‘Sure?’
‘Yes,’ she smiled, not sure at all. She hadn’t expected Rick to slam out like that, had never known him react so strongly to one of her taunts before. But then he had been acting strangely all week; he was not the Rick Dalmont she thought she knew at all.
He didn’t come back to the office for the rest of the afternoon, and as he had made no definite decision about offering Cindy the job as editor Shanna didn’t mention it to the other woman when she came to the office late afternoon. No doubt it was something Rick would rather discuss with his assistant in private.
She went to a party that evening, and also one on Saturday evening, but as on the last four nights she saw nothing of Rick. He had suddenly stopped haunting her every movement, and was no longer there every time she looked round. The natural assumption to make was that he had found another woman to chase, that he had probably caught her, and that he had finally lost interest in her, Shanna.
The photograph of him in the Sunday newspapers walking into the club of the moment on Friday evening, with the model of the moment, Carrie, seemed to confirm that. Strange, she wasn’t as relieved by his change of attention as she had thought she would be…
CHAPTER SEVEN
THERE wasn’t much evidence of the new woman in his life doing much to improve Rick’s temper when he came in on Monday morning, sending out cutting barbs to everyone he came into contact with, from Shanna to the innocuous Peter Lacey.
‘I see the boss is back on form,’ Cindy said dryly as she joined Shanna in her office for a sandwich lunch—after having made sure Rick had already left the office for his own lunch!
‘Mm?’ Shanna replied vaguely, preoccupied with her own thoughts.
‘Here,’ Cindy turned the pages on the newspaper Shanna had been reading so that she could see the photograph of Rick with an Italian film star, the dark-haired beauty clinging to his arm in open adoration. ‘She isn’t the same one he was photographed with on Friday.’ She raised her brows pointedly.
‘Or the one he went to lunch with just now,’ Shanna said quietly.
Cindy’s brows went even higher. ‘He had a woman call for him here?’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t elaborate on the fact that it had unsettled her to see the way the red-haired woman threw herself into Rick’s arms, her pouting mouth clinging to his provocatively as he stood up to greet her. Shanna had recognised the woman as a television announcer, known for her glamour as much as her brains. And she obviously knew Rick intimately.
‘Then he is back on form,’ Cindy grimaced. ‘I suppose it was too good to last. It’s usually like this,’ she explained at Shanna’s questioning look. ‘But this time I thought—Well, it’s made a nice change not to keep falling over his women,’ she amended awkwardly.
‘It’s all right, Cindy,’ Shanna smiled. ‘I had no doubt that Rick’s interest in me would be fleeting. It only lasted as long as it did because to him I was the unobtainable. You see now why I wasn’t obtainable. The last thing I need is an affair!’
‘Why not?’
‘Why?’ she frowned. ‘Because—well, because—’
‘Rick’s usually very good with his ladies, and as you aren’t into permanent relationships either…’
Shanna had become good friends with Cindy over the last week, really liked the other woman, and she knew the liking was reciprocated. She had talked openly with Cindy, told her of her reluctance ever to marry again. ‘I’m not “into” any sort of relationship, Cindy, you know that,’ she said impatiently. ‘Least of all becoming one of Rick Dalmont’s numerous “ladies”.’
‘No one is asking,’ rasped his gravel and honey voice as he came forcefully into the room, looking at them both coldly as they blushed guiltily. ‘I don’t care to have my private life discussed at some lunchtime gossip,’ he snapped icily. ‘What goes on in my life outside of this office is my affair,’ he continued abruptly, ‘and no one else’s. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Cindy mumbled, for once having no cheeky come-back.
He turned cold black eyes on Shanna. ‘Both of you?’ he prompted with soft menace.
She resented being treated like a child. He might intimidate Cindy, but he didn’t frighten her, not in the least. ‘You overheard a private conversation between Cindy and myself, not gossip—’
‘A conversation about my personal life,’ he bit out grimly.
‘But not gossip,’ she insisted.
‘I disagree. Cindy, don’t you have some work to do?’ he glared at her in challenge.
They all knew that Cindy had at least another twenty minutes of her lunch-break left, and yet the other woman nodded, collecting up her things and leaving without a backward glance, just relieved to have got off so lightly.
‘You’re a bullying—’ Shanna began.
‘I’m in no mood for your insults today, Shanna,’ he rasped dismissively. ‘One more word and you’re going to find your employment terminated right now!’
She stiffened, her own anger rising to meet his. ‘Nothing would please me more!’
‘I’m aware of that.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Which is precisely the reason I want you to get out of here now.’
‘My pleasure!’ She picked up her bag in preparation to leave.
‘Only this office, Shanna,’ he warned softly. ‘Don’t leave the building.’
She looked ready to explode. No one, no one had ever spoken to her in this way before. ‘You wanted me to leave, so I’m leaving—’
‘Not the building, Shanna,’ he repeated, a smile to his lips now, the anger having faded to be replaced by taunting humour. ‘I believe you’ve been looking for another job?’ he added softly.
She wasn’t deceived by his mild tone; she recognised the threat behind the words—and resented them. ‘You wouldn’t dare—’
‘Wouldn’t dare what?’ he taunted.
‘There’s no way you could stop me getting another job,’ she told him with haughty disdain.
‘No? There’s the question of your references. I believe prospective employers are very big on that sort of thing over here?’
‘You wouldn’t…?’
‘If you leave now I can only assume that you’ve broken your contract, that you quit. I don’t believe I have to give you references in the circumstances.’
She swallowed hard, hating him in that moment. ‘You bastard!’ she snapped coldly.
He gave a cool inclination of his head. ‘Repetitious, but said from the heart. Now get out of here,’ he ordered harshly.
‘Didn’t it work out?’ she scorned as she reached the door. ‘Your lunchtime bedmate?’ she explained at his look of query.
Rick’s mouth quirked. ‘Samantha is very—accommodating.’ He sat down. ‘Ask Cindy to come and see me, will you?’
Shanna held in her gasp of indignation with effort. Who did he think he was talking to! She was the editor here, not some messenger girl. She wouldn’t run his errands for him—
‘Something wrong?’ He arched mocking brows at her as she still stood in the doorway.
‘Not a damned thing!’ She slammed out of the room with suppressed violence. She wouldn’t let him force her into leaving by ordering her around!
Lord, what a ridiculous situation! A couple of weeks ago she would have liked nothing better than to be able to just walk out of here, and now that Rick had challenged her to do just that she couldn’t do it. He knew she needed his references, damn him, that no one would employ her, even as an errand girl, without her references. And only she knew how badly she needed a job, how she needed to keep busy all the time.
Rick pushed her to her limits over the next few days, making her run needless messages for him, talking to her in cold clipped tones when he bothered to talk to her at all, waiting for her to answer the telephone whenever it rang, whether it was on her desk or his. The atmosphere was so tense and uncomfortable that by Wednesday evening Shanna was at breaking point. The telephone rang on Rick’s desk just as she was pulling
on her jacket to leave, and by the sixth ring she knew he had no intention of answering it.
She snatched up the receiver, her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘What did your last servant die of, Rick?’ she snapped.
‘It certainly wasn’t kindness,’ he drawled unconcernedly.
‘I can vouch for that! Rick Dalmont’s office,’ she cooed sweetly into the receiver, glaring at Rick with dislike at the same time.
‘Rick, please,’ purred a throaty voice.
‘It’s for you.’ Shanna thrust the receiver at him. ‘And that’s the last call I take from one of your women!’ She seemed to have been doing nothing else the last three days!
‘Jealous, Shanna?’ he mocked, eyeing her challengingly.
‘Go to hell!’
‘I’m more likely to know heaven in Delia’s arms,’ he taunted. ‘It is Delia, isn’t it?’
‘She didn’t give a name,’ Shanna bit out scornfully.
‘Hello,’ he spoke into the mouthpiece, his black gaze never leaving Shanna as she walked proudly over to the door. ‘Yes, Delia,’ there was mockery in his gaze now.
‘Goodnight—Mr Dalmont,’ Shanna told him curtly.
‘Shanna?’ he stopped her, his hand over the mouthpiece.
She stiffened. ‘Yes?’
‘You should try it some time,’ he drawled. ‘It does wonders for tension.’
She could feel the hot colour entering her cheeks. ‘Maybe when you get your mind out of the bedroom, Mr Dalmont, you’ll realise there’s more to life than bedding as many women as you can!’ She watched in amazement as he slowly put the receiver down and stood up to come towards her threateningly. ‘I—Delia—She—’
‘She’ll call back,’ he said grimly.
‘How nice to be so confident!’ she scorned, to hide her real nervousness.
‘You should be less so,’ he told her harshly, his fingers biting into her arm. ‘My mind isn’t in the bedroom at the moment, Shanna,’ he rasped. ‘It’s envisaging how much pleasure I would get from putting my hands around that pretty little neck of yours and squeezing until no more sharp barbs could come from those delectable lips.’
She swallowed hard, looking up at him with wide eyes. ‘I—I—’
‘Frightened, Shanna?’ he taunted hardly. ‘So you damn well should be!’ He flung her away from him with little regard for the fact that she struck her hip painfully on the door-handle. ‘Go home, Shanna,’ he added almost wearily.
‘Rick—’
‘I have a telephone call to make,’ he bit out.
‘Delia?’
‘Who else?’ he taunted, already dialling the number, turning his back on her as he sat on the side of his desk. ‘Delia? Sorry, baby, my—assistant cut us off. Yes, it is hard to get qualified help nowadays,’ he answered with humour. ‘Now, about tonight—’
Shanna had heard enough, quietly closing the door behind her as she left, leaning weakly back against it. It had been a strain working with Rick the last three days, with his desire turning to a need to punish. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
It took all her will power to get out of bed and go to her office the next morning, dreading another day of Rick’s unwarranted cruelty. She had even stopped going out in the evenings now so that she had enough strength to spar with him during the day. Even so, this constant battle of wills was sapping her strength, and she could feel the danger signals closing in on her.
Rick’s desk was empty when she got in promptly at nine o’clock, and as he was usually in long before her this was surprising. There was no briefcase or papers on the desk to tell her he had even been in at all.
Cindy came into the office at nine-fifteen, her usual good humour not having suffered from Rick’s temper this week. That was the one consolation to Shanna—Rick’s bad temper wasn’t directed only at her, although working with him as closely as she did she seemed to get the brunt of it.
‘I don’t think he’s in yet,’ she told the other woman with a smile.
‘I know,’ Cindy nodded. ‘Did Rick tell you he’s suggested I be editor here once you’ve left?’ she came straight to the point in her usual straightforward manner.
‘Yes.’ Shanna’s smile didn’t waver. ‘He said you’re going to think about it.’
‘I am,’ the other girl frowned. ‘I’m not sure I’m cut out to stay in one place.’
‘Rick thinks you are.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘I think you are too,’ Shanna nodded. ‘We’ve worked together on a couple of things since you’ve been here, and I think you have a feel for this job. Besides, Rick will be here to help you for a while.’
‘You don’t mind?’
She stiffened. ‘What Rick does is nothing to do with me.’
‘I didn’t mean that part,’ Cindy chided. ‘I meant, do you mind my being offered your job?’
‘But it isn’t my job—I resigned.’
‘You don’t regret it?’
‘Not at all,’ Shanna replied truthfully, knowing she couldn’t continue working for Rick.
‘Because of Rick?’ Cindy guessed.
‘Partly—’
‘Mainly,’ the other woman corrected.
‘Perhaps,’ she admitted.
‘He’s been such a bear lately,’ Cindy frowned. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him.’
‘Well, it certainly isn’t frustration any more,’ Shanna derided. ‘But it looks as if I shall be spared his temper today,’ she looked pointedly at his empty desk. ‘Delia must have proved as interesting as he thought she would.’
‘And who is Delia?’ Cindy frowned.
‘The woman he was seeing last night.’
‘Oh, her,’ Cindy dismissed callously. ‘I don’t think she was interesting at all—he was back at the hotel by ten-thirty.’
That surprised her, she had been sure, by the way Rick spoke to Delia on the telephone, that he had intended it to be an all-night date. ‘Are you sure he was alone?’
‘Very much so,’ Cindy said dryly. ‘And in a lousy mood too. He had us all running around in circles last night about this airline deal.’
Shanna knew that Rick was going through with the acquisition of the airline, had gathered that much from conversations of his she had overheard. But she couldn’t imagine what he could do to further its progress at eleven o’clock at night! She said as much to Cindy.
‘Like I said,’ Cindy grimaced, ‘we were running about in circles. No one was available that time of night.’
‘He must have been turned down,’ Shanna taunted.
‘By never-say-no Delia?’ Cindy mocked. ‘You’ve got to be kidding! If anyone said no it was Rick. He probably started to feel ill last night and wasn’t in the mood.’
‘Ill?’ Shanna repeated in a puzzled voice.
‘Oh, damn,’ Cindy said impatiently. ‘I came in here to tell you Rick won’t be in today because he’s sick and then I got sidetracked.’
Shanna shook her head, wondering at the sudden fear that clutched at her. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘The doctor says—’
‘Doctor?’ she echoed sharply. ‘He’s bad enough to need a doctor?’
‘Hey, calm down,’ Cindy soothed. ‘He only has the ‘flu, not the Black Death!’
‘’Flu?’ Shanna repeated with some relief. ‘What did the doctor say?’ She refused to question herself about her concern for a man she was supposed to hate.
‘Bed rest and plenty of fluids.’
‘And Rick meekly agreed?’ She somehow couldn’t envisage him doing that.
‘Not meekly, no,’ Cindy laughed. ‘But as he’s feeling too weak to get out of bed he didn’t have much choice.’
‘And the fluids?’
Cindy shrugged. ‘The hotel will provide them.’
Shanna frowned. ‘He’s on his own?’
‘Well, he didn’t call for Delia or one of the other women he’s seen this week, if that’s what you mean,’ Cindy deride
d.
She sighed. ‘Do you think he’s well enough to be left on his own?’
‘Well, after he told us all to get out I’m sure as hell not going to volunteer to stay with him. He’s more unbearable than usual!’
Shanna telephoned Rick’s hotel once Cindy had left, only to be told that ‘Mr Dalmont is not taking any calls’. Sleep would be the best thing for him, she decided, if he felt as ill as Cindy had implied he did—and yet as the day progressed she couldn’t help worrying if he were all right. A hotel suite wasn’t the best place to feel ill, and no one else seemed particularly concerned about him; all his personal staff were at work at the magazine as usual. She didn’t doubt Cindy’s word that Rick had told them to leave him alone—he would be impossible when weakened by illness!—but she wasn’t sure it was good for him. What if he collapsed? What if the ‘flu turned to something more serious?
It was no good telling herself that she had no need to worry about someone who treated her as badly as Rick did—she was worried, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Just as there was nothing she could do when she found she had driven to Rick’s hotel that evening after she finished work. She convinced herself that as she was here she might as well go in and see how he was.
There was no answer to her knock on his suite door, but when she tried the door-handle it opened. All was quiet inside; the lounge was tidy enough, as was the first bedroom she tried. The second bedroom was a different matter! Crumpled tissues littered the floor and bedside cabinet, an empty jug and glass stood on top of the latter, clothes were scattered on the floor around the bed, as if Rick had only just managed to undress before collapsing on the bed. And it was there that he lay, the bedclothes lying badly crumpled about him, the dark growth of a day’s beard very noticeable against the other pallor of his face, his eyes were closed, his breathing ragged and irregular.
He looked terrible, much worse than she had envisaged, and whether he wanted her here or not—and she was sure he didn’t!—she wasn’t leaving until she was sure he should be left alone. He didn’t even look as if he were conscious!
‘Rick?’
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