The negotiations were difficult, she knew, and some of the personalities involved made diplomacy almost impossible, but she’d seen him in trickier situations and admired his calm self-assurance. She wished he’d snap out of it, whatever it was, and found herself, at odd moments, irritated almost beyond endurance.
He was more demanding than ever, expecting her to anticipate his every need before he’d even spoken it, turning irritable if she disappeared from his side for more than a few minutes, yet making her feel almost invisible when she was there.
Hayley was grateful for the lunchtime respites, when Marcus was whisked off by other company executives and she was left to unwind over a sandwich and a cup of tea from the company canteen.
Martin Lukes attended the meetings, a friendly face in a sea of strangers. They ate lunch together when he was free, and strolled outside in the fresh air until it was time to resume the afternoon sessions. His good-natured flirting helped to redress the balance.
Wednesday morning’s meeting proved another difficult one, and it was the nearest Hayley had come to losing her temper.
‘I just don’t know what’s the matter with him,’ she grumbled to Martin, breaking one of her cardinal rules of never discussing her employer. ‘He’s like a bear with a sore head.’
‘He’s probably seen this morning’s paper,’ Martin said with an amused grin. ‘Looks like that actress girlfriend of his, Felicity something or other, might have given him the push. There’s a picture of her out with someone else. Her new leading man or director or something.’
Hayley’s heart lurched uncomfortably. Her first emotion was sympathy for Marcus, closely followed by a sneaking elation and then denial.
‘Those kind of pictures don’t mean a thing,’ she said, more forcefully than she’d intended, since the elation shamed her. ‘It’s probably just publicity for the new film she’s doing.’
Who are you trying to convince? she asked herself silently, relieved because some nicer part of herself hoped it was true. And yet a bust-up with Felicity was a very feasible explanation for his uncharacteristic behaviour of the past few days.
‘Perhaps you should try telling the boss that,’ Martin said flippantly, his smile fading a little as his eyes fixed on something over her shoulder. ‘At the moment he looks as though he could do with some cheering up.’
She turned in the direction of his gaze and saw Marcus coming towards them, his expression grim.
‘If I might interrupt,’ he said caustically, his hard ice-blue gaze flicking over Hayley’s flushed and inexplicably guilty face before settling on Martin. ‘I want to go through these figures of yours before we begin this afternoon’s session. Perkins seems to think they hold a number of errors.’
* * *
The following day Martin wasn’t about, and in answer to her tentative enquiry Marcus informed her brusquely, ‘He’s doing what he should have done in the first place. His homework.’
On the way home in the car he surprised her with an invitation to dinner. Actually, it was more of a command than an invitation, and Hayley found herself meekly agreeing.
‘Yes. Thank you. That would be nice.’
Silently she thought that if the past few days were anything to go on it would probably be far from nice.
To her surprise his face broke into a smile that, for the first time in what seemed a long time, actually reached his eyes, and she sighed with relief.
When she thought about it later, after he’d dropped her back at the flat, she felt annoyed. Did this dinner invitation, dropped on her from out of the blue, have anything to do with Felicity Braun’s rather public new love-affair?
Despite what Liz Jarvis had said, the actress had seemed to be still very much in his life. There’d been little sign that he was getting bored—quite the opposite in fact—and it was still possible this was one glamour girl who might eventually make it with him to the altar. The thought was painful...very painful indeed.
An even more painful thought occurred. Was she being used as a means of bring Felicity back to heel? Gloomily she thought it very likely, and she was angry all over again.
Nevertheless, sorting through her wardrobe, she felt a tremor of anticipation.
As her hand slid back and forth along the rail it rested on one of her few extravagances, a sheer silk blouse in a delicate shade of turquoise, with a tiny matching camisole, which suggested much but gave little away. The colour turned her silky skin translucent, and, matched with a softly swirling skirt of a deeper shade, it ensured she’d stand out in almost any crowd.
She fixed filigree silver pendants into her ears and a silver chain, inset with tiny pearls, about the creamy skin of her slender throat, and surveyed the result in her mirror with some satisfaction.
Her thick, dark hair, brushed until it gleamed, curled softly about her neat head. Her velvet-brown eyes shone clear and bright, and the faint flush of colour on her cheeks added a natural glow. Once—a lifetime ago, it seemed now—he had asked for glamour. Tonight she would give it to him, with a vengeance.
But did she dare? After all, he had given her no idea of the kind of dinner it was to be, and she wondered, a little grimly, if she should pop a notebook and pencil into her handbag, just in case.
Anthea was out again with Lenny Barnes. Hayley had been relieved at first, but wished now that her friend was here to give her her usual forthright opinion.
When Marcus arrived promptly at eight-thirty she sighed with relief. She hadn’t made a mistake. He was dressed to kill. On anyone else the silver-grey suit, with paler grey silk shirt and slate-blue and grey tie, might have appeared sober, but on him it set just the right kind of understated background for his remarkable good looks.
Hayley felt suddenly shy, as though she were meeting him for the first time and had difficulty meeting his gaze. But when she did, the expression on his face took her breath away.
His eyes, after the initial flicker of surprise, darkened in unmistakable appreciation, and a soft whistle sounded through his teeth.
‘Stunning!’ he pronounced, bending to brush her lips lightly with his.
She moved jerkily away from him, reaching for a short jacket which she draped quickly about her shoulders.
‘I’m ready. Shall we go?’
The admiration was still there in his eyes, and a smile slowly widened the sensuous mouth.
‘I’ve never been more ready.’
Taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm, he said, his voice sounding slightly husky, ‘And I shall never have been more envied!’
Hayley wished she could believe he meant it, but she didn’t dare. The inevitable disillusion would be too much to bear.
Marcus hailed a taxi to take them into town, leaving his car at the kerb in front of the flat.
‘It’s easier than trying to park in the centre,’ he said in answer to her enquiring look.
Hayley’s pulse increased. He would have to accompany her back to the flat, which would be empty, as it had been every other night that Anthea had been out on a date with Lenny Barnes. Having met Lenny once or twice, Hayley wasn’t sure she approved, but hadn’t said so to Anthea. She was old enough to lead her own life and learn from her own mistakes.
And Marcus didn’t have to know the flat would be empty, unless she chose to tell him.
The restaurant was expensive, with discreet lighting, deep plush carpets and gold silk hangings on the walls. It was small and probably exclusive. No riff-raff welcome here, Hayley thought ironically. She recognised some well-known faces among the other diners as they were led to their table by the haughty head waiter, who pulled out her seat and flicked at it with a spotless white cloth before inviting her to sit. Feeling slightly intimidated, Hayley sat.
‘You might have told me.’ She whispered the complaint. ‘I could have turned up in jeans and a jumper.’
‘Then I’d have had to take you to my favourite café.’
‘Where you’d have looked totally out of
place instead of me.’
Marcus’s expression was one of wry amusement. It softened as he caught the gleam of panic in the dark velvet depths of her eyes.
‘You look very lovely,’ he said softly, and covered her hand with his own as it lay on the table. He added with a hint of mischief that made her smile, ‘And at least twice as delicious as anything offered on the menu.’
It was said to reassure her, she knew, and she smiled back at him gratefully.
And he’d lied, of course. The food was indescribable, like none she’d ever tasted, although she couldn’t afterwards have accurately recalled what they’d eaten. The memory was blurred by her happiness. She simply couldn’t believe what was happening. There were women here tonight who were probably among the most beautiful in the world, but Marcus had eyes, it seemed, only for Hayley.
The man she could have cheerfully murdered this morning had disappeared. The man who had taken his place she could only love.
She was almost floating with happiness. Superstitiously she kept telling herself there must be some point to his invitation and soon he would tell her what it was, but he seemed intent only on giving her a wonderful time.
Hayley felt herself falling more and more in love with him as his personality unfolded before her in a way she had never imagined. He was strong and yet gentle, warm, witty and charming.
She responded with every fibre of her being, tinglingly aware of this man’s powerful male sexuality. His deep, faintly husky voice thrilled her senses, making her want just to go on endlessly listening.
He’d been telling her a particularly funny anecdote from his student days and she laughed uninhibitedly, until she remembered their surroundings and lifted fingers to her mouth in sudden consternation.
‘Oh! Shh! I’m sorry.’
He took the hand away and captured it between both of his, unexpectedly lifting it to his lips for a brief kiss.
‘Don’t be sorry. Just go on being yourself. Delightful.’
Hayley felt the burning sensation all the way down to her toes, which curled in her stylish shoes.
The question came out of the blue. ‘How old are you, Hayley?’
She flushed, wondering suddenly if he found her childish.
‘Twenty-three,’ she said a little defensively.
He nodded. ‘Do you have any family?’
‘Only my mother. But I never see her now. My father died when I was fifteen. Mother got married again when I was eighteen to an Australian.’
His voice was soft. ‘Did that create problems?’
Hayley shrugged. ‘Not really. I missed my father, of course. We were close. But my mother is the kind of person who needs to have somebody, and Mike was nice. I liked him, and Mother was happy. But he wanted to take us both back to Australia, and I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay here and finish college. Mother spent some time trying to persuade me, and then suddenly gave up and went, just before I’d completed my course.’
‘And you’ve been alone ever since.’ He still had hold of her hand and was rubbing his thumb absently against her smooth skin, creating more than just friction heat.
She tugged it away, feeling a little irritable. ‘That’s the way I like it.’
He moved his head a little, as though in acceptance. ‘Then you don’t subscribe to your mother’s feeling that everybody needs somebody.’
‘Not particularly. Unless it’s somebody you really want to be with. I’d rather be alone than just fill the gap.’
Those disconcerting blue eyes were full on her, searching her face until she thought she would scream.
Then he said, ‘I’m thirty-five.’
‘I know.’ She said it too quickly, and then flushed. Now he would know she’d been peeking into his personal file.
He raised his brows. ‘What else do you know?’
‘Not a lot. You’re thirty-five, head of a thriving company, and you’ve never married.’ Then, outrageously, ‘Why not?’
‘Head of a thriving company,’ he repeated. ‘That’s part of it, I suppose.’ He shrugged. ‘Or perhaps I just never got around to it.’
‘Don’t you want children?’ The question was tentative, because his expression had closed a little.
‘That’s not something I’ve given too much thought to in the past.’
‘But now?’ Where was she finding the audacity? she wondered in silent amazement. Something, somehow, had shifted place. No longer boss and secretary. They were two people, interested and exploring.
‘Now maybe it’s time to think.’ He smiled, his blue eyes deepening as they settled on her face, seeming happy with what they saw. ‘Any more questions?’
Hayley lowered her gaze from his and flushed a little. He saw too much...understood too much. ‘No more questions.’
She was no longer sure she would like the answers.
He’d been in a mood all day, presumably because of the picture of Felicity and her ‘latest’ which had appeared in the paper the day before. Had he been considering the actress for a new role as wife and mother of the children he was now beginning to think about? Did he fear he’d left the thinking too long and that now Felicity might have got tired of waiting?
She shook her head, dislodging the thoughts. Why spoil things by surmising? Whatever else, she’d had this one perfect evening to remember.
‘Good,’ he said, misunderstanding her nod, ‘I think the next course is about due.’
The sweet arrived—a deliciously light blackcurrant cheesecake—and she gave it her full attention. She might never eat food to equal this again.
When eventually the meal was over and they were ready to leave, Hayley was torn between regret and a tingling anticipation of what might still lie ahead. The flat would be empty, and she had made up her mind that she would ask him in for coffee.
Outside, they stood on the kerb as a uniformed man hailed them a taxi. They stood close, Marcus easy and relaxed, with his arm slung lightly about her waist. Feeling happy, Hayley smiled up at him, and he bent to touch her lips lightly with his.
A light bulb flashed suddenly near by, and his head shot up with an irritable snap. Hayley heard Marcus swear, and stumbled as he released her. She saw him moving towards a figure made hazy by the dazzle, before a second flash blinded her. When she could eventually focus again the uniformed man was bundling someone away from the entrance, and Marcus had hold of her again and was ushering her towards a taxi.
Seated beside him in the back seat, Hayley could feel the hard tensing of his body, which seemed to burn with the force of his anger, the heat reaching her through the thin material of her skirt.
He was silent, staring ahead with an expressionless intensity.
Hayley shivered with nervous reaction, and he reached absently for her hand, squeezing her fingers gently.
‘Wh-what happened?’ she asked eventually. ‘Who was that man?’
‘God knows!’ he ground out furiously, his grip unconsciously tightening. ‘Nosy parker or paparazzi. It will come to the same thing.’
He released her hand suddenly and jerked back forcefully in his seat. He spoke almost under his breath, and Hayley caught the words ‘fool’ and ‘mistake’.
She sank miserably back in her seat. The evening that had seemed so perfect had been spoiled, and there was nothing she could do to repair matters.
The silence stretched between them, a tangible thing, and dimly she began to realise that the brush with the photographer wasn’t just an annoyance which he would soon shrug off. It had really upset him. Why? A man in his prominent position? He must be used to it by now. Having his picture in the newspapers could hardly be a new experience.
It dawned on her then that his picture would probably be in the morning’s paper, and so would hers.
Hayley’s insides curled into a tight, hard ball. Was that why he was so furious? Because he’d been spotted in a clandestine evening out with his secretary?
By the time the taxi drew up outside the flat Hayley w
as as tense and angry as Marcus.
As he got out, holding out his hand to help her, she ignored it and clambered out inelegantly, and with her eyes downcast to conceal the fury that had built up behind them.
As the taxi pulled away she looked up, her expression carefully composed, her voice wooden. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed anything so perfect.’
It was the truth, but her tone was overhung with bitterness.
Despite everything, she still wanted him, was still silently praying he would restore the mood of earlier and ask to come in.
‘Hayley,’ he said, his voice gentle, despite the frown which had etched itself deeply into his brow. ‘I’m sorry...’
She drew in a short audible breath and said sharply, ‘Don’t apologise, please. There’s no need.’
‘Isn’t there?’
He looked at her intently for a moment, as though trying to assess her feelings, and then nodded.
‘Will you be all right?’ His head turned as he gazed searching about the apparently empty street.
He wasn’t coming in. Hayley bit hard on her lower lip and nodded silently.
He seemed anxious to get away and, as his head descended to kiss her, she turned so that his lips met her cheek.
With an exasperated sound he caught her chin between finger and thumb, forcing her to look up at him. Seeing her stubborn expression, he sighed and released his hold.
‘Goodnight, Hayley. And I really am sorry.’
Sorry! Hayley repeated the word over and over as she lay sleepless. Sorry for what? Sorry that the lovely evening had been spoiled? Or that he’d been caught out with his secretary, when he really would have preferred no one else to know about it?
The little restaurant now seemed furtive, rather than exclusive, a place where clandestine meetings were possible, almost condoned, and discovery was practically impossible. But not quite, as Marcus had just found out, to his obvious fury.
The thought made her feel cheap, soiled...the way Frank Heaton’s gropings had done. But the hurt was deeper, more personal.
Because now she was in love. Deeply and hopelessly. She wished desperately that she hadn’t let it happen, and tears slid silently to soak the pillow, stinging her cheek.
When Strangers Meet Page 11
