Reluctant Mistress

Natalie Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER ONE

ROBERT BUCHANAN was everything she had expected him to be. Cool, aloof and as arrogant as the media proclaimed.

Liza observed him through the glass panel of her office, her green eyes calculating every move he made as he toured the editorial offices with John Standish, the editor of Leisure Days magazine.

Standish was sweating. Buchanan the cause. With a deep sigh Liza turned away from the sickening scene of the staff flapping and trying to court favour with the new owner, the all-powerful Buchanan, whose reputation for pulping magazines like theirs into sawdust went before him like a flagship of destruction.

They were all scared, including Liza. As advertising director she knew she had nothing to fear as far as her work was concerned, but she had reluctantly to admit that lately it had become more and more difficult persuading advertisers to take space in the magazine. She had succeeded because she was skilled at her job, but how long would it last with Standish taking such an outdated stand on the editorial side? And what were Robert Buchanan’s plans for their future? He was fast becoming Europe’s top publisher, scooping up ailing periodicals and mutating them till they became clones. All the same, just in a different language.

‘Whose head will be the first to roll?’ Liza’s assistant Julia muttered ruefully from her desk.

Unconciously rubbing her neck, Liza stared bleakly out of the window. ‘Whose indeed?’ was all she could offer in consolation.

‘Do you believe all they say about him in the papers?’ Julia asked, her bright eyes looking decidedly interested.

Liza turned to her and smiled, knowing the tangent her man-mad assistant’s mind was veering off at. ‘Well, there’s no smoke without fire, Julia,’ she teased. ‘Flash your eyes at him the way you do at most men and you just might save your job.’

With a snort Julia tapped away at her computer. ‘Would that it were that easy. It’s always redheads with him, isn’t it? Perhaps I should whisk to the hairdresser’s lunchtime and swap my mouse-brown mop for Titian gold like yours.’

‘Are you implying mine comes from a bottle?’

‘Of course not!’ Julia laughed. ‘But seriously, he’s always being photographed with some gorgeous redhead. You’d better watch out, Liza...’ She stopped in mid-sentence as the door opened and the Buchanan entourage stepped into Liza’s office.

Julia stumbled to her feet, flushed, and pulled at her sweater nervously. Liza stood where she was, coldly unemotional, her hair brightened to flame by the light from the window behind her. If she had consciously stage-managed her impact on Robert Buchanan she couldn’t have done it more successfully. His dark penetrating eyes devoured her from head to toe, and came to rest on the aureole of marmalade frizz that cascaded around her shoulders.

It was easy to give Robert Buchanan a wide smile of welcome, easy to lift her hand and hold it out to him as John stammered out his introductions. Handsome he might be, powerful in publishing he undoubtedly was, but he wasn’t a gift from the gods as most women thought. He was a man like any other: ruthless, cold, a taker, just like another she knew.

He even resembled her former lover. He had the same jet hair as Graham, the same tall muscular build. They shared the same characteristics too, if all the papers said about the publishing giant was true: cold, calculating and a heartbreaker where women were concerned. But, whereas Robert Buchanan had maintained his bachelor existence, Graham had fallen prey—to her own sister of all people. They’d been married a year now, a year in which the pain of betrayal was still edged with a sharpness that cut into Liza’s very soul at the thought of the two of them, cosily cocooned in their Welsh cottage. Yvonne happily baking and housekeeping while Graham’s literary prowess prospered as it never had all the two years they had been lovers.

‘So, you are Liza Kay, without whose advertising sales skill this dreary magazine would have bitten the dust months ago.’

His brutal words, so softly, yet deeply, delivered with the faintest of a Scots burr, stunned everyone in the room. There was a long silence, followed by the uneasy shuffling of feet. Poor John looked waxy and gaunt. Liza held her smile with all the loyalty to John she could muster.

‘If that was a compliment, Mr Buchanan, I relinquish it on the grounds of bad taste.’ She withdrew her hand from his, yet maintained her sweet smile.

He raised a dark brow, that was all, turned from her, and left the office, his minions following, flustered and apologetic.

To Liza’s surprise she experienced a tremor through her body, a peculiar frisson she couldn’t explain away. Slumping down on to her chair, she murmured, ‘That was dumb, really dumb!’

‘You can say that again!’ Julia breathed with a mixture of admiration and awe. ‘You’ll be the first to go.’

Composed now, Liza scooped her hair back from her face. ‘First or last—makes no difference; we’re all for the slush pile if Buchanan runs true to form.’

‘Don’t you care?’ Julia quizzed anxiously.

‘Of course I care,’ Liza admitted on a sigh. ‘I’ve got as big outgoings as the next person.’

‘So why insult him in front of everyone like that? You’ve got to be out of your mind!’

How very right, Liza mused, very regretful now. She had been stupid, incredibly so. If she lost her position, which she undoubtedly would now, what then? Her mortgage was high, taken out when times with Graham had been good and she had hoped he would ask her to marry him. The terraced town house would have been perfect for the two of them. Close to town on the south side of the Embankment, in an up and coming area of Battersea, it was within easy striking distance of the West End. Theatres, restaurants, art exhibitions—everything she had wanted to share with Graham had been at hand, and yet he had chosen to end their relationship for her countrified sister and that hideous cottage in the hills!

That was the root of her insult to Robert Buchanan, she realised with a plop of her heart. She was getting back at Graham, through any man that crossed her path. Buchanan had been the target for the day. Pity she hadn’t challenged her insult in the direction of someone less influential. For a twenty-eight-year-old advertising director she was pretty dumb!

‘I’m sorry,’ Liza moaned later when Julia had skipped off to lunch and John Standish sloped into her office. His colour had returned, an infusion brought on by the exit of Robert Buchanan and his henchmen. He slumped in Julia’s seat, and rubbed his fevered brow.

‘Thanks for your loyalty, but you did yourself no favours, Liza. He stormed out of here like an enraged bull.’

‘What’s going to happen?’

‘He didn’t say; ranted on about dropping sales and restructuring the whole set-up, and we both know what that means. New editor for starters.’

Liza opened her mouth to protest but snapped it shut when John raised his hand. ‘Don’t say anything, Liza. I’ve brought it on myself. Not moved with the times, have I? He was right, you know. If it weren’t for you and your persuasive ways with the advertisers we would have sunk into oblivion a long while back.’ He stood up, stretched his long limbs lazily. ‘Can I buy you a liquid lunch to drown our sorrows?’

Liza shook her head. ‘I’ve some calls to make. Robert Buchanan hasn’t folded us yet. Life goes on.’ She reached for the phone, pausing to watch John leave her office. Those liquid lunches didn’t help him one bit. Half the afternoon he was in a hazy stupor. His secretary and a variety of assistants had carried him for months now. It was no wonder the magazine was slipping.

Impatiently Liza slammed down the phone. The calls would have to wait: she needed air. Slipping a ginger suede jacket over her dark green suit, she headed for the lift. A brisk walk down Berwick Street Market would clear her head.

February greyness greeted her as she emerged out into Beak Street, but it hadn’t put off the tourists in Carnaby Street. They swarmed like excited bees, shrieking with laughter at some of the absurdities for sale. Liza crossed the road, headed in the opposite direction, and was nearly winded as a car door jerked open in front of her. She was about to slam it shut with a suitable expletive when she recognised the back-seat occupant.

‘Get in!’ Robert Buchanan ordered flintily.

‘I’m sorry, I have a lunch appointment,’ she lied.

‘Yes, with me. Get in before I haul you in, and don’t bother making a scene; in Soho it’s not unusual for women to be picked up in a limousine.’

Flushing furiously, Liza slid in beside him and slammed the door viciously as a protest.

‘Thanks for the comparison,’ she fired sarcastically. ‘You’re obviously an experienced kerb crawler!’

‘Does nothing but hell-fire and fury ever emerge from that pretty little mouth of yours?’ he drawled as the chauffeur pioneered the huge black limousine through seething masses of lunchtimers in the narrow backstreets of Soho.

‘When there’s reason to I can charm the birds from the trees,’ she told him sweetly, her eyes straight ahead.

‘I bet you can,’ he murmured, and Liza suspected he might be smiling.

‘So what is the purpose of this pick-up?’ she asked stiffly, sure she was going to be the first sacking from Leisure Days magazine.

‘Lunch for one thing, business for another. Creda Court, Battersea, Carl,’ he directed at the chauffeur.

Swivelling to face him, Liza gasped. ‘Creda Court! But that’s where I live!’

He looked at her, dark eyes flecked with shards of silver. ‘I know. I thought a homely lunch and a chat out of the public eye a good idea; don’t you?’

‘I don’t!’ she rasped.

‘So you’d rather we conducted our business in a restaurant with the Press breathing down our necks and you making the gossip columns tomorrow morning?’

Green eyes wide with shock, Liza gaped at him. ‘Business? Gossip columns? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’

She gazed blindly out of the window. Of course she knew what he meant about the Press. Every movement he made was recorded and publicised, but then he asked for it all. He did nothing by halves. Take-overs, mergers, women; they were all the same to him—a challenge! The tabloids loved all that macho action-man stuff—it sold papers. And of course he was good-looking, achingly so.

‘I don’t think my husband would approve of my picking up strange men and bringing them home for lunch,’ she offered when he didn’t enlarge on her comments.

‘A husband, eh? When was the wedding—this morning in your coffee break?’

‘What?’

‘At the close of business last night you were very much a single lady. Life moves at a great pace in London, I know, but I’d say an overnight courtship is a bit racy, even for me.’

‘You...you know I’m single?’ Liza stammered uneasily, a coil of apprehension winding inside her.

‘I know everything about you, Liza Kay. Twenty-eight years old. Ten years in publishing, seven of those on the advertising side. Born and educated in Hampstead. Parents still live there. One younger sister, married to the writer Graham Bond with whom you had a two-year relationship—’

‘How dare you?’ Liza exclaimed angrily, her fiery blood rushing to the boil. ‘How dare you pry into my private life? Where did you get all this information and, more importantly, why?’ Her heart hammered at her ribcage. What on earth was going on here?

‘I don’t employ trouble. I have a detailed profile on all my key staff.’

‘I’m not your key staff!’ she retorted. ‘You haven’t officially taken over yet. I still work for—’

‘As from four o’clock this afternoon, Leisure Days doesn’t exist. As from nine o’clock tomorrow morning you work for Magnum Enterprises; in other words, me.’

Stunned, Liza stared at him, her words of protest jamming painfully in her throat. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t work for him!

‘This should take about an hour, Carl,’ Robert Buchanan leaned forward to tell his chauffeur as they pulled up in the cobbled courtyard where a cluster of small architect-designed three-storey town houses were grouped.

‘Do you want me to wait, sir?’

‘No, Carl, take yourself off for some lunch, but be back by three—I’ve an appointment at three fifteen in Westminster.’

Somehow Liza’s long legs carried her to her front door. She fumbled with the mortice lock, so sharply aware of him standing slightly behind her that her fingers felt stiff and clumsy. She heard the limousine reversing out of the courtyard, then her heartbeat racing inside her. This was ridiculous! Panic was rising unnecessarily. He’d offered her a job, wanted to talk about it over lunch in her home, and she understood why; nevertheless...

‘A nice home you have,’ he commented as she led him upstairs to the first-floor sitting-room. She took off her jacket and watched him warily as he stepped towards the window. ‘A river view; very pleasant.’

‘It’s...it’s even better from the bedrooms upstairs.’

She could have bitten her tongue out for that. Heat scorched her neck as lazily he turned to her and, with a sardonic smile creasing across his jawline, he said, ‘Thanks for the offer but I came here to talk business, not to make love to you.’

‘I...I didn’t mean that!’ she blurted self-consciously. Oh, he was quick, too sharp and suggestive by far.

‘Didn’t you?’ He slid out of his suit jacket, flung it carelessly across her chintz Laura Ashley sofa. ‘You wouldn’t be the first woman to offer me her body within fifteen minutes of our relationship.’

Steeling herself, Liza decided there was only one way to deal with this man—bluntly!

‘Takes that long, does it?’ she iced. ‘Don’t bother to make yourself comfortable,’ she blazed as he was about to lower himself on to the sofa. ‘Pick up your jacket and march, Mr Robert Buchanan; we have nothing to say to each other, business or otherwise.’

He straightened up, a suggestion of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘You can afford to be that choosy, can you?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You’re turning my business proposition down without hearing it?’

‘All I’ve heard from you so far is filthy innuendoes about your carnal mating prowess!’

With a smirk he shook his left hand as if he’d been stung. ‘Quite a bite you have,’ he observed, ‘and all I deserve. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.’

‘It would take more than the likes of you to upset me,’ she replied haughtily. ‘Like you, I get propositioned every day of my life. I can handle it; you obviously have a problem. I mean it: I’m not interested in anything you have to put to me. Shall I call you a taxi?’

She moved to the phone on the coffee-table as he lowered himself down to the sofa and settled himself back, the movement stretching his grey waistcoat across his broad chest. He was a powerfully built man and Liza was acutely aware of his physique. It disturbed her, and that was a stupid realisation.

‘I’m not going anywhere, Liza,’ he said smoothly. ‘I’ve apologised once; I’m not in the habit of repeating myself. I want you, not your body, though the thought is very delectable. I’m not a fool; I don’t mess with my employees. I want you to work for me and I don’t take you for a fool either. To refuse me would be very unwise indeed.’

‘That sounds remarkably like a threat to me.’

He looked up at her, jet eyes narrowed warningly. ‘It is. You’d be wise to heed it.’

He lunged forward as defiantly Liza reached for the phone. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, not forcibly but firmly enough to convince her he meant business. She let go of the handset reluctantly.

‘Good girl,’ he patronised. ‘Now, what about some lunch?’

Wrenching her wrist away from him, she glowered at him darkly. ‘Last night’s lasagne reheated in the microwave. It’s all I have,’ she clipped, knowing it was the only way to get rid of him. Feed him, listen to what he had to say and then, at three on the dot, slam the door after him. Thank you and goodbye, Robert Buchanan!

‘The more I see of this house, the more I like it,’ he said, following her into the small yet functional kitchen divided off from the sitting-room by a wide archway.

Liza slammed the microwave door shut on the lasagne and punched out five minutes on the digital timer. She refused to say a word. Her mouth had led her into enough trouble already.

‘The mortgage on such a desirable residence in London must be quite a millstone for a single lady.’

She swung on him then, her flame hair flying wispily around her face. Impatiently she tucked it behind her ears. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Are you implying I might supplement my income on the streets...?’ Her voice cracked in protest at herself. He hadn’t implied anything of the sort! ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, turning away to put on the kettle. ‘I seem to be going slowly mad.’

‘I disagree. You’re heading for the funny farm very rapidly.’

Liza reluctantly smiled then, turning her wide green eyes to him leaning nonchalantly in the archway. ‘You could be right,’ she sighed, ‘but it’s not every day you lose your career.’

‘Your career is just about to begin,’ he told her blandly.

‘You’re going to make me an offer I can’t refuse, are you?’

‘I’d say you’re not in a position to turn any offer away. Even a month out of work these days will play havoc with your bank account.’

‘Very true,’ she conceded, reaching for plates from the cupboard above her head. ‘But you’re not the only publisher in town. I’ve enough contacts in the business to get myself another position tomorrow.’

‘Not when word gets round that Leisure Days folded because of mismanagement.’

‘On the editorial side, not mine. I know my worth, Mr Buchanan.’ She frowned suddenly. ‘So why did you buy it?’ she asked.

‘It wasn’t all bad. It has potential and it went for a song. I’ll merge it with several others...’

‘Clone it, don’t you mean?’ she retorted.

‘Call it what you will, but in six months it will be the best monthly of its kind on the news-stands, here and across the continent,’ he told her confidently.

‘I’m not sure I want to work in that sort of stable. I like a small independent concern with a bit of character,’ she told him resolutely.

The microwave pinged out its five-second warning as Robert Buchanan stated quietly, ‘I’m not offering you the job.’

‘Oh!’ Her quizzical eyes settled on his. ‘What exactly are you offering?’

‘Overall advertising directorship. Thirty-five European magazines with offices in Amsterdam, Paris, Madrid...’

He reeled off several more capital cities, but Liza’s head buzzed his words into a blur. The lasagne nearly hit the quarry-tiled kitchen floor. With shaking fingers she lowered the dish to the work-surface.

‘You’ve got to be joking!’ she breathed incredulously.

‘I don’t make jokes about business. Do you want the job or not? I can name a hundred others who would rip their hearts out for such an offer.’ He stepped forward and picked up the plates and cutlery Liza had laid out ready, and turned and took them into the dining section of the sitting-room.

Liza stood where she was, stupefied into senselessness by the thought of such a job. He couldn’t be serious! This was some sort of weird hallucination. She plunged her index finger into the centre of the lasagne and winced at the pain of the burn. Yes, she was awake and this wasn’t some crazy dream. She lifted the dish and carried it into the other room, went back into the kitchen, and made a pot of tea, hardly aware of what she was doing.

‘This is delicious!’ he enthused as he forked a mouthful. ‘You’re a good cook.’

‘I’m not,’ Liza told him, her voice a croaking whisper. ‘There’s an Italian take-away round the corner. ‘I’m not a cook and I can’t take your job...but thank you for the offer.’

The day-old lasagne was like layered cardboard in her mouth. She swallowed hard and poured two mugs of steaming tea.

‘Your hand is shaking. What are you afraid of?’

She raised her eyes to his, tried to force a smile, but her pale coral lips twisted instead. She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you’ve just offered me such a stupendous job; I mean...it’s...it’s too much...’

‘Oh, dear,’ he sighed, laying down his fork. ‘Don’t say for the first time in my life I’ve made a wrong character judgement. You’re not going all female on me, are you?’

‘How do you mean?’ her voice came back strongly.

‘You don’t feel you’re capable of such a position?’

‘No...it’s not that.’ Oh, God, it was! She was good at her job and knew it, but this offer was out of this world. The thought of running such an empire terrified her and yet...the challenge!

Robert Buchanan’s hand reached out and touched hers across the glass-topped table. ‘Liza, I wouldn’t be making this offer if I didn’t think you were right for it.’

‘But you don’t even know me!’ Liza argued, drawing her hand away from his.

‘I don’t know half of my staff but I know about them, just as I know that your qualifications and your flair are right for the job. I’ve done my homework. You have communication talent, a shrewd head on your shoulders. You don’t take any nonsense from anyone—you proved that with your attitude towards me.’

‘I was rude to you,’ she admitted, lowering her head.

‘Not without cause. I made a tactless remark in front of people whose nerves were already on a knife-edge.’

She admired him for admitting to that, but it didn’t change her opinion of him. He was ruthless. By what she had read about him, she knew he would dispense with the majority of the staff she had worked alongside. He wouldn’t tolerate John Standish’s ineptitude; he’d be on the next dole queue without a doubt. And what would become of her if she didn’t jump when he commanded? He’d fire her without a qualm if she didn’t prove her worth. But with a negative attitude like that she wouldn’t go far in this world, she reasoned miserably.

‘I’ll quadruple your present salary.’ He picked up his fork and proceeded to finish his lunch.

Liza watched him, cat-like. Money. Did he think it could be as easy as that?

‘That’s some carrot you’re dangling.’

‘Take it, before I offer it elsewhere,’ he told her coldly.

He obviously thought she was playing hard to get. ‘Why me?’ she challenged. ‘It’s a heavyweight job, more suited to a man, I would have thought.’

‘Most of my magazine staff are women. I like women. Don’t you read the gossip columns?’ He raised a sardonic black brow, questioning her.

‘I read them, but I can hardly believe any man has the libido you are credited with.’

He smiled at that, a white smile that had melted many a foolish heart. Liza was unaffected by it, her iron resolve to stave off all men for life forcing her heart to granite hardness.

‘I enjoy the publicity more than I do the women I’m supposed to have bedded. I’m a confirmed bachelor, you see,’ he told her with a hint of a sparkle to his dark eyes.

‘And I’m a confirmed spinster, so you and I just might get along.’ She presented a sweet smile with that sweeping statement.

‘One of the lesser reasons why I picked you for the job. You have the reputation for having a hard heart, Liza. No emotional involvement, not even an occasional bonding to while away a lonely night. You’re good executive material. Graham Bond did a sterling heart-hardening job on you all right, didn’t he?’

‘You bastard!’ Liza seethed through white lips. She would have got to her feet and slapped his supercilious face if she’d had the strength, but his harshness and cruelty had sapped every gram of fight out of her.

‘I’m not, actually. I have a father, and he is alive and well.’

‘I’m not doubting your parentage,’ she parried. ‘I was using the adjective in its degenerate form, and even then it’s too good for you. How dare you muck-rake my past and fling it in my face so cruelly?’

‘I wasn’t aware I was doing any such thing. The point I’m trying to make is that you’re not some silly flighty female who allows her head to be turned by the male species. You won’t suddenly fly off and start breeding when the broody season comes.’

‘You really are a mega-chauvinist rat, aren’t you?’ Gradually her strength was edging back.

‘I’ve never been called that before but it certainly has a charming ring to it. Maybe you’d be better employed writing copy for some feminist rag, of which I own none, I might add.’ He stood up and pulled his waistcoat down.

‘In other words, you’re retracting the offer I’m determined to refuse,’ she shot back, getting to her feet and crashing the dirty plates together in a pile.

‘On the contrary, the offer still stands. I still want you—on my staff, not in my bed, so quash any notions in that direction.’

‘None exists,’ she slammed back, ‘and let me tell you, you have as much chance of getting into mine as a virulent flea.’

His grin was as wide as the ocean. ‘Good. So long as we both know where we stand we should get on famously. I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty in the morning, show you over your new office suite.’

‘Don’t bother. I won’t be here. I’ll be queuing up at the employment agency with all the other talent that you throw out on the slush pile!’

He picked up his jacket from the sofa, and turned to her with eyes glazed to coal-black hardness. ‘Don’t waste your energy, sweetheart; by the time I come off the phone tonight you’ll be lucky to get a job licking stamps in any publishing mail-house.’

‘Do what you will! But I’d rather stack shelves in a supermarket than work for you!’ She teetered down the stairs after him, ready to slam the front door behind him in a last gesture of defiant independence. He took the wind from her sails by turning at the door and raising his hand to cup her chin.

‘If it’s any consolation I think you had a narrow escape with Bond. He wasn’t man enough for you. And yet look what he’s done to you. It would take a giant of a male ego to soften you into suppliance now and keep you there.’

To her shock and horror his mouth swooped down to hers, claimed her lips and held them with force and yet such deep sensuality that her head reeled. When he’d taken his fill he wiped the moisture from her swollen lips with his thumb.

‘Don’t get any ideas. That’s my first and last show of weakness where you are concerned. I was just curious to know what you tasted like. If you did but know it, that glacial reserve of yours is totally transparent. You might have pulled up the drawbridge on your emotions but they are still there.’ He tilted her chin once again. ‘Soften up, Liza; I wouldn’t like to see my advertising director get hurt again.’

He turned and shut the door softly behind him, and for the first time in a very long time Liza Kay allowed a soft tear to trickle down her burning cheeks.

CHAPTER TWO

THE next morning when Liza awoke she knew she would take the job Robert Buchanan had offered. She’d be a fool not to, and yet she knew deep inside her that it wouldn’t be easy.

Cupping her hands behind her head, she lay in the downy softness of her bed and wondered how Buchanan knew so much about her private life; but was it so surprising when he was practically omniscient?

Later Liza showered, and tied her hair back from her face with a green velvet ribbon that picked out the green in her Paisley-print shirt. She was careful with her make-up as usual. Endowed with a pale creamy skin that went with her flame hair, she was skilled at concealing the mass of freckles that bridged her nose and scattered her cheekbones. Her lashes were pale gold and she stroked them liberally with dark brown mascara to accentuate her startling green eyes. Graham had adored her eyes...

‘To hell with Graham!’ she muttered under her breath, and clipped huge gold orbs to her ears.

She smoothed the narrow tailored skirt of her favourite taupe wool suit, adjusted the shoulders of the jacket, and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked every inch the successful executive, and yet inside she was trembling like a jelly.

‘And damn Robert Buchanan!’ she exhaled as she gathered up her Enny bag.

She was at the front door on the dot of eight-thirty, mildly disconcerted that Carl was the only occupant of the limousine that purred at the kerb-side. So what had she expected? The big white chief to pick her up in person?

‘Where are we going, Carl?’ she asked as she settled into the back seat.

‘Knightsbridge, Miss Kay. The new block Mr Buchanan has just refurbished for Magnum.’ He grinned in the rear-view mirror. ‘Beautiful building, miss, and just a stone’s throw from Harrods. Wonderful shopping in Knightsbridge...’

Liza was glad of his cheery conversation; it kept her mind off other things, namely Robert Buchanan. She still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea to take this job, but if she thought of working for Magnum Enterprises, not the man himself, it helped...a bit.

The building was indeed magnificent. Glass and chrome and cool marble. She was greeted in Reception by a welcoming blonde receptionist, who took her up to the fifth floor of the block and handed her over to a David Cassals. He gripped her hand warmly.

‘Pleased to meet you, Liza,’ he grinned, running his eyes over her in undisguised approval. ‘I’ll show you to your office. Robert will join you later.’

Not wanting to sound gauche, she hid her delight at the pale grey carpeted suite of offices with its profusion of green plants and red and black hi-tech furnishings. It was a dream of a place to work in, with a view over a delightful square; though dreary now in the winter, it promised lush green pleasure for the summer. A world away from her cramped drab office in Soho.

‘Coffee, tea or something stronger?’ David grinned.

‘Coffee would be nice,’ she smiled back.

‘My pleasure.’

He shut the door quietly behind him, and Liza was left alone in an insulated silence. She let out a long breath and lowered herself into a leather wing chair behind a matt black ash-wood desk. Her desk! It was almost too good to be true. Seconds later she jumped as the fax whirred. She leaned back and took the sheet of paper from the machine on the console behind her.

WELCOME

I’LL JOIN YOU FOR COFFEE

Robert

With a smile Liza balled the sheet of paper and tossed it into the waste-bin. Almost immediately the door opened and Robert Buchanan walked in with a tray of coffee and kicked shut the door behind him.

‘So what changed your mind?’ he asked, placing the tray down on the desk.

‘I’m not stupid,’ Liza commented and proceeded to pour the coffee. ‘Stacking shelves won’t pay the mortgage, will it?’

‘No second thoughts?’ He indicated the office suite with a nod of his dark head.

‘Many, but my good sense overruled them. I’m ambitious, and this seems a good place to be ambitious in.’ She handed him a coffee and pushed the sugar and cream towards him.

He perched on her desk and smiled at her. She glanced at his mouth, stemming the recall button on her mind: she didn’t want to bring back that frisson that had shaken her when his mouth had closed over hers the previous day. He’d made it clear it wouldn’t happen again. It was partly the reason she was here. She trusted him not to repeat it ever again.

‘You were very sure I would come,’ she said, and sipped her coffee.

‘Yes, I was. So sure I had your stuff moved from the Leisure Days offices last night.’

‘My stuff?’

He nodded to the desk drawer. Liza opened it. There was her folding mirror, a spare lipstick, a comb—nothing of great importance.

‘You needn’t have bothered.’ She slammed the drawer shut, slightly annoyed at his presumption that she would take this position.

‘I thought it would make you feel at home.’

She looked at him quickly. Such thoughtfulness. Somehow out of character. ‘Thank you, but it wasn’t necessary. I’m not a sentimentalist. One door closes and another opens, if you get my drift.’

‘Ice drift, I’d say,’ he said lazily. ‘Now, what do you want to do about staffing? I’ve already got a team of seven telephone-sales people lined up for you, but is there anyone you want to bring over from Soho? David is the factotum around here, but you’ll need a personal assistant.’

Julia! Liza’s heart twisted guiltily. She hadn’t given her assistant a thought. She hadn’t returned to the office after lunch with Robert Buchanan. There hadn’t seemed much point as the magazine was being folded that very afternoon.

‘What happened to the staff? I didn’t go back yesterday.’

‘I’ve placed a lot of them elsewhere. There were casualties, of course.’

‘John?’

‘A hefty redundancy payment he didn’t deserve.’

‘So you have a heart after all.’

‘The power of the Press,’ he murmured, draining his coffee.

‘Until I make my own judgement, that’s all I have to go on,’ she retaliated coolly. ‘I’d like Julia to carry on working for me, if that’s all right with you. She’s been with me for three years and we work well together.’

‘She has a weakness for the opposite sex, my sources tell me.’

Liza levelled cool green eyes at him. Was there nothing he didn’t know? ‘You have something in common with her, then.’

For only a second his jaw tensed angrily, then he gave a small smile. ‘That’s what I like about you. I could make and break you, but you still plough on, don’t you? Beware, Liza; I can take so much and then I might be tempted to give you what you deserve.’

‘And what might that be?’

‘Push me far enough and you might find out. What you don’t realise is that your puerile little insults could well turn out to be the turn-on of the decade for me. And maybe that’s what you’re working on. I might just take up the challenge you’re throwing out to me.’

Colour flushed her neck and threatened her cheeks. ‘I wasn’t aware I was issuing one.’ Trust him to twist everything she said his way.

‘You’re either remarkably astute or simply naïve. By your past record with men, I’d opt for the latter, but one thing I’ve learned in my thirty-seven years—never underestimate the wiles of women.’

She wasn’t going to let that pass. ‘It works both ways, you know. You tell me you don’t mess with your employees, yet you couldn’t keep your hands off me yesterday afternoon. You kissed me and then calmly told me it was a one-off. It’s you who’s remarkably astute or simply naïve,’ she echoed stiffly. ‘I’ll opt for the former!’

‘On the contrary, I think I’m rather making a fool of myself. Yesterday was a grave error on my part, but understandable. You’re a very beautiful lady and the temptation to seduce you is great. I understand how you feel, too; women fall at my feet like ninepins.’ There was a hint of humour in his eyes.

With a snort of disdain to cover her amusement at his inflated egotism, she told him flatly, ‘There is no doubt that you are a very attractive animal. So is a Rottweiler, but I wouldn’t give it house-room!’

To her surprise, he laughed. ‘You really are the most amazing lady. So where do we go from here?’

She stood up and placed her empty coffee-cup on the tray. ‘You have a choice: fire me or not.’ She was playing with dynamite and knew it. But she had learnt a lot about him in this brief interchange of insults. He was adept at winding her up, but she had the ability to do likewise to him. If he kept her on she’d put her heart and soul into her work; he knew that or he wouldn’t have considered her in the first place. As for the personal side of their relationship, it was going to be non-existent. She could handle him—of that she was sure. And he could handle himself!

‘I wouldn’t dream of firing you,’ he told her, standing up. ‘Not yet, that is.’

‘Another threat?’

‘More or less. And, as you so very rightly said, it works both ways. Neither of us can afford to get emotionally involved with each other. Let’s both be warned off, shall we?’

He extended a hand to her in a gesture of goodwill, and Liza took it. He held on to her long enough to resurrect that frisson of awareness deep inside her. She was first to break the contact.

‘What do you want me to do about Julia?’

‘David can get in touch with her and she can start tomorrow.’

‘Thank you,’ Liza smiled.

‘I’m not doing you a personal favour,’ he assured her, dark brows drawn together seriously. ‘But if you say she’s good at her job I’ll go along with it. Now, to work. I’ll introduce you to your sales team. I’m afraid you’re going to live in my pocket for the next few weeks. Working for Magnum is light years away from Leisure Days....’ He took her arm and guided her out of the calm of her office into the mêlée of a frantic publishing house. And so her first day under Robert Buchanan’s corporate umbrella began.

* * *

Three weeks later Liza stood by her sitting-room window, sipped her first coffee of the day, and realised that she was extremely happy. The job was panning out superbly. Robert had been right: she’d lived in his pocket, scarcely been out of his sight these past weeks. Her admiration for him had grown by the day. He knew his business all right, and his relationship with his staff was faultless. He had a knack of getting the best from everyone, and Magnum Enterprises rolled happily along on well-oiled wheels.

It started to rain again and Liza turned away from the window. As far as she could see there were no clouds on her horizon; even the pain of losing Graham had reduced to a small ache that only occasionally surfaced when she was particularly tired.

‘I hate to ask, but could you bear a working weekend?’ Robert suggested as soon as she arrived in her office that Thursday morning.

She looked at him in surprise. ‘It’s no problem for me, but what for? I thought everything was on schedule.’

‘It is, but next week I want to introduce you to the European staff. We’ll be going to Amsterdam for starters and then on to Paris and Madrid. It will mean at the very least a week out of here, and I want to make sure everything runs smoothly while we’re away.’

Liza’s heart raced at the thought. She was already liaising with the overseas advertising-sales offices and found it so stimulating she couldn’t wait to get out there and meet these people in person.

‘Sounds marvellous.’ She grinned and picked up the unopened mail from her desk.

‘Shouldn’t Julia be dealing with that?’ Robert observed quietly.

‘She’s at the dentist this morning.’

‘Second time this week.’

Liza’s eyes shot up from the envelope she was slitting. ‘So?’

‘Her teeth look perfectly all right to me.’

Liza tensed. ‘What are you implying? That she’s off out shopping somewhere?’

‘Could be.’ He shrugged his wide shoulders. ‘But it’s more than likely she’s indulging herself in bed with Nigel Barnes from your sales team.’

Shocked, Liza let the letters fall to her desk. For some reason she didn’t disbelieve him, knowing how fast Julia worked, but what really shook her was Robert’s being the one to tell her.

‘I think you must be mistaken...’ she started to protest, colour flushing her cheeks. Robert had seen what she had failed to. Her first mistake.

‘I’m not,’ he assured her quietly.

Liza crossed the room and opened the door of her office. Nigel Barnes was conspicuous by his absence. All the sales team but him were at their consoles, busy on the phones.

She shut the door and went back to her desk. ‘I’ll deal with it,’ she clipped tightly, and picked up the pile of letters.

‘I’m sorry,’ Robert said.

She glanced up at him. His face was ill at ease, a muscle pulsing at his throat. ‘Sorry for pointing out what was staring me in the face, what I should have seen for myself?’

How stupid she had been. Julia’s supposed dental appointments had coincided with Nigel’s lateness. On Tuesday she had pulled him up on it, obviously to no effect. And he wasn’t reaching his sales targets either. She had meant to deal with it sooner but pressure of other business had pushed it to the back of her mind.

‘Nigel isn’t reaching his targets...’ Robert started to echo her thoughts.

‘OK!’ Liza suddenly stormed, and as quick as her temper flared it cooled, and she slumped down in her chair. ‘I’m sorry; I’m just furious with myself for not seeing what was going on and dealing with it sooner.’ She looked up at Robert standing so powerfully in front of the desk. He seemed to fill the room with his presence. ‘I’ll have a word with the pair of them.’

‘A word isn’t good enough, Liza; fire them before I do.’ His voice was so deadly serious she felt a ping of dangerous apprehension down her spine.

Her lips tightened defiantly. ‘Since when have you told me what to do with my staff?’

‘Since when did you run Magnum?’ he shot back.

Raking a tremulous hand through her hair, she calmed her stretched nerves. ‘You gave me control over my advertising staff, Robert,’ she reasoned coolly. ‘Now you are trying to override me. Everyone deserves a second chance. You hired Nigel in the first place so you must have thought he had some worth, and I can’t fault Julia—she’s a damned good assistant. I don’t like firing people without just cause.’

‘And you think you haven’t just cause?’ He was angry now and Liza hadn’t intended that. ‘I don’t care what my staff get up to outside of office hours, but when they do it in my time I see red—’

‘You don’t know anything for sure,’ Liza argued.

‘I know that I saw them all but having it off in the rest-room earlier this week—’

‘Do you have to be so damned crude?’ Liza interrupted furiously.

‘Do you have to be so blind?’ he raked back, his eyes glittering jets of fury. ‘Because you’re as cold as ice yourself you can’t recognise sexual attraction in other people, even when it’s flashed in front of your eyes in neon!’

Tears of pain stabbed the corners of her eyes. Shooting to her feet, she turned away from him, clutched her arms tightly around her shoulders and stared painfully out at the rain.

‘That was unforgivable,’ she croaked weakly, and then her whole body tensed alarmingly as he came up behind her and eased her clenched fingers from her shoulders. His own hands smoothed over the warm wool of her black sweater.

‘I agree,’ he murmured, so close she felt the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. She suppressed the shudder his contact spun down her spine. ‘It was unforgivable; nevertheless I apologise.’

Liza nodded her acceptance. ‘If...if you knew what was going on between them,’ she whispered, ‘why didn’t you dismiss them?’

‘Because, as you rightly said, it’s your place to deal with your own staff. I thought you would see it for yourself, but I realise now that I wasn’t being wholly fair on you. A new job, a mountain of other responsibilities—I’ve expected too much of you too soon.’

She was about to protest that she was coping, but her words froze in her throat as the office door opened. Robert’s hands flew from her shoulders as if he’d been stung, and Liza swung round so abruptly she nearly swayed into him.

‘Don’t forget the sales meeting at twelve,’ Robert said curtly as he crossed to the door, where Julia stood blocking his way with a curious expression on her face. She moved aside to let him pass, closed the door after him and turned to Liza.

‘I’m sorry my appointment took longer than expected,’ she said brightly, easing out of her coat. Her tone implied she had seen nothing.

But she had; Liza knew that with a tightening of her stomach muscles. Julia couldn’t have failed to see Robert Buchanan’s hands on his advertising director’s shoulders. Robert was almost all things, but an actor he wasn’t. The curtness of his voice hadn’t shadowed his guilt at all.

With a deep sigh Liza turned back to the mail; now wasn’t the time to dress Julia down for her conduct with Nigel. Julia could easily misinterpret what she had seen. The way her mind worked she wouldn’t see it the way it had been, even if Liza explained that Robert had been simply offering her an apology for his rudeness. And worse, if she did try to talk her way out of it, she would have to explain why she and Robert had argued in the first place.

Liza silently cursed her assistant’s lack of discretion. She had enough to cope with without this!

She did tackle Nigel later, though; called him into her office when Julia wasn’t around.

‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Nigel, but the other sales staff are way ahead of you. You’ve only managed to sell two half-pages this week and that’s not good enough.’

He blushed deeply, flicked his fair hair back from his forehead. ‘Yes, well, I haven’t settled yet. The place I worked before wasn’t so fast—’

‘I’m not concerned with your past,’ she interrupted softly. She understood why Julia was attracted to him. He was good-looking in the young Robert Redford mould and had a soft, persuasive voice that was ideally suited to telephone sales. She’d looked up his CV before tackling him and he had glowing references from his last job; nevertheless...

‘I regret bringing this up, but is your relationship with Julia affecting your work?’

He smiled without looking at her, which slightly annoyed Liza. ‘You don’t miss much, do you?’

If only he knew, Liza thought dismally, that someone else had had to spell it out to her.

‘I don’t want to pry into your private life, but if it overlaps into your working hours and loses money for the company I’ll have to let you go; it’s as simple as that.’ She hoped she didn’t sound too brutal, but Robert had made himself quite clear on how he felt and she certainly wasn’t going to jeopardise her position for Nigel’s sake.

‘So you’re telling me to stop seeing Julia, or else?’ His blue eyes widened appealingly. Liza held them with the cool green of hers. He might have swept Julia off her feet with that look, but she was immune to tricks like that.

‘I said nothing of the sort. I’m not concerned with your love-life but your sales target: you’re not hitting it.’ She took a sheet of paper from a file on her desk. ‘Look, here’s a list of advertisers that might help you. I’ve dealt with them in the past, though you’ll have to do some hard selling—they aren’t easy. See what you can do. I’ll give you another week, and be sensible, Nigel. You’ve been late twice this week and you’re not thinking wisely. This is a top organisation and you have a bright future with us if you knuckle down. Believe me, I don’t want to lose you but I will if I must.’

She left it at that, hoped it would be enough, prayed it wouldn’t come back on her. It did. Immediately after lunch.

‘Nigel tells me you’re not happy about our relationship,’ Julia snapped at Liza as she swept back into the office. ‘That’s rich, coming from you.’

Liza aborted the phone call she was about to make, sat back, and gazed at her assistant. ‘Would you like to enlarge on that?’

‘It’s all right for you to carry on with the boss—’

‘I’m doing nothing of the sort!’ Liza responded quickly, trying to keep her cool.

‘So what I saw this morning was a figment of my imagination? You weren’t in each other’s arms?’ She raised her eyebrows, daring Liza to deny it.

For the first time Liza doubted her judgement in bringing Julia to Magnum. She sensed she was going to give her trouble, take advantage of their past easy relationship.

She explained as best she could, without giving too much of her personal life away, how Robert Buchanan had come to have his hands on her. ‘So in a way it was all your fault,’ Liza finished with a touch of humour to lighten the atmosphere.

To her relief Julia gave her a wide grin and her hazel eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘Just give me a nod and a wink if you need any more help in that direction.’

Liza held her hands up in mock defence. ‘Forget it. I’ve no interest in our esteemed employer other than work-wise, thank you.’

‘Says you,’ laughed Julia, swinging into her own office off Liza’s. She turned at the door. ‘Thanks for sticking up for us, Liza. I was at the dentist, by the way. I’ve a crown to prove it. I can’t account for Nigel’s lateness, but I am seeing him and I promise not to let our affair show in office hours. I like working here and I don’t want to lose my job.’

As Liza picked up the phone she wondered why she should feel so oddly apprehensive. It was the ‘says you’ comment from Julia that had unsettled her. She tapped out a code on the phone. She definitely hadn’t got a personal interest in Robert Buchanan, but how easily that sort of gossip could rear its ugly head!

* * *

‘You look worn out,’ Robert told her, striding into her office after everyone had left at the end of the day.

‘I feel it.’ She stretched wearily like a lazy cat, not at all offended by his comment on her appearance. ‘It’s the take-away again tonight; I haven’t the energy to boil an egg.’

‘Is that a hint for me to offer dinner?’ He smiled and plunged his hands into his trouser pockets.

‘No way,’ she laughed, crossing the room to pick up her jacket. ‘You’ve caused enough trouble today.’

He helped her into her jacket and she let him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he said.

‘Nothing,’ she told him lightly. No point in repeating gossip; it would only cause trouble for Julia, and things had gone smoothly all afternoon. ‘Take a look at this.’ She picked up a sheet of paper from her desk, diverting his attention back to work. ‘I had a word with Nigel earlier on and it worked wonders. He’s got a double-page spread from Citroën, to be repeated in five of our mags.’

Robert raised an impressed brow as he glanced at the paper. ‘Not confirmed, though,’ he murmured.

Liza laughed. ‘Don’t be such a pessimist. I’ve dealt with them before. They won’t pull out.’

‘So it was your idea he approached them?’

‘Partly. I had a word with him about not reaching his targets and gave him a list of people I’d dealt with in the past, to sort of encourage him on. It worked.’ She picked up her handbag. She was pleased Nigel had acted on it, almost immediately too, and was pleased with herself for not taking Robert’s advice to throw him out.

‘You might as well have done the job yourself. What’s the point of keeping a dog and barking yourself?’

She was surprised at the sudden frown creasing his brow. To her astonishment she realised that Mr all-powerful Buchanan was looking pretty whacked-out himself. So he was human after all.

‘I didn’t do the job myself; I offered some guidance, that’s all. That’s what I’m here for, Robert,’ she told him levelly. ‘It’s my job to oversee the advertising-sales operation.’ She wasn’t getting through to him. He still looked doubtful. ‘I gave him a verbal warning about Julia too,’ she added. ‘I’m sure we won’t have any more trouble from either of them again. By the way, she was at the dentist.’

Robert swept his fingers through his jet hair. ‘I would rather have got rid of them. Can’t say I’ve taken to either of them.’

‘You don’t have to like all your staff, do you?’

Robert held the door open for her and they headed for the lifts.

‘I’d like to think it was possible,’ he murmured. ‘But I have an odd feeling about them.’

‘I think you’re over-reacting,’ she told him, but said nothing about her own doubts, partly because she couldn’t quite decipher them herself. Just an unease that was there, but wasn’t in a way. Fatigue shrugged away the thoughts.

‘If you won’t join me for dinner, at least let Carl drop you off home. I’m on my way to Chelsea so it’s no problem.’

Liza was grateful for the offer and accepted it graciously. There was little conversation in the back of the limousine, no need for idle chat. Three weeks together and they had slid into an easy relationship. Liza mused on those thoughts as the car moved sluggishly through rush-hour traffic. She smiled too—Robert had dozed off, and it was nice to think that he wouldn’t have dreamt of doing such a thing in front of any of his other staff. Apart from that small altercation today they were getting on extremely well.

Carl came off the Kings Road and minutes later they pulled up outside a bijou town house in a small square.

‘Mr Buchanan, sir. We’re here.’

Robert stirred, adjusted his navy suit jacket and got out. ‘Thanks Carl; you’re off for the night, aren’t you? Just drop Miss Kay off and that will be all. Goodnight, Liza.’

He turned and sprinted up the front steps of the house, and the door opened wide, spilling warm light out on to the street. A woman greeted Robert Buchanan, a woman in silhouette. She turned, and light flooded her face and hair. She was stunning, and obviously so delighted to see Robert that Liza felt like a voyeur as she watched them embrace each other and then, locked together, turn into the seclusion of the house.

‘That’s Lady Victoria Desprite,’ Carl volunteered as he pulled away from the kerb. ‘Quite something, isn’t she?’

Liza felt as if her body had turned to granite, and yet her brain was functioning, buzzing wildly, uncontrollably. She couldn’t answer Carl, couldn’t comment on the beautiful woman who had such an impact on her heart.

‘Actually, miss, don’t think I’m getting fresh or anything, but you’re not dissimilar, both got that lovely red hair...’

Though Battersea was but a stone’s throw from Chelsea, the drive seemed to take an eternity. Liza wanted the security of her home, needed it badly. She was afraid, terribly afraid of this strange feeling inside her. What was it? Hurt? Jealousy? Perhaps disappointment that he hadn’t insisted on taking her out to dinner? It had been a throw-away invitation, not meant to be taken seriously; after all, that lovely redhead had been expecting him. So what would have happened if she had said ‘Yes, dinner sounds lovely; thank you for asking me—let’s go!’ Would he have cancelled Lady Victoria?

‘God, I’m jealous!’ she cried after slamming her front door after her and slumping back against it breathlessly. ‘I can’t be! It’s bloody impossible!’

Yes, it was impossible, she decided as she soaked in the bath later. Impossible! She was tired, irritable with work today. That business with Nigel and Julia had rattled her. She bit her lip forcibly. She didn’t, she wouldn’t allow her emotions to go one step further. She liked Robert Buchanan, liked working for him. He had a reputation with women and she wasn’t about to appear on his notch-belt of conquests! Suddenly she smiled to herself. Who was she kidding? He wasn’t in the least bit interested in her! Three weeks virtually living in his pocket and not once had he stepped out of line. So what was she worried about? Closing her eyes and sliding down under the foam, she murmured, ‘Nothing, nothing at all.’

CHAPTER THREE

IT SEEMED a cruel coincidence that a gossip columnist ran Robert Buchanan’s relationship with the lovely Lady Victoria as his leader for the next day in Julia’s newspaper.

Julia couldn’t wait to tell Liza. She tossed the paper down on Liza’s desk with a whoop.

‘Brilliant, isn’t he?’ she cried. ‘Don’t you just love all this? Our boss, swanning around with society’s most eligible lady. Look, there’s a picture of them together at Krystals night-club last week. The papers reckon it’s the real thing for them both this time. They’ve both got a hefty track record and...’

Liza pushed the paper aside and studied a sheet of sales figures and tried not to hear any more. Gossip. The newspapers thrived on it. Part of her felt sorry for Robert—hadn’t he told her he was a confirmed bachelor? The rest of her decided it served him right for allowing the Press to hound him so. After all, he’d admitted he enjoyed his publicity. Damn! What did she care anyway?

She changed the subject, and subtly turned Julia’s attention to her work. Julia soon forgot Robert Buchanan’s love-life, and ploughed through a pile of letters Liza dictated to her. Liza, to her profound irritation, found she wasn’t so easily distracted. Throughout the morning she kept bringing back to mind the embrace she had witnessed on the doorstep of that smart house in Chelsea. Fortunately, pressure of work in the afternoon forced all personal thoughts from her head.

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