‘Of course,’ he replied warmly. ‘Nor am I!’
She almost expected him to try and kiss her, and she was inordinately relieved when he didn’t.
Tony didn’t mention a word about either James or Stephen the following day, until she was about to leave when he called her to one side and asked her outright when she would next be seeing James.
‘What is he to you, anyway?’ he asked, and Claire gave him a withering look. ‘OK! So it’s none of my business! I just want to find out when you’re next seeing him because you could remind him about that little proposition I put to him yesterday when he showed up here.’
‘Why should I do your dirty work for you?’ she asked, not looking at him, busy clearing her desk. ‘Besides, he was only humouring you. He probably has his own network of advertising agencies working for him.’
‘You think so?’ He gave her an odd look. ‘And how is it that you know so much about this guy? I never imagined you as the sort who has a stream of men running around behind you, but if last night was anything to go by…’
He was speculating. She could almost hear his brain whirring away, spinning out explanations, scenarios, feeding that innate curiosity which he felt about everything and everybody. How much longer before the whole office saw her as some sort of femme fatale, which had been the implication behind his words?
‘All right,’ she snapped, ‘I’ll mention what you said to him, but don’t blame me if nothing comes of it.’
‘Good,’ Tony beamed at her. ‘It’s all teamwork, this, and good teamwork is always appreciated.’
This was the first time that she had heard this particular theory being expounded by Tony and she couldn’t help but give him a grin of resignation. She could never win with him. He had skin as thick as hide and the sort of brash self-confidence that never got dented.
She went straight to the manor from work, even though she would have preferred to have gone back to the house for a quick shower and a change of clothes. She was rather hoping that James would not be around, despite what he had said to the contrary, in which case she could simply sneak in, take what was hers, and leave. She had managed to borrow Karen’s car for the trip so there would be no question of more than one trip needing to be made, while she laboriously hauled whatever it was she had forgotten, off the handlebars of her bike.
She rang the doorbell and was ready to launch into her explanation to the housekeeper for being there when the door was pulled open and she found herself staring at James. He had just had a shower and his hair was still damp and combed back, throwing into relief the sensual curve of his mouth, the straight nose, the aristocratic set of his features.
‘I’ve come to collect my stuff,’ she said, cross with herself because of her response to him and resenting him because she was sure that he was there on purpose when normally he would have been in London. ‘Shouldn’t you still be at work?’
‘Is that why you hurried over here so early?’ he asked calmly. ‘I thought I told you that I would be around when you came. Your things are in the sitting-room.’
Her stuff turned out to be a couple of books, some art supplies which were all but dead and two ancient jumpers which she had forgotten in the tumble drier.
‘I could have lived without these,’ she informed him. ‘I certainly didn’t have to rush over here to get them. Your girlfriend could have binned them.’
‘My girlfriend?’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Claire apologised profusely, ‘did I jump to the wrong conclusions? Gayle of the blonde hair, the long legs and the conveniently available location in your cottage, isn’t just a friend, is she? Silly me, I just assumed…’
‘Jealous?’ James asked, raising his eyebrows in a question.
‘Disappointed,’ she returned without blinking. ‘I suppose I vainly thought that there might be a little breathing space between myself and my replacement.’
His mouth tightened and he took a step towards her. Her breathing quickened and she had to fight not to show him how desperately aware she was of him, attuned to his every movement, to the way his dark hair sprang back from his forehead, the green eyes fringed with thick, black, almost feminine lashes, the strong arms and long, clever fingers. Everything about him radiated an energy that sapped her of her fragile will power.
‘Gayle and I go back a long way,’ he said softly and she laughed, feeling tears prick the back of her eyes.
‘So she told me. Old friends. Or whatever.’
He walked slowly towards her, with that lazy, graceful ease of movement that always made her think of something stealthy, untamed, and a thousand drums began beating in her head, against her temples, sending her nerves into chaotic tension.
What did he think he was doing, cornering her like this? Confusing her? She felt like a trapped animal, on the verge of escape but mesmerised by the hunter. She could hardly breathe.
He stood in front of her, inches away, and the clean male scent of him went to her head like incense.
She heard herself stammering that she really had to leave and she wanted to scream in frustration at what he could still do to her.
‘Nervous, Claire?’ he asked softly. ‘Why?’
‘I am not nervous!’ she shot back, but her hands were tightly clutching her bag and her legs felt like jelly.
‘There’s no need to be,’ he murmured smoothly, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Aren’t you forgetting how well we know each other?’ He managed to invest that simple statement with a degree of eroticism that made her break out in a fine film of perspiration.
Every pore in her body was aching to be touched by him. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples hard and erect. She wanted him so badly, and it was made worse by the fact that she could remember only too vividly what it was like to feel his hands on her, exploring every inch of her.
‘I must go,’ she flung out wildly and she turned around, but she hadn’t made it halfway across the room when she heard his voice behind her like a whip.
‘I’m not finished with you.’
‘Dear me,’ she returned angrily, facing him across the room like a sparring partner, ‘how unfortunate, considering I’m finished with you!’
He glared at her, his mouth hostile, his dark brows drawn in angry frown, and she didn’t know whether to laugh at the way she had managed to get under his skin with her coolness, or run for her life before he demolished it completely and left her defenceless.
‘That’ll be the day,’ he snarled, approaching her in two easy strides. He entwined his fingers in her hair, and she realised with shock that they were both breathing quickly. There was a dangerous excitement in the air and it frightened her, because it could eat her up and spit her out and she wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.
She wriggled against him, but that only made things worse. It only brought them into even closer physical contact.
‘Let me go!’ she demanded, hearing the pleading tone in her voice with a mixture of dismay and disgust.
‘Why?’ he mocked, his lips thinning. ‘Have you got an appointment?’
‘With Stephen!’ she threw at him rashly.
‘Wrong response, darling.’
It was the last thing he said before his lips claimed hers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR the briefest time Claire was suspended in air, her body ablaze with sensation, tasting his mouth against hers with helpless surrender. Her head was flung back, her eyes half closed, and his hand was curved around her neck. She could feel her pulse beating against his fingers. He nipped her full lower lip with his teeth and she moaned convulsively. Everything, every movement, every caress seemed to happen in slow motion, as though it was all lasting an eternity when in fact, it was only a matter of seconds, then she sprang back from him trembling violently.
She didn’t know what to say, where to look. So much, she thought bitterly, for my grand mastery of self-control. She had managed, at least, to salvage some bit of self-respect by pulling away from him befor
e it all got totally and humiliatingly out of hand. Big deal. It was as plain as day that she was still acutely aroused by him. It was visible, she knew, in the hot flush on her cheeks, in her swollen lips, and in her fast, uneven breathing. If he had wanted to prove a point, then he had done so, hands down.
She turned away, and he pulled her back to face him, his eyes icy.
‘So you’re hurrying off to Stephen,’ he bit out in a cold voice. ‘After your response to me just then, I’d be surprised if you had anything left for the boy.’
‘Oh, you would, would you?’ was all she could find to say, which seemed thoroughly ineffectual.
‘Have you slept with him?’ he demanded savagely, then he swept on without waiting for an answer, which was just as well since she couldn’t think of one, ‘You’re a fool, a complete idiot. What do you think you’re playing at, running around with him? You’re like chalk and cheese. Don’t you think I don’t know how gullible you are underneath all that new-found self-possession?’
‘Stop preaching to me! I can run my life very nicely on my own, thank you very much!’
‘No, you can’t. If you could, you wouldn’t be seeing that twerp.’
Her eyes darkened at his tone of voice. ‘And I suppose I was in safe hands when I was with you?’ she asked, and a dull flush crept into his cheeks.
‘At least I looked after you.’
‘Ha! Don’t make me laugh. You looked after yourself. You slept with me because you fancied me, except you never let it really get to you, did you? You’ve locked your emotions away in an ivory tower—no, in the same coffin as your wife!’ She stopped, appalled at her lack of sensitivity, expecting his roar of anger at her presumption.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
He appeared to have turned to stone and she reached out to tentatively touch his face, starting as his hand snapped out and his fingers gripped her wrist.
‘I should damn well leave you to get on with your mistakes,’ he bit out and she glared at him, stoked to anger by that remark. Of all the high-handed, arrogant, typical remarks, that took the biscuit. Next, she thought, he’ll be telling me that I should be grateful for him ruining my life! You wouldn’t catch him dead treating Gayle just-good-friends King like a complete halfwit, she thought stormily. And had he treated his wife like that? she wanted to know. Ha!
‘I wish you would!’
‘What’s the real reason behind you seeing him? Has he promised you money? Marriage? Is that it?’
‘Money? Marriage? What are you on about? I barely know the man!’
‘Well, it can’t be attraction.’
‘Why not?’ Her eyes flashed. ‘He happens to be extremely good-looking.’
‘If you happen to like the plastic look.’
‘Maybe I do! Maybe it comes as quite a nice change from you!’
He looked at her in disbelief and for an alarming second she thought that he was going to kiss her again, to prove irrevocably that her feelings, at least on a physical basis, were reserved for him alone. On some wild impulse, she said recklessly, ‘It’s none of your business, but I’m very interested in him! And turned on! You’re not the only man capable of arousing me, you know.’
His eyes were black with fury but it was too late to retract the he, and besides, why should she? It was her life, and she could do just as she wanted with it, whether James Forrester liked it or not! If she wanted to sleep with a million men, then who was he to have any say in the matter?
Her biggest mistake had been letting him know from the beginning how she felt about him. He could be shrewdly manipulative in his dealings with people, and by declaring her love for him, like a fool, she had played right into his hands.
‘You wouldn’t be so damned aroused if you knew what sort of reputation he had,’ James said grimly, and her eyes widened in surprise.
‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, bewildered. ‘Reputation? What reputation?’
‘I asked Gayle about your Stephen Hancock and what she told me doesn’t make pleasant reading.’
Claire’s jaw dropped and she stared at him, outraged.
‘You spied on him?’
‘I didn’t spy on him,’ he returned, not meeting her eyes. ‘But he did mention where he worked, and, as Gayle used to work there, I thought I’d ask her whether she had ever heard of him, just out of interest.’
‘Just out of interest? You never do anything just out of interest! There’s always an ulterior motive with you. How could you? What else did you tell her? Did you tell her about us? Did you have a good laugh at my expense?’
‘Don’t be dramatic.’ He turned away, his mouth tight, and she followed him to the sofa, where he sat down heavily, leaning back to look at her from under his lashes, his hands clasped behind his head.
He looked totally relaxed and she could have killed him. Who did he think he was, asking questions behind her back? She stood staring down at him, her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing.
‘I am not being dramatic!’ she yelled. ‘And anyway, what if I were? Wouldn’t you be dramatic if someone decided to spy on one of your friends?’
‘Don’t you want to know what I found out?’
‘No, I do not want to know what you found out.’
She turned away and eyed the door. She should walk out of here, take her belongings and leave, that’s what she ought to do. Let him keep his precious information to himself; she wasn’t interested in hearing gossip anyway, was she?
‘What did you find out?’ she asked, glaring at him.
‘Sit down,’ he replied. ‘You’re looming, and it’s putting me off my stride.’
‘Nothing puts you off your stride,’ Claire muttered and he gave her a wicked smile. He could change from fury to charm at the drop of a hat, and right now she wished that he’d just stick to the fury. James Forrester in a charming mood was dangerous. She sat down primly, her hands on her knees, leaning forward so that her hair swung against her cheeks. ‘You shouldn’t have asked questions about Stephen behind my back,’ she said accusingly, before he started giving her any spiel about being grateful to him for his revelations.
‘Why not?’ he asked bluntly.
‘Because we’re friends, and you don’t give a damn about me, so I can’t see why you should be interested in my welfare.’
He looked at her thoughtfully, stroking his chin, then he said, ‘The man’s a philanderer. Apparently he’s got quite a reputation at Carter’s. Gayle doesn’t personally know him, she left before he joined, but she’s kept in touch with quite a few people from there, and they all say the same thing: that he’s unscrupulous.’
She had more or less suspected what he was going to tell her; after all, he was hardly likely to inform her that rumour had it that Stephen was a boy wonder and as wholesome as apple pie. Nevertheless, it annoyed and hurt her to think that he considered her so innocent that she needed warning because she couldn’t take care of herself.
‘So,’ she said in a saccharine voice, ‘in other words, all this is from a friend of a friend.’
The lazy charm vanished as quickly as it had appeared and his brows met in an angry frown.
‘I can assure you that Gayle isn’t one to lie.’
‘No,’ Claire retorted, ‘well, she wouldn’t be, would she?’
‘And what the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘You’ve chosen to like her,’ she said sarcastically, ‘so that must mean that her credentials are pristine. I dare say that apart from looking like she’s just stepped off a magazine cover, and being brainy with it, she’s probably queueing up for sainthood.’ That sounded so horribly jealous that she carried on quickly, ‘Anyway, thanks for the word of warning. I’ll try and remember it.’
She stood up and he roared at her, ‘Sit back down!’
‘I will not! I’m going home. And there’s no need to show me to the door—I know where it is.’
She walked away defiantly and, as she pulled open the door, it was slamme
d back shut and he kept his hand there, outstretched, making sure that she couldn’t leave.
She found that she couldn’t look at him, not in the eyes. He was too close for that. His proximity addled her wits and she stubbornly shifted her eyes to the huge French doors behind him.
‘You will not see him again.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You heard me,’ he rasped. ‘You wouldn’t stand a chance with a man like that, and there’s no point in holding your head up high and pretending to be immune to what I’m telling you. I know you better than you think. No, if you want to walk out on what we have, then that’s your right, but you’re to steer well clear of that man. He’s no good.’
‘If I wanted you to run my life for me,’ she said tightly, ‘I would have asked. In the meantime, feel free to assume that I can run my life by myself.’
‘I’d need to see that to believe it.’
She still wasn’t looking at him but she could feel his eyes boring into her, probing to depths which only he could reach.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked in a low, panicked voice.
‘Because you haven’t got a clue about handling a man like Hancock. He cultivates women, he’s been known to accept presents from them. From what I’ve heard, he probably sees it as his right. You might not be able to afford to give him presents, but, from what I’ve heard and the little I’ve seen of him, you’re the sort to intrigue him. He’s a barracuda looking for something tasty and innocent to devour.’
‘He’s nothing like that!’ she protested, and he shook his head impatiently, catching her chin with his fingers and forcing her to look at him, which she did, reluctantly.
‘Listen to what I’m saying,’ he threw out, his face dark with restless anger. ‘Don’t be stupid. Don’t go out with that man simply because you’ve become disillusioned with me.’
‘And don’t be so damned conceited!’ She hated the way he could see into her. How could she be expected to protect herself when it was so easy for him to break down her defences? ‘I’ll see whoever I choose to, and now would you mind removing your hand from the door?’
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