Wild and Wanton (15 page)

He set her on her feet by the bed. She wondered if she ought to do something, but he seemed to have the situation in hand. It was nice to be cosseted, and exciting to think that soon it would be her turn to cosset him.

Her dress was already opened to the level of her hips. He slid it from her shoulders and she stepped out of it.

‘When did you know, Nick?' she asked as shivery delight gripped her.

More shivers ran through her as he unfastened her bra and assisted her arms out of the straps before asking, ‘Know what?'

The disrobing was momentarily halted while he planted a kiss on her bared shoulder.

‘Know that you loved me,' she said huskily.

‘It's not something that a man analyzes.'

‘Or a woman.'

‘It's something he feels. He might not know it for what it is when it happens. It didn't hit me in the face; it was a gradual awareness.'

She nodded, satisfied. ‘Women are supposed to be more sensitive about these things, but I can't pinpoint the moment when I knew that I was in love with you. I love you, I love you, I love you, Nick,' she said, repeating the declaration with fierce intensity, impulsively flinging her arms round his neck and bringing herself up close. ‘I'll make you a good wife,' she whispered against his skin.

‘Wife!' he exploded, pushing her away. All
the
humor and passion were wiped from his eyes. He was listening to her
now
!

After trying and trying, suddenly she had his whole attention.

‘I thought that was what you had in mind,' she said, her dismay equaling his.

‘Well, think again. I'll go along with the flowery talk if it makes you feel good, but there's a limit. The line must be drawn somewhere, and at no time have I mentioned marriage. Well, have I?'

‘No.' She averted her eyes. She recalled being told that she had a very expressive face. Her pride was hammering home to her that it was better if he didn't see how she felt just now. Not until she'd managed to get hold of herself. She felt as if she'd been dunked into a tank of freezing water.

‘So don't try to con me into anything.'

‘I won't! I made a wrong assumption. Or maybe you did, in thinking that I'm so gone on you that I wouldn't want something a little more permanent than what you have in mind. You can't call all the shots.'

‘Why can't I? It's what you're trying to do. You don't want to be just an equal, you want the upper hand. Well, I've been in control too long to hand it over without giving the matter some deep thought.'

‘Then do your thinking elsewhere, because
I
think it's time you left,' she said in a hard, clipped voice.

‘Don't
worry, I'm going. I can't get out fast enough. I ought to have been more wary of you when I found out who you were.'

‘If you mean my being Phil's sister, let me remind you that you didn't find out on your own. I told you.'

‘Forestalling the obvious. You're not stupid enough to think that it would never have come to light.'

‘It wasn't that calculating. I didn't think I had anything to hide. What did my brother do, for heaven's sake? What terrible crime did he commit?'

‘He didn't do anything bad enough to justify what happened. Let it be. I spoke without thinking. Phil paid the highest price of all; it cost him his life, so let's not discuss it any more. I'm sorry that I got angry and let my tongue run away with me, but that's all I'm apologizing for. I've got a clear conscience about everything else.'

‘You don't have to yell to get through to me. I'll believe you. Or is it yourself you're trying to convince?' she asked scathingly.

Chapter Seven

She didn't really expect Nick to get in touch with her after the way they had parted, but she still jumped every time the phone rang. And
when
she left her apartment each morning, and her office every evening, it was becoming a habit to glance up and down the street. Twice her heart pounded at the sight of a lurking figure, but neither time did it turn out to be Nick. It was just some anonymous guy waiting for his girl.

It had been stupid of her to let things get that steamy between them, and even more ill advised of her to refer to marriage. That had been completely ingenuous on her part, though, and not the act of cunning that Nick obviously suspected. If she'd thought about it she wouldn't have blabbed it out in that unintelligent way. Even if the idea of marriage wasn't odious to him, he would balk at the thought of his life being managed.

To her surprise, Jim Bourne announced that he was giving her a farewell party.

‘If there's anyone you want to invite, feel free.'

She knew that he meant Nick Farraday. He too had read the item in the Hot Sauce column, and he was puzzled by the melancholy that Lindsay wasn't clever enough to hide from him. He was one of the few people to notice that her smile couldn't make it to her eyes.

‘I'd like to ask Cathy, if that's all right with you. I'm sure she'll be able to get a sitter for Stephanie. She doesn't socialize enough; it will be good for her. And I'd also like to invite Greg Hammond. At one time I thought
something
would click there. He was very supportive of Cathy at the time of my brother's death. I truly believe that she valued his friendship. But I understand they had a row. Maybe if they saw one another again . . .'

‘My mother always warned me to beware of matchmakers.'

‘You're not the target. Perhaps Greg Hammond's mother didn't give him the same advice.'

‘Your sister-in-law is a very attractive woman. Intelligent, too. We had quite an interesting chat that time she came to the office to see you and you were out.'

‘Ah, yes! I'd forgotten. Don't tell me you're interested!'

He shrugged. ‘More to the point, what would Cathy find of interest in me?'

That was most illuminating. In her mind, Lindsay had matched Jim Bourne with Denise, the girl who was taking over her job.

‘Mmmmm. The best of luck, Jim.' She didn't add that she thought he'd need it to get anywhere with Cathy—not because he didn't have enough going for him, but because of Cathy's attitude. ‘I'd still like to invite Greg Hammond. There's something I want to ask him.'

‘I'm not so dumb that I don't know what. You're curious about Phil, aren't you?'

‘Wouldn't you be if it were your brother? I don't know what you know, apart from the fact
that
he worked for Nick Farraday, that is. He was fired on the spot for something. I've got to know what it was.'

‘I only know what you know, the bare bones of the case, not the details. Don't you think you might be as well leaving it alone?'

‘Perhaps, I don't know, but I do know what Phil was like. He was weak and fun-loving. I might have been a ballet dancer if I'd known in time that it wasn't something that just happened, but that, like everything else worthwhile in life, it had to be worked for. Phil never made that discovery. He went through the whole of his life without knowing that the good things were gained through personal effort. At the same time, he wasn't all bad. If he did something bad enough to warrant his instant dismissal, there must have been a good reason for it. I might be maligning Phil in my mind when it wasn't all his fault.'

‘Just don't pin your hopes too high,' Jim Bourne cautioned.

The farewell party Jim Bourne was throwing for Lindsay was to be held in his home. Lindsay was touched by the gesture. She had felt that he was casting her off too easily. The party was indicative that that wasn't the case: that he had valued the loyal work she'd put in, and that he was letting her go without putting
up
a fight because he didn't want to stand in her way. If it suited his purpose not to cross Nick Farraday, that was merely a bonus!

But as things were now, did Nick want her in either a business or a personal capacity? If the leak had ruined the Allure promotion she wouldn't hold him to the terms of the contract. At the moment she was just drifting along with events and pushing aside the thought that she might find herself asking Jim Bourne to rehire her.

Being guest of honor warranted the purchase of a new outfit to wear. This time she wouldn't let any well-meaning salesgirl steer her into an unwise buy. But why go to the trouble and expense of searching, she had to wonder, when the perfect dress for the occasion was hanging in her wardrobe? When Nick had stormed out it had been a long time before she could bring herself to even look at the dress. She'd scrunched it up in her hands and thrown it into a corner. It had lain there in mocking accusation until she'd picked it up, sighing at her foolishness. The only magical quality it contained was the way it so readily shed its creases. If the dress was responsible for what had happened between her and Nick, it was so only indirectly. You could never count on being in a happy mood simply because you wore yellow, or filled with melancholy when you wore gray. Neither was it true that you were virtuous in white, or wild and wanton in
black.
It had all been frivolous nonsense about the black dress. And yet the white dress, the one Luisa was wearing when she received her marriage proposal, had put superstition in Lindsay's mind. If Nick hadn't reached out to detain her, if he'd let her go and she'd changed into the black dress, the outcome might have been very different.

A final glance in the full-length mirror before she left her apartment satisfied Lindsay that she had made the right choice. The fitted bodice showed off her curves and small waist, while the lace at her throat and arms made her look both fragile and graceful. She had accented this look by pinning up her hair; the silky pale-gold tendrils that escaped around her face and at the nape of her neck served to heighten the effect.

When he opened the door to her and took her coat, Jim Bourne's eyes widened in appreciation. His smile washed over her, elevating enough in itself without the added, ‘Wow! You're a knock-out in that dress.'

Her employer—it was strange to think that at the close of this working day he had become her ex-employer—had done her proud. The long buffet table contained an amazing range of delicacies, including caviar, and must have set him back a small fortune. Likewise the bar, also a serve-yourself affair, was stocked with every drink ingredient imaginable.

The guests all seemed to pile in at once.
Lindsay
was pleased to see that Cathy had come—she had been half afraid that her sister-in-law would make some last-minute excuse not to be there. In the midst of the crush Lindsay thought that everyone who had been invited must have accepted, and more besides! She noticed that Jim Bourne had successfully annexed Cathy, and that they seemed to be involved in an intimate conversation, his hand resting lightly on Cathy's arm in a protective kind of way.

Lindsay had already spoken to Greg Hammond twice, but other guests had been present at the time, and she hadn't been able to ask him about her brother. Now she spotted him again at the other side of the room and wondered if this time she would be lucky enough to speak with him alone. She was within a few yards of him when she saw that he was talking to Nick Farraday. She stopped walking automatically, but both men had seen her. So, although her instinct was to change direction, pride made her continue straight ahead. She ought to have guessed that Jim Bourne would invite him. Unless he'd come uninvited.

Having previously said hello to Greg, she merely smiled in their direction before lifting her eyes. ‘Good evening, Mr. Farraday.'

The formal greeting sounded odd even to her own ears, and caused one dark brow to rise aloofly. ‘Good evening, Lindsay. You look
particularly
charming. What is the old-fashioned appeal of lace, I wonder?' The sarcastic slur, the gentle but noticeable emphasis on the word
old-fashioned
, made it clear what he thought of her after their last meeting.

‘I don't know about that; I do know that perhaps I shouldn't have gone for a high neck and long sleeves in this crush. It's like a Turkish bath,' she said, hoping that would be adequate explanation for the tinge of pink she felt flowing into her cheeks.

‘Is that what it is? And here I was thinking it was seeing you that had sent my blood pressure shooting up,' Nick came back smoothly, drawing out his handkerchief to pat a nonperspiring brow.

How could he be so cool and self-possessed, and she an emotional mess? His attitude to her in no way softened the impact he had on her. She was too wretchedly aware of the man. The physical aura that surrounded him was overpowering; her foolish body responded of its own volition. Last time they had met she had credited her body with knowing best, but her head had known best after all; she shouldn't have allowed herself to be ruled by her emotions. Knowing all this, she felt that she now ought to be able to summon up the strength of mind to overcome the weakness of the flesh, to still the trembling of her limbs and the pounding of the heart that he had rejected.
He
hadn't wanted her heart and all that went with it, just her body. It was soul-destroying to know that that knowledge didn't make one scrap of difference to her; he still had the same crazy effect on her. She clenched her hands into fists, willing herself to be back in control.

Her attempts at conversation weren't as successful as she would have wished, and she was infinitely relieved when Jim Bourne butted in. Relieved, that is, until she knew his reason for doing so.

‘Excuse me. May I borrow Lindsay for a moment? Little matter of the presentation.'

‘You didn't tell me anything about a presentation,' Lindsay said as he led her away.

‘You didn't think you wouldn't get a goodbye gift, did you?'

‘It never entered my head. The party was enough. I hope you haven't been too extravagant.'