Unwilling Surrender

by Cathy Williams

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked tightly.

  ‘He asked me all about your work. How much of it I’d seen. What your portfolio was like. He said that he wouldn’t mind giving you a try at doing a cover for one of his magazines. He thinks the photographers they’ve been using have sunk into a rut. He said that something different might encourage sales to pick up. He has his team working on a fresh approach to the articles, and you...well, you’re in line for redesigning the graphics.’ Fiona looked rather pleased with herself for this extended speech.

  ‘I don’t need your brother’s patronage,’ Christina muttered through her teeth.

  ‘I thought you were always on the look-out for freelance work.’

  ‘I am,’ she replied evenly, ‘but I’ve got quite enough on my plate at the moment. So you can tell him that the next time he mentions that little idea of his.’

  Fiona nodded agreeably enough. ‘OK.’

  ‘Fine.’

  She looked across to where the blonde and Adam were still pressed against each other. He had his arm slung around her shoulder so that his hand fell lightly in front of her breast. A few inches closer and he would be caressing it. The thought sickened her. Why did they have to show that kind of intimacy in public? Couldn’t they wait until they made it to the bedroom? It was in bad taste, she thought resentfully.

  He looked across suddenly and caught her eyes on him, and he raised one eyebrow in question.

  Christina scowled ill-humouredly at him and looked away.

  If he thought, she decided, that he was going to have anything to do with her on a work basis, then he was in for a shock, because the last thing she would ever do was accept his hand-outs.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IF CHRISTINA could honestly say to herself that he had not managed to ruffle her feathers, then there would be no reason why she should be worrying about hearing from him. But the fact was that she was doing just that.

  Three days ago she had left his party with a brief little wave in his direction, hurrying out of the house just in case he took it into his head to come over and personally escort her through the front door.

  And since then she had spent every waking moment in a state of nervous tension, wondering whether the next time she answered the phone his deep, velvety voice would be at the other end. Whenever she came home she would apprehensively switch on her answering machine, and hold her breath while the incoming calls were played back.

  And, most of all, she had concocted a dozen different reasons why she would not, could not, possibly do any work for his publishing firm. She was overworked at the moment. She was coming down with something. She would be out of the country. She had no experience in that particular field. The excuses ran on and on in her brain until they made her dizzy.

  Underneath them all there was only one reason why she would not accept work from him. She couldn’t bear his proximity, and that was because she loathed him and, more than that, loathed the response he had drawn out of her for his own amusement. He was too attractive, too charming for his own good, and she wasn’t even going to put herself in a position where she might forget, however briefly, the lessons she had learnt from Greg.

  She propped her feet up on the footstool in front of her and cradled her mug in both her hands while her attention drifted away from the television programme which she had been watching, and chewed away at the tiring question of why Adam Palmer was disturbing the calm surface of her life so very much.

  She thought of the blonde, Frances, and decided that that was just one more nail in his coffin as far as she was concerned. A womaniser. Weren’t they the worst sort?

  She tried to stifle the pang of sympathy she felt for him whenever she thought of how his father’s infidelities must have affected him, changed him, no doubt, from a boy to a man. When had he found out? He hadn’t said, but, thinking back, she could remember how quickly he seemed to have donned an air of cynicism, which at the time she had found wildly exciting.

  Sympathy, though, was the last thing she should feel for him, she thought. All said and done, she would have to be ultra-careful when and if she happened to bump into him again. There was no use pretending that he hadn’t aroused feelings of desire in her, and she would have to make sure that she didn’t succumb to that seductive charm of his, if he ever took it into his head to use it on her again.

  Reason, though, was on her side, because he wasn’t attracted to her. Despite the fact that recently she had been paying a lot more attention to that reflection that stared back at her from the mirror, she would be a fool to develop a convenient blind eye to her own physical shortcomings. Greg’s words kept coming back to her, making her head swim.

  Of course, Adam Palmer was to blame for that. She didn’t care what he thought of her physically, but there was something in his expert appraisal of her which made her look at herself and find herself wanting. Those cool blue eyes could evaluate a woman and dismiss her in a matter of seconds, even though to all intents and purposes he was as charming as the devil himself to everyone.

  She had always known that to be a trait of his.

  He was one of those men, she had long ago decided, who was attracted to the decorative type of woman. He dealt with the intellectuals on a business level. Perhaps he didn’t want his private life cluttered with them as well. He got enough mental stimulation at work. He wanted to relax in the company of a woman who perhaps excited him physically, but didn’t tax his mind too much.

  Why was this whole thing bothering her so much? she wondered irritably. She didn’t want to think about the wretched man. That was a bad habit which she thought she had put well and truly behind her years ago. Now she had enough on her plate to occupy her mind without Adam Palmer cropping up like a bad penny every two minutes.

  She was staring at the television set, frowning, trying to work out what had happened in the last ten minutes, when the telephone rang from just beside her, and she automatically lifted the receiver, and absent-mindedly said, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Tina. Have I caught you in the middle of something?’

  Christina sat up straight, her nerve-ends tingling as Adam’s sexy deep voice reached her.

  ‘Yes,’ she lied, ‘I was in the middle of some work.’

  ‘Were you?’ he asked politely. ‘Well, this won’t take long.’

  Most men, she wanted to point out, would have done the decent thing and suggested that they call back later. Why not you?

  ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday party,’ she said, buying time and talking off the top of her head in an attempt to gather her thoughts together. ‘It was very enjoyable. Did you enjoy yourself? I’m sorry I didn’t manage to catch you before I left.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it was very enjoyable,’ Adam said with a trace of impatience in his voice, ‘And I’m quite sorry you didn’t catch me as well, because I wanted to talk to you about this little project I want you to do for my company. I would have contacted you sooner, but I’ve been out of the country for the past two days on business.’

  She heard him take a sip of a drink and the faint tinkle of ice in a glass, and she had a very vivid picture of him sitting in that den of his, his eyes half closed as he tilted his head back and swallowed some whisky and soda, his long legs stretched out in front of him. In the semi-darkness of the den, he would look even more dark and brooding than he normally did.

  The image was so frighteningly real that she had to blink it away.

  ‘Anywhere nice?’ she asked.

  ‘Paris. When can I see your portfolio?’

  ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘I’m afraid there are a few problems on that front. I haven’t got it at the moment. I’ve lent it out to one of my clients.’

  ‘Who? I’ll get my courier to pick it up first thing in the morning.’

  This is ridiculous, Christina thought wildly. Why don’t I just accept this damned job and carry on as normal? Chances were she wouldn’t even see him on any of her shoots. He was the top man, hardly like
ly to be swanning around watching her take photographs. Besides, she could hardly expect to continue avoiding him for the rest of her life, simply because, for some inexplicable reason, she was finding his presence unsettling.

  ‘No, no,’ she said hastily, ‘that won’t be necessary. Look, Adam, there’s no need for you to feel obliged to offer me any freelance work with your company. I—’

  ‘I’ve never felt obliged to do anything in my life before,’ he cut in bluntly, ‘and I don’t intend to start now. Now when can I see this portfolio of yours?’

  ‘Well—’ Christina said feebly, and he interrupted in the sort of voice that made her feel as though he was doing her a favour by agreeing to meet her, when it was the other way around.

  ‘What about tomorrow for lunch? I’m free between eleven-thirty and two. That should give you ample opportunity to collect this portfolio of yours from wherever it is.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Shall we say twelve-thirty at the...?’ and he said the name of one of London’s more exclusive restaurants.

  ‘Fine,’ Christina said in a strangled voice, and she heard the click of the receiver as he hung up.

  She felt as though she had been mown down by a car. Was he always as forceful as this in his dealings with people, or did he save some modicum of good manners for other, more worthwhile individuals?

  She spent an inordinate length of time the following day reviewing her portfolio. It was a good one. She knew that without any lack of modesty. She had perfected a natural talent and honed it into something quite impressive.

  As far as she could see, it had been good luck that she had been able to turn something she loved doing into a job. Not many people had that opportunity.

  The photographs in her portfolio ranged from evocative black and white portraits to crisp colour photos of everything from children to buildings.

  She zipped up the leather case and spent the next hour dressing very carefully. There was no sense in trying to emphasise her femininity. He would take one look at her efforts and throw her one of those amused little smiles he specialised in. And besides, that wasn’t her style. She preferred clothes that were functional and comfortable. For interviews with prospective clients she invariably wore a suit.

  Now she pulled out a camel-coloured one. The skirt fitted her to the knees and the jacket was a boxy, Chanel-type one with a rounded neck and buttons down the front. It was unobtrusive and businesslike and she felt rather pleased as she studied herself in the full-length mirror.

  All she needed, she thought drily, was a pair of spectacles, and she would fit the role of the sexless career girl down to the last button on her jacket.

  She arrived at the restaurant exactly on time. Punctuality was a virtue she cherished highly, having been kept waiting more than once by late clients. To be late, as far as she was concerned, wasn’t the privilege of a woman, but just downright rude.

  Adam, she was pleased to see, was already there. She was shown to his table and he half stood as she approached.

  ‘You’re on time,’ he said without preamble. ‘That’s good. I like that in a person.’ He signalled to one of the waiters, who came over to take her order for an aperitif, and as she asked for a glass of mineral water with a slice of lemon she could feel him watching her. It made her skin tingle.

  She wasn’t about to let him throw her out of joint, though. She was here on business and when it came to that area she was poised and self-confident and totally in control.

  She had brushed her hair back into a neat chignon, which she considered made her appear even more sexless; then she told herself off for even thinking about how she looked at all.

  She smiled at him and said briskly, ‘Would you like to tell me exactly what sort of job you have in mind for me?’

  ‘No preliminary small talk?’

  ‘We could, if you like. What would you like to small-talk about? The weather? Your party? The state of the economy?’

  The waiter brought them their menus and she busied herself looking at it, already knowing what she intended to have, but taking her time perusing the dishes listed because it meant that she didn’t have to look at him.

  He looked devastating. His dark hair had been combed back and the muted colours of his suit lent his dark good looks even more sex appeal.

  ‘The hard-headed businesswoman to the core,’ he said lazily, shutting his menu with a little snap. ‘You can step down from there, Tina. Don’t forget that we know each other. You don’t have to impress me.’

  Christina closed her menu and regarded him evenly.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to impress you. I’m here on business. I just thought that we might as well get it out of the way.’

  ‘Before we move on to what?’

  Was there a teasing note in his voice or was it her imagination? Certainly she got the impression that he was laughing at her and her carefully groomed image, and that made her angry.

  ‘Before you move into a taxi to carry you back to your office, and I head home to continue my work.’

  The waiter came to take their order and she looked at Adam from under her lashes, absorbing the strong lines of his face.

  ‘Have you spoken to Fiona recently?’ he asked, leaning forward and resting both elbows on the table.

  Christina shook her head. ‘No, why? Please don’t tell me that you have any more problems with her and that you need to enlist my help, because you can count me out.’

  He laughed softly. ‘Nothing like that. Not at the moment, anyway. No, she’s found another man. Or rather I have.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Christina asked, puzzled.

  ‘I’ve decided, in the wake of her last disastrous love-affair, that I should find someone suitable for her, since she shows no sign of doing so herself. So I introduced her to a friend and business acquaintance of mine, Terry White. I am reliably informed by the opposite sex that he’s a good catch, and Fiona, thankfully, seems to share my opinion.’

  ‘Good grief,’ Christina said, forgetting about her cool image, ‘that has to be just about the most arrogant thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.’

  Adam looked back at her, unperturbed. ‘Fiona seems happy enough with the arrangement.’

  ‘Or that’s what you’d like to believe, at any rate.’

  ‘On that soapbox of yours again, Tina?’ His mouth hardened fractionally. ‘You always were one to jump up and down for a cause and conveniently forget about reality.’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘Don’t you think that common interests and similar goals in life can bind two people together far more than lust? Terry and Fiona are ideally suited. And they seem attracted enough to one another. So where’s the problem?’

  ‘The problem is your mania for running other people’s lives!’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m protective of my sister. As for the rest of the world, they’re quite welcome to run their own little lives. I don’t try and interfere in yours, do I?’

  ‘And how would you do that?’ Christina retorted heatedly.

  ‘For a start I’d strip you of that severe suit you’re wearing. I’d also get you to stop being so damned defensive towards the opposite sex. Greg Robinson isn’t worth that sort of legacy.’

  ‘Any more observations?’ She could hardly speak coherently. ‘Thank you, but I like the way I am, just in case it matters! I can just imagine the sort of vacant, platinum-dyed blonde you’d turn me into!’

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  ‘I’m not! You talk about Fiona and Terry, a relationship based on mutual similarities. How would you know? Your relationships are all based on lust! You practically admitted as much to me! And if I were in any doubt, I saw you at your party with that blonde draped over you like a second skin!’

  She wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She hadn’t meant that to slip out.

  ‘Oh, you did, did you?’ Adam asked, the corners of his lips twitching. ‘And naturally you assumed that we d
o nothing in our spare time but make love, and that there’s absolutely nothing between her ears but stuffing?’

  ‘I didn’t assume anything of the sort,’ Christina said awkwardly, ‘though she is a model, isn’t she?’

  ‘She’s also an English graduate.’

  ‘Oh.’ A wave of colour flooded her cheeks. So maybe she had jumped to a few wrong conclusions. Unfortunately that didn’t make her feel in the slightest bit better. She preferred her misconception that the blonde was brainless.

  ‘Very chauvinistic of you to assume that because Frances is blonde and beautiful she can’t possibly be bright.’ He smiled at her and she wanted to knock his complacent front teeth out.

  She concentrated on the remnants of the food on her plate, relieved when the waiter provided a distraction by clearing away their plates, and then, a few minutes later, reappearing with two cups and a jug of percolated coffee.

  ‘We don’t seem to have discussed business at all,’ she said stiffly. ‘Shall I pour you some coffee?’

  He nodded and she poured him out a cup and listened while he began explaining exactly what he wanted from her. The cover shot for the magazine would be, as luck would have it, Frances, and he wanted something unusual and eye-catching to be done.

  ‘Nothing run-of-the-mill,’ he said. ‘I’m fed up with pretty girls staring out at me from the magazine racks in newsagents. I want something different.’

  ‘What about doing away with the model altogether?’ Christina asked. ‘You could take the picture from one of your lead features in the magazine.’

  He nodded, giving it some thought. Then he said she would have to do some shots, purely fashion-based, for the glossy centre pictures, and she nodded. This was fairly familiar ground. She had worked with models before for two magazines, neither of which was part of Adam’s publishing house, and had found the work simple enough if a little tedious. Her attention tended to stray.