“You just can’t accept it, can you?” About the Author Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN Copyright

“You just can’t accept it, can you?”

“Accept what?”

“That the woman exists who can find you resistible.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, it damn well isn’t!” Kerry said, furious with herself for getting involved in any kind of repartee with the man. “As I’ve said before, I’m here to work, not to play games with you!”

“I don’t recall you saying that before. Not in so many words, at any rate.” He was openly laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I like your style, Kerry. So refreshingly astringent! Makes me wonder if that’s the real you—or if there’s a softer side underneath it all....”

“If there is you’re unlikely to find it!”

“Now that,” Luke returned, “is quite definitely a challenge!”

KAY THORPE was born in Sheffield, England, in 1935. She tried out a variety of jobs after leaving school. Writing began as a hobby, becoming a way of life only after she had her first completed novel accepted for publication in 1968. Since then, she’s written over fifty books and lives now with her husband, son, German shepherd dog and lucky black cat on the outskirts of Chesterfield in Derbyshire. Her interests include reading, hiking and travel.

All Male

Kay Thorpe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

THE silver-framed portrait on the side table close by Estelle Sullivan’s chair drew Kerry’s eyes, making it difficult to concentrate on what the older woman was saying. It’s subject was an assertively masculine face in its lean strength of feature, with a hint of sensuality about the well-shaped mouth. Steely grey in colour, the eyes seemed to be looking straight back at her, although they gave little indication of what their owner might be thinking.

Registering her distraction, Estelle turned her head to look at the photograph.

‘My son,’ she said with a hint of humour. ‘He always did tend to draw feminine attention.’

And take advantage of it, thought Kerry with uncustomary cynicism, wondering if the connection had ever been publicised. Considering the amount of interest both mother and son had each generated in their time, it seemed unlikely to have been missed altogether—although the career paths were certainly far enough apart.

‘A lot of media attention too,’ she remarked on what she hoped was a suitably light note.

‘One of the crosses the successful must bear with.’ Estelle sounded a little cynical herself. ‘Given the right kind of hype, this book may even put my name back in lights again for a while.’

‘I shouldn’t think there’s much doubt of it. It’s only been two years since your retirement from the theatre.’ Kerry hesitated a moment, before tagging on diffidently, ‘Did you consider making a come-back?’

Silk-clad shoulders lifted. ‘If I were ten years younger I might attempt it, but sixty is a little over the hill to start rebuilding a career.’

‘Hardly from scratch. You’re one of our finest actresses!’

Estelle smiled. ‘Thanks for the present tense, but two years’ rest makes a lot of difference.’

‘I wouldn’t call nursing a sick husband a rest exactly.’

‘You give me too much credit. I was simply there with him. Others did all the work.’

‘Being there is surely the most important part,’ Kerry insisted. ‘It must have meant a lot to him.’

‘It meant a lot to me too. We had so little time together. These last six months have seemed an eternity.’ The beautifully modulated voice became brisk again. ‘One of the reasons I decided to write my memoirs. I’ve enjoyed an eventful enough life. Now that Richard’s gone there’s no harm in revealing some of the more spicy details from my past.’ The last with a sudden roguish twinkle in her eyes. ‘The only way to capture public interest these days.’

Kerry couldn’t argue with that. ‘How will your son react?’ she ventured.

‘Lee?’ Estelle laughed. ‘He’s no angel himself!’

She wouldn’t argue with that either, Kerry thought. At thirty-three, Lee Hartford was one of the country’s most successful industrialists: a regular Midas whose every touch turned to gold. His turnover in women was legendary too. Almost every time one opened a newspaper, there he was with yet another in tow. Sarah was no doubt far from the only one to get hurt, though that made it no better for her. She still wasn’t fully over him a whole year later.

‘How long have you been with the agency?’ asked Estelle, returning to the main purpose of their meeting.

Kerry refocussed her attention. ‘Just under a year. I like a change of scene.’

‘You’ve done this kind of work before?’

‘No, but I’d enjoy the experience.’

The fine grey eyes twinkled again. ‘That’s what it’s all about. When can you start?’

‘Right now, if you like,’ Kerry acknowledged, and elicited another laugh.

‘Monday will be time enough. Lee is due back this morning. He’s been out of the country this last week. Hopefully, he’ll be coming straight on home from the airport.’

Kerry tried not to let her reactions show in her expression. Up until this moment it hadn’t occurred to her that mother and son might share the same house.

‘He insisted I come to live with him after Richard died,’ said Estelle, as if guessing her thoughts. ‘We get along well enough to make the arrangement work, although I’ll naturally be moving out to a place of my own when he eventually marries. Not,’ she added, ‘that it’s likely to be imminent. He’s still far too fond of playing the field!’

‘Does he know about the memoirs?’ asked Kerry, not about to be drawn into any comment on that score.

‘Not yet.’ Estelle paused, appraising the vibrant face before her with its wide-spaced green eyes, high cheek-bones and expressive mouth framed by the tumble of chestnut hair. ‘Just as a matter of interest, did you ever consider doing photographic work? Your colouring is superb!’

It was Kerry’s turn to laugh. ‘I’m sure it takes a lot more than just colouring.’

‘You have the bone structure too. A shame to waste it.’ Estelle’s voice became brisker. ‘I’ve been jotting down notes for the last week or so, but they’re very fragmentary. I thought if I just lay back and let it come as I recalled it all might be the best method. It can be revised afterwards. That’s providing you can work that way, of course?’

‘My shorthand should be up to it,’ Kerry confirmed.

‘Good. I did consider using a dictation machine, but they’re so impersonal. I’ll expect you to give me constructive criticism. Helen Carrington said you were extremely literate.’

‘I read a lot, if that’s anything to go by.’

‘Biographies?’

‘Among other things. I can’t call myself a qualified critic.’

‘Few critics can,’ came the dry reply, ‘but it doesn’t stop them doing it. Your honest comment is all I ask.’

‘You’ll have it,’ promised Kerry, trusting to the inner sense that told her the book was going to be a winner. This woman had led a full and fascinating life, with more to it than ever before publicised from what she had said earlier. There was nothing the public loved more than juicy revelation. ‘Monday, it is.’

A long blue Mercedes was drawing up as she exited the house, slotting into the allocated space with dexterity. Dark-haired and powerfully built, the man who got out from the driving seat was instantly familiar. Taller even than his photographs suggested, Kerry assessed as he moved round the car: at least six-two. Caught on the step, she felt unable to simply walk away.

Lee Hartford eyed her with speculative interest, running a swift but comprehensive glance down her shapely length. ‘Looking for me, by any chance?’ he asked.

The depth and timbre of his voice was in total harmony with his appearance, striking a chord on her stomach muscles. A not unusual reaction, Kerry was sure, although she deplored it in herself. His business acumen apart, this man was everything to be despised in the male sex.

‘I’ve been to see Mrs Sullivan,’ she said levelly.

‘Oh?’ He waited, obviously expecting something more, thick dark brows drawing together a fraction when she failed to add to the statement. ‘You know her personally?’

‘No.’ Kerry hesitated. ‘I think it best if she tells you the whys and wherefores herself.’

The line between his brows deepened. ‘Nothing wrong, I hope?’

‘No.’ Not from her point of view, at least, she thought. ‘Purely a business matter,’ she added.

‘What kind of business?’

‘It isn’t my place to say,’ she returned firmly. ‘Good morning, Mr Hartford.’

He made no attempt to detain her as she moved purposefully down the remaining two steps, but she could feel his gaze on her back the whole way to the corner of the Georgian square, and was relieved to turn out of sight

Brief though it had been, the encounter had ruffled her. Tall, dark and devastating was how one recent and obviously smitten journalist had described the man. What she had neglected to mention was his arrogance—his way of looking at a woman as if she were there purely for his delectation. Kerry could still feel the impact of those grey eyes assessing every detail of her face and body.

The antipathy he aroused in her was no surprise. Even without Sarah’s experience to turn her against him, she would probably have felt the same instinctive dislike. How Sarah could have imagined for a moment that a man like that was to be trusted she couldn’t conceive. His kind were takers not givers; one didn’t need a degree in psychology to recognise that much.

The fact that he would possibly be around at times was certainly no enhancement to this job so far as she was concerned. On the other hand, she sure as hell wasn’t about to turn down what promised to be one of the most interesting assignments she had ever been offered because of him. She would be working with his mother, not him.

As an actress, Estelle Lester—to give her her stage name—had rated high; as a character in her own right she came across as shrewd and intelligent, with an inner warmth that greatly appealed. Difficult to equate with the kind of man her son appeared to be. Other than the grey eyes, the only immediate point of resemblance between the two was in the dark hair.

Whatever the circumstances of the actress’s first marriage, Kerry had never, so far as she could recall, seen or heard mention of the name Hartford in that connection. She did, however, remember the wedding four years ago with top-flight American attorney, Richard Sullivan.

Finding such a love so comparatively late in life, only to have it snatched away again so soon, was bad enough in itself, without the loss of a career. The memoirs were probably as much a means of reliving her life through her mind’s eye as a potential money-spinner, Kerry reckoned. With Lee Hartford for a son, money could hardly be a problem anyway.

Cold and damp and gloomy, the day was typical of the time of year, making her thankful for the warm coat and high leather boots. With Christmas a bare three weeks away it might have made more sense to wait until the New Year to start this project, but hers was not to reason why.

Working for the agency this last year had proved infinitely more rewarding than the usual day-to-day routine all round.

The offer of a transfer three years ago to the London branch of the company she had worked for back home had seemed like manna from heaven at the time, but one office was much the same as another when stuck in it all day. Although life here obviously had a lot more to offer than the northern town where she had grown up, living it was also a lot more expensive. Profiles not only offered new interests, but a salary topping anything she had received to date.

The journey back to Battersea took appreciably longer than that coming out, due to some hold-up on the line. Off work herself, recovering from a bout of flu, her flatmate, Jane, was eager to hear how things had gone.

‘Having his mother living with him must cramp his style some,’ she commented when Kerry told her about Lee Hartford’s surprise relationship. ‘Although being an actress, she’s probably a lot more open-minded than my mother would be. Judging from his publicity, he’s a real womaniser,’ she added slyly.

‘I doubt if I’ll be of any more interest to him than he is to me,’ Kerry answered lightly. ‘Hopefully, I shan’t be seeing very much of him at all.’

Jane wrinkled her appealingly retroussé nose. ‘Too bad. I had visions of a red hot romance!’

Laughing, Kerry threw a cushion at her before going through to her bedroom to put away her outdoor things.

The full-length mirror in the wardrobe door showed a young woman in a grey jersey dress that skimmed the curve of her hips and emphasised her length of leg. Falling thick and heavy to shoulder level, her hair had a gloss that owed nothing to salon products, and the green eyes a healthy sparkle.

While suffering no false modesty regarding her looks, Kerry found them no particular asset either. At twenty-four she had almost given up hope of ever meeting a man as interested in her mind and personality as in her face and body.

It wasn’t her intelligence potential Lee Hartford had been considering for certain, she thought drily, sitting down on the bed to remove her black leather boots. He saw women as good for one thing, and one thing only. Sarah could vouch for that.

She had shared this same flat with the other girl when she first came to London, until Sarah’s modelling career had taken off with a bang and she had moved on to better things. Lee Hartford had picked her out at some promotional affair for one of his companies, and devoted enough attention to her over the next few months to convince her that he felt the same way she did. She had been devastated when he dumped her.

What a man like that needed was to have the tables turned on him, Kerry reflected. To fall, and fall hard for a woman and be treated with the same brutal contempt. She’d be the first to cheer such an event.

The weekend dragged, not least because Jane took herself off to visit her parents. Having been home herself a couple of weekends before, Kerry felt disinclined to fork out another substantial sum on rail fare so soon, especially when she would be going home for Christmas anyway. She settled for the usual biweekly phone call instead.

She spent Saturday evening having dinner with a man she had met during a previous job and been out with a couple of times since, but refused his suggestion that they go on to some party he had in mind on the grounds that she was tired. From his attitude, she guessed she wouldn’t be hearing from him again, which didn’t bother her a great deal. The relationship had been going nowhere she really wanted to be anyway.

Monday came as a welcome break. Estelle had requested that she reach the house around nine-thirty, enabling her to avoid the worst of the morning crowds. The gardens which gave the square its name looked denuded in the wintry sunshine, the trees stretching skeletal limbs. An expensive area altogether, the houses themselves were tall and white and graceful.

They were even more spacious inside than they looked from out here, Kerry already knew, the rooms being large, the ceilings high and ornate, the whole ambience one of tasteful affluence. Working in such surroundings was going to be a pleasure, she thought, pressing a finger to the doorbell.

Expecting the summons to be answered by the housekeeper who had admitted her on Friday, she was more than a little nonplussed when the door was opened by Lee Hartford himself. He looked arresting in a superbly tailored dark grey suit that defined his breadth of shoulder and lean-hipped build.

‘Miss Pierson, isn’t it?’ he said on a formal note, contradicted by the faintly mocking gleam in his eyes as he surveyed her. ‘Come on in.’

She did so, catching the faint scent of aftershave as she brushed past him. Yves Saint Laurent, possibly—expensive for certain. Nothing but the best for men of his ilk, of course, she thought caustically.

‘My mother will be down in a minute or two,’ he said, closing the door. ‘In the meantime, I’ve been delegated to entertain you.’

‘I’ll be perfectly happy just waiting,’ she returned, without looking at him. ‘I’m sure you must have far more pressing matters to take care of, Mr Hartford.’

‘None that can’t wait.’ He held out a hand. ‘Let me take your coat.’

‘Perhaps you’d just show me where to put it,’ she said levelly.

‘The independent type, are you?’ He sounded amused.

Kerry kept her own tone even, her expression neutral. ‘If you like to think of it that way. I’m here to work, not as a guest.’

‘Fine.’ If anything the amusement had deepened. ‘In that case, the cloakroom is over there. When you’re ready I’ll show you where you’re going to be working. Mrs Ralston will be bringing coffee through in a few minutes.’

The cloakroom was almost as large as her bedroom back at the flat. Kerry slipped off her coat and hung it on a hanger, then took a swift glance in the long wall mirror.

The brown suede skirt and crisp white shirt looked businesslike without being overdone, the simple gold chain at her throat and small gold studs in her ears no detraction from the image she wanted to present.

She was wearing heels this morning for the simple reason that they looked better with straight skirts, but she was glad of the extra height. Not that she was small at five feet seven anyway, but that man out there made her feel so.

He was waiting in the wide hall when she emerged from the room. He ran another of those appraising glances over her, making her bristle afresh.

‘Neat, and classy too,’ he commented. ‘My mother always did have good taste.’

‘Mrs Sullivan hired me purely on the merits of my qualifications as a secretary, not for my appearance,’ Kerry answered with a coolness she was far from feeling.

One dark brow lifted with a hint of sardonicism. ‘Knowing her rather better than you do, I’d say both. You’ll be working in her private sitting room, where the two of you will be undisturbed. You can use the study to type up the day’s output. There’s a word processor in there with plenty of capacity on disk.’

‘You’re not afraid of me breaking into your private files?’ she asked with deliberation as he led the way.

‘Not at all. They’re safe under personal keycode. One you’d be unlikely to guess if you tried,’ he added. ‘Not that you’d learn anything of any use to you if you did.’

‘Not that I’d want to,’ she countered. ‘Your affairs are strictly your own business.’

A hand on the doorknob of a room towards the rear of the house, he gave her a calculated scrutiny, taking in the antagonistic spark in the green eyes, the jut of her chin. An answering spark leapt in his own eyes. ‘Very much so.’

The message was clear, and not unmerited. Faint though it had been, the innuendo had not been lost on him. Kerry bit her lip as he opened the door and stood back to allow her prior entry, aware of having allowed antipathy to affect her better judgement. Other than where Sarah was concerned, his affairs, business or personal, were of no importance to her.

The room was only half the size of the drawing room where Estelle had interviewed her on Friday, but just as beautifully furnished. The two deep chesterfields flanking the Adam fireplace were covered in blue velvet a shade or two lighter than the thickly piled carpet, with cushions picking up the gold of the curtains. Delicate water colours lined the plain white walls, and a baby grand piano stood across one corner.

‘Do you play?’ asked Lee, following her glance.

‘A little,’ Kerry acknowledged, not about to claim any degree of expertise, and added for something else to say rather than through any pressing interest, ‘Do you?’

He shook his head. ‘My mother’s the musician in the family. If she hadn’t gone into acting she might have made a concert pianist.’

‘She’s very talented.’ The admiration was genuine. ‘A great loss to the theatre.’

‘There’s no reason why she shouldn’t start over. Her agent already found the right vehicle for a come-back.’

‘Perhaps it’s just too soon,’ Kerry suggested. ‘She’s been through a lot.’

The strong mouth took on a slant. ‘More than the media would know, for sure.’

The intimation that she could have little idea herself was like a slap in the face. All she had meant to do was express sympathy. She took the chair he indicated, dismayed when he sat down himself on one of the sofas and lifted one leg comfortably over the other in a gesture that scarcely indicated an imminent departure.

‘I’ll be perfectly all right on my own,’ she repeated. ‘You really don’t have to wait.’

His shrug was easy. ‘I’m in no hurry. I understand your first name is Kerry?’

‘Yes.’ The skirt she was wearing had seemed conservative enough this morning at an inch above the knee, but it had ridden up when she sat down, exposing rather more Lycra-clad thigh than she felt comfortable with right now. She put down a hand to tug at the hem, desisting abruptly as the grey eyes followed her movement—hating the smile that flickered at the corners of his mouth.

‘Nice,’ he commented.

He could have been referring to the name, of course, but Kerry doubted it. There was even a chance that he imagined she was putting on a show for his benefit. Short of getting up again, there was little she could do to cover the exposed leg, which left her with no option but to ignore it.

‘My mother seems impressed with you all round, in fact,’ he went on. ‘On the face of it, I’d go along with her—but, then, face values aren’t always the best criteria.’

‘Helen Carrington at Profiles will have already verified my qualifications and vouched for my character,’ Kerry returned tartly. ‘You don’t need to worry about my stealing the family silver!’

‘That thought hadn’t actually occurred to me.’ He regarded her with quizzical expression, his gaze lingering on the full ripeness of her mouth for a moment. ‘Are you always this hostile, or is it me in particular you’re against?’

Already regretting the momentary loss of composure, she made an effort to sound properly repentant. ‘I apologise. I was out of line.’

‘I didn’t ask for apologies, only explanations.’

‘I don’t have to explain anything,’ she returned on as cool a note as she could conjure. ‘I’m not in your employ, Mr Hartford.’

The glint in the grey eyes became a gleam, infinitely disturbing. ‘You’re in my home. That gives me certain rights, wouldn’t you say?’

He was mocking her again, his whole manner nervejangling. Kerry steeled herself not to react, thankful when Estelle chose that moment to put in an appearance. Whatever her feelings toward the man, she would have done better to keep them under wraps, she reflected wryly.

‘Sorry to be so tardy,’ proffered the older woman. ‘A few things I had to do before we get started. I hope Lee’s been looking after you.’

‘Oh, I have,’ her son assured her. ‘Kerry and I had a very interesting conversation.’ The grey eyes turned her way again, the mockery still evident. ‘You don’t mind my using your first name?’

It took an effort, but she managed to keep her tone level. ‘Not at all, Mr Hartford.’

‘Lee,’ he returned. ‘Let’s not stand on ceremony.’

Estelle looked from one to the other with sudden interest. ‘Am I missing something?’

‘Nothing of any importance,’ Kerry assured her before her son could answer. ‘I’m ready whenever you are, Mrs Sullivan.’

The older woman smiled. ‘As Lee just said, let’s not stand on ceremony. Call me Estelle.’

Kerry smiled back. ‘All right, Estelle.’

The door opened again to admit the housekeeper, carrying a tray. Lee got up to take it from her and deposit it on the table set between the two sofas, looking across enquiringly at Kerry. ‘Black or white?’

It was already gone ten, she realised, catching a glimpse of the mantel clock out of the corner of her eye. By now he should surely be thinking about going to the office? The Hartford Corporation occupied several floors of a city high-rise, with a staff of several hundred; she knew that because she had worked there for a short period a few months back as a fill-in for someone off ill, although she had seen nothing of the company president at the time.

‘Black, no sugar, please,’ she requested.

‘The way I like it too,’ he acknowledged, pouring a cup and handing it to her. ‘So we do have something in common.’

The only thing, she wanted to say, but with Estelle there she contented herself instead with a faint curl of her lip, not caring a damn if he saw it. Too late now, anyway, to pretend indifference. He already recognised her antagonism. If he proved curious enough to question further the source at some point, she might very well tell him!

Estelle took her coffee with a little cream but also refused sugar. Slim and shapely in cream jersey, she looked far from her age. She could play a woman in her thirties without any difficulty, given stage make-up and lighting, Kerry judged.

Her reluctance to return to the theatre seemed strange on the face of it. She had been such a star; she could so easily be one again. Her agent was obviously for it so why the hesitation? Surely not fear of failure? An actress of her calibre could never fail.

It was almost half past ten before Lee made a move at last.

‘I’m playing squash with Phil early evening,’ he announced, ‘so don’t wait dinner. We’ll eat at the club.’

‘Give Phil my love,’ said his mother, ‘and tell him it’s about time he came over.’

‘You could always pay him a visit,’ Lee pointed out mildly.

‘With Renata playing Lady Bountiful?’ She shook her head. ‘Not my scene, darling.’

The shrug held resignation. ‘I’ll convey the message.’ He lifted a brief hand in Kerry’s direction, the twist of his lips conveying a different message. ‘Have a nice day.’

Estelle turned a speculative glance as the door closed behind him, registering the faint colour in Kerry’s cheeks. ‘I’ve a feeling you’re not over-impressed with my son,’ she said mildly.

The colour deepened a little. ‘I’m sorry if that’s how it came across.’

‘You don’t need to be. He can be pretty infuriating when the mood takes him. From the atmosphere when I walked in, I gather the two of you had been sparring?’

Kerry had to smile. ‘I’d scarcely call it that. Just a difference of opinion.’

‘A very big difference to put that spark in his eye. The only other time I see him look like that is when some business battle is about to commence. He thrives on opposition.’

‘I can imagine.’ Kerry reached for her bag and extracted her notebook and pencil. ‘How would you like to start?’

It was Estelle’s turn to smile. ‘You’re right, of course. I’m procrastinating. Are you close enough over there if I stretch out on the sofa here and just start talking?’

‘If I’m not I’ll let you know,’ Kerry promised.

Slipping off her shoes, the older woman settled herself comfortably with her head pillowed on a cushion. ‘You’ve read a lot of biographies,’ she said. ‘Where would be a good place to start?’

Kerry considered for a moment before replying. ‘Personally, I prefer the ones that go straight through from point A to point Z, rather than the flashback type.’

‘From childhood, you mean?’

‘If possible. Where and when you were born, what kind of lifestyle you had, schooldays and so on. Humorous little anecdotes, if you can remember any.’

‘Plenty of those. I was always into mischief of one kind or another. I got myself expelled from my convent prep school for taking other pupils on guided tours of the nuns’ quarters at a penny a time when they were supposedly all busy elsewhere. It was working quite well until we all trooped in on Sister Josephine who’d been taken ill and had had to retire to bed. I can still see her expression!’

“That’s the kind of thing,’ Kerry encouraged, laughing with her. ‘What about your family?’

‘I can’t offer any rags to riches theme, I’m afraid. My father was in banking, my mother something of a society queen. We lived not very far from here in a house not unlike this one.’ Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed, her voice reminiscent.

‘My brother, Robert, was born when I was five. As a girl, I took something of a back seat from then on, I suppose. Not that it worried me too much. I’d had my first experience of facing an audience in the school Nativity play. I knew even then that it was what I wanted to do with my life...’

Kerry’s hand raced over the page, her interest already captured. Later they could go back over it all and perhaps insert a little more detail here and there, but for now it was coming along just fine. She looked forward to hearing more.

Lee Hartford she relegated to the very back of her mind, vowing to keep him there from now on. He would probably be spending little time at home during the day anyway.

CHAPTER TWO

APART from a couple of brief encounters with the master of the house, when little more than a casual good morning was exchanged, that first week went by smoothly enough.

Working mornings only, Estelle was managing a fair output, leaving Kerry the whole afternoon to spend at the word processor putting the memories into readable form. What to keep in and what to leave out would be decided later. In the meantime, she was thoroughly enjoying the job.

She was in the study late on the Friday afternoon when Lee arrived home. With her back to the door and her mind absorbed, she didn’t hear him enter the room, becoming aware of his presence only when he paused behind her to view the computer screen over her shoulder.

‘So how’s it going?’ he asked.

His closeness disrupted her concentration, causing her fingers to stumble on the keys. Cursing inwardly, she deleted the mistyped letters.

‘It was going fine,’ she said pointedly.

He ignored the sarcasm. ‘How do you rate it yourself?’

‘On the basis of what we’ve got up to now, I’d say it stands an excellent chance of becoming a best-seller,’ she answered with truth. ‘Your mother has a way with words.’

‘Part of what makes her such a good actress, I imagine. Words are her stock in trade.’

‘Other people’s words. These are her own.’ Kerry swung her head as he moved to the big mahogany desk a few feet away, meeting the grey eyes with that same involuntary tensing of muscle and sinew. ‘Are you planning on staying?’

Dark brows lifted. ‘Do you object?’

‘Only in the sense that I find you a distraction.’ She could have bitten off her tongue the moment she had said it, seeing his mouth take on the infuriating slant. ‘The same way I’d find anyone a distraction when I’m trying to work,’ she added swiftly. ‘I realise it’s your study, but you did say I could use it.’

‘In your line you should be used to having other people around,’ he returned. ‘I’ve some work of my own to do, but I’m happy enough to have you share the premises.’

With anyone else there would be no difficulty, Kerry acknowledged. The best will in the world couldn’t put her at ease with this man. Standing there in yet another of the beautifully cut suits—blue this time—he radiated a masculine air of command that set her teeth on edge.

‘I’m just about finished for the day anyway,’ she claimed. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

He studied her thoughtfully, dropping his gaze to linger for a deliberate moment on the firm thrust of her breasts outlined against the cream silk of her shirt. ‘We never met before, by any chance?’

She shook her head, making no effort to disguise her contempt. ‘We hardly move in the same circles.’

‘So you’ve based your view of me on what?’

Her chin lifted. ‘You get a lot of publicity.’

‘Oh, I see. My media reputation.’ His tone was dry. ‘You believe everything you read in the newspapers?’

Kerry gave him back look for look. ‘I don’t recall you ever suing any for libel.’

‘So far I never felt any need. The people who matter to me know me well enough to take everything said with a pinch of salt—the rest aren’t important.’

‘In which case,’ she asked, ‘why bother about my opinion?’

His smile was slow. ‘You’re another matter.’

‘Meaning you’re accustomed to instant idolisation from women?’

‘I wouldn’t go quite that far, but I don’t usually elicit instant detestation either. How about giving me the benefit of the doubt and forming your own judgement?’

Kerry curled a lip. ‘You just can’t accept it, can you?’

‘Accept what?’

‘That the woman exists who can find you resistible!’

The smile came again, grey eyes acquiring sudden tawny lights. ‘Is that a challenge?’

‘No, it damn well isn’t!’ she said, furious with herself for getting involved in any kind of repartee with the man. ‘As I’ve said before, I’m here to work, not to play games with you!’

‘I don’t recall you saying that before. Not in so many words, at any rate.’ He was openly laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘I like your style, Kerry. So refreshingly astringent! Makes me wonder if that’s the real you—or if there’s a softer side underneath it all. Be interesting to find out.’

Kerry took a hold on herself, aware of being got at. ‘If there is,’ she said with withering scorn, ‘you’re unlikely to find it!’

‘Now that,’ he returned, ‘is quite definitely a challenge!’ Still smiling, he turned back to the desk and added over one shoulder, ‘Make sure the heads are properly parked when you exit.’

‘I always do,’ she snapped, resenting both the instruction and the mockery. ‘I’ve used computers before.’

‘That’s OK, then.’

Kerry was seething as she despatched the afternoon’s work to the printer, standing there and ostensibly reading the print-out as it emerged. Lee had taken a seat behind the desk and was going through some papers. She could see him from the corner of her eye, dark head bent, one lean hand wielding a pen—her presence obviously forgotten. He’d had his fun with her—that was all it had been—and now it was back to the important things in life. So far as she was concerned, he could go to hell!

With the hard copy safely stored, and both machines switched off at last, she was free to leave. It would be less than adult to stalk out without a word, she decided, and steeled herself to murmur a short, ‘Goodnight.’

Lee looked up, his lean, hard-boned features illuminated by the desk lamp he had switched on. For a fleeting moment he appeared on the verge of putting some question, but the words didn’t materialise. ‘Have a good evening,’ was all he said.

Estelle was watching children’s television in her sitting room. She looked round without embarrassment when Kerry went in to take her leave.

‘I adore Blue Peter, don’t you?’

‘I’ve never really watched it,’ Kerry confessed.

‘No, I suppose you’re always on your way home from work when it’s on.’ She added unexpectedly, ‘Why don’t you stay and have dinner with us tonight? Lee will run you home.’

‘It’s nice of you to invite me but I have a date tonight,’ Kerry improvised hastily. ‘In any case, I wouldn’t dream of dragging your son across town.’

‘I’m sure he’d be more than willing, but if you already have an engagement...’ The older woman paused, eying her speculatively. ‘Someone special, is it?’

‘Just a friend.’ It was time to go, before she got herself involved in further lies. She gave her employer a smile. ‘The hard copy is in the top drawer, if you want to go through what we’ve done up to now.’

‘I think I’ll leave it until we’ve got a bit further,’ Estelle returned. ‘I hope Lee didn’t disturb you too much.’

‘Not at all.’ Another lie, but the only answer she was prepared to give. ‘See you on Monday.’

Coming out of the cloakroom some minutes later dressed for the street in the camel coat which had cost her almost a week’s salary, she was disconcerted to find Lee waiting for her in the hall. Leaning against the staircase newel post, he looked deceptively benign.

‘I ordered a taxi for you,’ he said. ‘From now on there’ll be one on tap every evening. All you have to do is make a call whenever you’re ready to leave. The bill will be taken care of.’

A munificent gesture, Kerry was bound to acknowledge, though not one she cared to take advantage of, coming as it did from him.

‘Thanks, but I’m quite happy taking the tube,’ she said shortly.

The rejection made little noticeable impact. ‘I’m more concerned with your reaching it safely. It’s already dark out there. No time for a woman to be walking the streets on her own.’

‘I’ve done it the past three years without coming to any harm,’ she pointed out.

‘Not in this area, with few other people about. Anyway, it’s all arranged.’

She drew in a long slow breath, opposing the autocracy with every fibre. ‘Do you take it on yourself to organise everyone’s life for them? I don’t need a taxi!’

‘You’re getting one, nevertheless.’ Neither tone nor expression left any doubt of his adamance. ‘My mother will be in total agreement. She said only last night that she worried about you leaving after dark.’

‘Thoughtful of her, but—’

‘But nothing.’ This time there was a definite edge of impatience to his voice. ‘If you want to continue coming here at all this winter then you accept the situation.’

‘Surely,’ she said, ‘that’s up to your mother to decide?’

‘Not in the circumstances.’

‘Oh, I see. It’s your house, and you make the decisions!’

‘If you want to see it that way. Most people would be only too happy to have a door-to-door ride home at the end of the day.’

He was right there, but she wanted no favours from him. ‘I’m not most people,’ she declared frostily.

‘Obviously.’

He had straightened away from the post, standing with hands thrust into trouser pockets and suit jacket pushed back to reveal a broad expanse of sparkling white. Kerry found her eyes drifting involuntarily downwards over the flat waistband and lean hips, warmth singeing her cheeks as she dragged her gaze forcibly upwards again to see his mouth slant.

‘Devastating, isn’t it?’ he said softly.

‘What is?’ she parried.

‘Sexual attraction. I was aware of it the moment we met.’ The pause was meaningful. ‘We both were.’

‘There’s such a thing as over-confidence,’ Kerry retorted caustically. ‘I’d say you had it in spades!’

‘Uncertainty is no asset,’ came the smooth response. ‘If you weren’t as drawn to me underneath all that antagonism as I am to you, you wouldn’t be making such a song and dance about it.’

‘I am not...’ she began furiously, breaking off abruptly as she saw the glimmer in his eyes. It was all a big joke to him—a game he was expert at playing. The temptation to fling Sarah’s name in his face was almost overwhelming. It took a real effort to resist it Sarah herself might not want Kerry championing her cause.

The hoot of a horn from the street outside was something of a relief, despite her reluctance to accept the arrangement.

‘I suppose that’s the cab,’ she said.

Lee inclined his head in ironic agreement. ‘Let’s not keep it waiting.’

He accompanied her out, opening the cab door for her.

‘I’d suggest we meet over the weekend,’ he said as she brushed past him, ‘but I suspect you’d turn me down just for the hell of it. Maybe next weekend.’

Meaning that by then she would be bound to have mellowed towards him, Kerry assumed as he closed the door and lifted a hand in taunting farewell. Well, he could think again! Nothing he could say or do would change her opinion of him. It was set in stone.

Where her finer feelings were concerned, maybe, came the sneaking thought, but there was no denying her physical responses. Sexual attraction, Lee had called it: a chemical reaction that had nothing to do with liking or disliking. A governable one, though, she told herself tightly. When it came to mind over matter there was no contest. Not in this instance.

Phoning on the Saturday to announce her return from a two-week shoot in the Caribbean, Sarah sounded more up-beat than she had done in ages. Posing semi-nude for magazine and calendar work hadn’t been her original aim, but the financial enticement had overcome any scruples she’d had. She had, she claimed, enjoyed the whole experience.

Kerry contemplated leaving Lee Hartford’s name out of it altogether when detailing her own new job over lunch the following day, but the chance, no matter how remote, that Sarah might hear of the relationship persuaded her to come clean.

‘He’s everything you said,’ she confirmed. ‘Thinks he only has to beckon to have every woman falling over herself to please him! It would do him a power of good to have the tables turned on him!’

The vivacious face opposite hardened. ‘It would need someone capable of playing him at his own game.’ She gave a brittle laugh. ‘If you feel the way you say you do about him why not do it yourself?’

‘Even if I were up to that kind of thing at all, I think I’ve made my opinion a bit too obvious to start now,’ Kerry returned drily, aware all the same of a fleeting temptation.

‘You could always make out you were trying to cover up how he really affected you. He’d believe it,’ Sarah was obviously taken with the idea, her eyes bright with malice. ‘You could do it. You could even enjoy doing it! Just imagine the satisfaction you’d gain from giving the great Lee Hartford the run-around!’

Kerry could imagine. What she lacked was the guts to take him on. Fear of falling for him? suggested that sneaky little voice.

‘Not really my style,’ she said flatly.

‘It could be.’ Having come up with the notion, Sarah wasn’t about to let it go that easily. ‘You’d be avenging all those he’s made fools of, not just me.’

‘You think he leads all his women to believe he’s going to marry them?’ Kerry questioned.

‘Maybe not all, but he definitely led me to think that was where we were heading. Then suddenly it was over. He just lost interest.’ Sarah waited a moment, wry resignation overtaking the animation in her eyes when Kerry remained silent. ‘I suppose you’re right. It wasn’t a good idea. Anyway, forget it.’

It would be a long time before Sarah was able to forget, Kerry guessed, sensing the depth of hurt still there in her friend. Had there been any softening at all in her own feelings toward Lee Hartford they would have hardened again. He was a total degenerate!

Monday morning was dry and sunny, the air crisp and clear. If only the winter weather could always be like this, Kerry yearned, walking from the station to the house with a spring in her step. The only drawback being, she supposed, that one would want to be outside in it rather than confined indoors.

In celebration of the sunnier outlook she had put on a skirt and matching waistcoat in a tan and cream checked wool, along with a cream cashmere sweater, the whole ensemble covered by a toning throw-over wrap. The outfit had drawn several approving glances on the way here, and drew yet another when Estelle saw her.

‘You could stalk a catwalk along with the best!’ she declared. ‘I still think you’re wasted doing what you do, good though you are at it.’

‘I like what I do,’ Kerry assured her. ‘Although I’ll certainly be sorry when this job is over.’

Estelle shook her head. ‘That won’t be for quite a time. I dare say there’ll be a whole lot of revision to do before I can even think about submitting a manuscript.’

True enough, Kerry reflected, feeling anything but daunted by the prospect. If the bio failed to make the impact she predicted it wasn’t going to be through lack of effort on her part.

That confidence faded just a little over the course of the morning when Estelle showed signs of having hit a mental block.

‘I suppose I’m not really in the mood,’ she confessed in the end. ‘My mind keeps running off at a tangent. Supposing you type up what I’ve managed to come up with this far and see how it looks?’

Kerry did her best to hide her reservations. Running out of steam this early tended to suggest a basic loss of interest. It was possible that the whole autobiography idea had been no more than a passing whim on Estelle’s part—a means of relieving the tedium. Her son was perhaps right in considering a return to the stage the best option.

She had almost completed transcribing her shorthand on screen when the telephone rang. She ignored it at first, trusting that Estelle would pick up the call, but it just went on ringing until she finally felt bound to lift the receiver herself.

‘Sorry to interrupt the flow,’ said Lee, before she could speak, ‘but I’ve an urgent request to make. Can you spare Kerry to bring me the blue file I left on the desk? I need it urgently or I’d send someone out for it. A taxi should get her here within half an hour.’

‘This is Kerry,’ she said coolly. ‘No one else appeared to be answering the phone so I took the call myself.’

There was a brief pause before he answered in an altered tone, ‘Where are you?’

‘In the study,’ she confirmed, and heard him say something short and sharp under his breath.

‘That’s a separate line. My secretary got the wrong number. No matter. You’re obviously not taking dictation right now so I’m sure Mother won’t mind you bringing me the file. You’ll find the taxi number on my desk pad. There shouldn’t be any difficulty at this hour.’

Kerry bit back the rebuttal trembling on her lips. Estelle was paying her for her time. If there were any rebuttals to be made at all she was the one to do it.

‘Certainly, Mr Hartford,’ she said tonelessly instead.

She cut contact before he could make any reply. Not, she supposed, that he needed to say anything else. No byplay this morning, she noted. In all probability he had decided the game wasn’t worth the candle where she was concerned Well, that suited her fine!

As anticipated, Estelle was more than prepared to let her go, although she did ask if she minded. Kerry phoned for a cab, and spent the five minutes until it arrived touching up her make-up and running a comb through her hair. If she had to do this at all, she told herself, she was not going to arrive looking as if she’d dropped everything to fly to his bidding!

The pre-luncheon traffic proved light enough to allow arrival at the imposing tower block within the half-hour. Kerry could have found her way up to the appropriate floor but was bound as a visitor to report first to Reception. The man on duty had her name already on his list and sent her right up.

There were several other people waiting at the lifts, among them a blond-haired young man she recognised immediately though not with any particular pleasure.

‘Who are you taking over for this time?’ he asked after they’d exchanged greetings.

‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘I’m only here to bring Mr Hartford a file he left behind.’

His brows shot up. ‘You work for the big boss?’

‘His mother,’ Kerry corrected. ‘I’d better get a move on. He’s in a hurry for it.’

The grin was meaningful. ‘I’ll bet!’

Kerry ignored the innuendo. It was what she might have expected from Jason King. She’d gone out with him once while she’d been working here, but hadn’t cared to repeat the experience after he’d made his interests only too clear. Yet another good-looking, out-for-what-he-could-get dissolute!

He got off at the fourth floor, leaving her to continue one more to the executive floor. She had never had occasion to enter the hallowed premises before, and was tentative about it now as she approached the desk where Lee’s secretary held jurisdiction over further progress.

An attractive brunette in her late twenties, the latter took the file from her with what Kerry considered an unwonted chilliness in her manner.

‘Mr Hartford asked that you wait,’ she said. ‘He’ll be through shortly.’

Kerry took the indicated seat with reluctance. He had better, she thought, have a good reason for keeping her here! She was going to be on the margin for lunch as it was: Mrs Ralston always served promptly at one. Hopefully, Estelle would be feeling more inclined towards work this afternoon.

‘Shortly’ turned out to be a good twenty minutes. Kerry sat fuming, on the verge of walking out by the time the inner office door opened at last. The two men who came out looked like bankers—an unmistakable breed in her estimation. Lee was right behind them, the meaningful lift of that mobile left brow as he looked across at her sending a sudden ripple down her spine.

‘Sorry to have kept you so long,’ he said. ‘Come on through.’

She did so, weathering another somewhat frigid glance from his secretary. The kind of hostility that might be extended by the discarded towards the apparently newly favoured, Kerry conjectured, although she would have thought even Lee would draw the line at his own secretary, no matter how attractive.

The office was huge, with several easy chairs arranged in a casual grouping off to one side of the room, in addition to the usual accoutrements, and a stylish decor that managed to suggest affluence without being overdone. The window went almost wall to wall, affording a magnificent view out over the river.

‘Impressive,’ Kerry commented, refusing to be intimidated by it all. ‘You really do yourself proud.’

‘I get by.’ Closing the door. Lee indicated the conversation area. ‘How about a drink before we go to lunch?’

She looked at him sharply, taken aback by the casual statement. ‘I didn’t come for lunch.’

He returned her gaze equably. ‘But you’re here and it is lunchtime. I’d hardly send you back hungry.’

‘I’d have been back by now if you hadn’t kept me waiting,’ she pointed out. ‘If I’d realised—’

‘If you’d realised you’d have given me the same cold shoulder you’ve been giving me since we met,’ he interjected. ‘It’s time we came to a better understanding.’

Kerry regarded him in silence for a moment, registering the purposeful gleam in the grey eyes. The dark blue pinstripe he was wearing might give him an air of respectability, but underneath lay the soul of a born philanderer. As one who so far had shown resistance, she presented a challenge his pride wouldn’t allow him to forgo.

So why not take up Sarah’s proposal? came the sudden and reckless thought. Why not allow him to believe he was achieving a breakthrough? It would be immensely satisfying to lead him up the garden path, if only for a while.

‘Your mother will be expecting me back,’ she said with what she hoped was just the right amount of hesitation.

Lee shook his head. ‘I spoke to her after you left and told her we’d be lunching together. She said not to bother going back afterwards. She’d prefer a fresh start in the morning.’ He was moving as he spoke, crossing to a side table holding bottles and glasses. ‘About that drink?’

Any vacillation she might have felt was swept aside by the sheer gall of the man. No matter what it took, she was going to give him his comeuppance, Kerry vowed savagely. Just see if she didn’t!

‘I’ll have a mineral water, if you have it,’ she said, and was gratified to hear how level her voice sounded.

‘Ice and lemon?’

‘Please.’ Seated in one of the comfortable chairs, she watched him as he poured the drink, her eyes following the tapering line from shoulder to lean hip and assessing the muscular length of leg beneath the fine wool. Whatever his deficiencies in character, he was a perfect specimen physically, she was bound to admit. Fit as a lop, as her mother would say—although exactly what a lop was heaven only knew!

She lifted her gaze no further than the knot of his tie when she took the glass from him, trying to ignore the sudden tingle as his fingers brushed hers. ‘Thanks.’

He was drinking the same thing himself, she noted in some surprise as he took a seat himself and lifted the glass to his lips—at least, that’s what it looked like.

‘I never drink alcohol when I’m driving,’ he advised, correctly reading her thoughts.

‘That’s very responsible of you,’ she murmured.

‘A close friend was killed by a drunken driver only last year. I don’t intend adding to the statistics.’ There was no element of self-commendation in the statement. ‘I gather the biography isn’t coming along so well?’

‘Just a temporary thing,’ she answered, hoping she was right. ‘I imagine most writers have their off-days.’

‘You don’t see her simply running out of steam?’

‘Not unless she’s in the habit of starting things she doesn’t finish.’

‘Normally no, but, then, she’s never tackled anything like this before. How long are you supposed to be giving her?’

‘It’s an open contract. As long as it takes, I suppose.’ Kerry directed him a contemplative glance, temporarily sidetracked. ‘Do you object to the idea?’

The shrug was brief. ‘Why should I object? It’s her life, not mine.’

‘But I imagine you’ll come into it at some point.’

‘Only on the periphery. The theatre was always the most important thing in her life. Until she met Richard, that is. And, before you ask, I don’t have any hang-ups about that either. He was a good man.’

Kerry said levelly, ‘She sacrificed an awful lot for him.’

‘More than many women would be prepared to do, I agree.’

‘More than most men would be prepared to do, for certain!’ she flashed, forgetting the role she was supposed to be playing.

Lee gave her a quizzical look. ‘You seem to have a down on men in general.’

‘Not all,’ she denied. ‘By the law of averages, there have to be some good apples in the barrel.’

His lips slanted. ‘Cynicism at such a tender age!’

‘I’m twenty-four,’ she felt moved to retort. ‘Not that tender.’

‘There’s more to it than years. Judging from the way you’ve reacted to me up to now, I’d say you’d been let down rather badly in the not too distant past and tend to regard all men with a jaundiced eye.’

‘Only those with the background to merit it,’ she returned shortly.

He gave a mock sigh. ‘And there I was thinking we were starting to make some progress at last!’ He studied her for a moment, the smile still lingering about his lips. ‘You’re a very beautiful young woman, Kerry. Whoever it was who did let you down must have been mad. I’d say you could have just about any man you wanted.’

‘Including you?’ she asked with irony, and he laughed.

‘I wouldn’t say no.’

‘With your track record, I doubt if you ever did!’

‘My track record, as you put it, is a long way from what it’s made out to be. I’d be clapped out by now if I’d had even half the women I’m supposed to have had.’

If she really did intend to play this game through she had to get back on track herself, Kerry reflected. ‘You don’t exactly go in for long-term relationships, though, do you?’ she said, lightening her tone.

‘Depends what you mean by long-term. One lasted several months.’

‘She must have been something really special!’

‘Very,’ he agreed on a dry note.

‘But still no staying power.’

He shrugged briefly. ‘She started hearing wedding bells. I didn’t.’

There was every chance that it was Sarah he was referring to, Kerry thought. Trust him to try making out it was all in her mind! Fired afresh, she concentrated on maintaining the banter. ‘You intend staying a bachelor all your life?’

‘Only until I meet a woman I can’t live without.’

‘Does such a being exist, I wonder?’

‘I live in hope.’ He was obviously amused. ‘Whatever happens, I dare say I’ll get by.’

‘I’m sure of it,’ she retorted tartly, losing sight of the object again for a moment. ‘Money talks!’

She regretted the comment immediately, flushing a little as she met the grey glance. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘That was out of order.’

He regarded her for a moment, his expression difficult to decipher. ‘But not without some truth, all the same.’

There was a small silence, not—for Kerry at least—a comfortable one. When Lee spoke again it was on a dispassionate note. ‘Talking of money, you could probably be making a great deal more yourself the way you look.’

‘I’ve no interest in a career that relies on looks,’ Kerry responded. ‘I have a brain, too.’

‘I wouldn’t dispute it. But models aren’t necessarily brainless bimbos either. The one or two I’ve been acquainted with were certainly astute enough.’

Sarah among them, she reflected—for what good it had done her!

‘Obviously not enough to keep you interested,’ she said.

‘That’s true. Maybe they were too predictable.’ He glanced at the slim gold watch encircling his wrist ‘It’s time we made tracks.’

Kerry’s eyes were drawn to the well-shaped hand with its long, clever fingers. A good hand altogether—skin lightly tanned, nails smoothly trimmed. She felt a sudden fluttering deep down at the thought of those same hands touching her.

When he made love to a woman it would be with expertise, there was no doubt, but if what he had said a few moments ago was to be believed he had never experienced emotional commitment. Neither had she, if it came to that—regardless of what he thought—but they were far from being soulmates.

One thing was certain, she told herself determinedly, refusing to allow her physical responses to deter her from her aim, it was high time he discovered what failure meant!

CHAPTER THREE

THEY lunched at Claridge’s. Not, Kerry believed, with any intent on Lee’s part to impress her, but because it happened to be one of his normal lunchtime haunts. One of the perks that would no doubt be on offer if she carried this thing through, she supposed. Not that she considered it an incentive in any way.

Her host drew recognition from others in the restaurant, not least from one man seated at a nearby table who kept eyeing the pair of them throughout the meal.

‘Kenneth Loxley,’ Lee told her when she finally asked who the man was. ‘He writes a gossip column for one of the tabloids. You’ll probably figure in it tomorrow as my mystery woman.’

‘Then perhaps you’d better explain who I really am,’ she advised, trying not to sound too sharp about it.

‘If he believed it he’d still make something of it.’ Lee gave a brief shrug. ‘It was probably a mistake to bring you here. I’m so inured to it all it never occurred to me to consider your side of things.’

‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘that the women you’d normally bring here wouldn’t be averse to a little publicity.’

He smiled faintly. ‘You could say that. Would you like to leave?’

Kerry looked back at him with veiled green eyes, fighting the urge to say, yes, she would. ‘It’s a bit too late, isn’t it? In any case,’ she added with deliberation, ‘I’m not passing up the sweet trolley. It isn’t often I get to choose from an array like that!’

‘It isn’t often I get to lunch a healthy appetite,’ he rejoined. ‘It makes a refreshing change.’ He studied her speculatively. ‘Speaking of change, the aggression seems to have lessened—some of the time, at any rate.’

Patchy performance, Kerry warned herself. She would need to do better if she was to be convincing. If the truth were known, she was beginning to relish the game—one from which she intended to emerge carrying that dark head on a platter!

‘I’ve decided,’ she said smoothly, ‘to take your advice and form my own opinion.’

‘Well, good for you. The first woman I’ve met capable of taking advice!’

Light though it was, the taunt made her bristle inwardly but she controlled it, summoning a smile of her own. ‘Maybe you just don’t meet the right types.’

Lee laughed, drawing another conjecturing glance from the other table. ‘Maybe you’re right. So we start over from scratch, do we?’

‘If you like.’

The grey eyes took on new depths. ‘Yes, I do like—although I’ll miss our spats.’

‘What makes you think there won’t be any more?’ she asked blandly. ‘I might form the same opinion I had to start with.’

‘I’ll have to make sure you don’t’

The arrival of the dessert trolley was a timely interruption, from Kerry’s point of view at least. Playing this kind of game with a man of Lee Hartford’s ilk might be a dangerous pastime, but it certainly gave life a little spice, she acknowledged, plumping for the succulent black forest gateau. She hadn’t felt as alive in ages!

With no job to go back to, and animosity put on a back burner for now, she was in no particular hurry for the meal to be over. Nor, apparently, was Lee himself, although she had heard his secretary remind him of a four o’clock appointment when they were leaving.

It was gone two already, she noted, catching a glimpse of his watch as he drained the last of his Perrier. The time had gone faster than she would have credited. In many respects he had proved himself an entertaining and stimulating companion. Too bad he was such a louse otherwise, she thought a little wistfully, viewing the firm features.

He looked up suddenly, catching her at it. Kerry felt the warmth under her skin, and knew from the quizzical lift of his eyebrow that her colour had risen. ‘A cat may look at a king,’ she parried, forcing a flippant note.

‘Smart creatures, cats,’ he observed. ‘Would you like coffee?’

She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. You must be wanting to get back to the office.’

‘There’s nothing immediately pressing,’ he returned. ‘I’ll drive you home first.’

Green eyes revealed swift dissension. ‘That really isn’t necessary. I can take the tube.’

‘Why do that when I have the car round the corner? Battersea, isn’t it?’

‘How did you know?’ she asked in surprise.

‘I rang Helen Carrington at Profiles that first day and asked for details. One can’t be too careful when it comes to taking strangers into one’s home.’ Her expression brought a quirk to the corners of his mouth. ‘Not my only motivation, I have to admit.’

Kerry kept her tone steady. ‘What else did Helen tell you?’

‘That you were one of Profile’s most reliable people: intelligent, industrious and thoroughly trustworthy.’

‘I never realised I was such a paragon,’ she said drily. ‘Maybe I should ask for more money.’

‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’ Lee took the pen held out by the waiter, who had just arrived with the bill, signed without bothering to check it, exchanged a few friendly words with the man then got to his feet to come round and take Kerry’s wrap from the back of her chair, slipping it about her shoulders as she rose.

‘No arguments,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m driving you home.’

Playing up to his masculine assertion was all part and parcel of the plan, Kerry reminded herself, swallowing a tart response. It had to be better than the tube, anyway. She summoned a bland note. ‘You’re the boss!’

His laugh was low, his breath stirring her hair and his hands lingering where they touched. ‘Is that a fact?’

As he had said, his car was just around the corner. Only people with the luck of the devil could come up with a handy parking space in this area, thought Kerry, sliding into the soft leather passenger seat. They were out of time, too, she noted from the meter, but he didn’t even have a ticket.

‘I’m not always so fortunate,’ Lee acknowledged when she mentioned the matter. ‘I’ve been clamped on more than one occasion.’

‘Then why not use taxis?’ she queried.

The shrug was good-humoured. ‘I hate being driven.’

‘Better that, surely, than having to pay exorbitant sums to the clamping company—to say nothing of the waiting around?’

‘I’m sure you’re right.’

‘But you’ll still continue taking the risk.’ It was a statement this time, not a question, her tone expressing her opinion.

He gave her a sideways glance as he started the engine, his eyes taunting. ‘What’s life without a little risk?’

Safe, it was on the tip of her tongue to answer, except that it sounded so dull, so unimaginative. She was taking a risk herself in leading him on the way she planned, if it came to that. Who was to say how he might react to the kind of put-down she had in mind for him?

She was jumping the gun a little, she reflected at that point. One luncheon hardly established an ongoing interest. She stole a glance at his clean-edged profile, registering the sensuality in the fuller line of his lower lip and the strength of purpose in the jut of his jaw. Crisply styled, his hair was layered thickly into his nape, arousing in her a sudden urge to reach out and touch.

She was going to need constant reminders of the reason she was doing this, came the wry acknowledgement. His physical attraction was too obtrusive to be set wholly aside.

With the sun shining and the sky blue, Battersea looked more prepossessing than usual. Lee went straight to the right street without asking directions, suggesting that he’d probably looked it up on the map after discovering her address.

‘Thanks for the lunch, and for the ride,’ Kerry proffered as he drew up. ‘I expected neither.’

‘A small return for services rendered.’ There was a brief pause before he added lightly, ‘I wouldn’t say no to a coffee to round things off.’

Kerry hesitated, torn between two fires. Common courtesy made a flat refusal difficult, but she was reluctant to be alone with him right now.

‘Just coffee,’ he added on an ironic note, watching her face. ‘I never jump on a woman who doesn’t want to be jumped on.’

‘In that case,’ she heard herself saying without having come to a conscious decision, ‘by all means come up for coffee.’

Redecorated earlier in the year by Jane and herself in pastel colours, and with their own personal choice of fabrics at the windows and objets d’art around the place, the first-floor flat looked ten times better than when she had lived there with Sarah, but it still bore little comparison with what Lee was accustomed to.

The majority of the furniture came with the place. Apart from adding a scattering of colourful cushions and a throw-over cover to the sofa, there was no disguising the general mediocrity.

Whatever Lee might think of it, he gave no indication. He seemed to fill the small living room with his presence.

‘Have a seat while I make the coffee,’ Kerry invited, dropping her wrap on a chair along with her bag. ‘It will have to be instant, I’m afraid. We’re right out of ground.’

‘Instant’s fine,’ he said easily.

Instead of sitting down and waiting, he followed her to the tiny kitchen, lounging in the doorway while she put on the kettle and set out a tray.

She could see him on the periphery of her vision, his hands thrust into trouser pockets—pulling the material taut across his thighs in a way that tensed every nerve in her body.

Her hand caught against the rim of the jar as she spooned coffee, scattering some of the contents over the work surface and drawing an automatic exclamation of annoyance at her own clumsiness. It didn’t help to see Lee’s grin when she glanced round.

‘Don’t mind me,’ he said. ‘I’d have probably come out with something a whole lot stronger in similar circumstances.’

Kerry took care to keep her tone easy. ‘Except that you’re unlikely to find yourself in similar circumstances, of course.’

‘Oh, I’m not beyond making myself a cup of coffee. I even cook a meal on occasion.’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘When would you need to?’

‘Mrs Ralston has all day Sunday off. Since Mother came to stay I’ve sometimes cooked for us both. She’s far from being the domesticated type.’ The last without rancour. ‘Men make the best chefs, anyway.’

Kerry took that statement no more seriously than she was sure it was meant to be taken. ‘Of course they do!’

Lee quirked an eyebrow. ‘It makes a change to have you humouring me.’

‘Just so long as you don’t expect it all the time,’ she came back lightly.

‘I wouldn’t be so presumptuous.’ He paused, viewing her reflectively. ‘Have we said a final goodbye to the antagonism?’

Green eyes met grey, riveted by the sheer mesmeric quality of his gaze. Kerry felt her pulse quicken, her heart start thudding against her ribcage.

‘It depends on whether or not you arouse it again,’ she murmured.

‘I’ve still to work out just what it was that aroused it originally.’ He held up a hand as she made to speak. ‘Don’t give me that “what you’ve read and heard” story. You’re too intelligent to take gossip column reports on trust.’

‘Perhaps you’re giving me too much credit,’ she said.

‘Or perhaps it’s because I remind you of someone else?’ he suggested.

Kerry reached for the boiling kettle, concentrating on pouring the water without slopping it over the rim of the cups. ‘Like the man who supposedly let me down, for instance?’

‘It might explain your attitude.’

She could explain her attitude by bringing in a single name, but that would finish the game too soon, she told herself.

‘If I’ve reacted differently today it’s because you’ve been different, too,’ she prevaricated, leaving him to draw his own conclusions.

‘In what way?’

‘Less arrogant, for one thing.’

‘Arrogant?’ The intonation was humorous. ‘Is that how I come across?’

‘Normally, yes. You’re too used to dishing out the orders.’

‘If you’re referring to that taxi business I was simply being solicitous.’

‘For my own good, you mean?’

‘Something like that. You are going to take advantage of the arrangement, I hope?’

‘I’d be a fool not to.’ She softened her voice with deliberation to add, ‘And I’m sorry for being such a boor about it.’

‘Apology accepted.’ He moved to take the tray from her as she lifted it. ‘I’ll carry this through. You just bring yourself.’

As she followed him Kerry found herself assessing the breadth of his shoulders again, visualising the rippling muscularity. No woman with normal reflexes could fail to be stirred by his sheer physical attraction, she acknowledged, but that was as far as it went. What he lacked, along with so much more, was integrity—in his personal affairs, at any rate. Business-wise, he appeared to be above board. At least, nothing untoward had ever been publicised.

It would look a little too pointed if she moved her wrap and handbag from the nearby chair in order to avoid joining him on the sofa, she decided on reaching the sitting room, although she wasn’t entirely convinced by his earlier declaration.

‘You have a good memory,’ Lee commented as he took his cup of the black, sugarless liquid.

‘Easy when you like it the same way I do,’ she claimed without haste. ‘Mrs Ralston’s tastes better, of course. I shouldn’t imagine she’d give house room to anything but the genuine article.’

‘She might not. I certainly do. I’m all for the easy option.’

‘I doubt that.’

Head back against the cushion and feet comfortably crossed, he gave her a deceptively lazy look. ‘You don’t really know me.’

‘I don’t know you at all,’ she returned. ‘Only, as you keep telling me, what others say about you.’ She infused a tinge of regret into both voice and expression. ‘Perhaps it’s not all that fair to judge anyone on that basis alone, I admit.’

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