by Liz Fielding
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Bonus Read
Praise for Liz Fielding
About the author
Some recent books by Liz Fielding
Dangerous Flirtation
By
Liz Fielding
Dangerous Flirtation
Copyright © 1994 by Liz Fielding
The right of Liz Fielding to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the Copyright owner.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
CHAPTER ONE
ROSALIND Parry pushed the tenancy agreement away and sat back in her chair. She felt restless, all at odds with herself and checking the clauses of the agreement suddenly seemed a very tedious way to be spending her birthday. She picked up the expensive card that stood on her desk and read the message once more. “To Rosalind, best wishes for a happy birthday, Anthony.” Not the world’s most romantic message. But then Anthony was not the world’s most romantic man.
She shook herself. What on earth was she thinking? Indulging in a fit of self-pity because the man in her life hadn’t rushed in this morning, kissed her silly and given her a bunch of roses? The thought of Anthony doing anything so unrestrained raised a truant smile that she quickly retrieved with a tiny stab of guilt. He would never do anything so ridiculous. That was one of things she liked most about him. Her father had been the one for grand gestures, expensive impulses, an excess of emotion and look where that had led. She replaced the card, very carefully. That wasn’t for her. She liked everything just the way it was. Romance was for fools. Anthony might not bring her roses, but she knew he would always be there when she needed him. That was worth a ton of roses.
She picked up the document and tried to concentrate, but the words danced around the page and refused to make sense. It wasn’t as if he had forgotten her birthday, she reminded herself and glanced again at the card that had been waiting for her this morning. Knowing he would be out of the office most of the day, he had taken the trouble to leave his card on her desk last night so that she would find it first thing this morning. The sort of thoughtful gesture that she appreciated. And they were going to a concert this evening. She sighed a little. If she was brutally honest with herself, it was the thought of the concert that was depressing her. She enjoyed classical music, not quite with Anthony’s earnestness it was true, but tonight it was Shostakovich. She would try to enjoy it for his sake, but it wouldn’t be easy.
At least the choice of restaurant had been left to her. He’d pulled a face when she had suggested the new French restaurant in the town centre and she had almost lost her nerve at his puzzled, ‘Are you quite sure?’ But then he had shrugged and smiled a little and said that she should be indulged since it was her birthday.
And she was almost certain that tonight he would suggest they set a date for the wedding.
A sudden quietness in the office dragged her thoughts back to her immediate surroundings. She abandoned her attempt to concentrate on the document in front of her as she realised there was someone standing at her desk. Someone dressed in a pair of well-worn denims that at her eye level stretched tightly across a pair of arrogant hips. For a moment her gaze was fixed there then, the faintest flush warming her cheeks, she forced herself to look up. Slowly.
His black t-shirt clung to a sculptured chest and broad shoulders. Above the tanned column of his neck she encountered a dangerously square jaw and a mouth that she’d once seen on a Greek statue. Eons later, she found herself looking into a pair of eyes so blue that they might have been plucked from the summer sky.
‘Yes?’ she asked, hoarsely, cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Can I help you?’
He smiled slowly, strong white teeth sparkling against that sensuous mouth. It was only then, as he lifted the instrument to his lips, that she saw the saxophone in his hand. She gasped as the first notes of music whispered into the waiting silence of the office. She had heard the simple tune a thousand times, sung at numberless birthday parties, but never played like this.
Strong fingers teased the keys, tormenting the mellow sound that spiralled upwards, soaring dangerously higher and higher until Rose caught her breath on a top note held endlessly, balancing on the razor-edge of destruction. When she thought the sound must shatter and destroy them all, the musician, the instrument, the stunned listeners, it slid back into the depths along a slow, beautiful scale that subsided into a note so blue that she could have cried. The tune had been taken apart by a master and put back together again, then left for lesser mortals to make of it what they would.
While she sat, weak to the bone, he leaned across her desk and removed the dark-rimmed spectacles from her nose and dropped them on the desk, regarding her with the slightest frown. For a moment nothing happened. Then, without warning he captured the back of her head in one strong hand and bent to kiss her. His mouth moved over hers as sweet as his music, heart-breaking as the blues and she loved every minute of it.
‘Rosalind!’
She jumped at the sound of her name and their lips parted. For a moment the stranger continued to hold her, his face inches from her own. ‘Happy birthday, Rosie Parry,’ he murmured.
‘What on earth is going on here?’ the indignant voice persisted and the stranger finally released her, straightened and turned slowly to glance down at the furious figure of Anthony Harlowe. His scornful appraisal took in the smoothly tailored grey three-piece suit, the hair carefully brushed to conceal a thinning spot, the outraged expression.
‘Who the devil are you?’ he asked, with a casual insolence that drew a sharp, anguished breath from Rose.
Anthony’s face darkened ominously. ‘I am Anthony Harlowe, a partner in this firm. And this young woman is my fiancée,’ he added, without strict regard for the truth.
The man glanced back at her and she saw the measuring look, the slight tightening at the corners of his mouth as he sought in vain for a ring.
‘Is she?’ he asked, softly. His eyes held hers and she knew the question was for her, not Anthony. After a long moment, he turned his attention to the furious figure beside him. ‘In that case I suggest you put up an “under offer” notice without delay if you want to discourage viewing. That is what estate agents do, isn’t it?’ he enquired, but he didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Although I would have thought a diamond is more usual under these particular circumstances. Meanwhile, Anthony Harlowe, I had a special request to wish the young lady many happy returns of the day.’ His eyes returned to hers. ‘She didn’t object so I don’t
see why you should.’
Rose thought she might die of shame, hoped the floor would simply open up and swallow her. She hadn’t asked this man to kiss her, but she hadn’t stopped him. Hadn’t wanted him to stop. She had co-operated more than willingly in an embrace that suddenly appeared to be threatening everything she wanted. Well, she wouldn’t let it happen. Not while there was a chance to retrieve the situation.
She stood up quickly and slipped her arm through Anthony’s, knowing full well that he disliked any sort of public demonstration of affection, but sensing instinctively that he would not object. Nevertheless, she kept her fingers firmly crossed. Behind Anthony, the stranger’s mouth twisted in a knowing parody of a smile that mocked her and she looked quickly away. She saw that the rest of the staff were grinning behind their desks and knew in an instant what had happened.
‘It was just a joke, Anthony.’ She turned to the man, relief oddly tinged with disappointment. ‘A kiss-o-gram? Is that what they call it?’ His dress was casual enough, but there was something about him that suggested power, authority, not this rather seedy existence. ‘Do you do this for a living?’ she asked, suddenly quite angry, she wasn’t sure whether with him or with herself for believing he had meant that dizzying kiss.
He raised one well-marked brow, his wry expression momentarily disconcerting her, before answering her question with one of his own. ‘Do you think I should?’
‘I really have no idea what you should do,’ she answered, quickly.
‘No? Well I thought I’d ask. Since you obviously enjoyed it so much.’ There was a brazen challenge behind his eyes, daring her to deny it and dark colour seared her cheeks.
Anthony glared at the man. ‘I think it’s time you left.’
The blue eyes hardened as his attention returned to the indignant man at his elbow.
‘I understood Miss Parry was the manager here.’
Anthony’s lips thinned as he removed his arm from hers. Clearly he hadn’t missed the heat in her cheeks, or the undercurrent of tension that had sparked between herself and this stranger.
‘I’ll see you in my office, Rosalind.’ He turned, glared around the office and half a dozen pairs of eyes immediately found something more interesting to look at, then he walked stiffly to the stairs which led to the partners’ suite above the main branch of the largest firm of estate agents in the city of Melchester and the surrounding county.
Apparently unconcerned that he was wreaking havoc in her office, and her relationship with Anthony, the musician watched him go before turning back to her. ‘Have you any requests?’ He put the sax to his lips and began to tease out the first notes of Rhapsody in Blue.
‘No!’ She put out a hand to stop him and the music came to an abrupt halt as her fingertips grazed his wrist and she withdrew her hand abruptly. He waited, apparently expecting an explanation. ‘I’m sorry, you really must go. I...I’m sorry,’ she repeated, embarrassed by Anthony’s rudeness, needing to say something to correct whatever impression she had given the man. She wasn’t the sort of girl who allowed every good looking man she met to kiss her but her voice trailed away under his impudent stare.
‘What are you most sorry for?’ he asked, with interest. ‘Being kissed, or enjoying it?’ His eyes narrowed on her sharp intake of breath. ‘Or both?’
‘I...’ Her mouth dried. ‘You were simply doing what you were paid for. I’m afraid Anthony was unnecessarily rude.’
‘Was he?’ He took her left hand and stared at it for a moment. ‘If he’s really going to marry you, I’d say he was pretty restrained under the circumstances. Or maybe he’s simply hoping?’
Rose fervently wished she had followed Anthony to his office, but now this man was standing in her way.
Taking advantage of the fact that he had her trapped in her corner at the rear of the office, he reached out and caught a strand of the dark copper-coloured hair that had strayed from its pins when he kissed her. He tucked it gently back into place, his hand remaining there, the touch of his fingertips at her temple as intoxicating as champagne.
‘Please go!’ she hissed.
‘Have dinner with me tonight.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
His fingers slid down the smooth line of her jaw, tilting her chin so that she was forced to meet his eyes and she seemed powerless to move, stop this madness. ‘I don’t think there’s anything ridiculous about asking a beautiful girl out to dinner,’ he murmured, softly. ‘And you know you want to come.’ He was making love to her, right there in the office, with his voice, his eyes, the sensuous curve of his mouth.
The front office doorbell clanged and she jerked round startled by the sound and was immediately aware of a number of faces still trained in undisguised fascination on the pair of them. The knowledge was like a bucket of cold water, shocking her back from the edge of madness. She straightened her jacket, fastened the buttons in an attempt to restore her sense of control.
‘You’d better go or I’ll have no choice but to call Security,’ she said, painfully aware that her voice was little more than a breath.
A smile, gentle even in its mockery, curved his full sensuous lower lip. ‘Locking the stable door after the horse has bolted, Rosie.’ He propped her spectacles back on her nose and pushed them up until she was almost restored to her usual prim appearance. But she didn’t feel prim. The plain grey suit, the high necked blouse did nothing to help. Her breasts strained against the soft cloth, her mouth felt hot and swollen and she was certain that her hair was all over the place. Her heartbeat was in chaos and she could feel the pulse at her throat throbbing almost painfully as a result of her impetuous response to the man standing before her. ‘What time shall I pick you up?’
‘I’m going out this evening. Please, you must go.’ This time she didn’t wait for his agreement but squeezed past him, closing her eyes she brushed against him and tiny electric shocks sparked through every nerve ending. Then she walked quickly to the door, her back as straight as she could make it, knowing that every move was being eagerly watched and this spicy piece of gossip would be the talk of every branch by the end of the week.
End of the week? End of the day more like.
The cool and very proper Miss Rosalind Parry had been kissed to distraction in front of her entire staff. If Anthony had forgotten himself sufficiently to kiss her in the office, the news would probably have caused a buzz of amusement to be passed on in conversation. But they’d decided on a bit of fun for her birthday and she had provided them with a show beyond their wildest dreams. This was news too good to wait. Hands were already hovering over telephones waiting for her to disappear upstairs to Anthony’s office so that they could spread the word.
At the door the tall figure turned and before she could prevent him he took her hand. ‘Tomorrow, then. Twelve-thirty in the wine bar across the road.’ Conscious of their audience she opened the door. He made no move to go, but waited for her reply.
‘Goodbye—’ She started firmly and then realised she didn’t even know his name. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself quickly. She had no desire to know his name.
‘Jack,’ he said, filling the gap in her knowledge whether she wanted him to or not. ‘Jack Drayton.’ He glanced at her hand, bare of any ring and frowned. ‘You’re not really going to marry that pompous idiot?’
‘He’s not...’ Even to discuss Anthony with this man was a betrayal. ‘Goodbye, Mr Drayton.’ She was very nearly in control of herself now, although it was still extraordinarily difficult to remove her hand from his; not that he made any attempt to hold her, he simply waited for her to make the effort to take her hand away. She finally managed it and he took the weight of the door from her, holding it open, letting in the cold invigorating blast of street air, as if offering her an escape to a more dangerous, more exciting world. His eyes dared her to break loose and although her pulse was beating to his challenge she quickly stepped back as if from the edge of some yawning abyss. She didn’t want to escape f
rom the security, the certainty that Anthony represented.
Then, as she was about to turn away and face the inevitable and no doubt deserved dressing down from Anthony, she hesitated. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this for a living,’ she said. ‘You have a gift. Use it.’ She rushed on, ‘There’s a jazz club in the city centre. Why don’t you try and get a job there?’
His cornflower-blue eyes sparked with amusement. ‘Are you prepared to give me a personal reference?’
He was laughing at her now and she lifted her head a little. She knew enough about jazz to know that he would be welcome anywhere he chose to play. A rather run down affair like the club in Melchester would welcome him with open arms.
‘You don’t need any reference from me. If they won’t let you in, just stand on the doorstep and play your saxophone, Mr Drayton, it says everything they need to know.’ And with that last dangerous slip from reality she made herself turn and walk away from him.
‘Nice one, guys,’ she said, with a flippancy she was far from feeling and managed a smile for her expectant staff.
‘Oh, but—’
‘Leave it,’ someone snapped, and then she was on the stairs, out of sight and sound of them, leaning against the wall until the weakness passed, until she could gather herself. They could do and say what they liked.
Anthony glanced up as she entered his office and frowned. ‘Has he gone?’
‘I saw him off the premises myself,’ she assured him, lightly, but that didn’t seem to please him very much, either. ‘I’m sorry about what happened, Anthony,’ she said, quickly, hoping that if she made him see that the whole incident had been unimportant he would be able to dismiss it too. ‘I’m afraid the girls decided on some fun at my expense. I...he...rather took me by surprise.’
‘Lout,’ Anthony muttered. ‘But it’s a pity you let him kiss you quite so...publicly.’ She wondered crazily if he would have preferred the scene had taken place in private. A sudden tremor shook her at the thought of being alone with Jack Drayton and misunderstanding, Anthony was immediately all concern. ‘Don’t let it upset you, Rosalind. It was a dreadful thing to happen but it’s over now. I did warn you when you were made manager of this branch that you had to keep your distance. You’re a bit too friendly with the staff.’