Table of Contents

Cover Page

Epigraph

Dear Reader

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

Copyright

Dear Reader,

Well, Harlequin Presents® is twenty-five years young, and just as stirringly emotive, provocative and exciting as ever. I’m thrilled to be part of the anniversary celebrations, and so hope you enjoy all the books we have for you.

I’ve been writing for Harlequin for eight years, and each book continues to be a joy. As I type away, I visit far-flung, exotic shores, drink wonderful wines under azure skies, meet new and fascinating people, and always—always—end up with the most gorgeous man. And they call it work!

So read and enjoy, with my love.

Helen Brooks

Web Of Darkness
Helen Brooks

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

J’OE? That man over there, the one that’s just come in with the blonde woman, who is he?’

‘Where?’ As Joe turned round to follow the line of her eyes, he took in the general entourage surrounding the tall, powerfully built man standing in the hotel foyer, and the slender young blonde hanging like a limpet on his arm, with a wry smile.

‘Oh, that’s Kane Steel, sweetheart. You know, the big property tycoon who owns half of London? He’s probably here for a Press conference. I wondered what all those reporters were doing hanging around. He’s just pulled off one of the biggest mergers ever and the tabloids are greedy for information. Anyway, can we concentrate on the business in hand?’

As Joe turned back to the advertising material spread over the low table where they were sitting having coffee, Janie continued staring through the thin layer of glass separating the coffee-lounge from the foyer. She had known it was him! She had only seen his photo once before when she had been sorting through some of her father’s papers the week after his death, but every feature of that cruel, hard face was burnt into her brain with the force of her hatred. And now he was here. In the flesh. And what was she going to do about it?

What indeed? She found she couldn’t take her eyes off the huge figure as he stepped into the lift, disappearing from sight as the doors closed swiftly behind him. She had made a vow to herself, standing in the pouring rain at her father’s funeral, that if she ever met the revered head of Steel Enterprises he would get what was coming to him. She just hadn’t anticipated the meeting occurring in one of London’s most exclusive hotels during a Press conference.

Still, what can I lose? she asked herself silently. Probably her job, the tiny flat that went with it and most of her friends, she answered mutely with cold humour. Joe Flanders was a boss in a million, but he wasn’t going to like this at all and no one, no one crossed the great machine of Steel Enterprises, let alone the main man. Except her? The thought put iron in her backbone and fire in her eyes. She’d never sleep again at night if she didn’t follow this through. She owed it to herself as well as the mild-tempered man who had given her life.

‘Janie?’ Joe’s touch on her arm brought her eyes snapping back to him and his face straightened at the expression on hers. ‘What is it? Do you feel ill?’

‘I’m sorry, Joe.’ She was already rising as she spoke. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. There’s something I have to do.’

‘We’re meeting the manager at five, in his office,’ Joe said anxiously as he glanced at his watch, ‘and I still want to discuss these photos in more detail. Hurry up, will you? The Ladies is to the right.’

‘OK.’ Once outside in the foyer, she walked straight past the powder-room and over to the large reception desk, keeping her face straight and businesslike.

‘Mr Steel?’ she asked carefully. ‘I understand he’s holding a Press conference and I’m afraid I’m a little late. Perhaps you could direct me…?’

‘Third floor,’ the girl behind the desk said in a bored tone. ‘The conference-room is to your right as you step out of the lift.’

‘Thanks.’ Janie’s heart was beginning to thud like a piston now, but she was in the lift and out at the third floor before the trembling in her legs really took hold. She heard the noise first and, as she quietly opened the door and slipped into the large, richly carpeted room, her eyes swung immediately to the little group seated at the far end behind a magnificent desk of varnished walnut which was positioned on a small raised platform.

‘Can you tell us how much the deal is worth, Mr Steel?’ one of the reporters crowding the room bellowed in her ear as Janie edged her way to the front amid a field of flashing cameras. His reply was lost on her as she reached the brief area of space before the platform. Anyone watching would have seen a rather small girl, a little inclined to plumpness, her dark hair and eyes probably her best features, with a small heart-shaped face that was averagely pretty, no more. What Kane Steel saw, as she moved to stand directly in front of him, was two blazing eyes in a dead-white face that were filled with such bitter enmity that they froze the practised reply he had been about to make and narrowed his blue eyes into cold slits.

‘Mr Steel? Mr Kane Steel?’ The words were piercingly clear and the silence that had gripped the little group on the platform spread in a rippling motion over the rest of the room as the hardened warriors of the Press sensed an unexpected bonus.

‘Yes?’ His eyes flashed over her face with devastating thoroughness. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know you, do I?’ Someone edged forward in the watching tableau as the room held its breath, all the jour-nalists craning their heads, notebooks ready.

‘Not exactly.’ The bitterness was so fierce that she found she was actually having a job to speak. ‘But I know you, Mr Steel. I have good reason to know you.’

‘Would you like to be more explicit?’ he asked icily as he rose and walked round the table, stepping down beside her on the carpet as he gestured for the others at the table to be still.

‘Yes, I would.’ She stared up at him furiously, her cheeks scarlet. ‘My name is Janie Gordon, Mr Steel. My father was Paul Gordon. Ring any bells?’

‘Bell-ringing is not my forte, Miss Gordon,’ he said coldly, ‘and I do not appreciate your version of What’s My Line? in the middle of a busy work schedule. If you have something to say to me then get on with it.’ The frosty eyes dared her to continue. ‘Otherwise get out.’

For a moment the sheer arrogance of the man took her breath away, and then the biting rage that had swamped her two years ago returned in all its deadly savagery.

‘You are a murderer, Mr Steel.’ The hiss of in-drawn breath that swept round the room was lost on her; she was blind and deaf to anything but the stone-hard face in front of her. ‘A cold-blooded, despicable brute. You hounded my father for the sake of a few thousand pounds, which must be a drop in the ocean to you, until he lost everything, including the will to live. What does it feel like to have a man’s death on your conscience, Mr Steel, or haven’t you even thought about it?’ The vivid spots of colour burning her cheekbones brought the deathly whiteness of the rest of her face into even more stark contrast and no one could doubt that she meant every word she said.

‘Miss Gordon, you are way out of line.’ There was a dangerous softness in the deep voice that spoke of furious anger. ‘I have never even heard of your father——’

‘Jessdon Labelling?’ She ought to be feeling intimidated, a tiny detached part of her brain thought vaguely, but, surprisingly, she felt nothing but pain, anger and relief—relief at being able to let it all out at long last. ‘He named the firm after my mother,’ she added tightly. ‘Jessica Gordon.’

She saw a tiny spark of awareness flare in the icy blue eyes and in the next instant her hand connected with his face with such force that his head shot back a couple of inches. As all hell broke loose behind her, the barrage of flash bulbs vying with the shouts and calls of the reporters, Janie plunged into the centre of the mêlée, forcing her way through with sheer physical force and reaching the lift outside the room just as the doors began to close. As they slid together she was aware of a tumult of bodies cascading into the corridor, the sound of raised voices fading as the lift took her swiftly downwards.

Once in the foyer, she walked rapidly out of the building, glancing neither left nor right, her eyes fixed straight ahead and her face as white as snow.

He had had it coming. He had had it coming. She continued walking blindly outside as her head swam and her mind buzzed dazedly. He was less than human, not even fit to be called an animal, and she didn’t regret a thing, not a thing! The bite of cold, crisp air that carried a hint of frost in its wintry chill brought her back to reality and she suddenly realised she needed to get off the main thoroughfare in which the hotel was situated and down one of the side-streets, fast. The blood-hounds would be after her within minutes and she couldn’t face anyone now. In fact, she was shaking so much she could barely stand upright.

The small wine bar halfway down the narrow road that led off the main street with its flowing traffic and bright lights was almost deserted, and as she caught the surprised eyes of the young barman it dawned on her that her coat and handbag were back with Joe at the hotel, her thin wool dress patently unsuitable for outdoor wear.

Damn, damn, damn…Once through the door trendily marked ‘Lassies’, she leant against the cool, tiled walls of the cloakroom as her head spun. She’d have to ask the barman if she could use the phone. Maybe call the hotel and ask Joe to bring her things here? She shut her eyes tightly. He’d be furious, more than furious, but there was nothing else she could do. Even her doorkey was in that bag.

The phone call was even worse than she had anticipated, Joe’s voice tight and strange-sounding, but he promised to be with her within minutes and that was all she cared about. She sat shivering slightly, more with reaction than cold, in a small alcove next to the door as the full awareness of what she had done washed over her in a sickening flood. Her father would have been horrified at his only offspring causing such a scene. She shook her head painfully as she pictured his mild, gentle face in her mind. He had been so trusting, so kind, the perfect victim for someone as ruthless as Kane Steel: the proverbial lamb to the slaughter.

‘Miss Gordon?’ She froze for an endless moment before turning her head with a feeling of inde-scribable doom as the hated voice spoke from the doorway. ‘You don’t get away as easily as that. Outside, now!’ She had never actually seen any-one’s face black with rage before, but she was seeing it now, every feature twisted almost out of recognition by the violent fury that had suffused his flesh with dark colour.

‘What——?’ As he pulled her to her feet her voice

was cut off with the speed with which he propelled her through the door. Just outside, parked more on the pavement than the road, a poker-faced chauffeur sat silently at the wheel of a magnificent silver-grey Bentley, his immaculate uniform the exact same shade as the car and his eyes staring straight ahead as Kane Steel gestured angrily towards the vehicle.

‘Get in.’

‘You must be joking.’ She struggled slightly in his iron grasp, ready to make a run for it at the slightest opportunity.

‘I said get in, Miss Gordon.’ The tone was as-tringent in the extreme.

‘I heard you.’ She tried to stop the fear that was making her heart pound like a drum from showing either in her face or voice, but was aware, with humiliating chagrin, that he could probably feel the trembling that was consuming her body through his rigid hold on her arm. There wasn’t a soul about. She glanced quickly up and down the deserted, discreetly lit street as icy little shivers flickered down her spine and the palms of her hands became damp with panic. Help, where was Joe; where was anybody? She could see the bright lights and heavy flow of traffic at the junction of the road, but here, in this quiet little backwater, all was macabrely still.

‘If you are hoping Joe Flanders is coming to your rescue, forget it.’ He swung her round now so that she was forced to stare up into the ruthless face. ‘Look in there.’

She glanced through the open door of the Bentley to see her coat and handbag resting on the seat. ‘Oh, great.’ There was a wealth of bitterness in her voice. ‘How did you manage that? Used a bit of the power and influence that makes you think you are a little tin god, I suppose?’ How could Joe let her down like this? How could he?

‘Exactly,’ he said bitingly. ‘I have met Mr Flanders on more than one occasion and he was kind enough to come forward when my assistant made enquiries at Reception and asked for your name to be broadcast just as you phoned. He knows me——’

‘I know you,’ she interrupted shakily, ‘and that’s precisely why I’m not getting in there with you.’

‘Think again.’ His smile was more like a snarl, the finely shaped lips drawing back over white strong teeth menacingly. ‘You are verging on charges of defamation of character, assault, causing an affray in a public place. Need I go on?’ The blue eyes were merciless. ‘A women’s prison is not the best place to spend Christmas, Miss Gordon, but it can be arranged, if you insist.’

‘You wouldn’t…’ As she stared up into the hard face her deep brown eyes widened with horror as she saw the coldness in his narrowed blue gaze. ‘You would, you’d actually do that?’

‘Too true.’ He let go of her arm abruptly, sliding into the shadowed depths of the car as he left her standing, trembling, on the pavement. ‘You have a choice, Miss Gordon, and you will make it in the next ten seconds. You can either get in this vehicle so we can discuss your outrageous behaviour privately, or we can let the whole matter be put in the hands of officialdom. Which is it to be?’ The deep voice was merciless.

She gnawed her lower lip for a second as she stood shivering in the cold evening air. ‘Where are you going to take me?’

‘That’s my business.’ He leant forward to fix her with the piercing eyes. ‘Time’s up, Miss Gordon, no more sweet persuasion.’

‘You leave me with no choice,’ she said bleakly, flinching as he laughed harshly.

‘Dead right.’ He moved over to the opposite side of the car as she clambered in miserably, and as she sank back she was immediately enveloped in the deliciously expensive smell of fine leather, discreetly exclusive aftershave and the unmistakable aura of fabulous wealth. ‘Now.’ In the close con-fines of the car he suddenly seemed enormously big and for the first time her senses registered the ex-ceptionally broad shoulders, well-developed chest and sheer breadth that went with extreme height. ‘Are you going to give me your address?’

‘No.’ She forced herself to look full into the rugged dark face. ‘I am not.’

‘Very well.’ He turned his head and spoke to the driver, giving an address she had never heard of, before snapping the glass partition shut with a definite click. ‘Don’t forget, I did ask,’ he drawled sardonically.

‘Now just hang on a minute.’ The apprehension and fear she had been trying to hide for the last five minutes burst forth. ‘You can’t kidnap me.’

‘Kidnap you, Miss Gordon?’ The firm lips drew back in an unmistakable sneer. ‘Why on earth would I want to kidnap such a disagreeable, patently unstable person as yourself? I have enough aggravation in my life without seeking more.’

‘Where are we going, then?’ She ignored the in-sults for the moment; there were more important things to hand.

‘You’ll find out soon enough.’ He settled back in the luxurious seat and closed his eyes. ‘I have had just about all I am going to take tonight so I suggest you keep that nasty little mouth closed until we reach our destination. Why I am even bothering to try and find out what this is all about I don’t know. I must be mad.’

‘You know what——’

‘Be quiet, Miss Gordon.’ He didn’t open his eyes as he spoke but the tone was enough to shut her mouth with a little snap. He was formidable. Her heart thumped against her chest wall so hard she was sure he must hear it. He was powerful and dangerous, and the sudden realisation that she had grabbed a tiger by the tail drove all lucid thought from her head for a few minutes as sheer panic had her glancing desperately out of the car window. Could she jump out at the next traffic lights? He couldn’t exactly chase her through the streets of London.

‘Baines has locked the doors automatically, on my instructions.’ The deep, gravelly voice made her jump and as her eyes shot to his face she saw that the eyelids were still firmly closed. ‘Lie back and enjoy the ride, Miss Gordon. You are in my clutches now, whether you like it or not.’

‘I don’t!’

‘Good.’ He shifted slightly as he spoke. ‘Consider it a down payment on your penance.’

‘My penance?’ she squeaked disbelievingly. ‘Now just look here; I don’t know what you’ve got in mind but——’

‘That’s probably just as well.’ He was quite un-moved, lying back in the seat like a great, dangerous black cat. ‘No one crosses me and gets away with it, Miss Gordon. Bear that in mind.’

She glared at him silently as the car sped on in the night traffic, although it was quite wasted on the closed eyes. He was a very masculine man. Her gaze idly wandered over the rugged, hard features and thick, straight black hair that had touches of silver above the ears. Strong, vigorous, probably very virile…

She stiffened with horror at the path her thoughts had traversed on to. What on earth was she thinking? She couldn’t care less if he was the most virile man on earth—this was Kane Steel, the original rat on two legs. So what if he was handsome? She loathed him, hated him…But then he wasn’t really handsome, was he? She found herself contemplating the relaxed face again. No, not at all, really, and yet there was something, a magnetism, a breathtakingly dynamic attractiveness, that was all male and more compelling than any pretty-boy looks. She shook her head at her own treachery. There was nothing good about this man, nothing at all, be it looks or anything else.

As the big car ate up the miles she began to feel more and more worried with each passing landmark. This was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. If they didn’t stop soon she would start screaming and banging on the glass partition until the driver stopped. She was a grown woman of twenty-four years of age, for goodness’ sake, not some skittery schoolgirl who couldn’t say boo to a goose.

‘Had you eaten?’

‘What?’ She started so violently as the deep voice spoke that she completely missed what he had said.

The amazingly compelling eyes opened and fixed her with their arctic blueness. ‘I asked if you had eaten. Before your wonderful performance in front of Wapping’s finest.’

‘It wasn’t a performance, it was…’ Her voice trailed away as she couldn’t think of a suitable comparison and she stiffened in outrage as he smiled coldly, his face full of burningly acidic contempt.

‘I am not surprised your actions leave you speechless,’ he said with icy biting humour. ‘I can assure you they had exactly the same effect on me.’

‘Huh!’ She eyed him balefully. ‘Well——’

‘I said, had you eaten?’ There was a note in the resonant voice now that suggested she had better reply, fast.

‘No, as a matter of fact,’ she said tightly, her eyes flashing her hostility and dislike. ‘Although what it’s got to do with you——’

‘Spare me.’ He cut off her words with an irritable wave of his hand as he turned to look out of the window. ‘We’re here.’

‘Where’s here?’ she asked warily, her gaze widening as the beautiful car drove between two wide-open gates set in a high brick wall and journeyed on down a huge gravel drive towards an enormous house in the distance.

‘My home.’ He eyed her blandly as vivid colour surged into her cheeks. ‘The place where my word is law and I’m obeyed implicitly, understand?’ His eyes mocked her fear.

‘Your home?’ Her voice had risen in line with her apprehension. ‘Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at but——’

‘I am playing at nothing, Miss Gordon,’ he bit back sharply, his eyes as cold as ice and his face stony. ‘The last thing on my mind is games. I have been assaulted with no warning, accused of all manner of diverse crimes, forced to leave a Press conference in the worst possible circumstances, knowing that my photo will be splashed all over the front pages tomorrow morning, to the delight of my competitors, all because you have had a brain-storm. Now, if that counts as playing in your book you are crazier than I imagined.’

‘I am not crazy——’ She stopped abruptly when he uncoiled his big body as the chauffeur opened the door, and he reached in as soon as he was outside, almost hauling her out of the car.

‘Now you are going to come in the house and explain to me what this is all about,’ he said coldly, ‘and you’d better pray while you’re about it that you can convince me it’s justified.’

‘You’re a bully,’ she said weakly as she stood next to him on the driveway in front of the endless mansion. She didn’t know which intimidated her more, the huge, incredibly beautiful house or the massive figure next to her. At the hotel she had been too incensed and blind with rage to take in his great height, but now she realised he must be at least a foot taller than her five feet four and he towered over her like an avenging angel. Or perhaps not an angel, she corrected herself silently as her gaze fastened on the lethal cold eyes—no, definitely not!

‘You don’t know the half,’ he said grimly as he ushered her up the massive stone steps towards the crested front door. ‘You made me lose my temper tonight, Miss Gordon, and that’s something I haven’t done in years. You wouldn’t like it a second time.’

‘No?’ She stared at him defiantly as her legs shook.

‘No,’ he said slowly, ‘but I’ve got the most dis-tinct feeling it’s a definite possibility, so just play it cool, eh?’

‘Cool?’ She jerked her arm from his hand and glared up into the dark face with all the venom she could muster. ‘Cool! You’ve got a cheek, you really have——’

‘Now that is a clear case of the pot calling the kettle black,’ he said tightly as the chauffeur drove the big car past them and towards a large row of garages in the distance, ‘but I’ve got no intention of standing out here bandying words with you any more. You’ll come in, you’ll sit down and you will tell me what this is all about. Got it?’

As he opened the front door she had the strangest feeling, for a brief moment, that she had stepped on to the set of a film. If a famous film star had suddenly glided down the huge winding staircase that dominated the far end of the massive hall she wouldn’t have been at all surprised. Dallas and Dynasty, eat your heart out, she thought with desperate humour as her eyes took in the ankle-deep cream carpet, the dark wood and obvious antiques and the glittering chandeliers overhead. And she had hit him! She had never suffered from hysteria before, but there was something flooding into her system that must be akin to it.

‘In here.’ He had guided her across the enormous expanse and through an open door before she realised what was happening, and she found herself in a room that would have graced any stately home. ‘Sit down.’ She sank gratefully into the chair, which immediately dwarfed her small shape in its vastness; her legs had been beginning to give way. ‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked expressionlessly.

‘I’m sorry?’ She dragged her eyes away from the beautifully furnished room with some difficulty and gazed vacantly at his dark face as he gestured towards a large drinks cabinet at one side of the massive fireplace.

‘A drink?’ he asked irritably.

She nodded tightly, her face chary. ‘Sherry, please, but I’m not stopping here long. I’ll get a taxi home.’

He poured a stiff measure of Scotch into a heavy crystal tumbler and what looked like half a bottle of pale cream sherry into a large schooner glass and walked over to her, handing her the drink before seating himself in the large armchair opposite which hardly looked big enough to hold his broad shape. All this wealth, all this luxury; how much of it had been obtained by wrecking people’s lives the way he had theirs? she wondered suddenly, with a surge of anger. Driving desperate businessmen to the limit, calling in creditors, withholding loans, re-fusing time extensions…The list was endless and no doubt he knew all the tricks.

‘OK, the spark is back in those brown eyes,’ he said softly. ‘Let’s have it all, and from the be-ginning, please.’

‘What’s the point?’ She took a gulp of the sherry and tried to fight back the flood of emotion that was threatening to take her over. All this money—her father’s little firm had been a drop in the ocean to him!

‘The point is you made some pretty serious accusations tonight,’ he said furiously. ‘Planned to give me maximum aggravation. Now that smells bad to me, my pretty. What are you after?’

‘After!’ She spat the word at him as she set the sherry glass down with a bang on the little table next to the chair and stood up in a jerky movement to pace over to the crackling fire. She was cold, so cold, she’d never be warm again. She shivered violently. And she hated this man.

‘Here.’ He rose quickly when he noticed the con-vulsive movement as the warmth flicked her frozen nerves. ‘I didn’t give you your coat, did I? It’s still in the car.’ As she felt the heavy material of his suit jacket slide over her shoulders she stiffened in protest. The cloth was impregnated with the clean, sensual smell of him and she didn’t want it near her.

‘I don’t want it.’ She shrugged the jacket off her shoulders and handed it back to him abruptly, her eyes dark in the whiteness of her face.

His eyes narrowed as he took the coat from her and she knew he sensed her revulsion of any contact with him. It was there in the stiffening of the hard square jaw and the faintly cruel tightening of the firm mouth. That raw, almost tangible fascination was back in full force, she noted despairingly, the wide, powerful set of his shoulders more accentuated now under the silky blue shirt he wore easily, his hard masculine body taut and still as he stared down at her without speaking for long, tight seconds.

‘You’re pushing me to the limit,’ he said at last in hard, measured tones. ‘I don’t make idle threats, Miss Gordon. I don’t want to hurt you, but——’

‘Hurt me?’ It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so painfully sad, she thought bitterly as she surveyed him through eyes misted with hot tears. ‘Hurt me? You can’t do anything to me that you haven’t already done, Mr Steel,’ she said shakily as she strove to maintain her grip on herself. ‘Your ruthless greed lost my father his business, his home and ultimately his life. Everything is gone, every-thing. You have effectively wiped out the first twenty-two years of my life. How could you follow that?’ She pushed back her heavy fold of silky black hair from her shoulders with a trembling hand as she spoke. ‘And the worst thing of all is that you didn’t even remember his name.’

The tears that had been threatening to overflow all night wouldn’t be denied any longer and, as she lowered her head blindly, her cheeks wet with the warm, salty flow, she realised, with a stab of horror, that she was going to make an even worse fool of herself than she had already. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it, not a thing.

CHAPTER TWO

QUITE how she found herself cradled in the strong, hard arms Janie never did know, but the big masculine chest was incredibly comforting as she howled out her misery, in spite of it belonging to the perpetrator of all the pain.

When the tempest had ceased and her weeping had died to the odd hiccuping sob, he put her firmly to one side.

‘So your grievance is genuine,’ he stated expressionlessly. She glanced up at him quickly, noting that the hard blue eyes were guarded and there was a subtle change in him she couldn’t quite discern. His mouth was still cruel and cynical, the deep lines grooved either side of his nose still fiercely prominent and the overall impression was still one of ruthless ferocity, and yet…there was some-thing. ‘I can recognise real misery when I see it, Miss Gordon,’ he said slowly, ‘but your actions are still inexcusable. You could have made an appointment to speak with me at any time to sort out this misunderstanding——’

‘Misunderstanding!’ She reared up like a small tigress. ‘There’s no misunderstanding, believe me, and you can’t fool me like that either; I’m not stupid.’

‘I won’t make the obvious retort to that statement,’ he said coldly. ‘Your actions speak far louder than any words of mine could do. How long has it been since your father died?’ he finished abruptly.

‘Two years.’ She stared at him tightly.

‘Did you cry when he died?’ He ignored the painful tensing of her body, his face demanding an answer.

‘Well, of course…’ Her voice trailed away as her brow puckered in thought. ‘No, I suppose not, not really.’

‘That is very bad for your soul.’ She stared at him in surprise. It was the last thing she had expected from a callous, harsh entrepreneur like him. ‘It creates a darkness, like a web, that blankets everything.’

‘Look, I’m fine.’ She straightened slightly as she spoke, her chin jutting out aggressively. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’ The last words were full of meaning and he nodded slightly, his eyes hardening.

‘I take it we’re back to the accusations?’

‘Oh, you know what I mean.’ She brushed a strand of hair from her damp face wearily. ‘You can’t have forgotten so completely. I could see you remembered at the hotel.’

‘The name of your father’s firm, that is all.’ She was aware as they talked, in a tiny separate little compartment in her mind, that her body was still registering the feel and smell of him as he had held her in his arms. The knowledge was painful and treacherous and altogether unwelcome, but it was there. She had never met anyone like him before. She didn’t like the way he made her feel, but she couldn’t do anything about it either. Every little cell in her body seemed determined to hold on to the tingling electricity his hard male shape had induced. ‘Look, start at the beginning; humour me.’

As he walked across the room to his chair her senses registered a carefulness in his walk, almost a hesitancy, that was incongruous in such a giant of a man, but as he sat down she brushed the fancy aside irritably. He was getting under her skin for some reason and she could do without it.

‘Well, there’s not much to tell really.’ She sniffed dismally and looked across at him slowly. ‘Have you got a handkerchief?’

‘Yes, I’ve got a handkerchief.’ He answered her in the same dull tone in which she had spoken and a burst of adrenalin put scarlet in her cheeks as he reached across with a large square of white cotton. Had she sounded like that? She’d have to watch herself—it wouldn’t do for him to think he had the upper hand. And how dared he mock her?

‘My father founded the firm with my mother the year I was born,’ she said quietly, after she had blown her nose and settled back in her seat. ‘They did quite well too—we had a nice house and the usual little luxuries. Not like this, of course—’ her eyes bit at him with heavy sarcasm ‘—but we were happy.’

‘Yes?’ he prompted her as she paused, her eyes cloudy with memories.

‘Then my mother got ill, a heart complaint, when I was in my early teens. Dad spent more and more time with her. I don’t think she knew he mortgaged the house to keep the firm going—I certainly didn’t. She died just as I started university.’

‘I’m sorry.’ The piercing blue eyes never left her face for a moment, the deep voice quite devoid of expression.

‘Dad was devastated, naturally, but then he threw himself into the firm, trying to claw back the time he had lost, I guess, and he was doing quite well. We had a loyal workforce and he could spend as many hours as he wanted there now with Mum gone, which helped him actually, took his mind off things. He’d just secured a big contract which he was thrilled about; it would have made the house safe again and he wanted that for me, but then——’ She stopped abruptly and raised her eyes full on his face. ‘Then Steel Enterprises stepped in.’

‘How?’ he asked grimly.

‘Don’t you remember?’ She stared at him angrily. ‘It was only just over two years ago; you can’t have forgotten the details so quickly.’

‘Do you have any idea just how vast my corporation is?’ he asked tightly. ‘And I have other business interests abroad that take a lot of my time and attention. I can’t personally get involved in everything.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ The thought hadn’t occurred to her and her eyes opened wide for an instant. ‘Well, you—your firm,’ she corrected hastily, ‘had bought the rest of the block our small factory and office was in and you wanted our space. There was nowhere else we could go immediately—your offer was abysmally low. It was common knowledge that Dad’s firm was having problems, and when Dad refused to sell you put the squeeze on.’

‘I see.’ His face was blank, almost uninterested.

‘Banks suddenly foreclosed, contracts died, the whole caboodle folded in on itself.’ She glared at him angrily. ‘It’s a lovely way to do business, isn’t it, Mr Steel, but I suppose all is fair in love and war? That’s obviously the principle you promote. Even if you yourself weren’t personally overseeing this particular deal, you can’t tell me your employees would go against the rules, your normal operating procedures.’

‘I wasn’t aware I had to tell you anything,’ he said coldly and she flinched at the icy tone. He was talking to her, listening, but part of his mind seemed to be ticking on elsewhere. She stared at him hard. What was he thinking about? ‘Do continue.’ He leant forward slightly, the movement causing her heart to jump into her mouth as the shirt stretched tight for a moment over his broad chest. Stop it, she chided herself angrily, you’re as jumpy as a kitten.

‘And goodbye firm.’ She forced herself to speak calmly. ‘Goodbye house. Dad got a part-time job for a pittance and lodged with friends, and within four months he was dead. The doctor said it was pneumonia aggravated by a dose of flu, but he just gave up the will to live, that’s what killed him.’ She stared at him painfully. ‘He wanted to die; he told me so.’

‘And you blame me for that?’

‘Totally.’ She rose as she spoke. ‘My dad used to have a saying—the buck stops here. Do you know it?’ She smiled grimly. ‘Well, the buck stopped fair and square at your door, Mr Steel, even if you aren’t man enough to pick it up. Your company policies stink, your employees stink—and you stink.’

‘Graphically put,’ he said sardonically.

‘And that’s it?’ Two bright spots of colour burnt in her cheeks as she faced him, her thick black hair shining red under the bright artificial lights, her dark brown eyes enormous. ‘A touch of sarcasm while holding on to your precious dignity? No apology, no regret, no guilt?’

‘I have nothing to feel guilty about.’ He too had risen, to walk across to a long bell-cord in the corner of the room which he pulled twice. Almost immediately the door opened to reveal a pretty, petite maid complete with starched apron and mob-cap. ‘Could you ask Mrs Langton to step in here a moment, please, June?’ he asked smoothly. ‘I’d like a word with her.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The maid’s big blue eyes opened wide at the sight of Janie. ‘I’m sorry, sir, we didn’t know you were home. We thought you were out for the evening——’

‘My plans changed.’ The words were dismissive and the small girl immediately left the room with a quick, nervous nod of her head. ‘I’m going to order us dinner.’ As the blue eyes fastened on Janie she stared at him in horror.

‘Not for me, Mr Steel,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve had my say; I want to go home.’

‘No way.’ His voice was curt. ‘I haven’t finished with you yet, not by a long chalk, besides which I need to check your story.’

‘Not now?’ She glanced at the small gold wrist-watch on her arm. ‘It’s way past six on a Friday night. There won’t be anyone about.’

‘There will be people about if I need them to be,’ he said coldly, ‘and the bare facts will be down on record. The more detailed fill-in will have to wait until I can find out who was in charge of that particular deal.’

‘Look, I’m going.’ She took one step towards the door, but the rigid immobility of the big body in front of her froze her next step. ‘I mean it, I want to go home.’

‘Don’t be so childish.’ The shock of his words brought the angry colour that had just died surging back into her cheeks. ‘I’m just offering you dinner while certain enquiries are made, that’s all. You are most fortunate you aren’t being charged at the local police station on various counts.’

‘But your evening?’ A mental picture of the tall, slim blonde flashed into her mind. ‘You obviously intended to be out tonight and——’

‘It’s a little late to start concerning yourself about my situation, don’t you think?’ he asked smoothly. ‘You can have another sherry while I make a few calls and then we will eat.’

As she opened her mouth to argue the door opened. ‘Mrs Langton.’ Kane Steel smiled at the stout middle-aged woman who stepped into the room, her iron-grey hair tightly drawn back in a severe bun and her stiff black dress looking as though it would retain its shape with or without a body inside it. ‘My plans have changed and I now require dinner for two. Is that possible?’

‘Of course, Mr Steel.’ Mrs Langton smiled formally. ‘In half an hour?’

‘Fine.’ As the woman left with a smile and a nod in Janie’s direction, Janie glared at him angrily.

‘What do I have to do to convince you that I don’t want dinner?’

‘Nothing, I know it already,’ he said imperturbably.

‘Then why?’

‘Because you’ll do as you’re told.’ The statement was clearly a complete answer as far as he was concerned and she stared at him furiously, incensed by his arrogance.

‘You really are the most incredible man,’ she said in tones of deep disgust, her fury escalating as he smiled mockingly, his dark face alive with cruel humour. He was still angry, very angry.

‘You are not the first female to say that,’ he said tauntingly, ‘although I have to admit the circumstances are a first. Normally it is said with more…enthusiasm.’

‘Is it indeed?’ She tried to inject as much scorn and derision into her voice as she could. ‘I was always under the impression that a real man didn’t have to boast about his performance in bed.’

‘Was I talking about bed?’ he asked softly, with satirical coolness, but she noticed her insult had narrowed the ice-blue eyes and straightened his mouth. ‘You know, this business about your father apart, you really are a little shrew, aren’t you? Don’t you like men, Miss Janie Gordon?’

He had remembered her Christian name from the hotel. As she glared back into the rugged face the thought hammered in her brain. In spite of all the chaos and aggravation, he had remembered, and she suddenly knew it was indicative of the man himself. His mind was razor-sharp and as hard as nails; he wouldn’t forget a thing, ever. So why the memory-loss regarding her father’s firm? Did she believe him? Had he been involved with it all? He didn’t seem the type of man to let anything slip through his fingers, least of all the knowledge of the acquisition of a prime block of real estate. He would have known an outline of the situation at least, especially in view of the difficulties involved. He would have had to, surely? And he had recognised the name of the firm.

‘Well?’ As she came back to the present he was still holding her with that rapier-sharp blue gaze.

‘What?’ She had lost the thread of the conversation completely.

‘Men, do you like men?’ He took a step towards her as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying and not her churning thoughts. ‘There’s one way to find out…’ The manner in which he folded her into his arms spoke of an expertise that only registered on Janie much later; at that precise moment she was too busy struggling against his superior strength. She found, to her fury, that she was quite helpless in his embrace. The big body was all muscled power and firm, hard flesh, and she was caught as securely as a tiny fish in a net. This was part of the penance?

As his mouth closed on hers she forced herself to stand still. Her movements were only bringing her more intimately into contact with that hard male frame, besides which resistance was useless and they both knew it. The kiss was firm and warm and sensual and she hated the excited trembling it triggered in all different parts of her body—it was a betrayal to her father and to herself. But she couldn’t help it. The thought weakened her still further. What was it about him? She had never had a kiss affect her like this before.

He moved her closer into him as he allowed one hand to play up and down her back in a soothing, hypnotic rhythm that set fire alarms off all over her body. She should have felt frightened, threatened-she was at his mercy here when all was said and done—but her whole being was coping with the ripples of pleasure that were flowing through her body as he explored the contours of her mouth, his lips gentle and erotic in turn. His mouth was a sweet torture and tormentingly knowing as it wandered over her closed eyelids, her throat, her ears, creating havoc to her nervous system and a warm ache in her lower stomach as it did its devastatingly sensual work.

Then she was free and he brushed his lips lightly over hers once more before stepping back to survey her with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. ‘Very nice.’ His voice was soft and deep but for the life of her she couldn’t say a word as she gazed silently back into the harsh, strong face. ‘Very nice indeed, and now you are going to have another drink and I am going to make some phone calls.’

She was still standing in stunned silence when he left the room seconds later after filling her glass and placing it back on the table near her chair. The swine! Her legs were beginning to shake and she almost collapsed into her seat, her mind whirling, as the click of the door released her from the dazed trance. She didn’t doubt for a minute that the kiss had been intended as a punishment. She groaned out loud into the empty room. She should have shouted at him when he released her, told him exactly what she thought of him, slapped his face——But she’d already done that once tonight. She shut her eyes tightly for a second. This was all a dream—it had to be; nothing else would explain the dizzy stupor his lips had evoked.

She took a big gulp of sherry as she glanced round the magnificent room again, noticing, as she did so, a photograph of two men to one side of the mantelpiece. She rose to take a closer look. It had to be Kane Steel and a brother or cousin—the likeness was uncanny, although the smaller man was of a lighter build and his hair was fairer. Nevertheless the two faces boasted an unmistakable blood tie. It must have been taken years ago, she thought idly as she looked at the much younger Kane smiling back at her. The deep lines that were grooved into his face now and the touches of grey in his hair were missing, along with the rather tense way in which he held himself.

He did look older, she thought suddenly; that was why for a moment she hadn’t been sure if it was him at the hotel. The photograph that had been in her father’s papers had been of a much younger man, too, although admittedly it had been the usual polished pose of a publicity shot and, consequently, remote and unlifelike. She would have to go through those papers again. After the initial tearful sorting she had bundled everything into a big box and stuffed it into a cupboard, and ever since it had been too painful to resurrect.

When he returned, ten minutes later, she was quite composed and poised, at least on the outside. Inside was a seething mass of emotion like a volcano before the lid was blown.

‘Prawn cocktail and steak and salad all right?’ he asked blandly as he entered the room. ‘With fresh peaches in brandy for dessert?’ He eyed her narrowly, his face grim.

‘Fine.’ She nodded jerkily. Get through the next couple of hours the best you can and then you’re free, she told herself silently, and you needn’t ever see him again. Unless it was in court, of course. No doubt the vicious take-over, the ruthless but legal destruction of all that her father had built up for years, would be explained away calmly and logically, with Steel Enterprises coming up smelling of roses. She didn’t know why he was going through this farce, but that was undoubtedly what it was. Corporate giants were totally ruthless and never admitted to being in the wrong. Rule number one. And it had been legal, she reminded herself again. Cruel, wicked, heinous but…legal.

As he seated himself in his chair after pouring another whisky she gestured to the photograph un-smilingly. ‘Your brother?’

‘Yes.’ He followed her gaze. ‘That’s Keith.’

‘He’s younger than you?’ she asked carefully.

‘By four years.’ He took a long draught from his glass and settled back in his chair. ‘That was taken three years ago when we were on holiday in Greece.’

‘Three years?’ She stared at him in surprise. Three years; she would have said at least ten. He read her face accurately.

‘I’m thirty-four years old, Miss Gordon,’ he said tightly, ‘and my brother died last year. Can we leave the subject now?’

‘Of course.’ She nodded quickly as her cheeks burnt hotly. How was she supposed to know his brother was dead? And she would have put Kane Steel at least eight or nine years older, although the lean, hard body was ageless. It was that devastatingly attractive face that had fooled her. What had happened to put those lines round his mouth and eyes? It must have been something catastrophic to have made such a difference in three years? His brother’s death maybe? Or was there something else?

The dinner was excellent, but the huge ornate room in which it was served was daunting, to say the least. When Kane first led her into it she took a deep breath and prayed for aplomb; the massive dark wood dining-table, thick white carpet and cream-textured walls, combined with the heavy velvet drapes in a dark rich burgundy, were grandly intimidating, and it was colossal.

‘Do you always eat in here?’ she asked him quietly as June cleared the dinner-plates from the table preparatory to dessert. The whole meal had been conducted in tight, painful silence.

‘When I have guests.’ He looked at her closely. ‘Don’t you like this room?’

‘Where do you eat when you don’t have guests?’ she prevaricated quickly.

‘In my study,’ he said shortly. ‘In fact I spend most of my time in this house in there. Do you want to eat dessert in the study?’ he asked suddenly.

‘Yes, please,’ she said instantly.

He blinked and looked round the dining-room bewilderedly. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘Nothing, it’s beautiful,’ she said quickly, ‘but it’s just so big! Well, let’s face it, it’s gigantic.’

‘Is it?’ He glanced round the room again. ‘Yes, I suppose it is really. I never think about it.’

How the other half live, she thought wryly as she followed him across the vast hall into a much smaller room than the others, but one which could still have swallowed her tiny flat whole. It was cosy, though. A crackling fire was burning in the hearth, one wall was lined with books that shone dully in the subdued glow from the copper wall-lights and thick, heavy gold drapes at the window had been pulled against the cold night, giving a homely feel to the room that was accentuated by the large tabby cat curled up on the leather settee by the fire.

‘You own a cat?’ She hadn’t put him down as an animal lover.

‘Cats. This one’s Juniper—there’s another one, Cosmos, around somewhere,’ he said vaguely. As Mrs Langton and June set the small table that was tucked away in one corner of the room, Janie stroked the soft fur of the large tabby and watched Kane Steel from under her eyelashes. In spite of all her efforts to the contrary, she couldn’t help remembering how it had felt to be held close to that magnificent chest. He really did have a superb body. The thought made her blush as hotly as if she had voiced it and she lowered her eyes quickly. The sooner she was out of here the better, and she had better remember that the kiss had been a male punishment, an offering to his damaged ego after the scene at the Press conference. Typical of the sort of man he was, she thought tightly. It must have hit him hard to have his dirty washing laundered in public.

The peaches in brandy, heavily doused with thick double cream, were delicious, but the sense of un-reality that had been steadily growing all night intensified as they finished the dessert. ‘Coffee?’ He looked very big and very dark in the smaller room, the piercing blueness of his eyes at odds with the tanned skin, and again the enigmatic appeal of the man reached out to her, strong and fierce, until she found her heart was pounding out of control.

‘No.’ She stood up abruptly and walked over to the log fire. ‘No, thank you, I really must go.’

‘Why?’ His voice was caustic. ‘I thought we were having a wonderful time.’ The sarcasm was bitingly cold.

‘I don’t see what you’re so het up about,’ she said furiously as her temper reached boiling-point. ‘Now Joe Flanders knows what I’ve done, I’ve probably lost my job and my flat, not to mention my credibility. You’re sitting pretty with virtue intact, aren’t you? I’m the one who will be made the scapegoat.’

‘Made the scapegoat?’ he repeated incredulously as his eyes raked over her hot face. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this! Do you have any idea of what you did tonight, young woman? In the middle of a Press conference, a Press conference,’ he repeated furiously, ‘you accused me of being a murderer and a swindler and goodness knows what else. There isn’t a journalist in London who will miss a scoop like that and I wouldn’t wonder a couple of them got a nice juicy picture of your hand connecting with my face as the icing on the cake. Anything you get from Joe Flanders you deserve. To have planned something like that——’

‘I didn’t plan it,’ she said indignantly, her brown eyes flashing black sparks. ‘I was with Joe in the coffee-lounge—we had an appointment with the manager about some advertising work—when I saw you come in. It was an impulse thing.’

He swore, softly and fluently, as he shut his eyes for a splitsecond. ‘I don’t know if that makes it worse or better. Didn’t you stop for a moment to think about the repercussions that were bound to follow?’

‘No.’ She stared straight into the blue eyes. ‘But if I had I’d still have done exactly the same.’

‘Would you indeed?’ His face was black with rage. ‘You really want a good whipping to bring you to heel, young lady.’

‘You touch me again, in any way, and I’ll be the one bringing an assault charge,’ she said angrily. ‘Got it?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘You’re eaten up with this.’

‘What do you expect?’ she said fiercely as her hands clenched into fists at her side. ‘He was my father, not some vague acquaintance. How would you feel if someone treated your father like that?’

‘Like murder,’ he said without a trace of amusement in his face, ‘but it’s all supposition at the moment, isn’t it? I haven’t had anything confirmed and it seems to me that you’ve put your own interpretation on events, in any case. You don’t know for sure exactly what happened on the business side and, I repeat, your behaviour is inexcusable.’

‘I know enough.’ She faced him stiffly. ‘More than enough, and I want to go now.’

‘OK, OK.’ He stood up slowly, almost carefully, and again she got the impression that the movement was deliberate, thought out in advance. ‘I’m expecting a call in half an hour; you don’t want to hang around for the outcome?’

‘No, I don’t,’ she said coldly. ‘I know my facts are accurate, Mr Steel, and I also know what your supposed enquiries will reveal.’

‘Then you’re way in front of me.’ He stared at her, his face tight and mordant. ‘To be honest, I’ve had more than my fill of your particular brand of charm for one evening.’

‘Why break the habit of a lifetime by being honest now?’ she asked bitingly, her eyes flashing sparks.

‘I think I probably asked for that.’ The harsh grooves in his face deepened as he turned abruptly away. ‘You don’t miss an opportunity, do you? I’ll have to remember that for the future.’

‘Future?’ she asked with icy contempt. ‘I doubt if our paths will ever cross again. Your lifestyle and mine are hardly on a par, are they?’

‘Oh, you don’t get off as lightly as that,’ he said coldly, his eyes lethal. ‘You’re wrong, Miss Gordon, and I’ll prove it to you, and when it’s confirmed that you’ve made a grave error——’

‘It won’t be,’ she said firmly. ‘I told you what happened in the past and I’m still far from sure you aren’t fully aware of it all anyway. I don’t need to have what I’ve told you confirmed or otherwise. I know what happened. I’d like to go now.’

‘As you wish.’ He pressed a tiny gold button at the side of the fireplace and within seconds the little maid had popped her head round the door.

Didn’t he ever do anything himself? Janie thought cynically as she watched him giving orders to the small girl. Buttons for this, orders here and there, everyone jumping to attention. Her face was cryptic as he glanced back to her and the piercing gaze had swept over her features before she could school them into a more acceptable mask.

‘So much hate in one small package.’ His voice was deep and soft and, for some reason, tiny flickers of fire shivered down her spine as he walked over to her, lifting a lock of silky black hair and rubbing it in his fingers as he looked hard into her dark brown eyes. ‘It’s very bad for you, you know,’ he said mockingly, his eyes glittering coldly.

‘So you said before.’ She flicked her head away sharply. ‘Did I understand that you’ve asked for the car to take me home? I’m quite capable of phoning for a taxi.’

‘I think you’re quite capable of anything.’ There was a note in his voice she couldn’t quite place, but it made the goose-bumps rise all over her body. ‘However, I would prefer to take you home myself, having brought you here in the first place.’

‘You’re coming too?’ Her voice was frankly dismayed and a glimmer of a smile touched the frosty face for a fleeting moment.

‘I was only saying the other day to a colleague that it would be a pleasant change to meet a girl whose head wasn’t turned by the Steel name,’ he said sardonically as he moved back to his place in front of the fire. ‘I forgot that little law that says we should be careful what we ask for in case we get it.’

She eyed him without speaking—there was nothing she could say after all—and within sixty seconds June had returned to announce that the car was waiting at the main entrance.

As they left the beautifully warm house and stepped into the cold night, the wind blew against Janie’s face with tiny chips of sleet in its arctic depths and, once in the car, she drew her coat off the seat where it was lying with her handbag and pulled it round herself gratefully.

‘Cold?’ He had seated himself opposite her, like before, the blue eyes watchful.

‘A little.’ She glanced out of the dark window quickly and searched for something impersonal to say. ‘Where are we?’

‘Middlesex,’ he said coldly. ‘The Mother of London, near enough to make travelling easy and yet still retaining country lanes with working farms and thatched cottages that would grace any village in Yorkshire.’

‘You’re a country boy at heart?’ she asked cynically as she pulled the coat still closer round her shape.

‘You find that hard to believe?’ he said expressionlessly. ‘You have me set in the North Circular Road with its attendant miles of buildings and Tube stations and so on? Or maybe in the heart of London, the West End or Chelsea?’

‘I would say the latter would suit you better.’ She made no attempt to soften her words. ‘I should think the only interest you would display in villages and suchlike is in their market value.’

‘That is what you would say, is it?’ The blue eyes were diamond-hard. ‘It is a pity that such attractiveness goes hand in hand with such ignorance.’

‘How dare you?’ She reared up like a small black kitten when confronted by a sleek, full-grown panther.

‘How dare I?’ His voice was deceptively mild in comparison to the steel-hard set of his jaw. ‘Your terminology is all wrong, Miss Gordon. It is I who should be asking you that. You know nothing about me, nothing at all, beyond the rather vague notion that I was responsible for causing your father some grief——’

‘Vague?’ Her voice was so shrill, he winced slightly before continuing as though she hadn’t spoken.

‘And you continue to be obnoxious at every turn, refusing to listen to common sense and altogether behaving in a manner more suited to an infant than a grown woman of…?’ She held his glance, her mouth obstinately shut. ‘Twenty-three, twenty-four?’ he persisted with inflexible tenacity.

‘Twenty-four, not that it’s any of your business,’ she returned sharply, ‘and what about your behaviour anyway?’

‘My behaviour?’ He lifted dark eyebrows with such haughtiness that Janie could have hit him—again. ‘As far as I recall, I merely gave you a lift in my car when you were coatless and hatless, so to speak, and provided you with an adequate meal. That constitutes a felony in your book?’

‘I don’t mean that,’ she said angrily, her rage flooding her system with such warmth that the coat was quite unnecessary. ‘I mean when you——’ She stopped abruptly. ‘When you manhandled me,’ she finished tightly.

‘I manhandled you?’ The amazed outrage was genuine. ‘My head is still ringing from the contact with your hand, young lady; when the hell did I manhandle you?’

‘In your drawing-room,’ she said flatly, ‘when you kissed me.’

‘Ah…’ The word was full of meaning and her head snapped up to find the dark face was surveying her with mocking intentness. ‘Now you are going to try and tell me you didn’t enjoy it?’

‘No, I didn’t!’ She glared at him, almost inco-herent with temper. ‘It was sickening, absolutely sickening. I’ve never been treated like that in my life.’

‘Really?’ He settled further back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest as the piercing eyes narrowed into blue slits of light and she realised, quite suddenly, that he was playing with her, like a sleek black cat with a tiny mouse. ‘The male population in general is sensible enough to have nothing to do with you? There’s hope for the universe yet.’

‘I don’t mean I’ve never been kissed,’ she said furiously, ‘and you know it. I mean——’ She broke off. What did she mean? ‘To be forced——’

‘Oh, come, come.’ He actually had the nerve to smile. ‘Maybe for the first moment or two, but after that?’ The hard male face was maddeningly cool. ‘I was there, remember.’

‘You’re a pig,’ she said weakly, ‘and I’m not discussing this with you. In fact I’m not discussing anything with you.’ She shut her eyes determinedly, drawing the coat more tightly round her shoulders.

‘I’m glad I was there,’ the deep voice said reflectively after a long minute had passed in silence. ‘I, at least, found the experience most…rewarding.’ She didn’t open her eyes and several miles flashed by before he spoke again. ‘I’d appreciate some indication of where we are going?’

‘Oh, you can drop me anywhere.’ She opened her eyes quickly and glanced out of the car window into the steady downpour that had materialised outside. Cocooned in the luxurious interior of the Bentley, the world outside seemed a million miles away.

‘Well, you are consistent, I’ll give you that,’ he said coldly. ‘That comment matches the rest of the rubbish you’ve spoken all night. Have you noticed it’s throwing everything down out there and you are in a thin wool dress and coat that wouldn’t last a minute? Now, an address, please.’

‘Aberdeen Gardens,’ she said after a long pause.

‘And the number?’

‘Sixty-two.’ Aberdeen Gardens was two streets away from where her flat was situated, but she didn’t want him to know where she lived. She hadn’t worked out why yet, she just knew with deep conviction that the less he knew about her the better. He was a threat, a definite threat to her peace of mind, and not just because of past history. She was used to dealing with all sorts of men in her job as Joe Flanders’ personal secretary and could keep the most obstreperous individuals at bay with a few well-chosen, crushing remarks or careful diplomacy, but this man…She glanced at him again in the dim light from the passing street-lamps, contemplating the hard square jaw and lethal body. This man was a whole new ball game.

After he had given Baines the address, he slid the glass partition back firmly into place, shutting them once again in their own disturbingly intimate atmosphere. ‘Do you live alone?’ The question threw her for a brief moment and she hoped he hadn’t noticed.

‘Yes.’ The one word was abrasive and curt.

‘One-bedroomed flat?’ He was pertinacious, she had to give him that.

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