Forbidden Kisses with the Boss

by Penny Jordan

She heard Linda saying goodbye and responded automatically; her desire to work had gone. She wandered restlessly round her apartment, finally picking up a magazine which she had bought on impulse over the weekend and then discarded.

  There was an article in it on women who opted for motherhood in their late thirties; career women who without exception were extolling the virtues of motherhood.

  Hannah looked at the photographs with a tiny shudder, acknowledging an inherent fear of studying them too closely.

  Why? Because she was afraid that the opinions and emotions of those women featured in the article might be contagious? That she might become a victim of the baby fever that had gripped them? That she might—appalling thought—experience that same urge to succumb to the siren call of nature?

  Impossible, she told herself, throwing the magazine aside, irritated with herself for the dangerous game she was almost deliberately playing with her own emotions and vulnerabilities. It was rather like the game of ‘chicken’ she had played at school as a child. Only now she was her own rival.

  Despite all her good intentions, it was late when she went to bed, and for once the rhythmic sound of the river did not lull her to sleep.

  Like some uncontrollable sickness she couldn’t withstand, she started to think about Silas…to wonder what he was doing, who he was with. She remembered how she had felt when he had touched her, and shuddered deeply, completely unaware of the low moan that rose in her throat, trying not to visualise him with her… the soignée woman she had seen him with in his car. She was berating herself…hating herself for what she was doing, both to herself and, by virtue of the intrusiveness of her thoughts into his personal life, to him.

  The week passed all too quickly. Her work proved challenging, almost exhaustingly so, for which Hannah was grateful. Deep down inside her a small voice still warned her that she was in danger, that she ought not to have taken the job, but she ignored it, subduing both it and her emotions by relentlessly refusing to acknowledge their existence.

  Faces and names became familiar to her, the hierarchy of the Group more clear, the names of its clients coming automatically to her lips instead of having to be memorised.

  She was delighted to see how much Silas was prepared to delegate work to her and how much responsibility she would have. In fact, were it not for her unwanted awareness of Silas as man, rather than as an astute financier, she would have been able to describe her life as not far short of perfect.

  A longstanding dinner engagement on Wednesday evening, with an old group of friends she had known for many years, gave her the opportunity to announce her career move.

  All of them were openly envious, congratulating her on her good luck. All of them took their careers seriously, and none of them questioned her on her reaction to Silas on a personal level, but, instead of feeling relief, she felt rather a fraud…as though the division within her own nature was already in some subtle way separating her from these serious, dedicated young women; it was as though her very hormones were making her a traitor to the ideals she had held for so long, and the appalling thing was that she didn’t seem to be able to do a thing about it. No matter how strict a control she kept over herself during her waking hours, at night while she was asleep her dreams became turbulent and erotic, stirring up sensations that lingered even while she was awake, giving her an insight into her own nature she would rather not have had.

  Desire…sexual chemistry…give it what name you would, the havoc that such an awareness could bring made her shudder in dread, but she had it under control, she assured herself later in the evening as she drove home. She was already packed for the overnight stay at Padley Court, and she had warned her parents to expect her home for the weekend. Her motives in going home were complex and not without a certain deviousness. Given the busy pace of her mother’s life, she was bound to be kept far too busy to dwell on Silas and her reaction to him.

  Every now and again the cold voice of reason told her that it would be safer to simply give up her job, but she couldn’t bear to do it. She loved the challenges of her work. She loved the scope and encouragement Silas gave her. She loved the atmosphere that permeated the entire Jeffreys organisation, right from its most junior member of staff, and she knew that there was much she could learn from Silas.

  As she stopped the car she had an electrifying, undermining mental vision of him reaching out to touch her, his lean hands caressing her skin, his silver eyes intent on her body. She shivered convulsively, resenting the power of her own desires, wondering with fierce bitterness why they had chosen now to manifest themselves so strongly. If she had to suffer this kind of delayed adolescent development, why on earth did she have to pick on Silas Jeffreys? Why couldn’t she have felt like this about someone safe like…like Malcolm? She dwelled bitterly on the recalcitrance of her own nature and its stubborn refusal to behave sensibly. A discreet, easily controlled affair with someone like Malcolm, now at this stage in her life when she was well-established on the career ladder, would have been almost ideal. A relationship which could be picked up and then dropped to suit them both…a comfortable physical communion between two people who were fully aware that their relationship was to be kept safely compartmentalised…a healthy, unemotional, physical pleasuring of one another. She dwelt bitterly on the benefits of such a relationship while she prepared for bed, wondering a little savagely why on earth she couldn’t act on her own sane, sensible advice. Why on earth was she suffering from this inconvenient attack of desire? To merely experience such desire was bad enough, but to have that desire fixated on the one person it would be career suicide to become involved with must be some form of hitherto unsuspected madness.

  It was just fortunate that Silas had no interest in her as a woman. She shuddered to think of the consequences to her carefully planned life had that not been the case. An affair with him, no matter how brief, would mean the end of her career with the Jeffreys Group. She had always been appalled by the stupidity of those of her peers who became emotionally or sexually involved with co-workers. It always led to problems—accusations of favouritism and worse. And then, when the inevitable end of the affair came… Well, she had listened to too many women bemoaning the fact that they were almost being forced to look for another job following the end of their relationship with a colleague to have any doubts as to her own situation under similar circumstances.

  Yes, she was very fortunate indeed that Silas wasn’t interested in her. Extremely fortunate. Determinedly she ignored the small pang of pain and chagrin that whispered dangerously that she could make him see her as a woman and not a colleague, that she should make him see her as a woman.

  Wearily she prepared for bed, praying mentally that tonight her sleep would be free of dreams, tormenting and subtle sensual shadows that moved across her sleep, arousing her with the eroticism of their movements, with the way their sleep-misted bodies moved together, touching, clinging…

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHEN she woke up on Thursday morning, Hannah realised that the weather had changed and that the hitherto mild Indian summer they had been enjoying had been replaced by rough winds and a storm-grey sky. Beyond her living-room window, the wind whipped the Thames into white-capped ruffles. Trees which had seemed green only the day before, as though summer would last for ever, now rattled, dry as paper, and the few people she could see moving about were dressed warmly in autumn clothes.

  More from habit than deliberate choice, because she never wore her City clothes when she went home, she dressed almost automatically in a warm pleated skirt in bright blues and greens, lightened by a fine broken yellow line which matched the sweater she was wearing with it. There was also a jacket which she had placed on the back of her chair, ready to put on when she went out.

  She ate her breakfast quickly, with one eye on the clock. They were travelling down to Padley in Silas’s car, and a little to her surprise he had announced that instead of meeting her at the office he would pick her up at home. When she had prot
ested that this was unnecessary, he had reminded her wryly that by picking her up at home he was saving them both almost an extra hour of travelling, and after that there had been no further possible argument.

  Even though she had been watching for him, she still felt a small thrill of shock and pleasure in her stomach when she eventually saw his car draw up outside. Sooner or later she was going to stop reacting like this every time she saw him, she told herself stoically, ignoring the tiny curling sensation of awareness that coiled through her muscles.

  She arrived downstairs in the foyer almost at the same time as Silas walked into it. He gave her a brief smile, holding out his hand to take the overnight bag she had packed the previous evening. Shaking her head, she responded to his smile and told him, ‘It’s all right. It’s quite light. I can carry it myself.’

  He didn’t argue with her, instead opening the door so that she could precede him through it, and then unlocking the boot of his car. This time when he held out his hand, she let him take her bag. He stowed it efficiently in the car next to a very similar one of his own, and then walked round to the passenger side, opening the door for her.

  ‘It shouldn’t take us long to reach Padley, not once we’re clear of the London traffic,’ he informed her, reversing the Daimler and heading back to the main road. ‘While we’re travelling, I’ll tell you a bit about my plans for the house. At the moment it’s more or less gutted. The builders are hoping to move in at the beginning of next month, and once they’re there, they reckon it’s going to take them at least six months to get everything in order.’

  Hannah frowned. ‘Won’t you find it very difficult living there with the builders in?’ she queried.

  ‘Living there?’ He gave her a rather startled glance, and then looked away as he negotiated a very sharp corner. ‘I don’t live there. The place is enormous, far too large for one person. I live in the Dower House.’

  Hannah remembered what her mother had said about Padley Court being almost uninhabitable, and gave him a querying look.

  ‘What do you intend to do with it, then?’ she asked him, visions of a hotel complex or conference facilities of some sort being developed in the beautiful old house and grounds, and unwillingly acknowledging that, despite the good business sense of such a move, she would be sad to see the gracious old place turned into yet another prestige hotel.

  ‘I intend to turn it into a holiday home for single-parent families,’ Silas told her, astounding her.

  Her mouth dropped and she turned to stare at him. Although he was concentrating on the traffic, there was nothing in his profile to indicate that he was teasing her.

  ‘You don’t approve?’ he queried, obviously mistaking her shock for disapproval. ‘You’re not the only one. I’ve had to do some pretty heavy fighting with the local council to get them to agree to my proposal. Some of them seem to think the words ‘‘one-parent family’’ are synonymous with delinquent children and uncaring mothers,’ he added very bitterly. ‘However, I managed to get the plans passed. Luckily I had the support of a very powerful local landowner. I personally won’t be running the place, of course. I’ve appointed, or will appoint, a board of trustees to do that. I will be one of the trustees, but needless to say I won’t be able to give the venture my full-time attention. I’ve bought the parkland with the house and several acres of land, not enough to farm on a profitable basis, but certainly enough to keep a few animals, the idea being that city children would be given a taste of traditional country life through various charitable organisations all over the country.

  ‘We hope to be able to offer to those who are most in need of it one week and in some cases two weeks’ holiday at no expense to themselves. I’m sorry if the idea doesn’t meet with your approval,’ he added a trifle drily when she said nothing.

  Not meet with her approval? Hannah could only stare at him belligerently, wondering how on earth she had managed to convey to him such an impression that he considered her so devoid of feeling that she couldn’t see how wonderful his idea was.

  ‘Of course I approve,’ she told him fiercely. ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea.’

  ‘Good.’ He glanced at her, giving her a genuinely warm smile. ‘I’m glad about that, because I’m hoping to more or less put you in charge of the day-to-day organisation and control of the building work. I’ll be giving you an assistant to help you with all the paperwork that will be involved, but unless it’s something that needs my direct attention, everyone concerned in the work on the place will report directly to you.’

  That he should have enough faith in her to give her such responsibility almost took Hannah’s breath away. It was a project dearer to her heart than anything she had ever worked on before. She could feel the adrenalin pumping excitedly through her veins at the thought of the challenges ahead of her, and then she checked and said uncertainly, ‘But you employed me as your personal assistant—’

  ‘Which you will still be,’ Silas assured her calmly. ‘That is why I’m giving you an assistant to help you with the day-to-day paperwork involved in the scheme.’

  They were deeply enmeshed in the business of the London traffic and Hannah sat back in her seat, her mind buzzing with ideas and questions, none of which she wanted to put to Silas while he was concentrating so intently on his driving.

  She couldn’t wait to reach Padley and see for herself just exactly what he intended to do. She knew the estate only very vaguely, having visited it as a child with her parents when they had gone round the gardens. A thought suddenly struck her, and she asked quickly, ‘The gardens. What will happen to those? They’re on show to the public normally, several times a year.’

  ‘They only occupy a very small part of the estate,’ Silas told her calmly. ‘They will be out of bounds to the children and maintained as they are now by a small workforce. They will still be open to the public; in fact, we’re hoping to open them on a far more regular basis. We’re also considering establishing several workshops in some of the outbuildings to the house, hopefully encouraging local craftsmen to set up business there and perhaps even employ some of the older teenagers of the families who will be making use of the place’s facilities. The leisure market is booming at the moment, and of course, the more funds we attract to the place, the easier the job of the trustees will be.’

  ‘How will it be financed?’ Hannah asked him curiously.

  ‘Largely by private donations.’ His voice was clipped, warning her that he didn’t want her to pursue her line of questioning, and Hannah suspected instinctively that the major proportion of those private subscriptions would come from Silas himself.

  She wondered how much his own childhood with his aunt had influenced his decision to make such an altruistic gesture.

  ‘Tonight we’ll be having dinner with the landowner I was telling you about, and his wife. There are several points concerning the eventual running of the place that I want to go over with him. You may know him already: Lord Charles Redvers.’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘I’ve heard of him, of course, Redvers Hall is only about thirty miles from my parents’ village, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually met him.’

  She had also heard about Lord Redvers’ wife, Fiona, a very beautiful woman, some twenty years her husband’s junior, who it was rumoured had had several discreet affairs during the course of her marriage to Lord Redvers. Hannah didn’t place too much credence on this latter information. Small villages were notorious hotbeds of gossip, so she didn’t mention Lady Redvers and instead asked Silas how he had come to meet the peer.

  ‘The agents who sold me Padley Court put me in touch with him. I’ve been on the lookout for a place like Padley for quite some time, and before I bought it I advised the agents exactly what I planned to do with it. They warned me that I would come up against quite a lot of local opposition, but they recommended that I get in touch with Lord Redvers, who I believe has something of a reputation as a philanthropist locally.’

  This much was tr
ue. Hannah had heard her father mention Lord Redvers as a very generous benefactor of several local charities.

  While Hannah remembered Padley Gardens from her visit with her parents as a child, she had no real conception of the house itself, and therefore it came as rather a shock to see how enormous it was. No wonder Silas had been surprised to hear that she believed that he was going to live in it himself.

  He turned in through the open drive gates, his car crunching slowly over the gravel. Ahead of them the Tudor brick bulk of the huge house dominated the landscape, its mullioned windows reflecting the sunlight as the sun finally managed to pierce the grey blanket of cloud. The avenue of limes that led to the house was an awe-inspiring sight, despite several gaps in its symmetry, betraying where trees had died over the centuries. But, instead of driving down the avenue, Silas turned off to the left along a bumpy, unmade track.

  ‘Once the builders start work I’m going to have a proper drive made to the Dower House,’ he told her, moderating the speed of the car to lessen the effect of the rutted lane.

  ‘How old is the Dower House?’ Hannah asked him, not remembering it from previous visits.

  ‘Not as old as the house. It was built early in the eighteenth century, apparently designed by a pupil of Inigo Jones. It isn’t overly large: three storeys, with five bedrooms on the first floor and then another four on the second. It’s also got cellars, which I plan to use to house the computer equipment I’ll need to work from home.’

  Curiously Hannah asked him, ‘When you bought Padley, didn’t it occur to you that you could perhaps use it as your head office?’

  He shook his head decisively.

  ‘No, it’s far too large, for one thing. For another, it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the staff. Central London might be an expensive location to be based in, but it does have certain advantages. If we relocated out here, we would be bound to lose some key members of staff who simply wouldn’t be able to travel. Here we are,’ he announced, swinging the car round, and Hannah gasped as she had her first glimpse of the Dower House.