The supper club in Mayfair was a small, dimly lit, obviously very exclusive watering hole. A discreet word at the radio-controlled door had gained Jake their entrance. Katy could not help a start of surprise as she recognised one of the young royals, dancing with a quite well-known model whom Katy had worked with countless times in the past.
A dark-suited man took Jake's coat, but before he could take Katy's fur Jake was behind her and deftly removing it. His strong hands lingered a little too long on her slender shoulders and it took all of her will-power to repress the shiver his touch aroused. Finally he released her and allowed the waiter to lead them deferentially to a table in a secluded corner of the room.
It was obvious to Katy that Jake was well known here; he had returned the nods and greetings of quite a few people. 'I'm surprised, Jake; I never saw you as the kind of man who would haunt a place like this,' she commented.
'I don't; I'm a member, of course, but actually this is only my second visit in years.'
Katy shot him a cynical smile. Who was he trying to fool? She sat down on the chair respectfully pulled out for her by a hovering waiter.
'I know most of the people here through business,' he qualified as he took the chair opposite and with a brief word ordered a whisky and water before turning his dark assessing eyes on her.
Lost in her own thoughts, she never noticed his look. Jake's personal life over the past few years was a closed book to Katy. But there must have been dozens of women; somehow she could not see him as being faithful to the likes of Monica, another man's wife... Perhaps he liked variety, and was that a bad thing under the circumstances? she mused.
If she did become his mistress, chances were he would very soon get tired of her. He was used to sophisticated lovers; her virtually total lack of experience would soon pale to a man of his taste. God help her! She was actually seriously considering his proposal.
'Champagne for you, Katy, hmm?'
'No, thank you. I'm not in the mood to celebrate; a Perrier water will be fine.' She shook her head in a negative gesture, but more to dispel her traitorous thoughts than in any refusal of the champagne.
'I am inclined to agree with you—I prefer my women sober,' Jake said smoothly, and, turning to the waiter, gave the order.
Katy ignored his provocative comment and looked around the room, anywhere to avoid having to face the man opposite. On a small stage at one end of the room was a trio playing a kind of mainstream jazz, easy on the ears and enhancing the relaxed atmosphere. A handful of couples occupied the circular dance-floor, moving easily to the soft sound of a blues number.
'Would you care to dance?' Jake's voice broke the lengthening silence between them.
'Not really; this was your idea, not mine,' she responded sullenly, and, picking up the glass of water the waiter had carefully placed on the table, she took a long cooling swallow, which went some way to settle her churning stomach.
'But I will not take no for an answer, my dear,' and, rising to his feet, Jake walked around the table and with one hand under her arm virtually lifted her from the seat.
She shot him a startled glance, and she knew by the grim determination in his eyes, the tight line of his mouth, that he would brook no refusal, and his words had not just referred to dancing...
'At least let me put my glass down,' she said caustically, and, giving in to the inevitable, she allowed him to lead her on to the dance-floor.
She raised her right hand as Jake's arm encircled her waist, but he ignored it and swiftly linked his other arm around her waist, pulling her closely into his hard body; she dropped her hand to his chest, her fingers splayed on his shirt front, trying to put some space between them, but her efforts were futile.
Jake chuckled, a dark melodious sound, and with consummate ease slid one hand down to her buttocks, while his other hand stroked up her spine to rest between her shoulder-blades. 'Come on, Katy,' he murmured into her hair, 'don't disappoint me now. Lena Lawrence would never object to dancing cheek to cheek,' he drawled cynically.
Cheek to cheek! That was not how Katy would have described it. Jake held her imprisoned against his hard frame, their bodies clamped together from breast to toe. She felt, the hard muscle of his thigh slide between her slender legs as with an amazing expertise he executed a skilful turn. She held herself rigid in his arms, but the heat of his body, his hand trailing an exploratory path up and down her back, sent quivers of awareness down her spine.
'For God's sake, relax,' Jake said bluntly, 'and enjoy the music. I'm not about to rape you on the dance-floor.'
His hand curved up to clasp the nape of her neck and pull her head back slightly so she was forced to meet his eyes.,
'I didn't think you were, but let me remind you, I had no desire to dance,' she snapped back quickly, hating the way he smiled sardonically down into her flushed face. 'I'm tired,' she excused curtly.
'Poor Katy,' he taunted softly. 'But unfortunately this is necessary to let the world at large know your new status.'
'What do you mean?' What new status was he talking about? She frowned, knowing she was not going to like his answer.
'Look around you, Katy. What do you see?'
Katy did as he said and she recognised a minister of state, a few captains of industry—the beautiful people.
'Yes, my dear, this is a very discreet supper club where the elite, or the jet set if you prefer, can dine with their friends in the certain knowledge the worst that can happen will be a few lines in the gossip column of the better newspapers. Our appearance here tonight will give credibility to our new arrangement, while informing anyone who may be interested that Katy, or Lena Lawrence, model, has changed her allegiance yet again, and is no longer the live-in lover of the renowned Claude.'
Katy's stricken face conveyed her feelings. She had not agreed to Jake's demand, but he was so certain she would that it made her blood run cold. 'I wouldn't be so sure about that, Jake,' she said through tightly clenched lips. His assumption yet again rankled. She had never been anything but a friend to Claude, even though she had once tempted Jake to think differently, and as for the rumours of her other men, that was all they had been—rumours. But she saw no reason to defend herself to Jake. Let the man think what he liked; she didn't care...
He shrugged. 'Why fight it, Katy? You'll only get hurt.' He gave her a chilling smile. 'I always get what I want eventually, and you will be no exception.'
'No.' She rejected his assertion vehemently, but knew it was a lie. Financially he held all the cards, and physically just the sight of him was enough to arouse fluttering sensations in the pit of her stomach.
He pulled her closer, his hand easing her head down on to his chest and settling his other arm more firmly around her, if such a thing was possible.
'Ah, but, Katy, darling, you want me, almost as much as I want you, and that gives me an advantage.' One hand slid up to clasp the nape of her neck and she felt the pressure of his long fingers on her throat. 'You threw me out of your bed a few months ago, but I think you will not make the same mistake twice...'
'I hate you,' she whispered, but the words were muffled against his shirt front, and if Jake heard them he gave no sign.
Katy wished with all her heart she had not dismissed him so crudely from her bed. She should have been more diplomatic—or, more accurately, not let him in her bed in the first place. He completely confused her, and being held so close to him, his warm male scent enveloping her, did not help her thought processes one jot.
Why was he forcing her to be his mistress? Because her father had married Monica, Jake's girlfriend? But Monica was free now—there was nothing to stop Jake marrying the woman himself. No, the underlying bitterness, the anger she had sensed in him all day, was directed at her. She had attacked the most sensitive part of the male ego when she had insulted Jake so badly, and she had only herself to blame for the mess she found herself in.
'Stop worrying, Katy, it will put premature lines on your lovely face.' The softl
y spoken words caressed her brow, and her head jerked back in shock.
The damn man could read her mind! 'And we mustn't spoil your investment,' she scoffed, favouring him with a smooth dismissive glance.
Jake chuckled. 'So, prickly Katy, relax and enjoy the dance—it might never happen.' His dark eyes gleamed with mocking amusement, as he added wickedly, 'But I wouldn't lay money on it.'
Katy loved dancing, and wryly she accepted that sparring with Jake was a losing game. She relaxed slightly against him: dancing was safer. For a large man Jake was remarkably light on his feet. While one tune ran into another the soft lights, romantic music, and the seductive warmth of Jake's body all conspired against her better intentions, and as they moved in perfect unison around the floor her body, with a will of its own, melted against him.
The music increased in tempo, and Jake bent low so that his cheek brushed hers. 'Do you want to continue? Or shall we sit this one out?' he murmured huskily.
The sound of his voice and the up-beat music finally broke through the sensuous daze of the past few moments. Katy raised her head to look up into his shadowed face. 'What's the matter, Jake—too old for the modern stuff?' she sniped in an effort to hide how much the intimate body contact between them had affected her.
'Not at all,' he shot back, and before Katy's startled eyes he stepped away from her, his long body moving with sinuous grace to the sound of the heavy beat. 'Come on, Katy, show me what you can do,' he challenged, and, throwing his dark head back, he laughed out loud at her open-mouthed amazement.
Katy accepted his challenge, and for the next few sets she completely lost herself in the music and the seductive invitation in her partner's gyrations.
She was smiling when Jake finally put his arm around her shoulder and led her back to the table. Her emotions were in turmoil, but for a short while she had thoroughly enjoyed herself.
Seated once more, she gratefully picked up the glass of by now rather flat Perrier water and finished it off.
'Would you like another drink?' Jake asked rather breathlessly with a smile.
He can really be quite human, she thought, for an instant the past forgotten. 'No,' she replied truthfully, and seconds later she wanted to take the word back.
Jake drained his glass and stood up, the slight smile vanishing from his handsome face to be replaced with a hard implacable look. 'Good. Then we can leave.'
Katy murmured, 'Well, maybe it's not that late.' But Jake ignored her and, with a firm hand at her elbow, helped her to her feet.
Carefully he wrapped her stole around her shoulders, and with a brief word to the waiter, and the exchange of some money, he led her firmly towards the exit. She was free for a moment as Jake slid into his own overcoat, but she was too tired to move. She stood like a zombie while he said goodnight to the doorman, and once more his arm draped casually over her shoulder as he led her to the car.
Seated inside the luxurious interior, she fastened her seatbelt with a shaking hand. She knew Jake would not leave her tonight without an answer to his proposal. God knew, she had explored every avenue she could think of to help her father, but the closing of the car door sounded like the slamming shut of a prison cell to her tired mind.
Jake was the only viable proposition. She grimaced, dimly aware that he had slipped in behind the wheel and was carefully manoeuvring the Rolls into the light stream of traffic. A 'viable proposition' did not begin to describe Jake Granton.
'Your place or mine?'
The blunt question could not be ignored. Katy glanced at the clock on the dashboard. One in the morning. Wearily she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes for a second. She was both physically and mentally exhausted, and hopelessly ill-equipped to start arguing with Jake. She had to draw on every last bit of energy to respond sarcastically, 'My, such finesse— you do surprise a girl.' She cast a sidelong glance at his rugged profile; his concentration was centred on the road ahead.
'The time for finesse is over, Katy. I tried it before with you and it got me nowhere.' His lips twisted in a grim smile. 'So which is it to be, Katy?' he asked coldly.
'My apartment, of course,' she managed to reply lightly, deliberately ignoring the deeper unspoken question. 'Dancing with you was quite a novel experience, but I'm tired and I want to get home.' She began to rattle off her address.
'I know where you live, Katy,' he cut her off abruptly. 'The time for prevarication is over. I want a straight answer—yes or no. Do you agree to my proposition?'
Katy stared long and hard at the half-shadowed face; it was impossible to read. She shrank down in her seat as a fierce tension gripped her. 'Jake, you said by nine tomorrow.'
She was not ready to accept his cold-blooded proposal, to actually give him the words. To admit she would sleep with him for money, because that was the bottom line. True, it was a fantastic amount of money, but it would confirm Jake's opinion of her, and deep down it hurt more than she would have believed possible.
'Today,' he corrected flatly. 'And a few hours are not going to make any difference.'
Jake was unfastening his seatbelt before she'd even noticed the car had stopped; he reached across and opened hers, and she flinched as his arm brushed lightly against her breast.
'They might to me,' she managed to respond. 'I do have a few ideas of my own to save the firm. They just need a little time to finalise. Claude...' She knew she was grasping at straws, but if she could just put Jake off...
'Claude is a dead loss,' he told her sardonically. 'Haven't you realised yet I am a very powerful man, and a good deal of the international fashion world happens to be financed by my banks? I received a very interesting call earlier this evening. Why else did you think I came to collect you? I had no intention of letting you wriggle out from under.' He smiled triumphantly down into her horror-struck face, amused at the blunt double entendre and her startled reaction.
Katy could not believe what she was hearing. 'Claude's firm?'
'Yes, my dear; in fact, your friend has rather a large overdraft.' He confirmed her worst fears. 'Indirectly I suppose you could say I have been paying your rather exorbitant salary for the last few years. As I see it, the only difference in this new arrangement... is that you won't have to work for it.'
This last shock was too much for Katy to take. Numb, she followed him up the steps to the foyer of the apartment block.
'Key.'
Mechanically she searched her small handbag and handed him the key. She said nothing as he took her cold hand in his and led her into her own apartment.
'You're cold. Come here.' He pulled her into his arms, his dark head bent towards her, and his mouth covered hers.
Katy made no resistance; she sagged like a rag doll in his arms as his teeth nipped her bottom lip, forcing her mouth to open to the invasion of his tongue. He plundered her mouth like a man starved of sustenance, but she made no response. The last shocking revelation had been too much for her.
With a muttered oath Jake thrust her away from him, the backs of her knees hit the sofa, and she collapsed on to it.
'As my mistress you will have to do a hell of a lot better than that,' he opined cynically.
Katy raised her head and with a clinical precision studied his dark implacable features. A muscle tensed along his jaw, and she could sense a latent anger seething beneath the surface of his otherwise expressionless face.
Intuitively she recognised he had just given her a way to beat him. She had not been able to understand why he wanted her. He could take his pick of women. But the reason was obvious: Jake could not stand rejection. Years before, after one night with him, she had turned him down and he had never forgotten.
His plan was clear: this time he would have his fill of her and cast her off when he wanted to. But his male ego would not be able to stand a cold woman in his bed, and, the way she felt at the moment, to lie frigid in his arms would be easy.
'Yes, Jake, I accept your proposition.' Slowly she stood up and walked towa
rds the bedroom door. 'The bed is this way.' She felt as though she were standing outside herself, and someone else was saying the words.
She dropped the fur wrap on the bedroom floor, and without looking to see if Jake had followed she removed her dress. She sat down on the edge of the bed and with slow deliberation she peeled off her stockings. The brief white teddy, her only remaining garment, outlined her curvaceous body with a sensuous provocation she was totally unconscious of as she stood up and pulled the covers back before sliding into bed. Only then did she look across the room.
Jake was standing in the doorway, his black eyes gleaming with angry puzzlement. She had a hysterical desire to laugh. What was he waiting for? A written invitation?
How strange: she felt nothing for him, she who had worried about loving him... Her green eyes watched him coolly as he crossed to the bed. He shrugged off his topcoat, jacket and tie. She watched with detached interest as he removed his shirt. His hands were at the buckle of his trousers when she spoke.
'Just one thing, before you go any further.' She noted the stiffening of his shoulders, and again stifled the desire to laugh. Was he worried she would change her mind? He had nothing to fear. 'I need your word of honour you will save Meldenton, before you get into this bed.'
It was so simple that she did not know why she had worried. He considered her a woman without morals, and, where he was concerned, he was right. She no longer cared a hoot what he thought of her.
He turned to stare down at her pale face. 'You have my word, Katy.'
'Thank you,' she murmured, and closed her eyes. She felt the cold air as he lifted the covers and slid into bed beside her. It would soon all be over. But in that she was wrong...
Instead of the savage onslaught she had been expecting, Jake leant over her and pressed a light kiss on her forehead; then, sliding one arm under her, he lay back down and drew her loosely against the warmth of his large body.
She noted he was naked, but it had no effect on her. She lay passive in his hold, waiting for whatever he wanted to do, secure in the knowledge she was past feeling anything for this man. The realisation that his bank financed Claude, and was therefore indirectly responsible for her success, was more than she could bear. He had destroyed what little pride in her achievements she had left. He had won, but in a way so had Katy.
Dishonourable Proposal Page 8