'Be warned I may retaliate,' he cautioned sardonically.
'I might have guessed you would resort to wife- beating,' Sally declared trenchantly, and was totally enraged when he began to laugh.
'An old-fashioned spanking,' Luke Andretti drawled, 'is remarkably different from an undisciplined act of violence.'
'You don't say!' she exclaimed with intended sarcasm.
'You seem hell-bent on discovering it for yourself, first-hand.' He leaned forward and took her chin between thumb and forefinger. 'Take heed, Sally Bal- linger—I do not suffer fools gladly.'
She fell silent, and suddenly the enormity of what she was getting herself into wearied her beyond measure. It was almost all she could do not to shake visibly, but she was determined not to give this inimical— savage that satisfaction.
'A licence should take only a matter of days. Our— union should be legalised by the end of the week.'
A derisory, barely-audible snort erupted from Sally's throat. 'Misalliance, don't you mean?'
'I am sure you will discover it has some compensations,' he drawled, and she looked at him silently for several seconds before saying hesitantly,
'My father——'
'You have my word that his finances will be put in order,' Luke Andretti interrupted dryly, and she caught the edge of her lip with her teeth in a worried gesture.
'I don't quite know how he's going to accept all this. No matter what I say—— '
'He will add two and two, and come up with the correct answer.'
'If he thinks I've sacrificed myself,' she began bleakly, 'it will hardly add to his peace of mind!'
'Then it will be up to you to disprove his suspicions.'
Sally cast him a sceptical glance. 'How, exactly?'
Luke's expression became faintly cynical. 'It might help allay his fears if you were to pretend an affection for me,' he suggested, 'and vice-versa.'
Her cheeks tinged a delicate pink. 'It will be difficult enough for me to suffer your—embraces,' she asserted heatedly, 'without having to put up with you pawing me in public!'
'I have not had any—er—complaints to date,' he drawled with a measure of amusement.
'Then I shall be the first,' Sally declared, shooting him a baleful glare.
'My dear girl,' he drawled lazily, 'I have not so much as kissed you yet—so how can you complain?'
'Oh, you're impossible!'
'Undoubtedly,' he agreed mockingly, and caught hold of her arm as she turned away from him. 'Not so fast, piccina. There are a few matters we must discuss before you leave.'
Sally glared at him. 'Such as?'
Luke's eyes narrowed slightly, and he drew her inexorably close until there was barely an inch separating them. 'Already in the space of a day you have dared more than is tolerable,' he warned. 'Continue baiting me, and you will find I will not wait until my ring is on your finger.'
His meaning was unmistakable, and Sally felt a clutch of fear. 'What is it you want to discuss?' she queried, unconsciously running the tip of her tongue over the edge of her lower lip in a gesture that was motivated by nervous tension. 'It's quite late,' she pointed out tentatively, wanting only to escape from this hateful man. 'I have to report for work early to-morrow morning.'
'That is one of the things we must talk about,' Luke evinced mildly. 'You will hand in your notice, and leave either tomorrow or Thursday. I do not require a working wife—although I daresay Carlo will be grateful to be relieved in the kitchen occasionally. Tell me tomorrow evening if you experience any difficulties with your employer and I will contact him myself.'
'Tomorrow evening?' she queried, puzzled.
His smile was faintly cynical. 'When did you expect to see me next—at the register office a few minutes prior to the marriage?'
Sally's eyes were eloquent mirrors reflecting her distaste, and she held her tongue with difficulty.
'It would be appropriate if we celebrated our—engagement by having dinner together,' he added dryly. 'It would also be an excellent opportunity for me to have a few words with your father. Although I shall of course delay settling any of his accounts until after the wedding.'
'Of course,' Sally couldn't help mimicking bitterly, and received a hard shake by way of punishment.
'I will see you to your vehicle,' he determined brusquely. 'Carlo will already have returned and despatched your equipment downstairs.'
Sally rubbed her arms, grimacing at the bruising numbness from his steely grip. The impulse to poke out her tongue as she followed him down the broad staircase was too great to resist, and the childish gesture afforded her a measure of satisfaction.
The trolley was standing near the front door, and she pushed it out on to the driveway, then wheeled it towards the van.
'You have the key?' Luke questioned, holding out his hand, and when she ignored him he caught hold of her arm. 'Sally—the key, if you please.'
'Your act of chivalry doesn't impress me,' she flung jerkily. 'And I don't need your help. I've loaded and unloaded this trolley so many times I've lost count of them!'
'You wish me to tip out the contents of your bag?' he queried silkily, and she stifled an angry retort.
'Oh, have it your way,' she tossed, thrusting the key-ring into his hand, and she stood by impatiently as he unlocked the rear doors. She was so angry she didn't bother to explain about the collapsible twin planks that slid out to enable easy loading, but with effortless ease he merely lifted the trolley into the van's rear, secured the holding brakes to keep it stationary, then closed and locked the doors.
Accepting the keys from his outstretched hand, she was about to slip into the front seat when he caught hold of her shoulders and turned her round before she had a chance to struggle.
A hard kiss crushed her mouth, then she was free, and the sound of his brief laugh echoed in her ears all the way home.
CHAPTER THREE
The following day was fraught with several problems, the first being the displeasure Claude initially voiced at having to accept two days' notice. Although by mid-morning he had mellowed sufficiently to proffer his congratulations, adding the caution that he hoped Sally wasn't letting her heart rule her head.
'He is an impatient man, this beau, eh? Cannot he wait a few weeks? Mon dieu, even one would do.' Claude invariably lapsed into his native French when roused, adopting continental gesticulations with abandon.
'It's all arranged, Claude,' Sally declared with a calm she didn't feel. 'Luke Andretti is a hard man to dissuade once he's made up his mind.'
His expression registered a mixture of emotions, then he nodded, deep in thought as he went over the bookings for the following few days. 'Ah well, if you were ill, we would somehow manage. Doubtless we will manage the same. You realise you have landed a very big fish?' he essayed suddenly, and she tried to instill some humour into the light laugh that emerged from her lips.
'I didn't exactly bait the hook, Claude,' she assured him dryly, and he smiled.
'I shall make your wedding cake—a gift, of course,' he determined, and she felt overwhelmed at his generous gesture.
'Thank you, Claude.'
He brushed aside her gratitude by turning the conversation back to business, and Sally found herself with a multitude of tasks to complete. There wasn't a great deal of time in which to think, and perhaps that was a good thing, for she was sure that if she had an ounce of sense she would tell Luke Andretti to go to hell, and take the consequences.
By eleven o'clock 'Claude's' was a hive of activity, and when, half an hour later, it was discovered that one of the kitchen staff and a waitress had reported off sick, the work-load on each of the staff present increased almost two-fold. Sally began to wish for two pairs of hands, and Marie, one of the new waitresses with less than two weeks' experience, was a bundle of nerves.
'You, Sally,' Claude instructed wearily, 'will have to serve the tables with Marie. Sophie, also. There is no other way if we are to cope with any sort of éclat. Georges wil
l assist me in the kitchen.'
The occasion was a businessmen's luncheon held in honour of a visiting dignitary, and there were to be thirty guests in all. Expected to last three hours, it began with canapés and champagne at midday, and was to work its way through four courses, finishing with coffee.
Sally circulated the lounge proffering the tray of canapés, her face a polite smiling mask—although the pose almost slipped when she recognised a familiar profile in a group of five on the far side of the room. Darn it, she cursed silently—of all the rotten luck!
Fortunately Sophie had already passed Luke Andretti's particular group, and Sally was able to keep at a respectable distance. However, in the dining-room she was not so fortunate, for he was seated near the end of her allotted section of the table. Consequently, she was forced to serve him, and his acknowledgment of her presence was cordially pleasant, evoking the interest of more than two of his companions.
Thereafter she became conscious of his eyes frequently observing her actions, so that she felt her fingers become thumbs, and curbing an inner anger she daren't give vent to, she began longing for the ensuing few hours to pass swiftly. It was ridiculous to feel like a fly caught in the spider's web—but she did.
It didn't help when Marie positively swooned over Sally's good luck at having such an attractive-looking man among those she was serving.
'I adore Latin men, don't you? He has to be Latin!' the younger girl enthused. 'So dark and vital, with that brooding quality—one can't be sure whether it'll erupt as passion or temper!' She gave a laugh, then voiced speculatively, 'Actually, I think he looks a bit dangerous.'
'He sends chills down my spine,' Sally retorted with unveiled sarcasm, and Marie turned from her task of placing spoons into serving dishes.
'I've been watching him, and for what it's worth—I think he has his eye on you.'
'Well, he can just take it off,' Sally voiced with unnecessary vehemence, so that the other girl looked positively startled. Really, in a moment she'd scream!
'You don't like him?'
'I'm really much too busy to form an opinion,' Sally responded, placing two of the serving dishes on to a tray.
The remainder of the afternoon flew with a swiftness that was hardly credible, and it was almost six o'clock when Sally let herself into the apartment. She felt hot and decidedly jaded. In an hour Luke Andretti would arrive, and she had to shower, cook something for her father's evening meal, get ready, and attempt to explain her forthcoming marriage.
She shut the door behind her, then moved towards the lounge, hearing as she did so her father's voice raised in anger. She was momentarily nonplussed, for rarely had she had occasion to hear him so much as raise his voice to anyone, least of all to her, but it was obvious he was handling a very irate conversation with someone on the other end of the telephone. Unable to hear clearly, she stood transfixed at the sheer desperation in his voice, and unwilling to be an eavesdropper, she backtracked a few steps and made the pretence of noisily shutting the apartment door.
'Hi—I'm home!' she called out with as much gaiety as she could muster, and at once her father's voice dropped to an inaudible murmur.
Idly, she sifted through the mail resting on the dining-room sideboard, determining that none were addressed to her, although there were three separate messages penned in her father's scrawl informing her that Philip had called requesting she ring back the moment she arrived home.
Curious, she went into the kitchen and took a jug of iced fruit juice from the refrigerator, filled a tall glass, then sipped the contents. Joe entered the room when she had consumed almost half of it, and his features were controlled into a relaxed smile.
'You're earlier than I expected,' he observed, and Sally cast him a speculative look that searched for and found nothing untoward in his expression.
'I know,' she sighed, then grimaced a little. 'The luncheon was successful, but what a behind-the-scenes fiasco! Adèle didn't show up, Spiros rang in at the eleventh hour unable to make it, and I had to be both waitress and chef's assistant.'
'Rough,' Joe sympathised. 'There's some steak—let's have it grilled, with a salad. It's almost too hot to think of eating.'
Well, there was no time like the present, Sally decided. 'I'll be dining out tonight. You don't mind, do you?'
'Of course not. A date with Philip? He rang, by the way,' he told her with a slight smile. 'Very keen, that young man.'
'My date isn't with Philip, Daddy.' Dear heaven, this was getting difficult. 'Look, I must rush if I'm to be ready in time. I'll slip under the shower, then while I'm grilling your steak you can bring your sherry into the kitchen and I'll tell you all about it. Okay?' She smiled, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek, escaping before he had a chance to voice his surprise.
After a shower, Sally slipped into fresh underwear, then pulled on a robe and returned to the kitchen with an air of fatalism.
'Thought I'd save you some time,' said Joe as he slid the meat beneath the griller. 'I've already tossed the salad.' He held out a glass containing clear amber liquid, then as the telephone began to ring insistently, he crossed the room and picked up the receiver.
'Philip,' he revealed quizzically, and her heart sank.
'I'll take it in the study.' Even a few minutes' reprieve were not to be sniffed at, and Sally clutched at them like a drowning man.
With the study door closed carefully behind her, she moved across to the desk and picked up the receiver.
'Sally?' Philip rushed on before she had a chance to say so much as a word. 'I've been worried about you. Why haven't you answered my calls?'
'I've only been home a short while,' she explained. 'I intended ringing you as soon as I'd fixed dinner.'
'How did you get on yesterday?' His voice crackled with anxiety, and Sally tried to inject some enthusiasm into her response.
'The problem has been solved, Philip.'
'What do you mean? You've managed to raise some money?'
'Yes,' she answered slowly, reluctant to parry the barrage of questions that would inevitably follow.
'All of it?' The voice on the other end came through sharp and faintly incredulous, and she gave a monosyllabic answer. 'I find that hard to believe,' he expostulated with obvious perplexity. 'How?'
'I don't believe that's any of your business,' she managed calmly, and he made a stifled, inarticulate rejoinder before declaring decisively,
'I'll come round and we'll talk about it.'
Sally made an instant and emphatic demur. 'That's quite unnecessary, Philip. Besides, I already have a date this evening.'
There was silence for a few seconds. 'Two years, Sally? And you can switch off, just like that?'
I was never at any time switched on, she thought sadly. Aloud, she chose her words with care. 'I begged you for help, Philip; and you offered several reasons as to why you had to refuse,' she said slowly. 'I had little choice but to appeal to the man I considered my last resort.'
'I'm coming to see you—now.'
'Don't,' she protested quickly. 'It wouldn't be pleasant for either of us, and my father would be unnecessarily upset.'
'God!' he uttered desperately. 'Two years I've partnered you to all the best places—and got nothing but a few cool kisses in return. It's a well-known fact that your father is in over his neck to Andretti. I suppose you've sold yourself to him. Sally, for the—'
Sickened, she replaced the receiver, then ran shaky fingers through her hair. The thought of having to face her father, and smile, was going to prove no mean acting feat!
Joe was seated at the table when she entered the dining-room, and he was just starting his meal. He looked up, giving a slightly puzzled laugh as he saw his daughter swallow the entire contents of her glass in one deep mouthful.
'You obviously needed that—but really, my dear! That's sacrilege—sherry should be sipped, not gulped.'
'Exit Philip—enter Luke,' Sally declared with an attempt at the banal. If she wasn't blasée ab
out the whole tiling, she'd burst into hysterical tears!
'Luke?'
'Luciano Andretti,' she said firmly, and saw her father register a gamut of emotions—surprise, shock, disbelief, and lastly concern.
'What have you done, Sally?' he queried anxiously, and she subsided into the nearest chair to sit facing him.
'Luke and I are going to be married,' she said carefully, and at once he began to splutter incredulously.
'Sally, I demand to know——' He faltered on hearing a peremptory rap at the front door, and Sally seized the opportunity to escape.
Reaching the door, she pulled it open to find Luke Andretti's tall frame filling the doorway, and at the same time heard her father's angry gasp from behind. Afterwards, she couldn't for the life of her think what made her do what she did. It was a moment of pure insanity, and she reacted accordingly.
'Why, darling, you're early!' she greeted Luke enthusiastically, and stepping close she stood on tiptoe, then wound her arms round his neck and kissed him.
Well, that was how it began, and Luke, to give him credit, didn't turn a hair or hesitate so much as a fraction of a second. He kissed her back—thoroughly, his arms curving over her slim form, holding her close with as much familiarity as if they'd embraced her a hundred times.
When he released her, Sally turned slowly round to face her father with pink-tinged cheeks, parted lips, and a sparkle in her eyes that only she knew to be anger.
'I think we owe you an explanation,' Luke offered smoothly as he stepped through the doorway and firmly shut the door.
Sally experienced a strange feeling of unreality, almost as if the room and everyone in it was part of some strange dream from which she would eventually awaken. She didn't even resist when Luke curved an arm about her waist, and she found herself murmuring, 'I tried to tell him—'
'I am sure you did, cara,' Luke drawled with seeming fondness. 'But now that I am here, I shall do it for you.' He leant down and brushed his lips across her forehead, then straightened and shot an amused glance towards her father. 'I have to admit to being a little bemused by it all myself.'
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