Hayley sniffed the air. ‘It’s your turn to cook tonight. I don’t suppose you’ve done anything.’
Anthea put the final coat of bright blue mascara to her lashes and turned away from the mirror.
‘What do you think?’
She looked bright, colourful, brimming with life. Hayley, with a rush of affection, said, ‘Incredible.’
‘Thanks.’ She patted Hayley’s head on the way to the kitchen. ‘I’ll pop out and get you a Chinese, then I’ll be off. Don’t wait up.’
‘Don’t worry. I won’t. I’m ready for an early night.’
Anthea regarded her as she stood in the doorway. ‘You look a bit peaky. Are you all right? Why were you so late?’
‘Pressure of work.’ Too tired to discuss it, Hayley lied a little and waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’ll get into the shower in a minute. Then I’ll eat my Chinese supper and have an early night. You just go off and enjoy yourself.’
Anthea didn’t need too much coaxing. Her mind was full of Lenny Barnes, and the sparkle was back in her slate-blue eyes.
Hayley yawned, stretched her aching limbs, and looked at the clock, deciding there was time for a long, leisurely shower before Anthea returned with the supper. The take-away would be full at this hour, and she’d probably have to wait for quite a while.
Standing under the warm, soothing jet of water, Hayley felt the tension beginning to ease out of her body. The smooth, silky feel of the soap against her skin was like the lightest touch, and suddenly she was thinking of Marcus Maury again, remembering how, that night when she’d locked herself in, his hands had run over her body, exciting, arousing, creating a tremor along her nerves...
The sound of the front door brought her out of her reverie with a guilty start. Anthea was back with the food, and suddenly Hayley was hungry.
She quickly shampooed and rinsed her hair and reached for the towel, which she normally hung on the rail outside the shower curtain, only now there wasn’t one there.
‘Damn!’ She swore irritably. ‘Why didn’t I find one before I got wet?’ She raised her voice. ‘Anthea! I’m in the shower and I need a towel.’
While she waited, she wrung the moisture out of her long, thick hair and blinked the water from her eyes, wondering what was taking Anthea so long. Perhaps she hadn’t heard the front door after all, she thought, and groaned. Now she would have to find the towel herself.
With an impatient gesture, she pulled the curtain aside and stepped out on to the bath-mat, just as Marcus Maury entered with a bath-towel in his hand.
He stopped, only feet away, his eyes widening a little, and then a slow smile spread across his face.
‘Sorry to be so long,’ he said casually. ‘It took me a while to find the linen cupboard.’
Frozen with surprise and shock, Hayley stood and dripped water from her slender curves on to the bath-mat, while his eyes moved over her slowly from head to toe, with an expression that was easily recognisable.
‘Hayley,’ he said softly, with a little shake of his head, ‘You’re spectacular.’
Returning suddenly to life, she leaned forward and grabbed the towel from his hand, turning her back to wrap it around her, huddling into its warmth as she shivered from reaction.
‘But not, however, a public spectacle,’ she ground furiously, keeping her face turned from him, hiding the flush of anger mixed with excitement. ‘Would you mind leaving the bathroom so that I can dress?’
He gave a low laugh that seemed to echo through her nervous system in a series of tremors.
‘Not a word of thanks,’ he said reproachfully. ‘But since I’m here...would you like a hand to wipe?’
‘No! Please get out!’
His very presence spelled danger, but the real danger lay deep in her heart, with every second a threat to her composure, every pulse-beat a moment nearer surrender. If he should touch her...
He didn’t answer, and there was no sound.
The silence frayed Hayley’s nerves almost to breaking-point. Where was he? What was he doing?
Risking a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw he was moving towards her, and, with a gasp, she half turned, backing away, feeling the raised slippery tiles of the shower cubicle against her foot. She stumbled blindly for a moment, still holding grimly on to the towel, before feeling his hands grip her arms to steady her.
The touch of his hands against her bare skin was like a burning brand, sending spears of heat shooting through her body.
She was suddenly frightened, not knowing what she feared. ‘Let go of me!’
‘Easy! Easy!’ he soothed, drawing her towards him as she began to pull away. Then, seeing the glint of panic in her wide brown eyes as she stared up at him, he tutted softly. ‘Great heavens, Hayley! I’m not here to molest you.’
Through teeth she’d clenched to stop them from chattering, she managed to say harshly, ‘Then why are you here?’
He was molesting her, she thought wildly. He was here, in her bathroom, holding her in a way, and with a look in his eyes, that would have had her screaming if he’d been any other man. But, because it was him, what he seemed to be offering was a promise of heaven.
But she knew better than to take it. The result would be the same, whoever the man, in this situation...an opportunistic moment of passion. In the aftermath she would inevitably suffer rejection, humiliation, ultimate self-disgust.
‘Answer me!’ she insisted in a voice that shook, despite her efforts to appear in charge of herself. ‘Or is the answer too obvious?’
‘I came back,’ he began, his blue eyes still holding the warmth of amusement, ‘to return your handbag, which you left in my car.’
Hayley’s hard gaze faltered and became embarrassment. ‘Oh!’ Then suspiciously, ‘But how did you get in? Anthea isn’t here.’
‘I know. Or at least I guessed, since the front door was left ajar, that someone had just popped out.’ He shook his head. ‘A dangerous thing to do. Especially since you were in the shower.’ And then, with a touch of irony, ‘Anyone could have come in.’
‘Someone did!’ Hayley said accusingly. ‘Why didn’t you just wait in the living-room?’
‘I did. But you called for a towel. So I brought you one, though I didn’t expect you to get out of the shower to thank me.’ He grinned down at her, his eyes seeming to devour her flushed, angry face with every evidence of enjoyment. ‘But I’m glad you did.’
Her eyes flashed with anger. ‘I might have guessed you’d enjoy a peep show.’
He smiled, his head tilted to one side. ‘Except I didn’t have to peep. You were there, an arm’s length away, in all your remarkable glory.’ His smile widened tauntingly. ‘It’s times like these that I’m glad I have a photographic memory.’
He was too close. Overpoweringly so. Hayley felt the discomfort of his magnetic vitality, and tired to extricate herself.
‘OK! Well, you’ve had your joke.’ The heat in her cheeks seemed to have reached the point of combustion. ‘So would you leave now, please?’
He didn’t release her immediately, but slowly brushed the wet hair from her cheek to hook it behind her ear.
His cool fingers were tantalising against her skin, and her chest heaved as her temper rose, disturbing the folds of the towel. ‘Go!’ she commanded.
As though drawn there irresistibly, his gaze settled momentarily on the cleavage revealed by the displaced towel, and then, with an air of bracing himself, he turned away with a sigh.
‘I’ll wait for you in the living-room.’
‘There’s no need to waste any more of your time,’ she said edgily to his retreating back. ‘Just leave my bag and...thanks.’
He gave a dismissive little wave. ‘My pleasure.’ His tone was mocking, giving his words a double meaning which wasn’t lost on Hayley. He stood in the doorway for a last glance, before giving another sigh. ‘Don’t be long.’
Hayley seethed as she rubbed herself dry. She still tingled from head to foot, as though his
roving glance had been an exploring hand...the same hand she had been imagining in the shower, to the accompaniment of such delicious sensations that just remembering them had her burning with shame.
As he’d said, he’d been an arm’s length away, and there had been a brief moment, a vivid flash, when she’d thought, perhaps hoped, he was, despite her protests, going to bridge the gap and make her fantasies reality. Was it possible he might have done, if she hadn’t broken the spell? An unanswerable question, but her heart bumped unevenly at the thought.
It was hard to believe he was the same demanding man who had been briskly dictating letters to her earlier in the day. In the office, cool and authoritative, he was daunting, but at least she knew where she stood. This taunting, teasing side of his nature didn’t surface very often, but when it did she found herself almost inevitably on the losing side. More approachable, but dismayingly unpredictable, he was even more of an enigma. And more, much more of a danger to her self-control.
With the towel still clutched about her, she risked a peek out into the hallway and, finding it empty, dashed across it to her bedroom shutting the door firmly behind her. She took her time dressing and drying her hair, giving him plenty of time to leave.
He was hovering about the stove when she eventually emerged.
Hayley stood open-mouthed in dismay. ‘I thought you’d gone.’
‘No. I was just about to pop the take-away in the oven to keep warm, but I haven’t yet decided how the cooker works.’
‘Don’t bother. I’ll do it later. After you’ve gone.’ She looked around a little wildly. ‘Where’s Anthea?’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’
‘But she went for the take-away. You must have been here when she came back.’
‘Uh huh!’ He shook his head, a glint of amusement warming his blue eyes. ‘The food was here when I arrived, but no Anthea.’
Hayley bit her lip in vexation. The scatter-brained idiot must have dashed in and dashed straight out again, leaving the front door standing ajar. It tended to do that unless you gave it a good slam.
Anthea had gone and wouldn’t be back for hours—if at all! She was here in the flat all alone with Marcus Maury, who seemed to be in a very strange mood.
She said pointedly, ‘Well, thanks again for returning my bag.’
‘Don’t mention it.’ He’d managed to light the cooker and was putting the foil containers into the oven. ‘We share a liking for Chinese food, it seems. Would you care to thank me a little more substantially by letting me share this with you? There’s more than enough for two.’
She made a derisive sound. ‘I should have thought your taste would run to something a little more exotic.’
‘It does...sometimes.’ The pause seemed significant. ‘And sometimes I enjoy the wholesome taste of home cooking.’ That peculiar smile was playing about his mouth, drawing Hayley’s fascinated gaze and playing havoc with her heartbeat.
For some reason she thought of what Liz had said about him tiring of his glamour girls, and Audrey’s hopeless hope that he would turn eventually to her.
Hayley queried in silent bitterness, Is that what I am? A wholesome taste? Is that why you’re here tonight? To clear your palate for your rarer dishes?
‘Into which category does a Chinese take-away fall?’ she asked, with an edge of sarcasm.
‘Ah!’ He looked annoyingly pensive. ‘Chinese take-aways are something else again. They remind me of my student days, spent in a flat very much like this one.’
He had seated himself at the small dining-table, and she felt foolish standing, as though she were the visitor and he the resident, quite at home. He’d taken the outside seat, and she had to squeeze past him to sit. He made a little sound of appreciation as her body pressed momentarily against his, and she wondered, a little resentfully, if he’d planned it that away.
But at least, seated beside him, she wouldn’t have to look directly at him, and he wouldn’t see the effect of his nearness reflected in her expressive face.
‘I just can’t imagine you in a rented flat,’ she said, interested despite her irritation. ‘Somehow I’d imagined you’d been born with a silver spoon in your mouth.’
He laughed. ‘I was, but my grandfather promptly removed it on the day I joined the company. He believed in old-fashioned notions like getting out on your own and working your way up in life—literally, from the bottom. He also thought hard work and adversity forged character.’
‘Well, there’s plenty of both in my life,’ Hayley contributed ruefully, wondering how much forging had been done on her character. ‘And I suppose a flat like this could be described as the bottom.’
She glanced critically about the cramped little kitchen, which was nothing more than a corner of the living-room, separated by a built-in room divider. Not that the flat was squalid. Despite her somewhat slapdash attitude to life, Anthea had made the place bright and comfortable.
‘Maybe. But also a lot of fun.’ A strangely nostalgic look came into his startling blue eyes.
For some reason his far-away look and the smile playing about his sensuous mouth annoyed Hayley, and she wondered, with an odd disconsolation, what kind of women had accompanied his rise up each rung of the ladder to the top. Even more oddly, she found herself wanting to break into the memories that were putting that look on his face.
‘More fun, I should think, when it’s automatically guaranteed the silver spoon will be there waiting, no matter what,’ she scorned.
The sudden chill in the air was almost tangible, and Hayley felt herself turning pale as he caught her in a narrowed, icy stare.
‘Nothing automatic about it, Miss Morgan. I worked for what I have—with my best effort.’ His smiling mouth was now a grim line. ‘Which is why I accept nothing less from my employees.’
She’d been wrong, Hayley knew, goaded by jealousy of a past that was his by right, and none of her business.
She bit her lip and mumbled her apology. ‘I’m sorry.’
He dismissed it with a wave of his hand and rose from the rather rickety table, made festive by Anthea’s best cloth.
‘I think that food should be warm enough now.’
She stared up at him. ‘If you’d prefer to leave, I wouldn’t mind.’
‘But I would.’
To her surprise he bent and kissed her mouth, the amusement back in his blue eyes.
‘I’m starving! And I don’t intend to let a little difference of opinion rob me of my just deserts.’
He took plates from the cupboard and put them in the oven to warm after he’d removed the foil containers. Lifting the lids, he sniffed appreciatively. ‘Chicken chow mein. My favourite.’
Hayley watched him filling the plates, her eyes on the lithe movements of his body. He’d removed his jacket and tie, and she could see the play of hard, flexible muscle beneath the snowy cotton of his shirt as he absorbed himself in the task of judicious sharing.
He was a man at home in any situation, she realised with an odd pang, equally in command whether issuing orders from behind his imposing desk, or presiding at the kitchen stove. She had a sudden, unnerving picture of them living together in domestic bliss with a lifetime of cosy evenings before them, and was almost overcome by a fluttering weakness.
Making no attempt to help him, she let him set the meal before her, eating in a detached way, satisfying one hunger as another grew.
With his shirt-sleeves rolled up to the elbows and his thick red-brown hair slightly tousled, he was even more devastating.
She watched the play of expressions across his strong, handsome face as he talked, the glint of humorous enjoyment in the bright blue eyes, only half listening as he regaled her with tales of flats with faulty plumbing and miserly landlords who ignored holes in rotten floorboards and windows that couldn’t be shut, and dark, cold winter nights of endless study, and long, lazy summer days spent mostly on the river.
A strange, bitter-sweet yearning began and expanded insid
e Hayley until it became a pain. It was like looking into a brightly lit shop window, knowing the wonderful, desirable things displayed there were beyond her reach. And she was suddenly angry.
He was back at the stove, making coffee from the instant granules in the jar, whistling tunelessly beneath his breath.
‘Marcus,’ she said harshly, ‘why are you here?’
He turned around to look at her, his brows drawn over narrowed eyes that were a smoky blue. ‘Don’t you know?’
She was suddenly breathless. ‘No.’
‘Then I’ll tell you.’ He turned off the gas flame and moved swiftly to sit beside her. ‘Or better still, I’ll show you.’
He gripped her shoulders, drawing her forwards so that her face was close to his. For the first time she realised that, in choosing to sit where she had, she’d hemmed herself in with no avenue of escape.
But the darkened intensity of his gaze had her mesmerised, and even if she could have done she would have made no move. And he could glimpse his victory in her wide, velvet-soft eyes.
A triumphant little smile curved his mouth just before it descended to claim her own, parting her lips hungrily. After only a brief, automatic tensing, she relaxed. As though waiting for that signal, his kiss deepened, lengthened into a drugging sweetness.
She felt a tremendous urge to touch him, and brushed her fingers tentatively against his cheek, feeling his jaw clench beneath the firm, smooth skin, hearing the sharp intake of his breath.
His arms closed tightly around her, almost crushing her with their strength, and his kiss became fiercely possessive, searching for and finding a matching passion. His mouth lifted suddenly to begin an exploration of her closed lids, then her ears, his tongue flicking against the delicate lobes...a sensation that had her gasping. Remorselessly his lips burned a path down the arched curve of her throat, resting against the pulse beating frantically in the hollow.
Her fingers slid into the thick, clean hair, clinging as though to a lifeline, as undreamt-of sensations rocked her. Somewhere, on another plane, she was soaring, but there was more...so much more that she needed, with an aching intensity. If only she knew what it was.
When Strangers Meet Page 9
