by Anne Mather
He was about as giving as a concrete pillar, Camilla decided impatiently. But, ‘No,’ she conceded, losing patience with her own diffidence, and tucking her bag beneath her arm. ‘However, if you tell him I’m here, I’m sure you’ll find he’ll see me. I’m—I’m his house guest. I’m staying out at Kumaru.’
‘Yes, Miss Richards.’ Whether he believed her or not, she couldn’t be sure, but what she was not prepared for was for him to hold out his hand and gesture at her clutch-bag. ‘Then you won’t mind if I check you don’t have a recorder in there, will you?’ he added. ‘If you don’t mind. I have my orders.’
‘Haven’t we all?’ muttered Camilla irritably, but, after the gaggle of reporters she had seen downstairs, she supposed she could understand his caution. But for heaven’s sake, did she look like a reporter? Where was her notebook and camera?
Her bag successfully checked for bugs, the man picked up a telephone and apparently dialled Alex’s office. Camilla tried not to listen to his conversation, sure that if she did she would feel even more frustrated than she already did. However, she couldn’t avoid hearing the word ‘allegedly’, and it didn’t take much imagination to guess what he was saying.
Still, contrary to her growing expectations, she wasn’t asked to leave. Instead, after finishing his phone call, the man invited her to sit on one of the velvet couches that lined the silk-hung walls of the reception area, and her unwilling guardian resumed his seat at his desk.
A few moments later a pretty Chinese girl came through a door at the end of the corridor that stretched away from the reception area, and walked towards them. She was small and slim and exotic-looking, with chinlength hair that tipped under her jawline, and small oriental features.
‘Miss Richards,’ she said, and, although her appearance was foreign, her accent was not. She had obviously been born and bred in the United States, and it showed both in her manner and her style of dress. ‘I’m Sophy Ling. Will you come with me, please?’
Camilla got to her feet gratefully, feeling none the less something of a giant as she accompanied the diminutive Miss Ling back along the corridor. Still, she was glad the pale green shift she was wearing was reasonably elegant. Like many of her countrywomen, Sophy was immaculately turned out.
‘You are on holiday, Miss Richards?’ she asked, as they trod the pale grey broadloom, and, although Camilla guessed she was just being polite, she was wary of saying anything that might incriminate her.
‘Um…sort of,’ she said, letting it be known that she was not eager to explain her reasons for being there, and Sophy looked at her appraisingly as she reached the inner door.
Beyond the door another office awaited her. This was much bigger than the reception area, however, and there were long windows with vertical blinds to filter the intrusive rays of the sun. A quartet of desks, two equipped with computers and two with electronic typewriters, were set at right angles to each other, apparently providing a working base for Sophy and another girl, who was presently engaged in earnest conversation with the man leaning over her desk. It wasn’t until he straightened that Camilla realised it was Grant Blaisdell, and it took an enormous effort not to let her disappointment show.
‘Well, well, well, what have we here?’ he exclaimed, coming round the desk and looking her over very thoroughly. ‘If it isn’t the fair Camilla, come to beard the lion in his den. You didn’t say we were expecting a visitor, Sophy. I wondered why you went dashing off like that.’
The expression Sophy cast in Grant’s direction mirrored her own, and Camilla felt a corresponding warming in her attitude towards the Chinese girl. The second girl, who was fairly plump with straight silky-blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, was watching the exchange with interest, and it was obvious from her expression that she regarded Grant with far more enthusiasm.
‘We weren’t, Mr Blaisdell,’ Sophy responded now, waiting until Grant had released Camilla’s unwilling hand before continuing, ‘but, as you evidently know Miss Richards, I think I ought to let Mr Conti know she’s here. He’s in conference with Mr Cassells, but I’m sure he won’t mind being interrupted.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ declared Grant, putting his hand over Sophy’s as it reached for the phone on her desk. That she extracted her fingers immediately didn’t seem to faze him. He had achieved his objective, and that was all that mattered. ‘I’ll tell Alex Camilla’s here. But first, I’m sure she wouldn’t say no to some coffee. We’ll have it in my office, Sophy. Oh, and send one of the girls out for a Danish, hmm? Cream cheese for me. How about you, Camilla?’
Camilla ignored Grant and looked at Sophy. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll wait until Mr Conti is free,’ she said evenly. ‘Is it all right if I go back to Reception?’
There was a moment’s silence while Sophy absorbed what she had said and Grant and the other girl exchanged glances. And then, as if on cue, the double doors at the far side of the office opened, and two men came into the room. One of them was in his sixties, Camilla surmised, a rather fatherly looking figure with a shock of grey hair and horn-rimmed spectacles; the other was Alex.
The two men had been talking as they came through the doors, but the lack of activity in the outer office caused both of them to look up in surprise. They saw the four figures standing like statues, and Alex’s eyes went straight to Camilla.
But, predictably, it was Grant who was first to recover.
‘Hey, you’ve got a visitor, Alex!’ he exclaimed, glancing at Camilla as if she hadn’t just turned down his offer of hospitality. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
Alex’s expression was unreadable. Oh, he offered Grant a casual smile, and appeared to be considering the merits of what the other man had said, but Camilla sensed that they were not penetrating the mask of neutrality he was presently maintaining. None of them knew what he was really thinking, she thought uneasily, not really understanding how she should know that. But the fact was, she did, and she waited expectantly for him to speak.
‘I’ll get to you later, Jim,’ he said in an aside to his companion, and then came across the room to where Camilla was standing. ‘Hi. This is an…unexpected…pleasure.’
Camilla managed a smile, but she didn’t know how she did it. And it wasn’t just because Grant, the other man and the two secretaries were watching them, she acknowledged tensely. In spite of her efforts to push all thought of the night before to the back of her mind, seeing Alex in the flesh again tore down all the barriers she had erected. It was impossible to look at him without remembering what she had dreamed he had done to her—and her response. It was all still too vivid in her mind, and it took an actual physical effort to separate the substance from the fantasy.
‘I suggest we go into my office,’ Alex said after a moment’s consideration, and Camilla was grateful. At least she wouldn’t be in any danger of making a fool of herself in front of anyone else, she thought wryly. She would just have to hope she didn’t do the same with Alex. She was half afraid to look at him in case he guessed what she was thinking.
She gave Sophy a faintly rueful look before accompanying him out of the room, and was rewarded by a matching grin. At least she had one ally, she thought as she followed Alex through the panelled doors, which she now saw led into his office. And she obviously wasn’t the only female who found Grant Blaisdell’s attentions repulsive.
Alex waited by the doors until she had passed through them, then closed them behind him and leaned back against the wood. ‘Well?’ he said, and for a moment she thought he was challenging her. ‘I gather you’ve got some news.’
Camilla swallowed. He wasn’t. But it was obvious her appearance here hadn’t been as much a surprise to him as she had anticipated. ‘Er—how do you know that?’ she asked evasively, playing for time. This was Virginia’s husband, remember? she told herself furiously. Sexually, he doesn’t even know you exist!
‘Call it intuition,’ Alex responded now, and Camilla drew a steadying breath.
‘Aided an
d abetted by Mama Lu, no doubt,’ she countered, and Alex shrugged.
‘You didn’t really expect her to sanction your leaving the house without consulting me, did you?’
Camilla sighed. ‘I suppose not.’
‘There you are, then.’ Alex straightened away from the door, and walked across to his desk. In shirt-sleeves and dark tan trousers, he passed quite close to where she was standing, and involuntarily she drew back. ‘So…why all the cloak and dagger? Couldn’t you have told Mama Lu?’
That hurt. But it also had the effect of bringing her to her senses. ‘I could have, yes,’ she agreed shortly. ‘But I thought—foolishly, as it turns out—that you’d prefer me not to discuss your affairs with an employee!’
‘Mama Lu’s hardly an employee,’ retorted Alex, equally as brusquely. ‘She’s lived at the estate since before I was born, and she’s practically family!’
‘Which I’m not,’ Camilla remarked tersely, only wanting to get out before she said or did something she would regret. ‘All right. I’ll discuss my ideas with Mama Lu.’ She turned to walk away. ‘I’m sorry I intruded—’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Although her legs were long, his were longer, and he overtook her easily, before she reached the doors. His fingers closed about her upper arm. ‘Where d’you think you’re going?’ he exclaimed impatiently, swinging her round to face him. ‘You’re here now, so you might as well spit it out!’
Camilla steeled herself to look up at him, and when she did her eyes were as green as glass, and just as giving. ‘The only spitting I’m likely to do is at you, Mr Conti,’ she told him angrily. ‘Now, let go of my arm, before I really show my claws!’
‘Camilla…’
Alex was frustrated, but he wasn’t letting her go, and Camilla wanted to scream. Perhaps she should, she thought consideringly. She was sure that would get his attention. But she wasn’t an hysterical person in the usual way, and she was already fighting to remember who she really was.
‘Are you going to let go of me?’ she demanded, looking up at him now with eyes that glistened with the threat of tears, and her heart constricted. Dear God, she thought despairingly, this couldn’t be happening to her; it really couldn’t. She didn’t get herself into this sort of situation. She simply wasn’t the type to be governed by her emotions.
‘All right, all right.’ Alex released her arm abruptly and thrust his hands into his trousers pockets. But his expression was by no means impassive, and a pulse was jumping at his jawline as he endeavoured to control his own feelings. ‘However, I don’t think there’s any need for us to maintain this aggression, do you? You’ll have to forgive me if I’m on edge. I do have a lot on my plate at the moment.’
Camilla swallowed. ‘If you say so,’ she responded rather ungraciously, but she couldn’t help it. Her own nerves were tearing her to ribbons, and she found his politeness almost more than she could bear.
‘Good.’ He was making an obvious effort to pace himself. ‘So—what did you come to tell me?’
Camilla shrugged. Her reasons for being here had lost all importance, and she wished he would move away from her. He was too damned close for comfort, and her pulse was already behaving erratically, causing all sorts of problems with her breathing. Why didn’t he go back to his desk and allow them both to get their breaths back—metaphorically and physically? Why did he persist in standing over her, disrupting not only her metabolism, but her ability to think rationally?
‘Camilla?’
His repeated use of her name was hoarse, and her head came up with a start. There had been an almost desperate note in his voice as he’d spoken, and, when her eyes encountered his, her mouth dried. He wasn’t looking at her as if he resented her invasion of his office. He wasn’t even looking at her as if he was impatient for her to answer him. Instead, his face was taut with emotion, and her knees shook as she struggled to keep her head.
Her lips parted, but the words that might have issued from them were never spoken. As if the sight of that tremulous separation and the tender pink tip of tongue that appeared to moisten them was the final straw, Alex dragged his hands out of his pockets and grasped her shoulders. The sure touch of his hands sent her senses reeling, and when he jerked her towards him she had no will to resist him. His mouth fastened on hers, and substance and fantasy blended into one all-consuming assault on her emotions.
His kiss was hard at first, rough and aggressive, as if he was demonstrating his own reluctance to give in to what was, of course, only a fleeting aberration. He hadn’t intended to touch her, Camilla realised dizzily. He had believed he could control his feelings, and even when he took hold of her he had intended it to be a kind of punishment—as well as proving to himself that the situation was not getting out of hand.
But it didn’t work that way. As soon as his lips touched hers, Camilla’s mouth opened, and his tongue slid almost involuntarily between her teeth. And at once the kiss softened and deepened, so that Camilla emitted a helpless little moan before responding completely.
Her hands, which had been trapped between their bodies, spread over the warm flesh, palpable beneath the thin material of his shirt, and then moved up to clutch the sides of his neck. Her body arched towards him, and his hands slid up her arms to her wrists, before taking them behind her back and using them to urge her hips against his. His thumbs caressed her palms as he compelled her closer, and she felt the heat of her lower spine against her knuckles as he increased the pressure.
But it was the heat of his body that caused the blood to rise to the surface of her skin; the rampant sexuality of his kiss that blotted out all but the urgent need to press herself even closer. Their clothes were a tormenting barrier to the freedom she desired, and moisture pooled between her breasts and trickled down her back. He released her hands to slide his fingers over her hips to her waist, and from there across the curve of her ribcage. His hands clung to the damp cotton of her dress, and she felt the hemline lifting as his exploration reached her breasts. His mouth left hers then, to trail a moist path to her shoulder, and his thumbs brushed her swollen nipples, where they thrust shamelessly against the cloth.
He was going to make love to her: she knew it. His leg was between hers, the bones of his pelvis taut and unyielding. But it was the heaviness that was becoming tangible between his legs that convinced her, the pulsating tumescence that strained the zip of his trousers and throbbed against her stomach. And this was no dream, she reminded herself harshly, striving for sanity: this was real; this was Alex; and he was still Virginia’s husband.
CHAPTER TEN
‘No,’ CAMILLA got out unsteadily, when Alex’s fingers went to the buttons of her bodice, and, although he opened the first two of them, it was a purely reflex action. Already her trembling denial had brought him at least partly to his senses, and, although he didn’t step away from her, his hands fell automatically to his sides. It enabled Camilla to put some space between them, and she dried her damp palms by smoothing them down over her hips. The action also restored her hemline to somewhere near its proper position, and she kept her eyes averted the whole time.
The silence in the room was crippling, and as Camilla secured her buttons again she strove desperately for some lightweight comment. She ought to be able to think of something, she chafed, wetting her lips and then withdrawing her tongue again as she remembered what had happened the last time she had made such a provocative gesture. Only it hadn’t been intended to be provocation, she defended herself unhappily. The trouble was, such experience as she had had with men had not prepared her for the kind of violent reaction she had to Alex. Although she had been kissed before—and more, she acknowledged ruefully—she had never experienced anything like the frenzy of feeling Alex had aroused.
She felt like a virgin, she thought fretfully, and he probably thought she was one, too. After all, she was almost thirty, and unmarried, with no visible man on her horizon. It would be quite natural for him to think she had never slept with a man, a
nd her quivering refusal had had all the prudery of a maiden aunt. He couldn’t know that in her second year at college—and egged on by the fear of being thought prudish by her peers—she had lost her virginity to a young man who was reputed to be quite a stud. That the young man in question had only gained his reputation by sleeping with most of the female population of the university had soon become apparent. His careless invasion of her body had left Camilla cold, and thereafter she had kept her relationships with other students on a casual basis only.
Of course, since starting work there had been other friendships, some of them more serious than others, but sex had never figured very highly in her relationships. She knew that some of the men she had gone out with—and who she had refused to go to bed with—thought her cold, but it wasn’t that. Her experience, and it was of necessity small, had not led her to believe she was destined for some earth-shattering love-affair. She had expected to get married some day, but more for companionship and children than for any other reason. Now she realised how wrong she had been. When Alex kissed her she turned to fire, and the thought of making love with him melted every bone in her body.
But he was Virginia’s husband, she chided herself again. Dear God, the man was desperate! Otherwise, he never would have touched her.
When the phone rang she started violently. She had been so wrapped up with her thoughts, and the self-denigrating memory of her own complicity in what had obviously been an embarrassing mistake, that she had almost forgotten where she was. Alex’s move to answer it was a daunting reminder, and she would have let herself out of the room as he did so if he hadn’t pressed a button on the console and said roughly, ‘Wait!’
Then, releasing the button, he spoke to whomever it was on the other end of the line. Propped on a corner of his desk, one foot raised off the floor, the other supporting his weight, he seemed in complete control of himself again, and Camilla realised she had the time it took for him to finish his call for her to gather her own scattered wits. If she could meet his gaze without her conscience getting in the way she might do it, too, she thought manfully. The trouble was, her conscience wasn’t as easy to manipulate as his evidently was.