Authors: Jayne Castle
"Relax, Miss Mallory," he instructed dryly. "And don't worry about your lack of grace. These shoes can always be reshined and the leather is quite sturdy enough to protect my toes!"
Kirsten fumed inwardly, focusing her smoldering gaze on the sedate pattern of his tie. With an act of will she damped down the flicker of fear.
"Are you laughing at me, by any chance, Mr. Kendrick?" she inquired a little archly, and out of the corner of her eye saw the hard mouth above her curve. She risked a quick glance upward. She couldn't be certain, but in the dim light she had the impression that this time the smile was reaching the hazel eyes.
"I find you delightful, Miss Mallory," he said smoothly, steering her easily around a couple so lost in each other's arms as to be a menace to traffic on the floor.
"Perhaps you're not accustomed to dancing with librarians and are finding the experience a novelty," she remarked with mock sweetness, abandoning the notion of trying to free herself. He seemed totally unaware of her efforts to put more distance between them and she ground her teeth and prepared to suffer through the dance. It couldn't last forever, and safe, undemanding Ben was the one with whom she would be going home.
"It's obvious I have been missing something," Simon agreed feelingly. "May I call you Kirsten?"
She nodded, not knowing what else to do. The request was only a formality anyway. Everyone at Silco and, indeed, in the whole town, was on a first name basis. She had the definite feeling he wouldn't have honored a refusal. She felt his hand move slightly beneath the long hair cascading softly down her back and shivered involuntarily.
"Cold?" he asked with what she knew to be false politeness. Did the man enjoy making a woman nervous? she wondered.
"Hardly. I can barely breathe, however," she told him.
"You'll survive. You look like a nice, healthy young woman." he remarked idly. She knew the hazel eyes were drilling into the crown of her head but Kirsten refused to meet them again. "Getting back to the name business, please call me Simon. Come to think of it, someone told me you're a widow. Should I have been calling you Mrs. Mallory?"
"No!" Kirsten said harshly before she could control her tone. How dare he be so rude!
"Mallory is your former name?" he persisted, not in the least put off, apparently, by her obvious reluctance to continue the conversation.
"That's correct," she replied stiffly. "My husband and I were only married a couple of months, Mr. Kendrick…"
"Simon."
"Simon. Not long enough for me to become used to another name. None of my identification had been changed at the time he died so it was a simple matter to revert to my own name. There's no law against it, you know!"
"Of course there isn't. I merely wanted to get the facts straight. Now try and relax. You can go back to staring at my tie if that will help. The music is almost finished."
"You're too kind, Simon," Kirsten responded tartly. "Your tie is exactly the right level for me!" She lowered her eyes to the vague design again, prompted this time by sheer rudeness.
"About the same level as Williamson's head?" he suggested interestedly.
"Not every woman likes to be overwhelmed and manhandled by someone much larger than she is." Kirsten parried bitingly, refusing to move her gaze upward. She wondered briefly how he had guessed so exactly that she found Ben Williamson a much more comfortable height!
"Some may not like it, but some certainly need it," he shot back easily and then was forced to stop moving as Kirsten came to a complete halt in his arms.
"The dance is over, Mr. Kendrick," she told him firmly.
"Simon." he corrected once more as he released her with obvious reluctance. She felt a momentary tug on a strand of hair as the silver hook seemed to catch in it and then she was free.
Ben's gaze was curiously watchful as Kirsten took her chair. "Enjoy yourselves?" he inquired politely, shifting his glance toward Simon as the man lowered himself carefully. A man that size undoubtedly had to be extremely cautious around flimsy chairs, Kirsten told herself spitefully. And then felt guilty as the wicked thought caused the return of her smile.
"Very much," Simon answered for both of them, plainly feeling free to speak for Kirsten as well as himself. "I find that that sharp little tongue of Kirsten's keeps a man on his toes, don't you, Ben?" Neither man looked around at their subject's infuriated gasp. They were too busy trading man-to-man glances. Which only served to annoy her further.
"Kirsten has a mind of her own," Ben acknowledged with apparent ease. "It's one of the things I like about her. You can
talk
to her!"
"Thank you, Ben," Kirsten interjected with forced pleasantness. "Remind me to use you instead of Mr. Kendrick for a reference when I start job hunting again!" In an instant she had the undivided attention of both men.
"Job hunting? Do you mean that, Kirsten? You've only been with Silco a couple of months!" Ben was obviously taken aback.
"I think I'm being viewed as a chunk of fat that needs trimming." She smiled innocently, shifting her equally innocent gaze toward Simon. Let him make of it what he wished! The man simply returned her look with a level one of his own that said more clearly than words that she had no business discussing the matter of the library's future at a cocktail table. Kirsten was surprised to find herself wishing she had kept her mouth shut, but refused to let him see it.
"Fat," stated Ben with gratifying firmness, "is one adjective that could never be applied to you!"
"No, but loose-tongued is!" Simon Kendrick said grimly, lifting his glass. For the first time Kirsten saw that he was drinking brandy also. Unwillingly she remembered her own comment that the stuff belonged on pirate ships. Or was it rum that pirates drank? With every ounce of willpower she could summon, Kirsten refused to let her look wander to the softly gleaming steel that served Kendrick for a left hand.
"Tell me something, Williamson," the pirate continued with a twist of his hard mouth, "how do you intend to handle this scratchy little kitten?"
"With kid gloves!" Ben chuckled, warm brown eyes meeting Kirsten's, who now felt exactly like the cat Simon Kendrick had labeled her and was finding Ben's glance rather like an affectionate, admiring pat.
"I agree gloves would be useful," her tormentor went on mercilessly, "but I'd suggest velvet ones. With enough iron inside to ensure she doesn't get carried away with nipping the hand that strokes her."
This was too much! Furiously Kirsten whirled on him, nearly upsetting the brandy glass in front of her. "How dare you! Just because Silco thinks you're indispensable and has made the mistake of giving you more power than you ought to have, don't get the idea all of the employees will put up with your sarcasm!" she spat, sounding, she hoped, like an angry woman and not like a snarling cat.
Something very brilliant gleamed in the hazel eyes and she knew she was about to be devastated by a scathing comment. And then salvation appeared in the form of a sleekly dressed, flame-haired woman on the arm of a darkly good-looking man.
"Good evening, everyone!" Liz Wilford's greeting was delivered in the husky, attention-getting voice she had perfected on countless Silco clients. Normally, Kirsten couldn't stand it, but tonight found herself quite happy to hear the seductive tones. "I'd say, fancy meeting you all here, but since there aren't that many places to go in town, I can't really claim to be amazed to find familiar faces, can I? You've all met Roger Townsend? He's one of the managers in the instrumentation department, Simon." Long, beautifully polished nails settled on the arm of Townsend's expensively casual coat.
"We've met," Simon remarked, rising to shake the other man's hand. As usual, he dwarfed the newcomer, Just as he dwarfed everyone he came in contact with, Kirsten noticed. But what Roger Townsend lacked in height, he more than compensated for in polished, executive manners and looks. Perfectly styled black hair, sophisticated aviator glasses, and handsome features were accented by a self-confident manner that said clearly that he was a man on the way to the top. Kirsten knew he was well aware of Simon Kendrick's position and had decided that status gave him the right to be treated as an equal. Townsend was very astute when it came to sizing up others. It was one of the talents that was going to assure him future success at Silco. Kirsten was also aware that some people would have characterized his ability as skill in using others, not just sizing them up. She agreed with the assessment and privately thought he and Liz made a terrific couple.
" 'Evening, Simon. I see you've managed to make yourself at home here in the hotel. I sometimes think Silco supports this place!" Roger said genially. "Nice to see you, Kirsten. Ben." He nodded with the proper degree of condescension toward the other two. Kirsten realized that, as irritating as Simon could be, he never conveyed the sense of "position" that Roger Townsend did so well. The touch of pomposity in Liz's escort made Kirsten forget her hostility toward Simon instantly. She found herself wanting to giggle instead. Fortunately, she managed to restrain herself, but not before Simon had noticed. This time when his eye caught hers she was quite certain he was smiling in those hazel depths. For an instant she stared, fascinated, and then Ben's casual conversation brought her back to reality.
"Will the two of you join us?" he was saying, his brown gaze momentarily on the low neckline of Liz's clinging green dress. Kirsten couldn't bring herself to be bothered by his attention and realized with a small sigh that Ben probably wasn't going to be the man to make her fall head over heels in love, after all. Well, hadn't she realized that right from the beginning? Still, he was such a nice, safe man…
"Thanks, but we're on our way to the booth over there," Roger replied before Liz could agree. Kirsten knew from the way her green eyes reflected the soft light that the other woman was more than willing to accept the invitation. Liz was the one who deserved to be called a cat, Kirsten muttered to herself, watching Roger guide his date away from the table after a polite good-bye.
For a moment there was silence around the small cocktail table as Kirsten and her companions each waited for the other to make some remark about the sophisticated pair who had just left. Then Kirsten allowed the giggle to escape.
"A perfect couple. They'll go far at Silco," she chuckled lightly, catching Ben's answering smile and knowing he was remembering their earlier comments on office romances. Liz and Roger's had been one of the hotter ones recently.
"Both of them know exactly where they're going," Simon put in, lounging back precariously in his chair and favoring his guests with a mocking smile.
Ben grinned at him. "I have a hunch you're next on Liz Wilford's list should Roger prove unable to sustain the pace!" he warned.
"Surely the worthy Mr. Townsend will continue in first place," Simon responded with a touch of genuine humor that startled Kirsten. She didn't see him as the type to gossip with lower-ranking employees. Although he lacked Townsend's pompous condescension, there was no forgetting Kendrick's dominant presence.
"Not if Liz decides you're going to rise farther and faster," she told him.
"But then, how does she know I intend to rise any farther or faster?" Simon murmured half to himself.
Ben, obviously thinking the answer to that was evident, asked Kirsten to dance again and she accepted willingly.
"Do you think he's ever going to leave?" she demanded, stepping comfortably into Ben's arms.
"Nope. He's prepared to share that table with us for the rest of the evening," Ben stated with great certainty.
"But he only invited us for a drink," Kirsten protested, frowning at him.
"Mr. Kendrick will, in the current business jargon, do 'whatever it takes' to get what he wants, love. And take it from a friend, he's got his eye on you!"
"You're wrong! What could he possibly see in me? I'm not his type at all. Besides, I'm not the least bit interested in him!" Kirsten snapped.
"Calm down, love!" Ben smiled boyishly and hugged her close for a second. "I didn't say he was going to run off with you over his shoulder. Yet, at any rate," he amended teasingly, cocking one blond brow.
"Oh, stop it, Ben!" she commanded pettishly. "You're misreading the situation completely. And even if you were right, I wouldn't be interested! Now cut out the teasing and let's try those new steps you were teaching me last weekend. With any luck he'll excuse himself when we get back to the table."
Whatever Simon Kendrick's reason was for attaching himself to their company, Ben was correct in saying they were stuck with the older man for the rest of the evening. By ten o'clock, Kirsten had danced two more times with Simon, trying to keep control of her tongue on each occasion. It was difficult and there were moments when she actually caught it between her teeth in order to avoid making too sharp a retort. Her sarcasm never seemed to succeed in putting the man in his place, she reflected ruefully. On the contrary, he appeared to thrive on it! Feeling like a martyr, she gave her attention to her feet, determined not to embarrass herself any further by stomping on the man's toes! It had been a long time since she had been forced to move so cautiously on the dance floor. Since eighth grade, Kirsten decided.
"You've become a model of restraint," Simon commented during the last dance she intended to bestow on him. "I admire your self-control."
"Thank you," she replied stiffly, curiously aware of the pressure of his arms against her back. "It's been an effort!"
"My pleasure," he said dryly, using his left arm to haul her even closer.
Kirsten became uncomfortably nervous as his lips hovered somewhere in the vicinity of her ear and then she felt his arm move against her back so that it lay underneath the hair which tumbled softly around her waist. The intimacy of the gestures unnerved her completely. And she was twenty-eight years old, for heaven's sake, she mentally chided herself.
"Mr. Kendrick," she began, determined to gain some control over the situation.