Daring Proposition

by Miranda Lee

  No, she conceded bleakly. That last idea was definitely gone. He wouldn’t come at that again. There was never going to be a little boy or girl for her to love, no bond to keep this man—however tenuously—by her side forever.

  ‘Samantha?’ came the soft enquiry. ‘Are you all right?’

  A lump formed in her throat. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll drop down and see you this evening, make sure.’

  ‘You’re...very kind.’

  ‘You’re a nice person.’

  ‘So are you,’ she choked out, and said a quick goodbye before she burst into tears on the girl again.

  She was hanging up the receiver when there was a tentative knock on the office door. Somehow she knew it was Norman even before she opened it. Tentative, shy little Norman. But, dear heaven, she really wasn’t in the mood for a reunion.

  She opened the door with a rueful resignation, only to find her neck stretching upwards and her lips falling apart in startled surprise. Oh, yes, it was Norman, all right, but when had he shot up to this height, found this amazing width? And where, she finally registered, had all his pimples gone to?

  Fortunately, he was looking at her with equal astonishment and hardly noticed hers, his brown eyes raking over her body with definite appreciation. ‘I know that’s you, Amazon Sam,’ he teased gently, ‘because you’ve the same lovely hair and eyes. But what happened to the rest of you?’

  ‘I think you’ve got it all,’ she laughed. ‘Oh, Norman, it’s so good to see you.’ And, suddenly, it was!

  ‘And you too. Have you got a kiss for your old school-mate?’

  The old Norman would have stood tremulously waiting for her to give permission. This Norman pulled her into a bear-hug and planted a kiss on her lips that wasn’t too presumptuous, but could hardly be called platonic. By the time he let her go she felt as if she’d been run over by a bulldozer.

  ‘Your lunch date, I presume?’ Guy said coldly from just behind her.

  Norman swung her round half behind him, stepping forward to take Guy’s hand in his large grip. ‘You’d be Samantha’s boss, I guess. Look, I’ve got a favour to ask, mate. I’m only going to be in town a few days and I’m lined up to visit relatives from tomorrow on. Do you think you could give my girl the afternoon off? I haven’t seen her in donkey’s ages and we’ve got a lot of catching up to do, haven’t we?’ This with a wide smile her way.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Guy returned curtly, ‘but I’ll need Samantha back here this afternoon. I...’

  ‘Don’t be such a party-pooper, Guy,’ Frankie joined in, coming forward with a big grin on his face. ‘You’ll survive without Sam for one miserable afternoon.’

  Cold blue eyes settled on her. ‘You think so?’ he drawled.

  ‘Yeah. Go on, doll-face. Get going with your date while I lash the boss here to the mast!’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘Of course, you’ll have to work on late tomorrow night to make up for it, won’t she, Guy?’ he finished with a sly dig in his ribs.

  ‘Indubitably.’

  ‘I’ll just get my jacket,’ Samantha said with a reprimanding look at both Frankie and Guy. She hoped Norman was still country enough not to understand their underlying crudities.

  But as he walked her down the corridor towards the lift he darted her a long, thoughtful glance and said, ‘Well, Samantha? And just how long have you been sleeping with your boss?’

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT TOOK every ounce of Samantha’s acting ability and an entire hour over coffee and sandwiches to convince Norman he had jumped to the wrong conclusion, and that these sexual double entendres were a type of teasing, common in any workplace in the city.

  And of course he basically was wrong. She had not ‘been sleeping’ with Guy. She had slept with him once, and was unlikely ever to do so again.

  So she joked and laughed over his accusation, taking the sting out of her own shock that Norman was no man’s fool these days. It was a relief too to find out that he was about to become safely engaged to a nice girl back home and had decided to see Samantha on his trip to Sydney more to lay an old ghost to rest, rather than to try to revive ancient history.

  After that both of them relaxed, and the hours they spent together were very enjoyable indeed. Samantha showed Norman the best tourist spots in the city, the shops and beauty of the Queen Victoria Building, Darling Harbour, the Rocks, the bridge, the opera house, the botanical gardens. By the time he took her back to his city hotel for an evening meal they were both a fraction foot-worn, but very much at ease in each other’s company.

  Yes, they spent a very pleasant time together.

  Nevertheless, when Norman walked her through the hotel foyer on his way to putting her in a taxi he stopped briefly and placed a caring hand on her arm. ‘Be careful, Samantha,’ he warned gently. ‘I know what you said about your relationship with your boss, but I can’t help thinking there is something between you, something...simmering. You’re not in his league, love. You’re country, no matter what you may look like now. He’s city. From what I gather, city men play hard and fast with women. I’d give him a wide berth if I were you.’

  Samantha covered his hand with one of her own and smiled softly. ‘You don’t have to worry about me, Norman. I’m leaving my present job in a few weeks. I might even come home for a while.’

  This brought a flash of panic into his eyes. ‘God, don’t do that! Raeleen will have a pink fit when she sees you. She’s jealous of you enough as it is.’

  Samantha was taken aback. ‘But...but why?’

  Norman looked sheepish. ‘I made the mistake of telling her about you when we first went out. She wanted to know who...you know... I’m afraid I must have raved about you a bit. She accused me of still being in love with you. I—er—I soothed her jealousy by saying you were...um...rather plain and plump.’

  ‘Oh...I see... But don’t worry, Norman. I don’t usually look like this. I can look quite ordinary, believe me.’

  His face was decidedly sceptical.

  Samantha gave him another soothing smile and patted his hand. ‘Don’t worry. If I come home it’ll only be for a flying visit. I’m off up to Brisbane,’ she improvised. ‘Your Raeleen won’t even know I’ve been there if you don’t tell her. I’m not likely to come out to your farm, am I?’

  Norman was still looking slightly worried as he helped her into the back of the taxi. ‘It was lovely seeing you again, Norman,’ she said, and lifted her mouth for a goodnight kiss. It amused her that he made it a very curt peck, as though Raeleen could somehow see what he was doing. Maybe he was thinking ahead, of the third degree his girlfriend would give him when he got home.

  Aah, jealousy, she mused. And immediately thought of Guy. Had he been jealous of her going out with someone else? Norman had apparently thought so. Or was Guy just still concerned that she might go to bed with another man then try to pin the pregnancy on him? Yes, she thought ruefully. That sounded more like it.

  It made her sad to think that he didn’t know her at all really, that he was actually getting a very warped idea of her character in all this.

  But what could she do about it? Tell him the whole truth and nothing but the truth? What would that achieve, except embarrassment for both of them? No... She would just have to endure the next few weeks, then get the hell out of his life. Maybe Brisbane was not such a bad idea...

  The light was still on in Lisa’s flat when she got home, so she went up and knocked on the door. ‘It’s only me,’ she called out.

  Lisa wrenched open the door, a real sight with a face mask on and her hair bundled up in a shower cap.

  ‘Goodness,’ Samantha chuckled, ‘aren’t we glamorous this evening?’

  The other girl ushered her in with curious eagerness. ‘Does the late hour and your good humour mean success came late in the day? Did gorgeous Guy finally capitulate and ravish you in the office then take you out for wining and dining?’

  Samantha plopped down in a chair with a sigh. ‘Sorry. No success in
that department. But I have spent a pleasant evening with a very old school-friend, come to the big smoke for a holiday. Actually, he was my first—er—you know.’

  ‘No! You mean one of those country yokels out in woop-woop did the dastardly deed?’ Lisa was all ears. ‘Tell me all the gory details. Where? When? How?’

  Samantha reluctantly satisfied her friend’s avid curiosity, then rose, yawning. ‘Must go to bed. I have the feeling Guy will be like a bear with a sore head tomorrow and work the pants off me. Oh! I mean...’

  For a second she looked horrified, then both of them dissolved into helpless giggles. Despite her deep-down misery, Samantha left the flat smiling. Truly, that girl was corrupting her!

  Samantha was right, though, about Guy the next day. He made a bear with a sore head seem good-tempered. Even her return to conservative dressing made no difference, her hair up and subdued choice of plain black suit and businesslike white blouse bringing a sour look when he arrived shortly after nine. Surprisingly early for him.

  ‘I take it you haven’t any lunch dates today?’ he flung at her caustically as he strode past her desk, his own subdued dark suit not doing enough to hide his sex appeal, Samantha thought bitterly.

  ‘Not that I know of,’ she tossed back with superb coolness.

  This brought another sharp look, after which he hibernated in his office for half an hour—most of which he spent on the phone—before coming out, snapping demands, from wanting a list of every music video director and photographer in Australia to having her find out the address and phone number of some obscure songwriter whose name was very inconveniently James Smith.

  She smiled her compliance through gritted teeth, printing the first list from her database on her computer quite easily, but sighing frustratedly as she began ringing every J. Smith in the Sydney phone directory. By a stroke of luck, however, the songwriter was in the first half-dozen names and it gave her some malicious satisfaction to be able to swan into Guy’s office and give him what he wanted within minutes.

  He glared up at her in disbelief. ‘Do you have a genie in your drawer?’ he snarled.

  ‘No. A computer on my desk,’ she returned calmly, and began to make a totally unruffled exit.

  ‘Sam!’ he called, halting her as she reached the door.

  She turned slowly. ‘What?’

  He was looking at her quite strangely, with an odd bleakness in his eyes. ‘I suppose your resignation still stands.’

  Her mouth tightened so that it wouldn’t tremble. ‘What do you think?’ The effort to control the stab of dismay brought a sharp edge to her voice and words.

  ‘I think no one,’ he said softly, ‘will ever be able to take your place.’

  Her heart turned over and at that moment she hated him, hated him for trying to sway her with emotional blackmail. ‘I doubt that very much,’ she bit out. ‘No one’s indispensable, certainly not around you! If you’ll excuse me, I think Mrs Walton has just come in.’

  She had, thank the lord, which was a good defence for the next four hours. By the time the other woman left Samantha felt totally drained from pretending everything was fine.

  She glanced up at the clock. After two already...and she still hadn’t had any proper lunch. Guy had stalked out of the office at one, leaving a whole pile of typing for her to do, compiling jokes from various comedy books and magazines he had underlined—obviously for Frankie. Some of them were very funny, but she didn’t feel like laughing.

  Crying was closer to the mark.

  She had just finished when Guy walked back in at two twenty-five, looking decidedly less strained. Perhaps all he’d needed was a good feed. Or maybe he’d spent his lunch-hour with a handy blonde, she thought caustically.

  ‘Mrs Walton gone?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. Here’s that typing you wanted.’ She handed him the printed pages without looking at him. ‘I’m going to get a bite to eat myself. If you’ll excuse me...’ She got up and retreated to the safety of the washroom.

  After a quick tidy-up she emerged totally composed, and was about to pick up her handbag and leave when Guy called her into his office.

  ‘Yes?’ she said, staying near the open doorway.

  He glanced up from his desk, blue eyes penetrating. They raked over her and she could see his mind ticking over as it did when he was assessing a difficult business colleague he needed something from, but whom he didn’t want to ask. He reached for and lit a fresh cigarette, even though there was a butt still smouldering in his ashtray, the action forcing Samantha to accept she’d been wrong about his being more relaxed. It had been another façade, like the one she was exercising on herself at this moment.

  His eyes returned to her through the puff of smoke, disturbing her with the quality of stubborn resolve that slid slowly into them.

  ‘Have dinner with me tonight,’ he said quietly.

  For a second Samantha was so astonished that she could think of no reply. Then the penny dropped. He was still going to try to talk her out of leaving. After all that had happened. There could be no other explanation.

  ‘You’re wasting your time, Guy,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m leaving and that’s that. Besides, I have plans for tonight.’ Writing her weekly letters to her parents and Aunt Vonnie, then washing her hair. Very exciting stuff.

  His eyes flashed with instant anger but he controlled it well. Clearly he felt only a calm approach would win him what he wanted.

  ‘Another date with your old flame?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Surely not a new one? For a girl who’s supposed to have a broken heart, you’re mighty resilient.’

  Samantha stifled her growing fury. It’s not all his fault, she thought with bitter honesty. I’ve fed him a lot of twisted truths, and now they’re rebounding on me. There’s no escape either. I have no option but to keep following the same, ghastly path.

  Calmly, though, she told herself. Calmly...

  ‘I have no date at all. I have things to do. My life doesn’t begin and end with Haywood Promotions, you know.’

  Goodness, was that her, using that icy, reprimanding voice?

  ‘As for my heart, Guy,’ she went on, just as chillingly, ‘believe me, it’s still well and truly broken. I just don’t choose to wear it on my sleeve.’

  She saw his blue eyes harden in retaliation, saw the muscles in his jaw twitch with suppressed irritation. ‘Good for you, Sam. Still...you must understand my concern about your...activities till your next period. You’re not quite the wallflower you always pretended to be.’

  ‘It’s amazing,’ she snapped, ‘how people judge others by their own morals. Believe it or not, dear Guy, I am capable of going out with a man and not leaping into bed with him. I do see more in the opposite sex than just the physical. Neither do I need a new face on the pillow practically every time I turn over.’

  She glared at him and he stared back, clearly surprised by her attack.

  ‘Is that what you think I am?’ he said, startled. ‘A compulsive womaniser?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  He frowned then shrugged. ‘Perhaps. In some people’s eyes.’ His frown cleared to a cynical amusement, his sigh carrying a strange satisfaction. ‘So... Lover-boy from the bush didn’t talk you back to his hotel room, after all.’

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ she said irritably. ‘And, for your information, Norman was never my lover. We did have sex together once, on our graduation night eight years ago when we were silly adolescents. Norman because he was a typical randy teenage boy, and me because I thought he needed me. I didn’t even enjoy it. I do silly things like that sometimes. I guess I’m a sucker for people in need!’

  ‘That’s good, then,’ Guy pronounced, and got to his feet.

  Samantha’s chest constricted as he started coming towards her, his steps purposeful and determined, decidedly passionate lights glittering in his eyes. ‘Because I’m in need, Sam,’ he said in a low, seductive voice. ‘I’m definitely in need...’

 
She felt mesmerised, like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car, standing there staring at him, unable to move or say anything. He came up to her and curled surprisingly gentle hands over her shoulders, easing her startled body over and back against the wall next to the door.

  His first kisses were soft and patient, teasing her lips open, waiting for the groan that finally fluttered from her throat. Then his hands lifted to her face and he was holding her captive for the velvet heat of his tongue as it plundered her mouth, over and over. She was gasping by the time his lips slid across to an ear then down her throbbing throat, his impassioned words sending tremors of desire richocheting throughout her body.

  ‘Sweet Sam... Sexy Sam... Did I ever know you...? I don’t think so... But I want you... God, I want you... Don’t deny me... Here...let me...’ Shaking hands were under her jacket, on her blouse, reefing it out of the waistband. Then they were on bare flesh, around her back, fumbling to unhook her bra, making her heart race madly as she felt her breasts fall heavy and naked into his hungry hands. Thumbs rubbed over already hard nipples, his mouth seeking hers again, his tongue darting forward.

  It was only when she felt cooler air on her thighs that she realised his hands had left her breasts to begin lifting her straight skirt upwards. An insistent male leg was prising her thighs apart.

  ‘No, you can’t!’ she cried, gasping away from the imprisoning pressure of his mouth. ‘Not here... Someone might come in...’

  One foot reached out and kicked the door shut, one hand leaving her skirt momentarily to turn the lock.

  Samantha’s stomach flipped over with recognition of what he was about to do, and Lisa’s teasing words catapulted back into her mind—’...he’d be so turned on he’d...take you on the desk.’

  She had been shocked then. She was shocked now. But not for the same reason. Her present shock was all directed at herself, at the wave of sweet and utter surrender flooding up through her body. Wall... floor...desk... It no longer mattered. There was no question of stopping him. No question at all.