Distantly, she was aware of the pad and pencil slipping to the grass. His palms were massaging her shoulders, smoothing the sheen of oil across them, and Leila could not stop her body from melting helplessly as he plundered her mouth with expert kisses.
Oh,yes, he was an expert, all right. His mouth was cruelly sexual, making her whimper in her throat as electric shocks spread through her stomach. The pull on her aroused senses was frightening, like the hidden potency of an underwater riptide.
He’s dangerous! her mind screamed at her. Haven’t you been warned about this”: This is no game! He’ll drown you like the sea, or scorch you like the sun!
She pulled away, panting for breath, her blue eyes dazed with shock. With as much briskness as she could muster, she pushed him away as hard as her strength would allow. Her soul was still trembling like a trapped moth in his hands, but she made a supreme effort to control herself.
‘Something wrong?’ he asked lazily, still very close to her.
‘Mr. Oliver,’ she said in a shaky voice, ‘I’m not going to slap your face for two reasons. One is that you are a very attractive man, and no doubt you’ve grown used to easy conquests by the poolside, which has made you forget your manners.’ She tried to steady her breathing.
‘The other is that I’m sure you’d love me to do exactly that, so you can retaliate in kind.’ She met his amused eyes coldly. ‘But I want you to understand one thing. If you ever attempt to interfere with me again, either in working hours or outside, I’m going to get the next flight back to London.’
‘And what will you tell the redoubtable Carol Clarewell when you arrive?’ he asked softly.
‘That highly trained as I am, my duties don’t include being pawed by my employers.’ Leila picked up the pad and pencil. ‘I mean what I say, Mr. Oliver,’ she said, her voice gaining strength. ‘I’m not the sort of woman who plays devious games with men. If I felt like a casual ,affair with you, I wouldn’t have stopped you just now.
‘An affair?’ he echoed wickedly. ‘You think my plans went as far as an affair?’
‘However far your plans went, they went a lot too far for me.’ She took a deep breath, feeling the oxygen nourish her drugged blood, and started writing.' "I am working on the assumption, of course, that your division shares your feelings on this matter entirely, and that there will be no opposition at senior managerial, or any other level.” Have I got that right?’
He leaned back in his chair and laughed softly, his beautiful white teeth framed by tanned lips. 'Do you know something?’ he said, his eyes dancing. ‘Carol Clarewell was right. You really are something special, Miss Leila Thomas.’
She didn’t answer his smile. She disliked him far too much for that. Her voice was dry. ‘Resources have to be managed, Mr. Oliver, including human resources. I don’t have to teach you that, surely? As an extremely efficient secretary, which is what I am, I can be of some value to you. As a bit of slap and tickle beside the pool, I would be totally wasted. I’m sure there are lots of women perfectly eager and willing to fill that role for you'
'But supposing I like mixing my business with my pleasure?’ he smiled, drawing one finger gently down the nape of her neck in a way that awoke goose-bumps across her spine.
‘Then find some tart from the local village,' Leila snapped, pulling away from his touch, ‘and teach her to take dictation! But don’t expect me to learn the kind of morals that prevail in this house!’
‘I don’t think of you as a tart, Leila.’ His voice was gentle. ‘As a matter of fact, I find you delicious.’
‘Like the oysters we had at lunchtime? I’m not edible, Mr. Oliver.’
‘I wouldn’t count on that,’ he warned silkily. His near-naked body was so close to hers, his power so overwhelmingly impending, that she moved away instinctively.
‘You’re really angry, aren’t you? It wasn’t my intention to offend you just now, and I’m sorry if I did.’
‘What else could an approach like that be, but offensive?’ she demanded shortly.
‘You didn’t seem to mind,’ he pointed out, green eyes holding hers. ‘In fact, you seemed to be enjoying it as much as I was.’
Leila looked down hotly. Two hard peaks in the thin material of her top bore out his allegation. ‘No, Mr. Oliver,’ she said tightly, ‘I was not enjoying myself. Do you want to add any more to this letter, or was it all just a fantasy to distract my attention?’
‘Well, well,’ he said softly, watching her from under those thick dark lashes. ‘You are something special.’
‘I’m just one of the rare ones who doesn’t collapse in the first round,’ she said drily.
‘What about the second round?’ he enquired smoothly. ‘Or the third?’
‘There will be no second or third rounds,’ she reminded him sharply. ‘Not unless you want to find yourself sitting here alone tomorrow, waiting for my replacement. Perhaps your oh, so subtle approach will work better with her!’
He was amused. ‘You think I try this with every secretary who comes to work for me?’
‘Oh, I’m quite certain that this is the standard test,’ Leila retorted. ‘And I’m equally certain that it usually works. I just hope you have the intelligence to accept the rare occasions when it doesn’t.’
Blaize grinned. ‘Do I strike you as the kind of man who gives up easily?’ he asked.
‘If that’s your attitude—’ She rose quickly to her feet, and reached for her robe. ‘You’d better ring for another temp, Mr. Oliver. We’re just wasting each other’s time here. There’s a flight back to London tonight, and I’m sure I can still get a seat on it—’
‘No.’ He rose to confront her, tall and muscular. The laughter had gone from his eyes. ‘No,' he repeated quietly, his hands closing round her slim arms, imprisoning her. ‘Don’t be absurd, Lelia. I want you here.'
‘Then let me go,’ she said coldly. ‘I won’t be manhandled, Mr. Oliver.’
His face tightened, but, with an effort, he obeyed her. ‘Touch me not, is that it?’
‘Touch me not,’ she agreed: her expression icy. She met his gaze, her eyes discs of cool aquamarine, fringed with golden-brown lashes. ‘I’ve been touched once too often in my life, Mr. Oliver. I’ve learned that I don’t have to be touched if I don’t want it. I hope you understand that. Now, do you want to move on to the next letter?’
He stared at her tautly, his eyes narrowed. Suddenly one, and then the other, of the two telephones began to ring. The moment was broken.
‘You take that one,’ he said quietly, and they both reached out to pick up the insistent telephones.
Leila felt less than up to par on Tuesday morning. Whether it was the sunburn or the change of diet and climate―or the restless dreams that had made her sleep a torment for the past week―she was headachey and bad-tempered. It was a great relief that she would be in the office this morning, working with the word processor instead of being cooked by the pool. Blaize was flying with Rick this morning, and had left her in peace, with a heap of letters to send.
Over-sensitive shoulders forced her to pick the bright sun-dress again, which was both cool and strapless.
She breakfasted lightly with Lucy and the children, said little to anyone, and took her coffee straight up to the office.
It was in the huge attic of the main house and equipped as a full-scale operations centre, with all the communications and computer equipment necessary to keep Blaize in touch with his empire. The skylit room was spotlessly clean and orderly, with everything in a logical place, and everything to hand where it was needed. The kind of environment she worked best in.
She slipped easily into the mechanical routine of typing up correspondence and taking calls, her mind dealing comfortably with seven different things at once.
Katherine Henessey was coming round for drinks and dinner tonight. Leila found herself wondering bitterly whether Blaize would ever give Katherine the brutally direct approach he’d used with her at the poolside the other day
. Unlikely, she decided. That was for inferiors like herself.
Suddenly the memory of his kiss was tinglingly alive on her full lips. Was that the way he had propositioned those last two temps?
Did he always start like that, an approach refined over the years to produce the maximum effect as quickly as possible?
Leila reached for another heap of notes, trying not to think about it any more. There had been no further attempt to woo her, anyway. For that, at least, she ought to be grateful.
At eleven, Pedro the gardener-chauffeur arrived to take the post into the village. She told him which ones were for express delivery, and then took a few moments’ break to make herself a cup of coffee before launching back Into her tasks:
At noon, Blaize arrived back from his flying lesson.
Wearing a well-used leather jacket and jeans, he looked a long way from the popular image of a millionaire. It was only when you met his eyes, and saw the hard purpose there, that you knew he could never have been a poor man.
His presence was devastatingly male as he perched on her desk and flipped through the copies of the letters she’d sent that morning.
‘Your calls are on your desk,’ she told him. ‘Some of them sound very urgent.’
‘Everything’s very urgent,’ he commented drily. ‘I only deal with the desperate stuff.’ His lean fingers riffled through the sheaf of flimsies. ‘Hmm. You’ve been a busy little bee.’ He drew out one particularly long letter and studied it. She’d had to type it up from a collection of laconic notes and near-incomprehensible scribblings he’d left her, some of them on the back of one of Rick Watermeyer’s cigarette packs. She waited with some trepidation as he checked it over. But his expression, if he wore one, was satisfied. ‘You’re not bad, are you?’
‘It’s all a question of neatness,’ she told him. ‘I was always a neat little girl.’
Vivid green eyes looked down at her from a bronzed face framed by thick dark hair. ‘Yeah,’ he grunted. ‘I was a neat little boy, and all. All those strange beds, where you had to turn the sheets down to the millimetre. All those strange tables, where you had to leave your knife and fork just so.’
‘All those strange rooms,’ she couldn’t stop herself from echoing, ‘where there were your things, and other children’s things.’
‘And never the twain shall meet.’ He dropped the correspondence back in the tray. He turned to her. ‘You did trace your mother, didn’t you?’ The sudden question was asked with a green stare that went straight to the back of her skull. ‘You were lying to Katherine the other night.’
Leila felt the colour rise to her face, hot and unbecoming. ‘That’s my business!’ she snapped back.
‘What did you find out?’ he asked relentlessly, holding her eyes. Anything that helped you to explain your existence on this planet, cool Miss Thomas?’
‘You have no right to ask me—’
‘Was she as beautiful as you are?’
‘Stop!’
‘Or did you just get a nasty shock, something that froze your heart, and turned you into the frigid little pink of prudery you now are?’
‘Leave me alone!’ she said fiercely, rising to face him. Just leave me alone, Mr. Oliver. I don’t want to share any part of my life with you—’
‘Was she pleased to see you?’ He was remorseless his fingers biting into her shoulders to stop her from turning away. Did she welcome you with open arms, Leila? Was there a touching scene between the long-lost daughter and her errant mum?’
‘You. know damned well there wasn’t!’ As though something had broken inside her, Leila felt tears fill her eyes. ‘There was no touching scene, and there was no mum. What the hell do you keep asking for?’
‘Because I want to know,’ he said roughly. ‘Because you and I are the same inside.’
‘We’re not!’
‘Yes, we are.’ He was so close to her, his proximity dominating her senses. ‘Tell me what happened, Leila.’
' Nothing happened.’ She clenched her fists as the Images rose up in her mind, the wounds as fresh and sharp as if it had been yesterday, instead of over five years ago. ‘There was nothing that could happen.’
‘You traced her? You found out who she was?’
‘Yes,’ Leila nodded wearily, her eyes blurred with the tears that still hadn’t spilled. ‘Yes, I found out exactly who she was.’
His fingers eased on her shoulders. moving done her back to support, rather than restrain her.' Was It difficult?’ he asked, his voice gentler.
‘No. It took some time, but it wasn’t difficult. She was still living in Nottingham, a few miles from where I was at college.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Eighteen.’
‘Tell me what happened,’ he commanded huskily. ‘You’ve got to tell someone, some time, so it might as well be someone who can understand, Leila.’
His closeness dazed her, somehow forcing the words out of her heart. ‘I―I’d made absolutely certain that I had the right woman,’ she said, her voice sticking in her throat. ‘I knew it was her. There weren’t any doubt about it. The moment I saw her, I knew I was right …'
‘She looked like you?’
‘Taller but the same hair and eyes. Even the same face. She was very smart. She ran a big dry-cleaning agency in the high street.’
‘Married?’
Leila swallowed the aching lump in her throat. ‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘She was married. No children. Not―not married to my father, of course.’
‘Of course not,’ he said drily.
‘It took me a long, long time to work up the courage to face her. At first I couldn’t even think of a way to get close to her. Then, in the end, I wrote her a letter.'
‘What kind of letter?’ Blaize asked, his eyes narrowed. ‘Not some mawkish screed, blotted With tears and sentiment?’
‘Of course not,’ Leila told him tiredly. ‘Just a note, really. I sent it to the agency, asking her to meet me in a restaurant, nothing more. I signed my name, and hoped she’d come.’
‘And did she?’
‘Yes, she came.’
His arms drew her close, overcoming her resistance until she was cradled against his broad, hard chest, his arms holding her slim shoulders. ‘And?’
‘And we talked. Just talked, like acquaintances who hadn’t met for a few years. She asked me about my life, what I’d done, what my plans were. And told me a little about herself. How happily married she was, how her husband was a very successful businessman, on the local council, about her job, and how happy it made her…’
His strong muscles tensed around her, protective and defensive. ‘Did she acknowledge being your real mother?’
Leila was silent for a moment. At last, she went on in a low voice, ‘Right at the end, I told her how I’d traced the records to her. She listened politely. I just wanted to hear her say it, Blaize. I didn’t want anything from her, heaven knows! I didn't want money or attention, or even love. I would have walked out of there and been content never to have seen her again. I just wanted to hear her say that she was my mother! B-but she wouldn’t. She looked me in the eyes, and she said, “Oh, no. You must be mistaken, my dear. I’ve never had any children. My husband can’t have any.”
‘Did you try and press her?’ he asked quietly.
‘It wasn’t any use. She said she had a good job and lots of money, and a lovely home, and a wonderful husband. And that was all .She said-she said she was sure my real mother must be dead. She told me to stop looking for her, and wished me luck with my life. Then she paid the bill, and walked out of there. I never even got a chance to ask her about my father.’
She’d been almost unaware that she was clinging to Blaize, as though for comfort. Tired of fighting him, and her memories, she sagged in his arms and rested her cheek against her chest. The steady thud of his heart was against her temple, the leather smell of his jacket male and comforting. When she closed her eyes her long lashes spilled the hot tears down her chee
ks. Blaize stroked her hair gently, waiting for her to get control of her emotions.
At last she looked up at him, her mouth quivering.
‘Well?’ she asked. ‘Are you satisfied now?’
‘At least it’s got you into my arms,’ he replied in a satisfied rumble. ‘I’ve been wondering how to do this for the past week.’
‘Is that all you care about?’ she gasped, starting to draw away. His iron-hard muscles held her. ‘What else is there to care about?’ he demanded, drinking in the wet, aquamarine depths of her eyes. ‘You’re lovely when you cry, Leila. Tears are a great aid to seduction, did you know that?’ He smiled wickedly, imprisoning her. ‘Get them to cry a little, and you’re half-way there.’
‘I hate you,’ she choked, struggling.
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