The Boss's Virgin

by Charlotte Lamb

Angrily, she blazed at him. ‘Get out! How dare you? Do I have to scream the place down?’

  Randal grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hungrily, his mouth a sensual temptation. Head swimming, eyes closed, she swayed in his arms, trying desperately not to go under, struggling not to surrender to the physical glamour of his kiss, his touch, his body pressing against hers.

  The trouble was, she could never fight her attraction to him. She might stay cool and collected when he was talking to her—she could fight her feelings so long as he didn’t touch her. But as soon as she was in his arms she felt herself weakening, yielding to the powerful erotic sensations he awoke in her. Her mind could not control her body. She felt as though her brain was submerged beneath some level of consciousness her waking mind could not reach. She was helpless in the grip of a desire that beat inside her, deep and harsh and driven, sending wild vibrations through her and silencing all rational thought.

  Slowly, Randal pulled his head back and looked down at her, and Pippa opened her eyes to stare back at him, shuddering.

  ‘You kiss me like that, and yet you keep pretending you don’t want me?’ he whispered. ‘What’s going on inside that head of yours? We’re both free now, there’s nothing to keep us apart—so why are you still fighting it?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHE had asked herself the same question, ever since they’d met again, and she still wasn’t sure of the answer. They were both free now, as he said. She wanted him, she couldn’t deny it—and yet…

  And yet for some reason she found herself backing away every time they came too close, and she didn’t know why.

  ‘You’re moving too fast,’ she guessed aloud without real conviction, pushing at his shoulders and taking a step back. ‘We only met again less than twelve hours ago and a lot has happened since then. My marriage is off, I’m leaving my job and selling my home—the last few hours have been an emotional avalanche. I’m still reeling. The last thing I need is you trying to force the pace.’

  He let go of her slowly, frowning. ‘Maybe that’s it. But I’m afraid you’ll run away again. It’s a habit of yours. And you’re deceitful, Pippa. I left you getting ready to have lunch with me earlier today and what did you do? You ran away here, to Maldon. Why did you do that? Maybe that’s what you’re intending to do again. Maybe tomorrow morning I’ll find you’ve skipped the hotel and gone before I get up for breakfast.’

  Soberly, she said, ‘I promise I won’t. I give you my word.’

  He studied her face intently. ‘You’ll meet me downstairs for breakfast? You swear?’

  ‘I swear. What time?’

  ‘Eight-thirty?’

  She nodded. ‘Eight-thirty. I’ll be there. Then I’m checking out and going home to write letters and make phone calls.’

  He moved towards the door. ‘Okay, see you at breakfast, then.’

  She followed so that she could bolt the door as soon as he had left and Randal looked down at her mockingly.

  ‘Goodnight.’ Bending briefly, he dropped a light kiss on the tip of her nose, then he was gone, and Pippa bolted the door after him. That tiny, intimate caress left a warm feeling inside her, though, while she was undressing, taking off her make-up, washing, getting into bed.

  There was something special between them; there had been from the beginning. She had never felt anything like that for anyone else. Oh, she liked Tom, but ruefully she had to admit that if she had married him it would have been a disastrous mistake. She would never have loved him, really loved him.

  Switching off her bedside lamp, she lay in the darkness listening to the slow lap-lap of water on the quayside, an occasional footfall out there in the damp grey mist. Above her the ancient floors creaked as someone walked across another bedroom. Pipes hummed as water ran. But otherwise the hotel was quiet, nobody seemed to be listening to television or talking, and it didn’t take her long to get to sleep.

  The room was full of sunlight when she woke up; the mist had obviously cleared. Slipping out of bed, she parted the curtains to peer out. The quay bristled with masts; brightly painted little boats moored in rows, bobbing against each other as the water rose and fell.

  She read their names, smiling. The True Love; Scrumpy Joe; Heggarty Peggarty; Sue-Anne. Some of them had men working on them, unpacking sails, scrubbing decks, painting, coiling ropes. Along the quay sat men drinking mugs of tea or coffee. After the grey damp silence of yesterday, the quay had come alive and was full of people.

  Sunshine made you feel happier. Smiling, Pippa walked into the bathroom and took a shower before getting dressed to go down to breakfast. Although she had eaten that large dinner last night, she was now hungry again, perhaps because the sunshine had lifted her spirits and she felt more positive.

  She put on jeans and a bright turquoise sweater, did her make-up, then quickly packed her case before leaving the room. As she came down the ancient stairs she saw Randal sitting in a chair below, reading a newspaper and looking up every so often to check if she was on her way.

  ‘Why are you waiting there? Why not in the dining room?’ she asked him as he stood up to greet her.

  ‘To make sure you didn’t creep away without breakfast,’ he coolly admitted, flicking a glance over her from head to foot before following her into the dining room.

  ‘I promised I wouldn’t!’ A little flush flowed into her face at the way he had looked at her. He didn’t miss a thing, from the peaks of her breasts inside the sweater to her trim waist and long legs in the tight jeans. And that look, the glitter of desire in his grey eyes, made her pulses leap and race.

  He shrugged. ‘I wasn’t entirely sure I could trust you.’

  She couldn’t honestly resent that; she knew she deserved it.

  They were shown to the same table they had occupied last night, and given menus. ‘Tea or coffee?’ asked a young waitress. ‘White or brown toast?’

  ‘Coffee,’ they both chose.

  ‘And mixed toast?’ suggested Pippa. Randal nodded, and the waitress vanished to fill their order.

  Breakfast didn’t take up much of their time; Pippa just had a bowl of fresh fruit followed by a boiled egg with toast. Randal had porridge and a kipper. By nine o’clock they had finished, and left the dining room together.

  Pippa paid her bill and asked for her suitcase to be brought down. While she was waiting for the porter Randal quietly asked, ‘You’re going straight to your cottage now?’

  ‘Yes.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And, please, don’t come there too. I have a lot to do and I would rather be alone.’

  His face impassive, he turned away. ‘I’d better pay my own bill; I still have to pack. You’ll probably leave before I do. Drive safely.’

  He hadn’t promised he wouldn’t come to the cottage. She looked crossly at his back as he began paying his bill. Then the porter appeared with her case. With him on her heels, Pippa walked out to the car park and a few minutes later was driving away.

  This morning the marsh looked quite different; with the mist gone the horizon was bright and the fields shimmered under the sun. She drove slowly, enjoying the landscape and the sound of birds. A heron flew low, its grey profile memorable, legs trailing, fixedly gazing down at the silvery estuary in search of prey.

  It was twenty past ten when she arrived home, and as she parked she saw with a jolt of shock that Tom’s car was parked a few feet away. Dismay filled her. He must be in the cottage; he still had a key. Questions buzzed inside her—why was he here? At this time of day he should be at work. What did he want? He had been surprisingly low-key yesterday in his reaction, but he had had time to think about it. Had he come back to make an angry scene?

  Her teeth gritted. Whether she wanted to or not, she had to face Tom; she wasn’t running away, not any more. She had done too much of that with Randal. So she lifted her chin and walked towards the front door, which opened as she approached.

  Tom confronted her in his dark city suit, like a grim avenging angel.

 
‘Where have you been?’ he asked with belligerence. ‘It looks as if you’ve been out all night. Your bed wasn’t slept in and everything is spotless.’ He paused, then asked tersely, ‘I suppose you’ve been with him?’

  She walked past into the cottage, sighing. ‘No, I haven’t!’ It wasn’t exactly a lie, because Tom was really asking if she had slept with Randal, and she hadn’t had she? ‘I don’t want a row, Tom. No inquisition, please. Why are you here?’

  ‘I realised I had to see you to sort things out. We didn’t talk properly yesterday, did we? So I took a day off work.’ He followed her into the kitchen and watched her put on a kettle and start laying out cups and saucers, put teabags into the teapot.

  ‘I thought we’d said everything, Tom.’

  ‘We were both in shock,’ he said roughly. ‘Now we’ve calmed down and I’ve had time to think. Look, if you want to stay in your job, you can. There’s no need to feel you have to leave. People have broken off engagements before. I’m big enough to cope with a few jokes and snide remarks. You can take time to stay on, look for another job if you still want to move, but walking out right now you wouldn’t have a salary until you started work elsewhere, and I don’t want you to get into financial difficulties because of me.’

  She looked at him incredulously, her green eyes swimming in tears. ‘Oh, Tom, that is so sweet!’

  He shuffled his feet, very flushed. ‘Just common sense. A broken engagement isn’t the end of the world. We’ll get over it. So—do you want to stay on?’

  She shook her head. ‘Thank you for offering, Tom, but, no, I would rather leave. You’re braver than I am. I don’t think I could face those jokes. I’m sure I shall get another job even if it isn’t as well paid.’

  ‘With him?’

  Her eyes dropped to the floor. ‘No.’

  ‘You used to work for him, you said.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  With an angry bite, Tom demanded, ‘But he didn’t offer you a job? What a bastard. When it’s his fault you need a job.’

  Pippa groaned. ‘Oh, Tom. Yes, he did, actually. He said I could have a job with his firm, but I’m not taking up the offer.’

  Tom thought about that. ‘But you and he are…getting together?’

  ‘No! I’ve no intention of… No!’

  He ran a hand through his hair, his face confused. ‘I don’t understand. I thought that was the whole point? That you were in love with him, that that was why you weren’t going to marry me? If you aren’t going to him, then why is it off between us?’

  The kettle boiled; she made the tea, her back to him. ‘It isn’t that simple, Tom. Try to understand. I know it’s hard, but try. Seeing him again made me realise I was not in love with you, and never would be. And I couldn’t go ahead with the marriage when I knew it wouldn’t work for us. Do you see?’

  ‘No, I don’t! You say you aren’t going back to him, which I suppose means you aren’t in love with him—so how did that make you realise you weren’t in love with me, either?’

  ‘Tom…’ She fumbled for the right words, helpless to make it clear without hurting his feelings. ‘Tom, I was in love with him four years ago. Desperately in love. I got badly hurt, but at least I knew I was doing the right thing in going away, in not breaking up his marriage. When you and I started seeing each other I thought I was over all that. I’d forgotten how I felt about Randal. I didn’t try to compare the way I felt about you with the way I had felt about him. I honestly believed we could be happy together.’

  ‘I still think we could be!’ Tom said eagerly, coming closer. ‘If you aren’t in love with him, we still have a chance, Pippa.’

  She picked up the teapot and poured the tea, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry, Tom, but, no, we don’t have a chance. I know now that it was wrong of me to think I could make you happy.’

  He put a hand on her back, gently stroking her spine, and leaned his face against her thick chestnut hair, murmuring into it, ‘How can you be so sure? Two days ago, everything was fine. Then you bump into this chap and suddenly the wedding is off and you tell me we don’t have a chance. But you still haven’t made it clear. If you aren’t in love with him either, why can’t you marry me?’

  She closed her eyes, groaning. ‘Because I remember how I felt about him! And when I do marry, I want to feel that way again.’

  He turned her round, still holding her, and softly kissed her. ‘You could learn to feel that way about me, Pippa.’

  She shook her head regretfully, hating to hurt him, but knowing it was kinder in the long run. ‘I’m sorry, Tom. I’m very fond of you, and I like you a lot, but I know now that I could never love you the way I loved him.’

  He groaned and kissed her again, harder, with pleading. ‘Pippa… I don’t want to lose you. I think we could be very happy together. We have been, haven’t we? I always believed we were a perfect match. Are you sure you aren’t chasing some impossible star? Looking for the perfect man? What if you never find him? Are you going to spend the rest of your life alone?’

  The doorbell rang sharply and they both started. The noise went on, getting louder, more peremptory.

  ‘Is that him? It sounds like him,’ Tom said angrily. ‘I’ll deal with this. You stay here.’

  ‘No, Tom,’ she anxiously said, trying to stop him, but he was already on his way to the front door like an advancing army, bristling with war-like intent. Pippa ran after him, caught up just as he yanked the door open and glared at Randal standing outside.

  ‘Clear off. You’re not wanted. By either of us!’ Tom barked.

  ‘Pippa can talk for herself. She doesn’t need you talking for her!’ Randal drawled with an infuriating look of superiority.

  ‘She’s engaged to me!’

  ‘That doesn’t make her a deaf mute! Even if you’d like her to be one!’

  ‘How dare you?’ fumed Tom.

  Pippa suddenly sensed they had an audience; across the road a curtain twitched, eyes peered at them, and a woman coming down the road had halted to stare, fascinated.

  Angrily, Pippa hissed. ‘Come inside. People are watching!’

  ‘Not until this fellow has left!’ Tom said with a sullen glare at Randal.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Randal shrugged.

  Flushed and distressed, Pippa pulled Tom back inside the cottage and Randal coolly followed, closing the front door behind him.

  ‘Tell him to go away,’ Tom urged, giving her that pleading look again, making her feel guilty and very sorry for him. ‘What’s he doing here, anyway? You said you were never going to see him again, so why’s he here?’

  Randal gave her a narrowed, dangerous look. ‘Did you say that? Did he ask you to promise not to see me again? And did you agree?’

  ‘I asked you not to come here,’ she reminded him, chin lifted and green eyes angry.

  ‘And now I see why,’ he said through his teeth. ‘You’d arranged to meet him here and I would have been very much de trop.’

  ‘No! I hadn’t arranged to meet him. He arrived out of the blue.’

  ‘And talked you into going ahead with the wedding? He’s got your lipstick on his mouth, so don’t tell me he hasn’t been kissing you!’

  ‘What if I have? It’s no business of yours!’ erupted Tom. ‘Our wedding is no business of yours. You aren’t wanted here; she just told you. You see? I knew how she felt. She’s no deaf mute. She’s saying what I said she would say. So, why don’t you just clear off? And don’t come back.’

  ‘I’ll do whatever I damned well please!’ Randal bit out.

  Pippa’s mouth went dry; she had never seen him look so angry. He scared her.

  But she wouldn’t let him see that; she pushed between him and Tom, staring angrily at Randal.

  ‘Go away! I told you not to come here, and I meant it. And stop threatening Tom. Or I’ll hit you with the nearest heavy object!’

  He looked down at her, his face softening, relaxing, his mouth curling at the edges with amusement
and his grey eyes dancing.

  ‘I’m really scared!’

  ‘I mean it!’

  He held his hands up, palms towards her. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll be good. Promise, miss.’

  She studied his features, hoping he meant it, but not assured by the amused mockery in his eyes, then turned to Tom. ‘I think you’d better go now, Tom.’

  Tom was still in a belligerent mood. ‘Why should I leave? Tell him to go.’

  ‘I will,’ she told him firmly. ‘But first I want you to go. I don’t want you both leaving at the same time. I don’t want a fight starting up outside the cottage; the neighbours have had enough excitement for today. Once you’ve driven off, he can go.’

  ‘Tell him to go first, then I’ll leave. Why should I be the first to go?’ Tom stubbornly said.

  She put her hand on his arm, her eyes pleading. ‘Don’t be difficult, Tom, don’t go on arguing. Just leave, please.’

  He hesitated, clearly very reluctant to climb down, especially in front of Randal, but eventually shrugged. ‘Oh, very well, but only for you.’ Averting his eyes from Randal, he marched out of the room towards the front door. Pippa followed, ruefully wondering why men were always so obsessed with their pride, their sense of themselves.

  She had the strong feeling that Tom was more concerned with defeating Randal than he was with her.

  Tom opened the front door, then paused, looked at her. ‘Will you be staying on here, in the cottage?’

  ‘No. I’m going to sell it. I’ll contact an estate agent later today, or tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t do that. I’ll buy it. You know I’ve always loved it. It will save you the agent’s percentage to sell it direct to me.’

  She was taken aback. ‘Are you sure you really want to live here?’

  ‘Certain. I’ll get the house valued to make sure I’m paying the market price; I don’t want you to feel I’m cheating you. Or you can get an agent to value it, if you prefer. Once we’ve agreed the price, we can complete the deal through our solicitors.’

  Slowly, she nodded. ‘Okay, Tom. You have the house valued. I trust you. Get in touch with someone. He can ring me to make an appointment to view the cottage.’ She smiled at him. ‘It will save me a lot of money to cut out an agent.’