by Penny Jordan
She couldn’t eat any lunch. She picked at a sandwich and drank half a cup of coffee before returning to the office. She had expected to find it deserted, but someone was standing by her desk, and her heart missed a beat as she recognised Luke’s darkly handsome features. He had been bending over studying something, but as though he sensed her presence he stood up, his palm open, something glittering metallically on it.
‘I thought I’d better not give you this while any one else was around,’ he said softly, ‘Although perhaps I’d be doing him a favour I doubt he’d continue to support you for much longer, once he knew that he wasn’t the only one with a key to your rather expensive apartment. How does he manage it?’ His eyes rested contemptuously on Genista’s expensive separates. ‘You don’t strike me as a girl with exactly modest tastes—good clothes, an apartment in a luxurious block; discreetly expensive jewellery, in fact all the trappings of a young lady of some means. And he has a wife and child to keep as well, but then I suppose when it comes to a woman as beauteful as you a man will always find the necessary, won’t he, Genista?’
Genista was too stunned to speak. For a moment she thought she must have misunderstood. Luke couldn’t be suggesting that she was Bob’s mistress, and worse still, that he was actually keeping her? But he was, as he soon made very plain.
‘If you’re thinking of denying it, don’t bother. Greg told me all about you, but as he kept referring to you as “Jen”, I thought your name was Jennifer. I ought to have known better. I’m renowned for my astute perception; that’s how I got where I am today. I knew the first moment I saw you you weren’t an ordinary run-of-the-mill girl, but I allowed my desire to cloud my judgment. No wonder you wouldn’t let me take you home! You’re a shrewd little bitch, aren’t you? Why did you encourage me in the first place, Genista, or can I guess? Perhaps you’d heard that I’m a very rich man, and you got ambitious. If a man like Bob Norman will keep you so comfortably, think what I could give you? But you got cold feet, didn’t you? You decided it might be better to be safe than sorry; after all, you’d no guarantee that I would give you anything, and you might lose Bob. You should have had more courage, my dear,’ he told her softly. ‘The way I wanted you last night. I’d have given you anything. However, the cold light of morning brings back sanity, so perhaps you made the right decision after all. Does Bob know about last night?’
‘What is there to know?’ Genista was amazed that she could sound so calm; that she could respond so carelessly, when her furious repudiation of his vile accusations had lodged like a hard ball in her chest.
‘What indeed?’ Luke agreed silkily. ‘But then lovers are notoriously jealous people, and I still have this.’ He dangled the key from his fingers, smiling cruelly. ‘It would be the easiest thing in the world for me to—er—remove it from my pocket by mistake in Bob’s presence, and the hardest for you to convince him that my possession of it doesn’t go hand in glove with my possession of you.’
It was those last few words that did it, driving from her the last vestiges of self-control, her hands balled into two angry fists, as she turned to him, angry colour burning up under her skin.
‘I’d rather die than let you touch me, never mind possess me!’ Her voice was shaking with the pent-up force of her anger. She was far too wound up to be aware of the red tide sweeping under Luke’s own skin, or the rage burning blackly in his eyes, all her attention concentrated on showing him in what contempt she held him—his meaningless threats, and his total misconception of her relationship with Bob. It was typical of a man like him to leap to such a conclusion, she thought in disgust. No doubt he had enjoyed the sort of relationship he had accused her of having with Bob, with countless numbers of women. It must be far easier to rid oneself of them when one grew bored, if they had merely been ‘bought’. Well, no man would ever buy her! Love was the only possible reason for permitting a man sexual intimacy, and she already knew to her cost that such an emotion simply did not exist, and if that meant that she must go through the rest of her life alone, then that was what she would do. A kept woman! Her mouth turned downward in a bitter grimace.
‘So you’d rather die, would you?’ The low, almost snarled words held a dangerous threat, but Genista was oblivious to it. Her face was paper-white, her eyes as dark as pansies within its white triangle. No man had ever spoken to her the way Luke Ferguson had just done, and the shock of his accusations had almost frozen her ability to defend herself.
‘And what about Bob’s wife? Or doesn’t she come into your coldhearted calculations?’ Luke continued in obvious disgust. ‘Don’t you care that you’re breaking up her marriage—stealing her husband?’
It was on the tip of Genista’s tongue to tell him that far from stealing another woman’s husband, she had always made a rule of avoiding any man who she knew to be involved with another woman. She had been too hurt by a man’s duplicity once before to risk the same sort of pain again.
‘At least he isn’t completely under your thumb,’ Luke added abrasively. ‘Otherwise he’d be sharing that apartment with you.’
His bitter contempt; the insults he was heaping upon her combined to make her say recklessly,
‘Perhaps I don’t want him to. Perhaps I…’
‘Perhaps you value your freedom too much to give it up for any man,’ Luke interrupted cuttingly. ‘That’s the sort of woman you are, isn’t it, Genista? Using your beauty like a weapon, always taking and never giving. What happens when you grow tired of Bob? Or was that what last night was really all about? Are you already searching for his successor?’
This time Genista’s self-control snapped completely. The imprint of her fingers against Luke’s lean tanned cheek took a long time to fade, through white to red, and then brown again, and during those seemingly endless moments, he neither spoke nor moved, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.
She had behaved like a harpy, Genista thought wretchedly. What on earth had come over her? She prided herself on her cool control. Not even Richard, whose actions and words had surely been far more hurtful than Luke Ferguson’s contempt, had provoked her to violence. A terrible nausea rose up inside her as she stared at the marks of her fingers against Luke’s skin. Her legs seemed to turn to jelly, and she groped blindly for a chair.
‘You’re wrong. I…’
Her husky attempt at explanation and apology was swept aside.
‘No, you’re the one who’s wrong, Genista, if you think you can treat me the way you have done and get away with it.’
As though the scales had suddenly been wrenched from her eyes, she saw him for the first time as the man he was; a man who had built up a multi-million pound financial empire virtually from nothing; a man notorious in business circles for his single-minded determination when it came to getting his own way; a man whom she had grossly humiliated and insulted, and who was now towering above her menacingly…a man with whom she was completely alone…
She stepped backwards on legs that trembled, longing to run, but mesmerised like a petrified rabbit by the dark grey eyes.
‘Not so valiant now, are we?’ Luke asked softly, moving as stealthily as a jungle cat.
Terror swept her, drawing her down into a black vortex, paralysing her limbs completely.
‘Oh no,’ he continued in that same frighteningly steady voice, ‘I’m not going to touch you now, Genista. But one day I shall. I fully intend to make you pay for last time, to honour the promises you made me albeit only with your eyes and body.’ His mouth twisted in a cynical smile. ‘And don’t try to pretend that you didn’t. You were taking me for a ride, Genista, but now I’m in control of the train and the ride won’t be over until I say so.’
He was playing with her like a cat with a mouse, Genista thought bitterly, deliberately tormenting her, knowing that because she was his employee he had a certain amount of power over her.
‘You don’t strike me as a man who would compete for any woman,’ she said bravely, trying to appear unconcerned. ‘Especi
ally one he knows to be the mistress of someone else.’
For a moment she thought he was going to strike her. Her body stiffened in fear, and his eyes gleamed satirically, the bitter hunger she had thought she saw there seconds before banished so completely that she thought it must have been a trick of the light.
‘I’m a businessman,’ he reminded her coolly, ‘and I don’t like being cheated out of my just re-wards. I wanted you the moment I saw you, Genista—you’re a very beautiful woman—and I fully intend to have you!’
With that calm declaration he turned on his heel, leaving her alone in the office trying to come to terms with her chaotic thoughts. The man was unbelievable—insane even! He was behaving as though he were a feudal baron with rights of droit du seigneur over her. She knew she had every right to feel furiously angry, but for some reason the confrontation with him seemed to have drained her of the energy to feel anything apart from a panicky fear that stuck in her throat, causing her heart to beat nervously as she contemplated the words he had thrown at her before leaving the room.
Her fingers trembled as she dialled the foyer number of the flats. George answered almost immediatedly, assuring her that he had changed her lock. It must be the relief that made her feel so close to tears, she decided when she hung up, because certainly it was not like her to be so emotional.
When Bob returned from lunch she asked him if he could spare the time to accompany her to her garage.
‘I’m terrified of driving the car for the first time,’ she admitted to him ruefully, ‘and I badly need some moral support.’
‘You should have asked our new boss,’ Jilly interrupted with a grin. ‘He’s really smitten, didn’t you think so, Bob?’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Jilly!’ Genista cut in before Bob could speak. ‘I’ve already told you, you’ve got romance on the brain!’
‘All right, tell me about your new car instead,’ Jilly temporised. ‘What make is it?’
‘A Mercedes,’ Genista told her, reluctant to sound as though she were bragging about her new possession. ‘It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time, and at last I’ve decided to take the plunge. It’s a convertible—a sort of sports model, and I want Bob to come with me to pick it up. I’m terrified of driving it for the first time.’
‘A Mercedes?’ Jilly squeaked, in obvious awe. ‘You lucky thing!’ She said it without any malice, adding with a grin, ‘A sports car too—what happens in the winter?’
Neither of them had seen Luke walk into the room, and feeling relieved that her friend had exhibited no envy, Genista replied with a touch of slightly dry humour,
‘Oh, I’ll use the Ferrari then, of course. What do you think, Bob? When we’ve collected the Mercedes, how about buying a Ferrari?’
They were all laughing when Genista turned round and caught sight of Luke’s openly contemptuous expression. Shock and guilt mingled on her own face, and it wasn’t until much later that she realised he must have read in her expression confirmation of his suspicions that Bob was buying the car for her.
Bob’s phone rang and Jilly drifted back to her desk, leaving Genista completely unprotected when Luke walked up and muttered in a voice which only carried as far as her,
‘Perhaps I ought to start checking the books. There’s no way Bob can afford the sort of luxuries that you demand, unless he’s got private means. You certainly believe in pricing yourself high, don’t you?’
‘Meaning you couldn’t afford me?’ Genista parried swiftly, not caring what conclusions he would draw from her words. He already suspected the very worst it was possible for a man to think of a woman about her; any further conclusions he might draw could only be an anti-climax.
‘On the contrary,’ he told her smoothly, with a speed which caught her off guard, ‘I could easily provide you with the Mercedes and the Ferrari. Think about it, Genista. I’m not averse to paying generously for my pleasures.’
‘How predictable you are!’ Genista hissed back angrily. ‘You want something and you immediately think all you have to do is buy it. Haven’t you learned yet that some things simply can’t be bought?’
Her heated speech made him raise an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming sardonically as he looked down at her, saying with slow deliberation, ‘But we already know that you’re not one of them, don’t we, Genista?’
CHAPTER THREE
BOB and Genista left the office early, heading for the garage. The car was all ready for her. Bob and the salesman enthused over it, while Genista eyed the gleaming metallic green paintwork, and wondered how she had ever imagined she was going to be able to drive this elegant monster.
‘It’s a doddle really,’ the salesman assured her. ‘Automatic transmission—a beautifully well-behaved car, perfect for a beautiful lady,’ he told her gallantly.
Bob was endlessly patient while Genista drove nervously towards her flat. He had an hour to spare, he told her, so if she liked they could drive about so that she could accustom herself to the feel of the vehicle.
By the time they returned to the apartment Genista was beginning to feel slightly more confident. The car, despite its weight and size, was easy to handle. The leather seats cushioned her comfortably, and there was plenty of space for her long legs.
‘Can I reward your patience and steady your nerves with a drink?’ she invited Bob when they stopped.
He glanced at his watch, the worry she had noticed earlier in the day in his eyes again.
‘I won’t, if you don’t mind, Gen,’ he apologised. ‘It’s Elaine. She’s in a bit of a state.’ He tugged uncomfortably at his tie, avoiding Genista’s eyes, and then said on a rush, ‘She’s got some bee in her bonnet about getting old, says she’s worried I might fall for some young dolly bird. I’ve told her it’s all nonsense.’ His voice had gone very gruff, and Genista’s heart went out to both him and Elaine. ‘Thing is, Gen, she’s discovered a lump in her…in her breast, and she’s working herself up into a rare old state about it. Our doctor’s told her the chances are it will be benign, but she’s convinced it will mean an operation…’
‘Oh, poor Elaine!’ Genista was genuinely sympathetic. How dreadful it must be for any woman to have to face that sort of operation, especially one as vulnerable as Elaine. No wonder she was worrying that Bob would find her less attractive! It was all nonsense, of course. Bob loved his wife, Genista knew that, but even so, she could quite see why he might not want Elaine to be unduly upset. Cold fingers of fear touched her spine. What if by accident Elaine should get to hear of Luke Ferguson’s suspicions? But of course that was impossible. How could she? And suspicions were all that they were. Everyone else in the office knew that there was nothing between Bob and herself, and if Luke Ferguson bothered to ask around, he could find that out for himself.
When Bob had gone Genista ate a solitary meal, occasionally walking to the large window of her elegant living room to stare out in mingled fear and delight at her new purchase. George had been up with her new keys. He had seen her arrive in the car, and had made extremely approving noises, offering to garage it for her if she liked.
When she had finished her meal and washed up, Genista turned on the television. The programme was a documentary about rural life in England, and to her amazement one of the villages featured was the one in which she had been brought up. As she listened to the presenter talking about the contrast between urban and rural life, her eye was caught by the man standing behind him in the small village square, and her heart started to pound heavily in recognition. It was Richard. An older Richard, of course, but still undeniably Richard with his handsome fair-haired good looks and well built masculine frame. Genista looked in vain for Elizabeth at his side, but then of course the daughter of the local landowner and M.P. was hardly likely to be seen frequenting a very ordinary village pub, which was what the television reporter had been doing before walking outside to talk about the experience, and Middle Hesford’s pub was a real village pub, as Genista remembered, with no pretensions to fash
ionability. The local farm workers gathered there. Genista had only been once—with Richard. Their first date. She could remember it as clearly as though it had been yesterday.
She had lived in the village all her life, but for reasons which did not become clear to Genista until later, her parents had always kept themselves very much to themselves. Her father was a solicitor with a small practice in a nearby town. She was an only child, and her mother seemed to have no friends. Her parents were really all in all to each other, and often, without meaning to, they made her feel slightly as though she were in the way. Such love was very rare, as she had come to appreciate in the years since their death.
She had met Richard when he had come to seek her father’s advice about the purchase of a field adjacent to his farm.
Richard’s father had owned one of the most profitable farms in the area, and following his death from a heart attack when Richard was still at agricultural college, the latter had returned home to take his father’s place.
Richard’s mother and two sisters lived with him. Genista knew him by sight. He was something of a local pin-up, and Genista, who had just left school, and was working in her father’s office as a trainee secretary, had been overwhelmed when Richard had turned almost casually as she opened the door to let him out of the house, following his chat with her father, and asked her if she would like to go out with him.
It had taken her ten seconds to take in the question, and another fifteen to give him a stammered acceptance, accompanied by a vivid blush. Partially because she was naturally shy, and partially because she had been educated privately at an all girls’ school, Genista had had little to do with young men. To her Richard seemed almost god-like. She had heard the village girls chattering about him, and could not understand by what miracle he had actually chosen to ask her out.