Trophy (5 page)

“Mo,” he now said, “I think you were the belle of the ball tonight. And given the number of Reggie lookalikes who were buzzing around you, a lot of other people thought so too.”

“I’m your sister. You’ve got to say that.” But
she was pleased. “Kim Mannon wasn’t exactly a frump, you know.”

“Unimportant. And how are things with Adrian?”

“It’s only a student thing. I don’t really want to get involved with anyone at the moment. He serves as a good buffer.”

“Does he know this?”

“Oh yes. We’re good friends.”

“I must meet him.”

“Oh no. You always scare my boyfriends away.”

“Any man who really deserved you wouldn’t let himself be scared off.”

“Mark, you can be very terrifying to someone who doesn’t know you.” She smiled, leaning forward to say, “Goodnight. See you in the morning, or whenever you get up. Coffee will be made.”

“‘night.”

Affectionately he watched her go. After the death of their father when she was nine, Selby had virtually been a second father to her. Now twenty-two, she had grown into a stunning young woman and, like any father, he felt protective towards her.

At the ball, Kim Mannon was talking to a youngish man whose bow tie was undone, and who looked seriously the worse for wear. He could barely stand.

“Have you seen Angela Ward?” she demanded.

“An … Angela?” He looked vaguely around.

“She … she was being groped by Reggie the Smooth some … somewhere over there a while ago. Probably has her under a table by now. Oops. Oh dear, Kim. Shouldn’t have said that. Reggie and you are …”

“No we’re not,” she snapped. “Pull yourself together, Jeremy. Be more specific.”

“Speci … spec … specific? Who wants to be specific? This is a ball, not a board meeting, for God’s sake. Relax. Take off your iron knickers. Get under a table yourself.” He giggled fatuously. “Oh dear. Done it again. Shouldn’t talk to the boss’s daughter like that.”

She looked at him pityingly. “Captains of industry.” She turned away to continue her search.

“I’d be better for you than … than Reggie the Smooth, you know?” he called after her. “I mean that. Any time, any place. Jeremy’s the name….”

She ignored him. She was looking for Angela. And if she could embarrass Reggie at the same time, so much the better.

Loud knocking brought Mark Selby out of a deep sleep. Despite the suddenness of his awakening, he felt refreshed. There had been no nightmares to disturb his dreams. He yawned through the continuing knocks, picked up his watch. Ten thirty. Morven must have forgotten to take her key when she’d left.

“Coming, Mo!” he called. “Hang on!” He picked up the previous night’s dress pants from a chair,
pulled them on and hurried out on bare feet. “Coming!” he called again.

He reached the door, and opened it.

“Good God,” he said.

“That’s one way to greet me,” Kim Mannon murmured as she slid in past him. “I will come in, thanks.”

He turned dazedly, to stare after her.

“Do close the door, Mark,” she said, smiling at his utter confusion. “You’re letting in a positively Siberian gale.”

He pushed it shut. “What are you doing here? How the hell did you find this place?”

“That’s not a nice welcome, considering the trouble I went to.” Mockingly her eyes surveyed his bare upper body. “Mmm. Nothing like being prepared.”

Completely taken off guard, he said weakly, “My sister will be here soon.”

“Hiding behind sister’s skirts? A big warrior like you? Morven won’t be here till midday, perhaps a little later. We’ve got nearly two hours.”

“How do you know …?” His voice faded.

“You should congratulate me as a tracker. All I had to do was check the seating arrangements, find out whose guests you two were and the rest was easy. Angela Ward, who’s with the company’s legal department, had a quota of six guests. She invited Tricia Balcombe, who included your sister and escort on the list. Lucky for me, the escort turned out to be
you. This morning, I called Tricia who very nicely told me where you two were staying, and that she was meeting Morven for a late breakfast and some shopping.”

Selby ran a hand through his stiff dark hair, unsure of how to handle the situation. “Would you like some coffee?” He needed time to think.

“Can I sit down first?”

“Oh. Yes, yes. Please do.” He gestured towards the sitting room. “Er … I’ll take your coat.”

She removed the full-length sable with a flourish, and handed it to him. He swallowed hard. She was wearing the shortest of skirts, and a plain T-shirt. Her legs were bare. Clearly there was no further clothing beneath the T-shirt.

He swallowed again. Her obviousness was almost laughable.

“I see I didn’t give you time to dress properly,” she said, eyeing his crotch.

And now, his own body was betraying him. Marvelous.

He hurried away to hang up her coat and to get the coffee, aware of her challenging smile, following him. While the water was heating he fetched himself a shirt.

When he returned to the sitting room with two mugs, she was gone. Then he saw the low-heeled shoes she had worn, on the floor by the settee.

“This is a lovely room.”

He turned at her voice. She was coming out of
the master bedroom. Her barefoot walk caught at his breath.

She came right up and kissed him. There was not much he could do with a mug of steaming coffee in each hand.

“Coffee,” he said.

She did not take one. Instead, she stayed close in front of him, her breasts lightly brushing his chest. He stepped back.

“I’ve completely wrecked your poise,” she told him. “I thought you fighter pilots were fireproof.”

“Are you going to have this coffee, or aren’t you?”

“Don’t change the subject.” She leaned forward, kissed him again; hard.

“Christ,” he said against her searching lips, “You’ll scald us both!”

“Put the bloody things down then.”

With difficulty, since she would not stop, he placed the mugs upon a small glass-topped table. No sooner had he done so than she tripped him neatly, they stumbled onto the settee, then rolled onto the floor.

By now she was holding him off. “Don’t be in such a hurry,” she said.

“What?” he gasped. “You must be joking. Wasn’t it you who—?”

“My prerogative.” She was very still. Suddenly the game was over. “Now you’ve got to deserve me.”

They were still sprawled the way they had
fallen. She was beneath him, her mouth challenging his. Her legs moved slightly, sending waves of excitement through him. A shiver traveled up his entire body: there was an intensity in her dark eyes that pulled at him in a manner that was almost physical. His hands began to work at her clothes. The T-shirt and skirt came off without effort, and she was naked beneath them.

Without speaking, breathing shallowly, she started on his trousers, her hands pushing at them as if rolling down a stocking. As she pushed, her body made shifting movements over him. He gave a low groan, lifted his hips to make her task easier, and tore at the buttons on his shirt. His trousers dealt with, now her naked body was trembling against him. Every part of her seemed to be moving. Now she was beneath him, now on top, then beneath him again.

“Oh please,” she begged, lips and tongue caressing his mouth.
“Come in. “

When at last he entered her she gave a sharp intake of breath and made a high-pitched, mewling sound. She screamed softly, and from deep within her throat came faint gasping sounds.

Selby felt as if his entire body had plunged into her. They rode together with increasing urgency. Beneath him she arched suddenly and screamed a second time, as if in pain. Her body tightened, pressed itself hard against him. Then she gave a long, drawn-out
moan and her moist body slowly relaxed, legs spreading languorously.

“Oh God,” she said in a voice thick with satisfaction, “that was wonderful.
You
were wonderful.” She passed a gentle caressing hand across his face and kissed him with soft full lips.

Suddenly she bit him. “But don’t think this means you can control me.”

He frowned. “Why should I want to control you?”

“And that doesn’t mean I’ll let you ignore me, either.”

He propped himself on an elbow, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “You like things both ways, don’t you?”

“And why shouldn’t I?” She was unrepentant. “I’m worth it.”

By about midday, Kim was sitting, alone and reflective in a booth in a small restaurant she favored, in a quiet backwater off Sloane Street. An unannounced presence made itself felt. She looked up.

“What are you doing here, Reggie?” she asked unenthusiastically. “Shouldn’t you be at some watering hole in the City?”

He sat down. “Mind if I sit?”

“Yes. I want to eat alone.”

“Now, now, darling. I’m curious. Did you find the noble defender of our skies?”

She stared at him silently.

“You shouldn’t be surprised, darling. Angela told all, in between aspirins. Holding a ball on a Thursday is not a good idea. There are plenty of aching heads about the office, and not a lot of work being done.”

“You, I take it, are working?”

“But of course. I’ve merely come down here to keep up to date. Rang the house in Marlow, found you weren’t there. Rang the Chelsea house, ditto. Where, I wondered, could our young Kim be? Tried this place as a last resort. Well? Did you find him?”

Barham-Deane looked at her closely. “Ah,” he said softly. “A blush, and a suffused glow of the face in general. Yes. Clearly, you found him and, I would think, a good time was had by all.”

“Don’t play the injured suitor with me, Reggie,” she said coldly. “In the first place, you’re not my suitor, whatever ideas my father may have, and in the second, when Angela refused to play she tells me Arabella Grant was more than happy to accommodate you. So please, cast no stones in this direction.”

Barham-Deane took this calmly. “I wonder what your father would say about this Selby.”

His expression at that moment reminded her of a weasel’s. “Going to tell him, are you?”

“Knowing your liking for family conflict, I imagine I can count upon you to do that for yourself. But what about this Selby? Have you told him of your little hobby? The anti-nuclear one? He may not
like that at all, and neither will his masters, even if you are the daughter of the great Sir Julius. I’d be very careful, darling. You may not always be able to control the little games you play.”

“Reggie …
go”

Barham-Deane stood up slowly. “All the nice girls love a uniform.” He made it sound like an insult.

“Are you still here?”

“I’m going. See you in Marlow at the weekend.”

“I’ll be in town this weekend.”

He paused. “I see. This is serious.” For the first time, he appeared to find no humor in the situation. “We have our little adventures, darling, but do remember who you are, and what your future is.”

“And
you
remember…. I’m not a platform for your ambitions.”

His face hardened. “A man becomes a fighter pilot first and foremost, because he’s in love with the damned thing. Fighter pilots have careers and when push comes to shove, the machine wins over a woman anytime. That’s why he can be what he is.”

“As usual, you’re talking about a subject of which you have little knowledge.”

“Do you think I haven’t talked to pilots? Some of them are even gents, you know. I’ve met them at the Club.”

“And that makes you an authority.”

He nodded slowly, not agreeing with her, but coming to a particular conclusion about something.

“An about-turn within twenty-four hours,” he said. “You used to say such people were just big boys with expensive toys. How are the mighty fallen.” He leaned forward, knuckles on the table. “Just remember, darling … he has a career, and careers … can be damaged.”

He chose those words upon which to make his exit.

“Bastard,” she said quietly, her dark eyes drilling into his back.

In Elgin Avenue, Morven Selby, anxious not to miss the Aberdeen plane, rushed into the flat and paused, sniffing. The lounge betrayed no signs of previous occupation, and was as tidy as when she had gone out.

“Mark?” she called.

“In here!” The voice came from the direction of his room.

She did not go in search of him but remained where she was, looking slowly about her. “Has someone been here?”

He did not reply and took his time before joining her. He was fully dressed, in a pair of gray trousers, open-necked shirt and a lightweight sweater. He carried a black double-breasted blazer which he laid carefully on the back of one of the two settees in the room.

She looked closely at him. “Someone has been here. A woman, judging from the scent, and that smug expression on your face.”

“Maybe it’s this new aftershave I’m using.”

She gave him a sideways look of disbelief. “This is your sister you’re talking to. My nose works, and if I didn’t have a plane to catch, I’d spend the weekend itemising all the little clues that betray you. I’ll settle for a straight confession. Who was she, as if I didn’t know?”

“If you know, why ask?”

She ignored him, and began walking round the room, peering about her.

“Do you want me to drive you to the airport? Or are you staying to play detective?”

She ignored that too. “I sniff with my little nose, something very expensive. Something beginning with K. How am I doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ha!” The derision was undisguised. She extended her prowl to the master bedroom.

He watched the open door with amusement, until a cry of triumph came from within.

“Guess what I’ve found,” she crowed. She reappeared, holding something aloft.

“Oh my God.” Melodramatically he covered his eyes with one arm.

Morven was displaying a pair of minute red knickers. They were a bright red.

Morven said: “I have been told I’ve got sexy underwear, but I don’t think this belongs to me. Any ideas, brother?”

He cleared his throat. “The cleaning lady?”

“Give up, Mark,” she said. “Miss Kim Mannon was just letting you know the territory’s been staked. And don’t look stunned. Men stake their claims. Why shouldn’t we? Better get used to it.” She gave a knowing chuckle. “So she came after you in the end. Good on her. I did wonder why Tricia kept delaying me when I wanted to get back. Kim must have spoken to her earlier. So, you’re going to have that sort of weekend, after all.”