'Alongside with Thai dancing girls?'
'I'll check with your wife first!'
Smiling, she left them, and was stepping into the elevator when a man's voice called out for her to hold it for him.
The hair on the nape of her neck prickled as she recognised Kane Morgan's voice, and her heart thumped erratically as she kept her finger on the 'hold' button until he joined her. Carefully she avoided his eyes as he entered. She knew she owed him ail apology but the words stuck in her throat. He had been so rude, he didn't deserve one. Yet he was a guest and she an employee, as he was bound to find out, and it was her duty—as she had already told herself—to eat humble pie.
Cautiously she shifted her position so she could see him out of the corner of her eyes. He was formally dressed now, in a light grey suit with a white silk shirt and club tie. His expression was formal too; wide, well-shaped mouth firmly closed, eyes hooded by half- lowered lids, giving the impression he was totally unaware of her presence.
'I'm's-sorry about this afternoon,' she stammered, hoping he would not snap her head off. 'Children can b-be a nuisance, I know. I hope you managed to sort out your papers?'
'Yes,' he said brusquely. 'But in future, take better care of your charge.'
'He isn't. My charge, I mean. I was only looking after him for the afternoon.' She took a deep breath. 'Actually I—er—I work here.'
'Really? Not in public relations I hope?'
Sharon went scarlet. 'Not quite. Though part of my job is to make sure all our guests are happy here.'
'I hope you succeed better with the other guests than you've done with me.'
It was an ungracious reply and she swallowed her anger. 'What happened with Terry was wrong. That's why I'm offering you an apology, Mr Morgan. But as to our own conversation by the pool… well, I'm certainly not apologising for that.'
'Was it insulting to invite you to have breakfast or dinner with me?'
'Not if that was all you had meant,' she said bluntly. 'But it was quite clear you considered me easy game.'
'Oh come now,' he expostulated. 'You're a beautiful young woman and I thought you were staying here alone. So what nicer than to ask you out?'
'It was the way you did it. I don't blame you, Mr Morgan. I blame all the girls who've obviously said "yes" to you!'
'I've never needed to put a gun to their heads,' he replied silkily.
'I'm sure not.' She made herself look him up and down in the time-honoured way that men did women, and saw from the gleam in his eye that he was aware of what she was doing. 'You're a handsome hunk of man, Mr Morgan, and a woman who didn't want more than that, might find you very satisfying. But I am not one of them.'
'As you've already said. But you can't condemn me for trying. If one succeeds with a hundred, one cannot be blamed for believing one will succeed with a hundred and one.'
Her eyes flashed fury. 'You're insufferable!'
'It isn't my behaviour that's at fault—it's today's woman. She wants to be treated as an equal, and when she is, she objects.'
'Regarding someone as a sex object isn't treating them as an equal.'
'You misunderstand me. The liberated female wants total honesty about sexual relationships—and that's what I believe in too. You are exceptionally fanciable, and I made no pretence about it. However, you are clearly not liberated, and I apologise.'
'I'm a darn sight more liberated than you,' Sharon stormed. 'I don't look at a man and think only in terms of bed!'
'Nor do I,' he said. 'But I can't help thinking it when I see a beautiful woman!'
Her reply was cut short by the elevator stopping to let in another couple, and Sharon moved back into the corner, glad she had been prevented from saying any more. From now on she would avoid Kane Morgan like the plague. If she didn't, he could well cause the death of her job with the Avonmore Group.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kane Morgan stifled a yawn and looked at his watch. The meeting at the Ministry had dragged on for three hours, and looked like continuing for three more if he didn't call a halt. Bonlam had been called away to see the Prime Minister and had assigned his deputy to take over—an earnest young man determined to prove to his superiors how thorough he was, which was resulting in every specification being meticulously re- analysed.
Kane's quick mind had soon found this unutterably boring. His attention began to wander and his temper—quick at the best of times—was becoming difficult to control. But he had trained himself to keep it in check—in a work situation that is—he thought wryly, remembering yesterday afternoon's debacle in the garden. This self-discipline had made him—in the short space of ten years—head of one of the largest construction companies in the world, the bulk of his business being with governments, and Lord knew what self-control that required!
But this deal looked like needing the most. No sooner was one tricky problem behind him, than another reared its head. And now, to cap it all, he had heard rumours that Bonlam was out of favour with the Prime Minister, and his deputy might be given his job.
Kane inched his wrist forward and saw it was five forty-five. Unless he called a halt, this man would drone on interminably. Rustling his papers together, he said coolly: 'Mr Bonlam's been in possession of all the extra costings for more than a month. I've discussed them with him at length and see no purpose in going over them again.'
From the corner of his eye he saw Mark Victorsen smother a smile, and gave him a warning stare. Instantly Victorsen became poker-faced, and looked at the Thai.
'Mr Morgan's right,' he agreed briskly. 'We're only going round in circles.'
'I only wish to establish the facts for myself,' the deputy said cautiously. 'You realise many other companies are bidding?'
'You won't get a better offer than ours,' Kane asserted, tapping his fingers impatiently on the teak desk. 'And more to the point, we're honest and have enormous experience. Look at our record and see for yourself. There's no point constructing a highway that'll crack up in five years.'
'I appreciate that,' the man said. 'But——- '
'We're the best people in the business.' Kane cut across him, and snapping his brief case shut, bade the man a tense 'good night', and walked out.
Mark Victorsen, several years older and half a head shorter than his employer, caught up with him halfway down the corridor. 'Bit abrupt, weren't you?'
'Not as abrupt as I'd like to have been. The man's a pedantic fool! If I'd let him drone on, we'd have been there for the night.'
'Which would hardly have endeared me to my wife,' Mark murmured. 'I promised her this would be a second honeymoon!'
Kane chuckled. 'How's Angela enjoying Thailand?'
'Very much. But Terry's bored with hotel life.'
'Terry? Oh yes! I'd forgotten you brought him with you.'
'That's what Angela says too!' came the reply. 'He hasn't any kids to play with here, and he's running a bit wild.'
'How old is he now?'
'Eight.'
Kane pulled a face. 'I haven't seen him since he was five. Remiss of me.'
'In more ways than one,' the older man said with the ease of a long standing and trusted associate. 'You work yourself too hard, Kane. The only time you relax is the exact second you put your signature on a contract! Then a second later your mind's on the next deal!'
'I relax on other occasions too,' came the dry rejoinder. 'I'm not a monk!'
'Oh that!' Mark was dismissive. 'You need a proper relationship with a woman. Something lasting as well as exciting. Hasn't "off with the old and on with the new" become a mite boring after all these years?'
About to utter a decisive 'no', Kane hesitated and reflected on the question. 'Well, yes, now you mention it. But I figured it was because I was getting old!'
'Rubbish! You're just getting bored with the continuing chase and the same old routine. Find yourself one woman—the right one, of course—and watch your libido return!'
'Where do I find the right one?' Kane demande
d. 'And how will I know when I have?'
'There speaks a cynic!' Mark Victorsen shook his head. 'Once you've made up your mind you want to get married, you'll soon find what you're looking for. But as long as you're running scared, you never will.'
'I'm not scared, Mark. Simply cautious about committing myself.'
They reached the vestibule and climbed into their waiting car.
'Do you think we'll get the contract?' Victorsen asked as they swung into the main road.
'We've got the best chance. That new concrete mix of ours has enabled us to come in at an incredibly low price. And incidentally, if we do get the job, I'll want you here to keep costs down. You're the best man I have.'
'Nice of you to say so.'
'I'm not being nice. Simply factual. I'd soon tell you if I thought you couldn't do it.'
The older man grinned. 'You're not called "honest Morgan" for nothing!'
'It's the best policy in the end,' Kane said, then added: 'Among men, that is. Women don't see it that way. They prefer you to put on an act. Makes them feel at home, I guess! I've yet to meet a straightforward one.'
'That's because you mix in the wrong circles. Give up the jet set and start dating in the Bromley area!'
Kane laughed. When Mark went off on this tack it was best not to comment. He glanced again at the man who had been his assistant for ten years. He knew little about his personal life, though he had met Angela Victorsen a few times in England, and they had dined together once in Bangkok. She didn't like going with her husband on his foreign trips, which could be a disadvantage if he wanted him in Thailand for a year.
Kane stretched out his legs and stared at the passing traffic. Lord, was it ten years since he had set up on his own? Since he had stormed out of Jack Armitage's office, vowing never to work for a boss again?
'You'll come crawling back,' old Armitage had roared after him. But he never had. Instead he had started his own company, taking Mark with him.
'I can't give you the same salary as Armitage,' he had said at the time, 'but if you stick with me, you'll end up with far more than you'd ever get from that hard-nosed swine!'
'That's my feeling too,' Mark had replied, his confidence in the younger man's ability being justified by subsequent events.
'When do you think we'll hear about our tender?' Mark asked now.
'Your guess is as good as mine. More contractors are arriving next week, as you know, so we'll have to be patient. Right now I'm angling for a meeting with the Prime Minister, but Bonlam's holding me off.'
'Can't Tassy swing it for you?'
'She won't openly defy her father.'
Their car drew up at the hotel and the two men alighted.
'Are you free to have dinner with us tonight?' Mark asked.
'Sorry, but no. I'm dining with Tassy.'
'You're welcome to bring her, though I assume you'd rather be alone?'
'Don't assume anything,' Kane retorted. 'And don't let your imagination run away with you!'
Mark grinned, and followed the younger man to the elevator. They parted company on the fifth floor, and Kane continued to his penthouse suite.
It was a relief to enter the peace of his living room, and he took off his tie and flung his jacket on a chair. How cool it was here compared with the oppressive heat outside. No one could survive in this country without air-conditioning.
Pouring himself a whisky, he flopped into an armchair by the window. He was exhausted to his bones. Jetting to London every other week wasn't conducive to relaxation, and unless he watched himself, he would become depressed and moody; hardly the right frame of mind in which to deal with touchy Ministers. Look how he had lost his cool in the garden yesterday. He had been inexcusably rude to that girl. She was attractive, too, he mused, and he had liked her bluntness—in retrospect! Tassy wouldn't have reacted like that. Come to think of it, he didn't know how she'd have behaved. Even after two months she was an enigma. But an extremely seductive one. Finishing his drink, he rose reluctantly to his feet. A shower would revive him and put him in the mood for an evening out with her.
Stripping off his clothes, he stepped under the water. He kept it cool, but after he had soaped himself, he let it run cold. It tingled his skin and he began to feel refreshed and ready for anything. Turning off the taps, he dried himself, then in the nude, ran an electric shaver over his chin. Women found his dark looks attractive—no point denying it—but it necessitated a twice daily shave when he was going out at night. Damn bore it was! He rubbed his fingers along his cheeks; they were smooth enough for Tassy not to complain. If things went well tonight, he might drop her another hint about meeting the Prime Minister. He grinned as he went into the bedroom and started to dress. What a devious bastard I am, he thought, and consoled himself with the fact that if he got this contract, he would be helping British exports.
The telephone rang, and he answered it.
It was Tassy, charmingly extricating herself from their date.
'My father's been asked to dine with the Japanese Ambassador,' she explained, in her soft, melodious voice, 'and he wants me to join them.'
'It's a pretty sudden invitation, isn't it?' he commented. 'Normally these things are planned well in advance.'
'Do you think I'm making it up?' Tassy asked. 'Don't you know I'd rather be with you?'
'If you say so.'
'I do,' she breathed huskily. 'Please forgive me for standing you up.'
'I'll forgive you anything—almost,' he said. 'I've stood people up myself, because of business!'
She laughed. 'A touch of your own medicine, eh?'
'Yes. And I don't like it!'
'Poor Kane.' Still laughing, she put down the telephone.
Slowly he did the same. He had not been joking when he said he didn't like it, for though her excuse seemed genuine enough, he was put out that she had not let him know earlier. Catching sight of himself in the mirror that lined the wall behind his king size bed, he frowned at himself. Only his ego was dented; his genuine feelings were untouched. The knowledge disturbed him, for it implied Tassy meant less to him than he had thought. Either that, or he was getting old! Yet the swift arousal of his body whenever he was near her assured him he wasn't quite a geriatric.
Moving closer to the mirror, he studied himself. The intensity of his expression made him seem older than his thirty-three years, though his body was that of a twenty-year-old. Well, perhaps a little more mature, but definitely lithe and fit, with the perfect co-ordination of well-attuned muscles. Maybe he should do as Mark had suggested and marry. Trouble was he hadn't met the girl with whom he would want to spend the rest of his life, and he had no intention of settling for second best. He would rather remain a bachelor.
Still, even if he found someone he thought perfect, there was no guarantee they'd be happy. Marriage was a gamble whichever way one looked at it. His cynical friends kept telling him so! Only Mark was the exception. He had been married for sixteen years and had been over the moon when his son was born eight years ago. It really was ages since he had seen the child, but he remembered him as a cute little chap. No wonder Mark hated being away from home.
Kane strolled into the dressing room and surveyed his clothes: rows of lightweight suits, and shelves full of pure silk shirts and finest cotton underwear; the bonus that came with being rich. He reached for a grey suit, then paused. He wasn't seeing Tassy, so there was no need to be formal. Donning White linen slacks and a black button-up shirt, he decided to eat out anyway.
The loneliness of the ambitious businessman—not only the long distance runner!—hit him at times like this. Travelling the world and staying in luxury hotels was fine, but how much nicer if he had a wife in England to return to, or better still, one to share his travels until children came along. When they did, he'd leave most of the travelling to his executives; he had no intention of being a part-time parent. His own father, a British army officer, had sent him to boarding school when he was seven, and he had seen his p
arents only once a year, when he had flown out to join them for the summer vacation, first in Cyprus and later in Hong Kong.
What sort of wife did he want? Kane asked himself as he rubbed Givenchy after-shave on his face. She'd have to like children and be an excellent hostess, that went without saying. She would also have to be intelligent, elegant, and charming. Every virtue and no vice, he thought, grinning at his reflection, and knew he was looking for the impossible. Small wonder he was still single! One day he would have to make up his mind to settle for less. But should it be a homebody who had nothing more on her mind than clothes, kids and cooking, or a career girl who'd keep him mentally on his toes? If truth be told, he wanted both, and he doubted he would find it.
Tassy came closer to fitting the bill than anyone, except that he didn't feel completely at home with her. Maybe it was their different cultural backgrounds, or the fact that he wasn't in love with her. Yet he was daily growing fonder, and who knew what their relationship would be by the time he left Thailand?
In a better frame of mind, he left the hotel and strolled towards Patpong, the centre of Bangkok's night life. It reminded him of Soho, with its blaze of flashing neon lights and jam-packed crowds and traffic. After wandering idly for a while, he paused at the kerb to cross the road and look at the myriad restaurants jostling one upon the other, many interspersed by drinking bars filled with young girls plying their charms. But there was no break in the stream of vehicles thundering past, and he decided to stay on the same side until he found some traffic lights. As he turned to walk again, he bumped into a woman coming from the opposite direction.
'Oops!' He put out his hand to steady her, then saw it was the blonde he had already tangled with twice. Definitely not his day!
She recognised him at the same time, and backed away as if from a snake. It was a gesture that hurt his pride, and he tightened his hold on her.
'Anything wrong?' he asked.
'No. I'm just trying to get a taxi, but they're all full.'
'Are you going back to the hotel?'
She looked mutinous, as if unwilling to reply, then thought better of it and nodded. 'Yes. I was going to a restaurant, but I don't like the look of any of the places around here.'
Roberta Leigh - No Time For Marriage Page 4