the plans for a housing scheme which was to be built by a consortium on the outskirts of the city of Agra, which lay some six hundred miles north of Bombay. She was frowning down at the plans when Sean walked into the office.

  'Aren't you going out to lunch?' he asked, and Sarika glanced at her watch to see that it was after one, but keeping to a rigid time schedule was something she had ignored during her second week at Apex.

  'Have these plans been approved?' she questioned him without answering his query.

  'Not yet,' Sean informed her when he stood beside her chair and studied the plans over her shoulder. 'They were drawn up to the requirements of the consortium, and we'll be meeting with their representative before the final plans are drawn up. Why do you ask?'

  'I see no reason for the houses to be bunched up together when there's sufficient space to allow for recreational areas. The people who are going to be living in these houses will have children, and if one pushed the houses farther out on the east and west side, when one could erect a park here,' she jabbed a slim finger at the plan, 'and there.'

  'That's not a bad idea,' Sean agreed. 'I have to fly up to Agra tomorrow morning, so I suggest you make arrangements to meet with the consortium's representative, then we could fly up there together.'

  Sarika's heart lurched nervously. 'You want me to handle it?'

  'Why not?' he asked, his eyes narrowed and intent upon her face as he seated himself on the corner of her desk and crossed his arms over his wide chest.

  'You're throwing me into the deep end a little too early, aren't you?' she questioned him mockingly.

  'This is shallow water, honey,' he assured her. 'The contract is ours whether they approve your new ideas or not, so there's nothing to lose, and plenty to gain.'

  Sarika swallowed convulsively. If this was the shallow end, then she dreaded to think what it would be like at the deep end. She rolled up the plans and pushed them aside to search for her handbag. 'I think I'll go out to lunch after all.'

  The humidity hit her like a damp sheet when they stepped out of the air-conditioned foyer into the sunlight, and she could almost feel the perspiration breaking out all over her body.

  'I'm having lunch with a client, so don't expect me back before three,' Sean warned as they parted company.

  Since the weekend their relationship had been less chilly, and Sarika had to admit that she preferred the situation as it was at that moment. They were polite to each other, even friendly, but nothing more.

  When she returned to the office an hour later she put a call through to Agra and, when Sean finally returned, she could tell him that she had made the necessary arrangements to accompany him the following day.

  'Have you ever been to the Taj Mahal in Agra?' she asked out of curiosity before she left his office to return to her own.

  'No, I haven't.'

  'If there's time it would be worth taking a drive out to it.'

  Sean leaned back in his chair to study her through narrowed eyes, then he smiled briefly. 'If there's time I think I would like that.'

  Sarika felt a little embarrassed at the thought that her remark might have been misconstrued as an invitation. She turned quickly before he could see her colour rising, and went back to her own office, but everything else was temporarily forgotten when she studied the plans once again and made sketches of her own ideas which she hoped to put forward.

  The telephone rang an hour later, and she reached out for the receiver without looking up from the plans. 'Yes?'

  'There's a Michael Nicholson on the line for you,' Miranda Davis told her.

  'Michael Nicholson?' Sarika repeated blankly, looking up suddenly to find her glance colliding with Sean's as he entered her office.

  'He insists that he knows you personally,' Miranda elaborated, and quite suddenly Sarika remembered.

  She had become so involved with learning her father's job since meeting the Nicholsons that she had almost forgotten the fair-haired Michael, and the blush that stained her cheeks was partly because of the mocking glint of Sean's eyes when he approached her desk and seated himself on the corner to watch her.

  'Put him through,' she instructed Miranda with an abrup
tness which was brought on by nervousness, and the next moment Michael's voice came over the line.

  'I know this is rather late in the day to call you, Sarika, but are you perhaps free this evening to have dinner with me?'

  A polite refusal hovered on her lips, but the mockery in Sean's eyes made her change her mind. 'I'm free this evening.'

  'I have your address,' said Michael. 'Would it be all right if I called for you at seven?'

  'That would be perfect,' Sarika agreed.

  'See you later, then.'

  The line went dead, and Sarika replaced the receiver on its cradle feeling a little irritated with herself.

  'Is Michael Nicholson an admirer?' came the mocking query.

  'He's an acquaintance,' corrected Sarika, keeping her eyes lowered to the plans on her desk. 'Jaishree knows his family, and she took me out to Poona to meet them the weekend before last.'

  'I gather you're having dinner with him this evening.'

  'That's correct.' She controlled her features and risked a glance up at him. 'Any reason why I shouldn't?'

  'No reason,' Sean shrugged carelessly, rising to his feet. 'Just as long as you remember that you have an important day ahead of you tomorrow.'

  'I'll remember… sir,' she dared to mock him lightly, then her expression sobered. 'What did you want to see me about?'

  'It was nothing important,' he said with a shuttered expression, then he strode out of her office and left her sitting there with the curious sensation that something vital had slipped from her grasp.

  'I'm so glad you're dining out with Sean this evening,' said Ayah when Sarika telephoned to let her know about the arrangements she had made.

  'I'm not dining out with Sean,' Sarika corrected her with a startled look on her face. 'I'm dining with Michael Nicholson.'

  'But I thought—' Ayah broke off abruptly, obviously as confused as Sarika. 'Never mind,' she ended the conversation briskly.

  Sarika sat for some time staring straight ahead of her with a puzzled frown creasing her smooth brow. Why, she wondered, had Ayah imagined she would be dining with Sean? She shrugged it off eventually with the thought that Sean must also be dining out, and that Ayah had naturally assumed that they would be dining together.