‘Don’t talk to me about competence,’ Hayley spat back at him. ‘I don’t suppose it occurred to you to tell me about the security system. If you had, this wouldn’t have happened.’
‘This wouldn’t have happened anyway, if you knew how to obey orders.’
He shook her forcefully until her teeth rattled, and then, without warning, pulled her into his arms, crushing her lips beneath his with punishing force, his hold like steel about her slender form.
Taken off guard, Hayley tried to resist, but it was futile. This was no Frank Heaton, weak and flabby, but a man made out of rock, against whom it was impossible to fight. If he wanted, he could... She felt the clutch of an old fear.
A frightened whimper sounded in her throat, and almost immediately his head lifted a little to release her lips.
‘Please,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘Let me go.’
His breathing was rapid, his face faintly flushed, and in the blue eyes was no hint of remorse, only anger.
‘What is it about you, girl, that drives me...?’ With a furious sound, he put her from him.
Hayley’s fear had been replaced by a matching anger. ‘So now it’s my fault that you act like a beast,’ she ranted. ‘Why is it that men, the so-called stronger sex, always have to pin the blame elsewhere? If it’s not short skirts and tight sweaters that tip men over the edge, it’s simple errors of judgement that any reasonable person would understand.’
‘I don’t know what skirts and sweaters have to do with it, and your error wasn’t reasonable,’ he retaliated, his own eyes blazing, his fingers gripping her arms so tightly that it hurt. ‘It was sheer bloody-minded cussedness. You just can’t obey the simplest—’
‘Cussedness?’ Hayley echoed loudly, her temper beyond control. ‘Of course that’s how you would see it. You arrogant, unreasonable, pigheaded...’ She ran out of breath and adjectives to describe him. ‘You wouldn’t recognise conscientiousness if it bit you, nor a desire to...’
In the heat of her fury, she caught herself up. What was she trying to tell him? That she been filled by a desire to what? To impress him, to please him? Why, when he was everything she despised?
And why was she trembling, her heart burning, like her face, with the confusion of her emotions?
And why was she letting him take her again into his arms—gently this time, pressing her head to his chest, speaking her name on a despairing note? ‘Hayley. You little fool. What am I going to do with you?’
Hayley, with her face muffled against his shirt, could give him no answer. She was struggling with a dam that seemed about to burst. All the tension and humiliation of the past months seemed to be gathering in a great lump in her chest, pressing behind her eyes, until she felt something, somewhere had to give...
But not now. Not with him.
She pulled herself away from him, delving shakily into her pocket for a handkerchief and finding none.
He took an immaculately folded square from his top pocket and handed it to her.
‘Here. Use this.’
She took it and blew her nose noisily, turning away a little with her eyes lowered. The urge to cry began to fade. Eventually, she dared to look up.
He was in control again—detached, cool, as he strode away from her towards his desk, riffling through the papers, giving her time to pull herself together.
Hayley watched him, the trim, muscular lines of his body, the confident movements of his lean hands, and felt a tremor of response to that strong animal magnetism, so potent, and seemingly so natural.
He strode back towards her, his blue eyes showing impatience now.
‘Am I never going to get through to you that I emphatically mean what I say? Unless you’re prepared to listen, we’re never going to get along.’
Hayley gripped her lower lip between her teeth for a second and then said quietly, ‘Perhaps you’d like me to give you my resignation.’
He made a sharp sound. ‘Oh, that would be wonderful. Then what would I do? Waste more time looking around for someone else to take your place?’
Hayley felt the frustration of the double bind. He didn’t want her; it was obvious by the irritation showing clearly on his face. He would be keeping her on only to suit his own purposes.
‘Wouldn’t that be better than putting up with someone who just can’t seem to get it right?’
For a second he stared down at her. ‘You could get it right, if you wanted.’
To her dismay she found herself saying, ‘I do want to. And I try so hard...’
Their eyes met, hers clouded with uncertainty, his probing deeply, searching for something that seemed to elude him.
Then he swore softly under his breath.
‘It’s time you went home. You’ve had a nerve-racking experience.’ His expression was unreadable now. ‘Perhaps this isn’t the time or place for the riot act.’
Hayley sniffed, beginning to feel more like herself. ‘Oh, go on! Read the riot act, damn you. You will anyway, sooner or later. We might just as well get it over with.’
He laughed, and she looked up with a reluctant smile, her cheeks flushed, her velvet-brown eyes still a little hazy from repressed tears.
He groaned, as though in torment, and then suddenly he was kissing her again, his mouth warm and arousing on hers. His long fingers slipped into the knot of her hair, loosening it so that his hand cupped the sensitive nape of her neck.
In Hayley there was no resistance now...no fear. She shuddered as a strange thrill shot up her spine, and involuntarily she moulded herself against him, her own arms slipping about his waist, her hands moving upwards against the hard muscle of his back as the kiss deepened, drawing her ever deeper into a whirlpool of emotions too complex to distinguish.
Her mind battled against this surrender. Why was she letting him do this? Hadn’t she vowed to keep her distance? She’d have no one but herself to blame if she let this go too far.
She moaned and made a feeble effort to pull away, but he drew her back again, his hold tightening, his lips becoming firm and demanding, exciting her to further spasms of delight.
He took his hand from her neck and wrapped his arms about her until he felt her taut body arch against him. Then his hands began to caress her waist, her back, her ribcage, long fingers brushing lightly against the sides of her breasts, never touching, but filling her with the heat of anticipation.
His hands moved down her spine, and caressed the gentle swell of her buttocks, making her aware of the strength of his arousal. A little gasp was forced from her, and for a moment he hesitated.
Hayley felt the slackening of his hold with a sense of inexplicable despair. He had brought her to the brink of something so unlike anything she had ever experienced. It would be cruel now to draw her back.
Involuntarily she gripped him and then relaxed her hold as he began gently to disentangle himself from her.
Her face was already flooding with colour as he moved back to look down at her.
‘Come on.’ He turned her gently towards the door. ‘Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you home.’
Reality came rushing back, and with it a surge of self-disgust. At the serious test, all her good intentions had gone winging out of the window. Not only had she failed to defend herself against his advances, she had actually encouraged them, willed him to go on, despaired when he had been the one to draw away.
There was no way she could travel home with him in the intimate confines of his car. She hardly knew how she was ever going to face him again at the office.
She said tightly, ‘There’s no need for you to take me home. The buses are quite frequent. I shouldn’t have to wait long.’
‘You won’t have to wait at all,’ he said imperiously. ‘I intend to deliver you safely to your doorstep.’ And, as she opened her mouth to protest, he raised his hand. ‘Don’t argue. It’s pointless.’
She’d been right to feel nervous about travelling in the car with him. His presence filled the luxurious interio
r, and her enforced nearness to him shortened her breath. It was becoming less and less easy to understand why their first meeting had caused so little disturbance to her emotions.
It was a relief when they turned finally into the street of terraced houses where Anthea had her flat.
‘This will be fine,’ she said, indicating a gap at the kerb. ‘You didn’t really have to go to the trouble of bringing me home, but thanks anyway.’
‘No trouble.’ He was gazing curiously out of the window. ‘Is this your place?’
‘Not exactly. The flat belongs to a friend. We share it.’
He nodded. ‘I see. Is your friend at home?’
‘Probably. Unless she’s still at the hairdresser’s.’
He seemed to relax. ‘Will you be all right until she returns?’
Oppressed now by self-consciousness, Hayley couldn’t wait to get out of the car. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’
‘Good.’ He seemed suddenly detached and said, almost sharply, ‘Remind me on Monday to give you the combinations for the security system.’
Safely in the flat, she made herself a cup of tea, and then left it to go cold as her mind went over the events of the evening. She had broken all her own rules, and it would be hard, in view of her undeniable response to him, even to attempt to defend her principles against him in the future. Perhaps she should give in her notice after all. It might be the only way to save her pride. She would decide on Monday, when she’d faced the ordeal of meeting him again.
She decided to say nothing to Anthea about the affair, and then occupied ten minutes trying to understand her reluctance to discuss anything to do with Marcus Maury with her friend. In the past, growing up together in their small home town, nothing had been secret.
Was it a sign of maturity not to want to be an open book, she asked herself pensively, or was she simply afraid there would be questions Anthea might ask to which Hayley couldn’t or wouldn’t find the answers? She had a strong suspicion it was the latter.
CHAPTER FOUR
HAYLEY was glad, for Anthea’s sake, that she hadn’t had to miss the première. Her friend’s excitement was contagious, and in the end Hayley found herself looking forward to the event and the meal afterwards.
The fiasco of the night before had been pushed firmly from her mind. She excused them both by deciding that what had happened had been an overcharged response to the tension of the moment and that Marcus Maury would be as anxious to forget it as she was.
What had depressed her last night now seemed to have a positive side. For his own reasons, he was as reluctant to dispense with her services as she was to give up the benefits of a good salary and a job which would enhance her experience when looking for a new job. If she could just hang on to that realisation, her battered pride might manage to survive.
She tried not to remember what it had been like to be in his arms. Each time the disturbing memories forced their way into her consciousness she turned her mind deliberately to other things.
It helped that Anthea talked of nothing else but the première, although, in turn, that reminded Hayley of Felicity Braun’s involvement with Marcus, and for some reason she didn’t want to think about that either.
She did, in wayward moments, wonder what Felicity would think if she knew Hayley had been in Marcus’s arms the night before. Not that she revelled in the thought. It added nothing to her opinion of his character. On the contrary, it only confirmed her suspicion that all men were untrustworthy to one degree or another.
The film was good, and Felicity Braun, as always, gave a faultless performance. Surprisingly, though, the fact that Hayley now knew the actress personally seemed to spoil things, though in quite what way she couldn’t say.
‘Wasn’t she great?’ Anthea enthused as they walked out together into the foyer at the end of the evening. ‘What wouldn’t I give to look just like her?’ She pushed dissatisfied hands through her bright yellow hair which always seemed to stand on end no matter how carefully she brushed it. ‘A change of colour would be easy enough, and I might even manage the hairstyle...given a good hairdresser.’
‘Given a wizard of a hairdresser, you still couldn’t beat that mop into submission,’ Hayley retorted, feeling strangely annoyed. ‘Besides, I like you just the way you are. Human.’
‘Bit of a back-handed compliment, that,’ Anthea responded, with a despairing shrug of her shoulders. ‘I wouldn’t mind, but it’s the only kind I seem to get these days.’
She gripped Hayley’s arm. ‘Oh, look! There’s Felicity Braun. She’s signing autographs. I’ve just got to get one.’
Hayley groaned. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Anthea. Autographs are for adolescents. Besides, it could take hours, and I’m starving. If you hang about we’ll never get a taxi to the restaurant.’
‘Then we’ll walk,’ Anthea said determinedly, digging for a pen in her voluminous bag. ‘You’re so stuffy these days,’ she accused, before issuing the command, ‘Wait there!’
Hayley grabbed her arm. ‘Look! I’ll...’
She ground to a halt as Anthea’s expectant gaze turned on her. She’d been about to say she would get an autograph from Felicity next time she saw her in the office, but of course she couldn’t. Anthea would be furious if she knew Hayley had kept that big a secret from her.
‘Oh, go on!’ she said irritably. ‘I’ll wait.’
Under the press of enthusiastic autograph hunters, Hayley was forced to retreat close to the wall of the foyer. She occupied some minutes studying the stills of the film. She had reluctantly to admit that Felicity Braun looked stunning in her period costumes. A creature, almost, from another world.
Feeling suddenly wretched, she wondered how Marcus Maury even found time to notice the existence of other women, with a beauty like Felicity to fill his love-life. But her own personal experience had shown her he managed it.
Her soft mouth drew into a hard line. Weren’t most men the same? Opportunists! Ready and willing to take advantage of any situation which might offer a few cheap thrills and a boost to their massive egos.
She knew she was generalising a little freely, but in her present frame of mind she didn’t feel at all like being fair.
Even Marcus Maury, hardly an example of the average man, hadn’t been above making the most of an opportunity. But honesty forbade her to criticise him too forcefully when, admittedly in the grip of fright and relief, she’d practically thrown herself into his arms. But that had only been the first time. The second time, he had been the one to...
The memory of his kisses, the thrilling strangeness of his hands caressing her body, arousing undreamt-of sensations, came back with disturbing clarity, making her groan. A pain, as sharp as any with a physical cause, shot through her chest. She closed her eyes and clutched her hand to her breast, holding her breath until the spasm passed.
‘Well, hello, Miss Morgan!’
The deep, pleasant voice spoke almost in Hayley’s ear, making her jump. Her eyes flew open in startled surprise and she let out her pent-up breath in a little gasp.
Marcus Maury’s blue eyes beheld her with amusement.
‘Are you sure this is the right place for meditation?’
She coloured. ‘I was...resting my eyes.’
His mouth curved in a smile that deepened the lines in his cheeks. ‘You should have worn your spectacles,’ he observed kindly. ‘Or do you wear them only to hide those lovely eyes? Which, by the way, speak more clearly than words.’
He touched her cheek, tracing the delicate bones with a light finger. ‘To think you could look like this all the time. Why don’t you?’
‘Don’t do that!’ she commanded sharply, refusing to answer the taunt.
She flinched away, her colour deepening. How much of her reactions to him did he understand? And did he think that just because she’d let him kiss her it gave him carte blanche to behave as he wished, even in public?
A little desperately, she looked across to the crowd around Felicity
Braun, groaning silently as she saw Anthea’s yellow hair bobbing about, obviously still some way from her goal.
‘Are you waiting for someone?’
She said tightly, ‘Yes. A friend.’ She nodded towards the crowd. She wished she could say it was a man, but he’d find out the truth soon enough. ‘She’s waiting for an autograph.’
He smiled. ‘The flatmate who so admires Miss Braun?’
She nodded, thinking there wasn’t much he didn’t notice or remember. Which made it all the more important to keep a guard on her tongue and her apparently give-away eyes.
How could he be so casual, as though last night had never happened? But then, of course, it hadn’t been important to him.
‘I have a feeling you may have to wait a little longer.’ He was appraising her openly, with every evidence of enjoyment.
‘Yes, I think I might,’ she muttered in vexation, wishing, without any real hope of it happening, that he’d go away.
Moving restlessly under his gaze, Hayley wished that she’d thought this evening’s outing through a little more carefully. If she had, she would have realised Marcus Maury was bound to be here. Then, instead of wearing her midnight-blue dress, which fitted her curves like a second skin, and diamanté slides in her thick dark hair, set free now to curl luxuriantly, she definitely would have worn her glasses and her chignon.
She had to admit he looked simply devastating in a formal dress-suit and sparkling white shirt. Her gaze seemed magnetised to the sternly handsome face, in which his eyes glinted coolly.
To escape her embarrassment, she turned her head to scan the room. Mercifully, the crowds seemed to be melting away, and Anthea’s bright head was bobbing in her direction.
‘Well, it looks as though my friend’s mission is accomplished,’ she said thankfully, beginning to move away. ‘See you on Monday morning.’
To her surprise, he reached out and caught her arm, pulling her back towards him. ‘Do you mind if I see you now for a few seconds longer?’
She raised her eyes to his, wondering if she looked as hunted as she felt.
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