Dark Encounter

by Susanna Firth

  But in making that assumption it seemed that she had miscalculated again. One day, while Nicholas was absent on one of his lightning trips across the Atlantic, she was working late at the office trying desperately to sort out queries which would require his immediate attention on his return. She was sitting at Nicholas' desk wrinkling her nose at a highly-scented lilac envelope, addressed in Diana's sprawling handwriting and marked 'personal', and wondering whether it merited inclusion in the urgent pile when an amused voice from the doorway cut in on her thoughts.

  'After five o'clock and still hard at it, I see. What a treasure of a secretary I have!'

  She started and dropped Diana's letter as if it had suddenly become red-hot.

  'I hope I pay you overtime for all this dedication to my interests.' He was leaning against the doorpost surveying her flushed face and only too well aware who had written the letter which she had been holding.

  She got to her feet, struggling for composure, and only made matters worse by telling him, 'I wasn't expecting you back until tomorrow.'

  'Obviously not.' The amusement in his tone deepened. 'I tied things up quicker than I anticipated and caught an earlier flight. I expected you to have left the office by the time I arrived, so there didn't seem any point in letting you know the change of plan.'

  He was looking his usual cool, immaculate self, the formality of the dark suit he wore enhancing his lean attraction, the crisp whiteness of his shirt contrasting against the tan of his face. He looked as if he had just spent a week soaking up the sun and relaxing in the Bahamas or some other sun-spot favoured by the jet-set. Instead, Kate knew that he had completed a taxing schedule of appointments which she herself had fixed for him. He ought to be exhausted, yet, as always, he thrived on the experience. It was almost unfair, she thought.

  She explained hastily, 'I was trying to make sure that you saw the most important letters first when you got back.'

  'Thoughtful of you,' he observed, entering the room and tossing his briefcase on to a chair. 'But the rest can wait until tomorrow now. Get your coat—I'm taking you out to dinner.'

  'I beg your pardon?'

  'You heard what I said.'

  'But I don't want to have dinner with you,' Kate lied vehemently.

  'I don't remember asking you whether you wanted to or not.' The grey eyes glinted with that devilry that she had long ago decided was a compelling part of his charm and a feature of his personality that she was no more capable than any other woman of resisting, try as she might. 'In my usual overbearing way I'm running true to form and ordering you to have dinner with me tonight.'

  She glanced down at the neat blouse and skirt she was wearing. They were eminently suitable for the office, but hardly good enough for dining out with someone like Nicholas who frequented the best restaurants in town. 'But I'm not dressed for eating out,' she protested.

  His glance surveyed her briefly. 'You look fine to me,' he told her. 'Stop making excuses.'

  'But—' she began to protest half-heartedly again.

  'What's the matter? Are you still scared of me?'

  'No, but—'

  'Are you thinking what your boy-friend will say?'

  'No.'

  'Then there's no problem, is there?' he said coolly. He looked at his watch. 'I haven't eaten anything apart from an airline's plastic apology for a meal since early this morning and I'm hungry. I expect you are too. You've got three minutes. I'll book a table while you go and get your coat. O.K.?'

  Their glances caught and held. Kate's last remnants of resistance fell away. 'O.K.,' she said meekly, capitulating as they had both known she always would. After all, what was she arguing about? A shared meal between boss and secretary meant nothing beyond the chance for her to acquaint Nicholas with what had been happening in the office while he had been away.

  Looking at her flushed, eager face in the mirror of the cloakroom as she hastily tidied her hair and did a quick repair job on her make-up, she wondered who she was trying to fool. She was as eager as a girl on her very first date, breathless with anticipation of the evening ahead. 'Pull yourself together, girl,' she told herself sternly. 'This isn't going to lead anywhere and, what's more, you don't want it to. Remember what happened last time you let your feelings run away with you.' Yet she returned to Nicholas' office with a light step and a feeling of happiness that increased when she saw that, although he had glanced at some of the letters on his desk in her absence, Diana Kendall's letter remained unopened.

  'Ready? Good.' He got to his feet and escorted her to the door. As they came out of the lift together and crossed the reception area the night, security guard bade them a rather surprised 'Goodnight'. It would be all over the building tomorrow that she and the great man had been seen leaving together, Kate thought ruefully, as she followed Nicholas to where his gleaming black Porsche hugged the kerb.

  He drove well, handling the powerful car with a control and sureness of touch that she could not help but admire. She might have known that he would notice.

  'Taking back all those rude remarks you once made about my driving?' he asked.

  'Amending them slightly,' she said, and he laughed at the admission.

  It was not long before they drew up outside a small, discreetly-lit restaurant in one of the side streets not far from the West End.

  'I thought you'd go for good food as well as atmosphere and this place has both,' Nicholas informed her as he led her inside.

  And what exactly did he mean by that? she wondered, as they were greeted by a smiling, bowing head-waiter, who, as she might have known, found it nothing but an honour to provide Nicholas Blake with a table at such short notice. Once comfortably seated and provided with a menu which offered every out of season delicacy she could have wished for, Kate spared a thought for her flat-mate, in all probability sitting down to beans on toast for the third time that week. What would Jane say when she heard about this little episode? Probably put two and two together and make six. Kate frowned.

  Nicholas, ever observant, noticed and, after they had ordered, queried with a wicked smile, 'Well, will he be annoyed when you tell him? Or won't you tell him?'

  'Tell who?' she asked stupidly, not understanding him.

  'The attentive boy-friend I'm sure you must possess. Will he be waiting to wring my neck tomorrow morning or will you preserve a discreet silence and not mention it?'

  She dodged the issue. 'What is there to tell? My boss takes me out for a meal so that I can bring him up to date on what's been happening in the office while he's been away. Is that a cause for scandal?'

  He shrugged. 'Anyone I escort seems the target for talk,' he said cynically. 'The gossip columnists take an unhealthy interest in my activities.'

  And so did she, thought Kate guiltily, as she remembered the number of times recently she had avidly devoured the details of his latest jaunt with Diana. Why she had done so she hardly knew herself and she had certainly no intention of revealing to him. 'Oh, I hardly think your secretary counts as food for the newspapers.'

  'You'd be surprised. I'm not given to wining and dining my staff.'

  A shadow of misgiving hit her at his words, but she responded casually enough. 'So why start now? You could have waited until tomorrow to hear the office news. In fact, if I'd left at five o'clock on the dot as I'm supposed to do, you'd have had to have waited.'

  His smile glinted briefly, mischievously. 'But you didn't leave early. And here we are. Life is full of unexpected surprises.' He paused as a waiter served their steaks and another brought the wine he had chosen for them, then continued, 'Besides, who said I wanted to hear the office news from you? I can think of better things to discuss with an attractive girl, even if she is my secretary.'

  She was faintly proud of the cool way she managed to ask, 'Are you trying to flirt with me?' although the words themselves might be naive. 'Still suspecting my motives, Kate?'

  'Aren't I right to do so? The world must be full of girls who fell for a charming load of
nonsense and regretted it afterwards.'

  'And you've no intention of adding to the number?' he asked quizzically, studying her with a sudden intentness which lent a curious weight to his words.

  'Certainly not!'

  He smiled full at her and involuntarily she responded, incapable of resisting the way his normally harsh features relaxed and became entirely human. Gone was the remote, austere man for whom she had worked for the last few weeks and in his place was the Nicholas who knew only too well how to pursue and flatter his quarry, the Nicholas who had demonstrated to Kate with such expertise that he could break down any defences a woman cared to muster against him.

  'That was why you put up a token fight before agreeing to have dinner with me?'

  'If you like.'

  'Yet you came.'

  'It's a free meal at a good restaurant and I'm as fond of my food as the next girl,' she said.

  'You won't convince me that you're just a freebooter. I think I know you a little too well for that.'

  She raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. Perhaps it was the wine that was going to her head, but she felt suddenly reckless. She was enjoying this verbal fencing as much as he was and she was reluctant to bring it to an end. 'And how well do you know me?' she asked casually. 'Perhaps you'd like to give me a quick run-down on my character?' She turned from him to study the sweets trolley and select a portion of a creamy confection crowned with fresh strawberries.

  He waited until she was served and then helped himself to cheese, taking his time and deliberately keeping her waiting for his answer. 'I'll tell you some time. But not tonight.'

  'Not confident in your own judgment?' she ventured teasingly.

  'I find it pays never to be too sure of myself when dealing with a woman,' he said. 'They're too capricious for that. One has always to be prepared to change with the prevailing wind.'

  'That's a rather sweeping statement, isn't it?'

  He mocked her. 'Come now, Kate. You're surely not suggesting that your sex is boringly predictable?'

  'No, merely that we're as capable as you are of making reasoned judgments.'

  'You mean you have lightning instinctive reactions and then invent logical reasons to support them.'

  'Perhaps,' she conceded, not prepared to take the argument further than the gentle banter which they had used so far.

  He laughed with genuine amusement. 'Fighting shy?' he asked.

  She responded with a mock demure smile. 'I refuse to be drawn on the subject. I'm not going to fight you tonight.' She speared a portion of the creamy gateau on her plate and added impishly, 'Besides, I was always taught that it's wrong to bite the hand that feeds you.'

  'Cupboard love? I must take you out more often. Who knows the rewards that might be in store for me?'

  His eyes roved over her, the meaning behind his words unmistakable. Yet she was triumphant rather than offended. She might have none of the surface glamour of Diana Kendall, but she could arouse his masculine interest without such aids. For this brief space of time she was superior to Diana or any other girl in Nicholas' past, because, right now, she had his sole interest and attention. And the knowledge filled her with a glow of well-being that seemed entirely right.

  'Come and dance,' he commanded and, lost in a haze of good food, wine and happiness, she needed no urging to get to her feet and make her way with him to the tiny, dimly-lit dais where several couples were already moving to the sound of the music. He was a good dancer, responding instinctively to the rhythm and holding her lightly but firmly in his arms as they circled the floor. His touch stirred her senses to an awareness against which she had been struggling all evening that Nicholas Blake was the most excitingly virile man that she had ever met. In the distant background, almost as if it was another planet, she was dimly aware of all the sights and sounds of the restaurant and the other dancers, but she was alive only to the heady bliss of being in his arms.

  The tempo changed, the music becoming slower and dreamier, and she did not resist when he pulled her close to him, abandoning the last remnants of caution as she surrendered to the seductive spell of the music and gave in to the overwhelming temptation to twine her arms round his neck. If she had a conscious thought it was the wish that this could go on for ever. She caught the lemony tang of his aftershave as he bent his head closer and a tremor of delight shook her as his lips brushed hers, first gently, then with a passion that excited and stirred a greater response in her. He pressed her still closer to him, moulding her against the hard contours of his body and making her thrillingly aware that she had awakened a need in him as great as he had aroused in her.

  Then there was a sudden blinding flash of light that shocked them both back to reality. Abruptly released from the comforting hold of Nicholas' arms, Kate turned, bewildered, to see a man, camera in hand, run towards the door which led to the street and disappear through it. Nicholas started in pursuit, but returned a few seconds later looking furious, having given up the chase.

  'These blasted photographers!' he complained. 'I wonder how he knew I was here. Someone must have tipped him off.' He glanced angrily around. 'And if I find out who it was there'll be hell to pay!'

  Kate was still reeling from the shock. 'You mean he was from a newspaper?' she asked, confused.

  'A freelance. I've had rows with him before now. If I'd caught him that film wouldn't have reached Fleet Street and he knew it—that's why he disappeared so quickly. He'll know where to sell the picture. We'll be featured across half the gossip pages tomorrow morning.'

  The reality of the situation brought a cold burst of sanity to her. What had she done? Tonight she had let down her defences and relaxed in Nicholas Blake's arms. Tomorrow she would be splashed across the pages of the popular press as the latest girl in the life, and therefore by insinuation the bed, of 'the City's most eligible bachelor'. She felt suddenly sick. Had Nicholas really not known that the photographer was there? Oh, he had run after him and seemed angry at the intrusion, but perhaps it had all been an act. Diana was becoming too pressing in her attentions and he had decided to show her that she had to toe the line or be replaced. What a fool she had been to suppose that Nicholas would treat his secretary's feelings any differently from anyone else in his life.

  The spell was shattered now, the moments of easy intimacy between them had gone. She hated Nicholas Blake, but she hated herself more. How could she have fallen for such a trick? She wished with all her heart that she had never come.

  She gathered the shreds of her dignity around her. 'Please, take me home,' she asked him.

  He started to remonstrate, then after a look at her set face agreed. He summoned the waiter and signed the bill, then led Kate out of the restaurant.

  The thought of the shared drive home was almost too much to bear. 'Perhaps you'd be good enough to get me a taxi?' she asked coldly as he felt in his pocket for the car keys.

  'Don't be a fool. I'll drive you home.'

  'I'd rather you didn't,' she said tautly. 'I think I've been through enough in your company tonight.'

  In the half-light of the street lamps she could not see his expression, but she sensed that he was checking his temper with difficulty. Yet his voice was cool enough, with an iciness to it which brought back memories of other encounters at which Kate had come off worst. 'I've no intention of staging a stand-up row with you on a street corner. Get in the car and we'll discuss whatever's biting you in a more civilised fashion.'

  'No, it would never do for the gossip columnists to find you with a woman who'd taken exception to your famous technique for getting your own way, would it?'

  She flung the words at him, determined to provoke a reaction, and got one that she hardly expected. He wasted no time arguing but grabbed her forcibly and, opening the car door, bundled her inside. He had crossed in front of the car and was in the driver's seat before she had fathomed which catch released the door, and now it was too late to escape. She knew that she was no match for his superior strength—he had
already proved that successfully.

  'Where to?'

  It would have been childish to refuse to answer him, so she gave him her address. He drove off, the burst of speed and crash of gears indicating more clearly than anything he could have said what kind of mood he was in. On the outskirts of town he turned into a tree-lined road and brought the car to a sudden halt. Switching off the ignition, he turned to her. 'Right. You've had a chance to cool down a little. Perhaps you'd like to explain the little act you put on back there.'

  'There's nothing to explain. I think you're despicable, Nicholas Blake!'

  'Evidently,' he said, unmoved. 'But you managed to hide your feelings successfully earlier this evening. Why the sudden change of mood?'

  'That was before I realised you had an ulterior motive in asking me to have dinner with you.'

  He was being eminently reasonable, as if talking to a muddled six-year-old. 'As a matter of fact I had, but I fail to see how you realised.'

  'I'm not that stupid. I suppose you assumed I'd think the photographer was there by accident?'

  'Photographer? Kate, what the hell are you talking about?'

  'The photographer you planted there to take a picture of us together. "Dashing Nicholas Blake with his latest conquest." Do you really think Diana would be so easily discouraged? Or was the idea just to make her jealous?'

  'You think I set it up?' he demanded.