Dishonourable Proposal

by Jacqueline Baird

She joined Mike and a few other members of staff in a nearby pub for lunch, but the steak and kidney pie she ordered stuck in her throat. She was grateful for the easy companionship of her co-workers, but after lunch she could not face going back to the office, so instead she returned to the relative safety of her own apartment.

  She threw her handbag on to a chair, and, kicking off her shoes, she collapsed on to the over-stuffed sofa. She looked* around her living-room. In a few weeks she had decorated it with an energy and determination she had never indulged before, and the net result was a pleasant blend of old and new.

  Elegant cream satin drapes bordered the windows. Two large satin-covered sofas stood like sentinels each side of the Adam fireplace. A deep-pile carpet in old rose covered the floor, the colour broken by a delicately patterned Chinese rug in front of the fire. A polished mahogany coffee-table delicately inlaid with elm sported a copy of last week's Cosmopolitan, plus a delightful arrangement of fresh-cut flowers nestling in a Chinese ginger jar. A warm, comfortable nest to hide in, but not for much longer, she thought sadly.

  From France she had brought her collection of pictures. Some were her own, but most she had purchased from struggling artists on the left bank in Paris. As she looked at them dotted around the walls every one revived a memory of happier times—shopping with Anna, or just strolling around on a Sunday afternoon. The vibrant colours, the humorous touches, reminded her of a happy moment, and her friend.

  Katy closed her eyes as a spasm of pain contorted her beautiful face. Would she ever get over the death of Anna? She had thought yesterday was the worst day of her life, and nothing could be worse, but she had a sinking feeling tonight might beat it.

  The ringing of the telephone interrupted her troubled thoughts. It was Claude, calling from Paris.

  The sound of a friendly voice raised her flagging spirits a little. Anna had married Claude's son Alain straight from college. Mr and Mrs la Tour had been posted to the French embassy in Brazil, and Katy had moved in with Claude.

  It had created a lot of unfavourable gossip as his wife had not been long dead, but the truth was that Claude's home was a mansion with a dozen servants, and the only relationship Katy had with him was strictly avuncular. They had all been great pals. When Anna had died Katy had drawn a lot of comfort and support from Claude, and she liked to think she had helped him.

  He was calling to remind her it was his granddaughter's—her god-daughter's—birthday in a month, and could she get over to Paris for the party? Also, much to her surprise, he told her if she was absolutely sure she wanted to return to modelling of course he would hire her.

  Katy gently refused his offer of employment. It was too late. But when she put the phone down she was no longer quite so depressed. Jake was not as omnipotent as he thought. He had not managed to frighten Claude off.

  She walked into the kitchen, filled the kettle, and switched it on. Taking a jar of instant coffee from a cupboard, she ladled a spoonful into a beaker. Her lips quirked in a reminiscent if slightly wry smile at the inscription on the mug: ' "Lord give me chastity—but not yet." Saint Augustine, 354-430.' Anna had given her the mug as a present only months before she'd died. She could hear Anna's voice, clear in her mind as though she were in the room with her.

  'I couldn't resist buying this for you, Lena, after seeing that poster you did, and knowing you live like a nun. It's not natural. Time enough to be celibate when you're old and grey; at twenty-one you should be enjoying life to the full. This will remind you even saints are human.'

  Katy poured the water on to the powder and idly stirred the mixture with a spoon. She had laughed at the time, but maybe her friend had been right...

  Poor Anna, her life cut short so young when she had everything to live for. She wondered what her friend would have said about Katy's becoming a mistress. She could guess. Anna of the laughing brown eyes and bubbly humour. 'My God, Lena, from saint to sinner overnight. What a way to go!'

  Her eyes misted with tears. Dear heaven, she missed not having another girl to talk to, to confide in. She took a deep swallow of her coffee and fought back the threatening tears. She felt more alone than she had ever done in her life.

  Just when she had reconciled with her father and recognised how much he genuinely cared for her, there was no way she could allow herself to get so close to him. Jake Granton had seen to that. She must play her part as his mistress, without her father ever finding out the true reason for her renewed friendship with Jake.

  She drained her coffee-mug and replaced it on the bench. She heard a ringing in her head, and it was a few moments before she registered that it was the doorbell. With a weary sigh she walked out of the kitchen and down the short hall, and mechanically opened the door. The way she felt at the moment, even a conversation with a door-to-door salesman would be preferable to her own troubled thoughts.

  'Yes, can I help... ?' The words stopped in her throat, her green eyes widening in shock at the sight of Jake framed in the doorway.

  'Why the shock-horror, Katy? You didn't think I would let you get away with reneging on our deal? I'm not so philanthropic' His mouth twisted mockingly as he brushed past her and walked into the apartment.

  She followed him into the living-room. 'What are you doing here?'

  'I have come to help you pack.' And before she could gather her scattered wits he pressed a hard brief kiss on her open mouth before his gaze swept rapidly around the room. 'It doesn't look as if you have started.'

  Blankly she looked into his face: his mouth was a hard tight line, and his eyes, half shadowed by thick lashes, were unreadable. 'Pack?' she parroted feebly, desperate to put off her ultimate capitulation. 'You mentioned tonight.' A sharp stab of desire curled her stomach, and she wanted to reach out to him, then the reality of the situation hit her, and bitterness rose in her throat.

  'Look at your watch, Katy,' he prompted sarcastically.

  She did—where had the day gone? It was almost six. She looked up to see Jake striding out of the room and along the tiny hall to her bedroom. Gathering her scattered senses, she dashed after him and landed slap up against his chest as he turned at the door.

  'Throwing yourself at me, Katy?' His strong hands grasped her shoulders and eased her away from him. His eyebrows lifted mockingly. 'There is no rush, my dear, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.'

  She opened her mouth to deny it, and his dark head bent, his mouth taking hers. She shuddered beneath the hot forceful passion of his kiss, and only dimly registered his words as he took his mouth from hers.

  'I think you had the right idea after all, Katy—why wait?' And, folding his arms around her, he pulled her hard against his taut thighs.

  She was made instantly aware of his aroused state, and with a little cry she pushed against his broad chest as the import of his words penetrated her dazed mind.

  'No!' she cried. 'I won't...'

  His arms dropped to his sides. She saw his face contort, and his fingers grasped her upper arms. She could feel the fierce surge of rage emanating from him, and she trembled. To her shame a wild excitement sizzled through her body even as her mind told her to fear him.

  'We have a deal, you and I, and there is no way you are backing out,' he snarled.

  'But my job...' The words fell jerkily from her lips, the blazing intensity of his dark eyes intimidating her.

  'A mistress does as she is told, Katy, and as for your job, I have checked, and the studio can function perfectly well without you for a while.'

  'But——' she began furiously; she had never thought of Jake as an MCP but obviously he was.

  'However,' Jake cut in before her anger could erupt, 'if you like, perhaps it can be arranged for you to return to work in a week or so.'

  Jake offering a compromise...being reasonable! 'You don't mind my working?' she had to ask.

  'No, not if it pleases you, Katy. You have always been a hard worker, I know that, even if I do not approve of everything you've done. In my experience a woman with
an interesting job tends to be a more stimulating companion, and I don't want you to be bored when I am not around.'

  'I'll pack,' she said stiffly, and strangely it was almost a relief. When she dared to raise her eyes she was surprised by the transformation: Jake's anger had vanished, his handsome features relaxed in a lazy smile.

  'Good girl, you won't regret it—I can be a very generous lover,' he drawled softly, and, swinging her around, his hand at her back, he urged her into the room. 'Get packing while I go and get a drink.'

  The casual swat on her derriere as she stumbled into the bedroom was enough to refuel Katy's anger and bitterness long enough for her to drag a couple of suitcases out of the wardrobe and empty the chest of drawers of most of her clothes. Swearing vitriolically under her breath in both English and French, she stuffed skirts, dresses and shoes haphazardly in the cases.

  'Finished?'

  'Yes,' she said curtly, not bothering to look up, and, closing the lid of the last suitcase, she snapped it shut. 'But did you have to make it so plain to my father we were-----' she could not say 'lovers' '—friends? It's humiliating enough for me without my father knowing as well.' It had bothered her on and off all day.

  He was silent for a moment. 'It was never my intention to humiliate you, Katy, but neither will I lie. Your living with me will be common knowledge very quickly, and your father deserves to be informed of the situation. If you had any idea of creeping back and forward to this apartment, forget it.'

  He crossed to where she stood, and his hand reached out and stroked her throat, tilting her head up, his fingers tightened on her chin, his eyes narrowing. 'There is something between us, you can't deny it. I can feel the pulse beating madly in your throat, you melt when I touch you, and, God knows, it's the same for me. Our relationship will be no hole in the corner affair. Understand...?'

  Tears stung her eyes, she blinked and swallowed hard. She could deny him no longer. 'I've finished packing,' she said softly, accepting the inevitable.

  The Albemarle Towers was an impressive building, and Katy's resolve wavered as she stepped out of Jake's car in front of the entrance. Think of your father, the workforce, generations of family pride, she remonstrated with herself as on trembling legs she followed Jake into the foyer; she stood mute as Jake greeted the porter.

  'Good evening, Tom,' and, taking Katy's elbow, he eased her forward. 'This is Tom Charles, Katy; he's a miracle-worker—if you need anything at all Tom will get it for you.' He handed the car keys to the porter. 'Park it, Tom, and there are a couple of cases in the boot, please.'

  She looked at the old man in the rather colourful uniform, and tried to smile. He was about sixty, and had the face of a beaten-up fighter: his nose had been broken more than once, and the scars around his eyes were an unmistakable mark of his previous profession. 'Hello,' she murmured, her voice husky with embarrassment.

  Jake, completely unconcerned, continued, 'This is Miss Meldenton. She will be staying a while. I will give her a key but I expect you to look after her when I'm not around.'

  'Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.' He held out a huge paw, and Katy saw her own slender hand swallowed up in it. She flushed scarlet—she couldn't help it.

  The lift door closed behind them, and immediately Katy turned on Jake. 'How could you tell that man I was moving in with you?' she blurted furiously. 'I have never felt so ashamed in my life.'

  'Really, Katy, I find that hard to believe. I know you lived with Claude—this kind of arrangement is hardly new to you,' he stated flatly.

  'But-----' she hadn't—not the way Jake meant—but he cut her off.

  'And these are service apartments with high security. If I hadn't told Tom who you were you would never get in or out of the building. Mind you, the idea of keeping you as a prisoner in my penthouse does have some appeal,' he drawled cynically. 'It's probably the only way to keep you faithful.'

  'Coming from you, that's rich,' she snapped back. The lift stopped and Jake shot her a hard look, but ignored her comment.

  'Tom will bring up the cases later. Come on.' And, catching her hand in his, he led her across a deeply carpeted hall to a large double door, the only one on the landing.

  Eyes wide, she stared around the huge room. It had a very masculine feel about it. Large bookshelves covered one wall, with a motley collection of ornaments fighting for a place among the books.

  Her lips quirked in the beginnings of a smile as she spied an autographed football. Jake had always been mad about the game. A small paperweight of Caithness crystal caught her attention, and she instantly sobered. She had bought it for Jake's birthday years ago.

  A large, well-used but excellent quality hide sofa stood one side of the beautifully carved mahogany surround of the big fireplace. A couple of over-stuffed winged chairs were set at the other side with a small table between them. The pictures dotted around the walls were a splash of vivid colour against the overall impression of brown and beige. Jake obviously liked modern art and she recognised a Hockney.

  'Welcome to my home, Katy, and allow me to introduce you. This is Mrs Charles, my treasure; she is also Tom's wife. Miss Meldenton,' he introduced formally.

  'I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs Charles.' Katy tried a polite smile, but the older lady merely twisted her lips in response—more a grimace of disgust than a smile.

  'Dinner is waiting, Mr Granton,' his housekeeper informed Jake, the coldness in her tone making her feeling on the situation abundantly clear, and with a brief nod to Katy she disappeared through the door behind her.

  'She's a marvellous cook, so don't upset her,' Jake said bluntly.

  'I wouldn't dare,' she responded drily. Jake had made her position in his home very clear, somewhere beneath that of chief cook and bottle-washer.

  'Come along, I'll show you around.' He took her wrist, and led her through the big homely lounge to a smaller formal dining-room.

  She had a startling impression of scarlet walls and polished mahogany furniture before he ushered her through to an inner hall. Four doors opened off it, but when he threw open the first one with a flourish she guessed it was the master bedroom.

  Her steps faltered as she entered the room. A huge king-sized bed with a deep maroon Paisley-patterned duvet dominated the space. The soft silkiness of Jake's voice unnerved her.

  'Our bedroom.' He dropped her wrist and gestured with one strong hand to the right. 'Dressing-room and bathroom off. I'll leave you to make yourself at home. I think I heard Tom arrive with your luggage.' Katy shivered as he reached out, his fingers undoing the top button of the shirt-styled dress she had worn all day. He watched her reaction, amusement tilting his wide mouth. 'You probably want to freshen up before dinner,' he said smoothly, and walked away.

  Hysterical laughter threatened to engulf her. 'Make yourself at home... freshen up,' he had said. What for? she thought wildly, her gaze fixed on the large bed.

  Katy was dreaming. Once again she was eighteen, and Jake, her friend, her lover, was with her. His lips, gentle as wild silk against her skin, trailed warm kisses over her eyelids, the soft curve of her cheek. Her full lips parted in anticipation as he finally reached her mouth. His tongue flicked leisurely against her teeth, stroked the sensitive roof of her mouth, and her own tongue danced round his in a welcoming caress. Her slender arms moved tentatively in a well-remembered path around his broad back, her fingers reaching up to tangle in the soft black hair of his head.

  Once more she felt every pore of her skin open with tingling warmth at his touch. The strong masculine hand curved lovingly around her full breast; his teasing fingers plucked at the sensitised rosy tips, bringing them to pebble-hard turgid peaks.

  She arched against the hard heat of him as his lips blazed a trail of fire down her throat, and his mouth suckled hungrily at her aching breasts, first one and then the other, until she was dizzy with desire.

  His hand slid down over her stomach and across her thighs, taking her nightgown with it. She shuddered as his long fingers strok
ed across her inner thigh and found the hot liquid centre of her femininity. She moaned deep in her throat at the exquisite pleasure, her nails digging into his flesh. How many times over the years had she had this dream? And always it ended with her awake and alone...

  Katy's eyelids fluttered open, the blood singing in her ears. She didn't want to wake up, to lose this ecstasy. 'Oh, Jake!' she murmured.

  'Yes, Katy, yes; open for me.' The deep rasping voice vibrated against her lips. 'You want me, you know you do. You are so hot, so moist, so ready.'

  It was no dream. She was awake and in bed with Jake. She had to stop him, but as the thought pierced her drugged senses so Jake nudged apart her legs. She shuddered again and again as his fingers teased and tormented her. It was way, way too late to stop him, and, God help her, she didn't want to.

  His mouth closed over hers, his tongue fierce and seeking, and her response was immediate. Her body arched helplessly beneath him. She looked up into his dark eyes only inches from her own, and her heart stopped for a moment; the ferocious gleam of unabashed passion and more—a fiercely controlled anger-made her hesitate.

  Sensing her brief withdrawal, he growled, 'No, Katy, not this time,' his stormy glance skimming down the length of her as he rolled over and between her thighs. His powerful body trapped her beneath him; she couldn't have moved even if she had wanted to. Dream or reality—what did it matter? She wanted him...

  Katy could not deny him; his first touch had set free four long years of hunger. She was on fire for him. His dark body hair acted as a tingling abrasive on her over-sensitised flesh as his hands roamed at will over her curvaceous body. The hard rigid length of his manhood pushed against her inner thigh, but no further. She ached for his possession, and writhed beneath him, her nails sinking into his broad shoulders in fierce appeal.

  Once more his mouth captured her swollen lips with a savage hunger, his weight came down upon her and she was crushed back into the bed, but still he did not take her. He raised his head, his sensuous lips quirked in a wickedly determined smile. 'You will remember this for the rest of your days, Katy,' he grated, masculine triumph edging his tone.