Fire Beneath the Ice

by Helen Brooks

  "It's nothing." Her smile was brittle and the sharp blue eyes watching her narrowed thoughtfully.

  "It won't affect my work and--' " Damn your work! “The words were an explosion and for a moment the stillness that followed was absolute. "

  Lydia, do you need someone to talk to? I mean--' He stopped abruptly and seemed to collect himself before continuing.

  "There are counselling places for situations like this. Have you considered?"

  "I don't want to talk to anyone." She lowered her head as she spoke--that blue gaze was unnerving--and missed the tiny instinctive movement he took towards her before it was firmly checked. He thought she was cracking up, was that it?

  "I see." There was a moment of silence and then he spoke again, his words bringing her head sharply upwards, her eyes angry.

  "Have you considered Hannah in all this? It might be a form of indulgence to try and get through by yourself."

  He did think she was cracking up, she thought tersely. He didn't credit her with any guts at all.

  _"I always put Hannah first in everything I do." She glared at him furiously even as she acknowledged that from his viewpoint it was a reasonable comment.

  She had to tell him. Now. Before she lost her nerve.

  "Actually there is something I have to tell you--' " Wolf, the taxi's waiting. “The words died on her lips as Elda's dark head peered round the door.

  "I'm sorry, but I really can't be late for that appointment at two..." The big blue eyes were prettily penitent.

  For a moment Lydia thought Wolf was going to snap at the lovely brunette as his head swung round and his eyes narrowed into slits of ice, but then he took a deep breath, that iron control she had seen so often in the last few weeks springing into place, and when he spoke his voice was pleasant, if cool.

  "OK, Elda, don't fret." He moved across and took the other woman's arm, gently turning her round and out of the doorway.

  "I'll be back at two," he said over his shoulder to Lydia.

  "We'll continue this conversation then." The door shut with a firm, cool click.

  Over my dead body. She stared at the closed door bleakly. Definitely over my dead body. The moment had come and gone and she just wouldn't have the courage to admit the truth with no lead-in. Besides which, what if he should subsequently ask why she had been looking so wretched when he and Elda had left his office? What could she say then? That she was jealous? The thought shocked her into an immediate denial. She wasn't. Of course she wasn't. How could she be jealous of someone she didn't even like? She bit her lip hard. She might find him physically attractive but that was all, and no doubt there were hundreds of men who were just as attractive but normal human beings as well. Not blocks of ice. And he had wanted an efficient, capable secretary for a few _months. Which she was. That was all that mattered to him. She sank back in her seat despondently. So why did she feel so horribly guilty?

  When Wolf returned just before two she lowered her head immediately to her work after a cursory good afternoon, her cheeks flushing scarlet, hoping he'd let the matter drop.

  "I'd like a word in my office, please, Lydia."

  She didn't move as he strode across the room but as he opened his door she spoke quickly, her voice steady. "If it's about what was said earlier, I'd rather not." She raised her head slowly.

  He turned with his hand on the door-handle, his big body taut and straight and his eyes cold.

  "What was said earlier? I wasn't aware anything was said. That is precisely--' " And I think it's best that way. I'm sorry. “A faint trace of Elda's heavy, musky perfume had come into the room with him and that, combined with the oblique sarcasm in his dark voice, strengthened her resolve.

  "I see." He eyed her grimly.

  "And if I think differently?"

  She stared at him, faintly nonplussed.

  "Well, why should you?" She gestured towards the word processor in front of her.

  "My work isn't suffering and my private life is my own concern. I only work here and that's temporary--' “I’m well aware of that! “The words had been a sharp bark and his eyes glittered dangerously for one long moment before she saw him take an almost visible control on his temper.

  "You do understand I can't afford your concentration to be anything less than one hundred per cent?" he asked stiffly, after a long taut moment of silence.

  "Yes." She stared up at him, trying to keep calm.

  "And I've already said that my work isn't suffering."

  "I heard you." He glared at her as though she had just admitted to some heinous crime.

  "But would you accept that you aren't the best judge of that at the moment?"

  He raised his hand as she went to reply, his face autocratic.

  "It is well known that a marriage breakdown causes the sort of stress that is only a little less than a bereavement. You might feel you're coping fine, but surely to talk to someone else, an independent stranger if you like, wouldn't do any harm? If only to find out exactly what you do want."

  "There is no need." She called on every shred of willpower she possessed and managed a bright, dismissive smile which in the face of his dark frown was

  Oscar- winning stuff.

  "I've told you I'm all right and I am-- Hannah too. I've been used to coping with things on my own for some time now." That much at least was true. "The last few weeks haven't changed anything."

  He opened his mouth to reply just as the telephone rang shrilly by her side, and never had she been more pleased at an interruption. She whisked it up before he could say a word, her face as blank as she could make it.

  "Good afternoon. Mr. Strade's secretary speaking."

  "Is he there?" The husky female voice didn't bother to identify itself but it didn't matter. Lydia would have recognised it anywhere.

  "I've left my gloves in his office."

  "It's Elda." She raised cool eyes to his.

  "Missing gloves?" He swore, softly but vehemently, and strode into his office.

  Wonderful. She sat quite still as the heavy thudding of her heart began to settle. Absolutely wonderful. No amount of money was worth this.

  _The rest of the afternoon passed in comparative peace for the simple reason that Wolf didn't step out or his office once and she didn't venture in. At exactly five o'clock she slipped the cover on the word processor and left an impressive pile of finished work at the side of it. She was going home now and nothing was going to stop her. She'd had enough. He'd probably berate her on Monday because she hadn't taken the work in but she couldn't, she just couldn't. She needed at least forty- eight hours to charge up her batteries before she faced him again.

  The lift doors were just closing when she heard his voice.

  "Hold it."

  It was reflex action that made her keep the doors open for him, but as he stepped into the lift with a brief nod of thanks she wished she hadn't. He was dressed in a black dinner-jacket, the dusky red shirt and silk bow tie enhancing his tanned skin and black hair, and the superb cut of the jacket making his broad shoulders even broader. He looked' devastating Devastating and overwhelmingly attractive, and she felt her knees grow weak. This wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair. Damn that little washroom.

  "Thanks." She noticed he was still carrying his briefcase despite the evening wear, and suddenly the remembrance of the last time she had been in a lift with him turned her face crimson.

  "I'm already late," he added with a slight frown.

  "Going somewhere nice?" She forced the words through numb lips and was surprised at how normal her voice sounded. What was happening to her? She didn't want to feel like this; it was making a mockery of everything she had thought she was.

  "A somewhat boring reception." He smiled briefly. "But then to the opera, so the whole evening won't be a _total disaster." He glanced at his watch before speaking again.

  "I can drop you off on the way--it's in the right direction. "

  "There's no need--' The blue eyes fastened on her, a dark, s
atirical gleam in their depths, and her voice trailed away.

  "I can drop you off on the way," he repeated quietly, his voice silky with an underlying thread of iron.

  A gust of rain, the drops needle-sharp and icy, met their faces as they left the warmth of the building, and as Lydia slid into Wolfs Mercedes she was aware of a small feeling of relief that she hadn't got to fight her way home with the rest of the commuters on such a filthy night. It vanished instantly as he joined her in the car, the enclosed confines of the beautiful vehicle bringing him much too close for comfort. She glanced at him under her eyelashes as he manoeuvred into a place in the fast-flowing traffic. The dark hair was slicked back and he looked as though he'd just shaved; who had he gone to so much trouble for? She was immediately furious with herself for thinking such a thing. It was none of her business, and what did it matter?

  He was just her boss, after all.

  He drove swiftly and competently through the cold London night as the rain beat a steady tattoo on the windscreen, the wipers labouring to clear the window at times as sudden squalls threw gusts of hail in their path. The silence between them lengthened but she felt quite unable to break it, and he seemed to be in a world of his own, his eyes concentrating on the road ahead and his mouth tight and grim.

  "Thank you." As they drew up outside her house she turned to him, forcing a smile on her face.

  "I hope you have a good time tonight."

  _"I will." He didn't smile back.

  "It's guaranteed."

  "Guaranteed?" And then the penny dropped.

  "Oh, it's someone special, then?" Elda. She might have known.

  "Someone..." His eyes narrowed as if in puzzlement and then cleared abruptly.

  "Not exactly, Lydia, no. But the company I shall be with know how to enjoy themselves. That is a prerequisite if they expect me to attend."

  She stared at him, her eyes darkening at the harshness in his tone.

  He sounded angry with her, and after the miserable week she'd had she fired back without stopping to consider her words.

  "By company I take it you mean women?" She raised her chin as she met the ice- blue gaze head on.

  "If I had meant women I would have said so," he said coldly, 'but, as it happens, I do expect my female companions to be good company, yes.

  When I acquire a good suit I don't mind going to some lengths to make sure the measurements are right and the cloth suitable, and I pay for the best, but having done all that I expect it to be on time, precisely to my requirements and prepared to fit me exactly. "

  She couldn't believe her ears.

  "A suit. The rain still continued to drum down on the roof of the car but neither of them was aware of the outside world as they faced each other like two gladiators about to enter the ring.

  "We're talking about a man and woman relationship here, not a cut-and-dried purchase of an expendable item."

  "Isn't it the same thing?" His face and voice were perfectly expressionless but the piercing eyes were watching her intently, their blue ness as sharp as glass.

  "Are you telling me...?" Her voice faltered. He couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying. Not a man like him. Handsome, inordinately wealthy, with _the world, or his own part of it at least, at his feet. It was ludicrous.

  "Are you saying you pay for your women?" she asked faintly.

  "Of course not." He was instantly and angrily scathing. "Not in the way you mean." He eyed her sardonically, his lip curling at her confusion.

  "But what I do mean is that the females of my acquaintance expect to be wined and dined in some... comfort, escorted to all the right places--you know the routine."

  "I don't, actually." She was sitting very straight in her seat now, her cheeks fiery but her eyes steady as they watched his face.

  "And I'm very glad I don't."

  "Oh, come on, Lydia," he drawled lazily, with a small, mocking smile that didn't reach his eyes.

  "You are a very beautiful and desirable woman and I'm sure you must have had lots of men-friends before you married your husband. Are you telling me you didn't get the most out of them you could?"

  "Now, just hang on a minute," she interrupted frostily as a flood of burning hot rage swept through her small frame.

  "Just hang on a dam minute! Don't you dare make assumptions about me. Wolf

  Strade." She forgot he was her boss, forgot all the normal social niceties such a relationship warranted, as her eyes filled with rage (I and her body became as taut as a bow.

  "Matthew was my first and only boyfriend, as it happened. We grew up together from children, and if you expect me to apologise for that you've got another think coming."

  Lydia--' But she was in no mood to listen and swept on, her next words hardening the face that had softened at her admission.

  "It sounds to me as if you get exactly what you deserve in your relationships. If all you're interested in is someone to grace your table and your bed, a live _doll with the right connections, not to mention proportions-- ' “I merely choose women of like mind," he interrupted coldly,

  'who are happy with no commitment, no ties."

  "No, you don't." He stiffened at the challenge, but she was too angry to notice.

  "You choose women who are shallow and materialistic, who have no real values.

  That's what you do." Her eyes were flashing fire.

  "Your earlier comments when you lumped the whole female sex together in one greedy package prove that! And what on earth is with this " choosing" idea, anyway? Women aren't clothes that you can select at will and wear for a time before you dispose of them--not real women. But if you only shop in the tinsel and glitter department that is all you're going to see, isn't it? A real relationship isn't a matter of choosing in the way you mean, with one person selecting another like a lump of meat."

  "You're being ridiculous." His voice was deadly cold.

  "You didn't like it when I thought you paid for your women, but really that's exactly what you do," she said slowly.

  "All the time.

  Not with money, nothing as crude as that, but with the places you take them so they can be seen, the presents and attention they take as their right, even your performance in bed. You pay, Wolf. Don't fool yourself. " She stared him straight in the eyes, her cheeks scarlet.

  "My performance in bed?" He hadn't liked that last bit, she could tell from the way his face hardened almost savagely.

  "So you think I give a performance, do you?"

  As he leant over her the warm, clean fragrance of his skin mingled with the intoxicating sensuality of his aftershave and she felt her senses begin to spin even before his mouth came down on hers. She had expected anger, violence, but the moment his lips touched hers she realised this was a deliberate assault on her senses, a subtle form of punishment for her condemning words but one she was powerless to resist. The kiss was more teasing than penetrating. at first. She could have moved away--he wasn't holding her, after all, his mouth just lightly resting on hers--but it wasn't until much later that she realised the idea had never even occurred to her.

  And then the kiss became more demanding, his tongue exploring the soft contours of her lips and mouth and causing tiny helpless shivers to shudder down her spine. She had never guessed it could be like this. The same emotions she had felt that day in the lift returned to torment her.

  She was twenty-seven years of age, had a small daughter who was all her own, and yet it was as though she had never been kissed before in her life. The thought had the power to jerk her away from Wolf as though she had been burnt. How could she betray Matthew's memory like that? And with a man like

  Wolf Strade? And especially after what he had just said?

  "Lydia--' As she wrenched open the door and stumbled out of the car she heard him call to her, but she sped across the street and up the steps to the house without a backward glance, thrusting her key into the lock and almost falling into the small hall as though it were a real wolf that was aft
er her, fangs open for the kill and hard yellow eyes dilated.

  How had that happened? She looked dazedly into the small mirror in the bathroom some minutes later, after a furious bout of weeping, and sniffed dismally. Hannah would be home soon. She had gone to tea with Sophie, and

  Sophie's mother was dropping her home just after half past six. She had to pull herself together and act normally. She'd think about this later.

  _But when later came, in the quiet and solitude of her lonely bed, she was no nearer to an answer. All she knew was that from the moment she had laid eyes on Wolf Strade her world had turned upside-down, and her with it. She wasn't the person she had known for twenty- seven years; there was some other being working there inside her skin. A passionate, tempestuous, strange being with hidden desires and cravings that the old Lydia found more than a little shocking. It didn't help that the rest of the female population seemed to find him equally attractive. She remembered a conversation she had overheard the week before when she had been sitting quietly in the canteen one lunchtime. Two of the junior secretaries had been seated at a table just round the corner from her, and although she wasn't visible to their gaze every word they had spoken had registered loud and clear.