'I couldn't let you go a second time without finding out where you fitted in. This place is vast. I might not see you again for weeks.'
'You may not anyway,' she muttered furiously, her mind fleeting back to the thought that she would be handing in her notice soon.
The lift stopped again and he held his hand over the buttons. She felt it start to descend but before she could say anything, he said. 'Too efficient, this thing, isn't it? I'll have to suggest we put in a slower one. Now, what exactly do you mean by that last remark?'
But she had turned on him in fury. 'I don't know who the hell you are, but somebody in authority is going to hear about this! How am I going to explain why I'm so late? It's outrageous! Now let me out of this lift.'
He was laughing softly. 'A face as cool as rain and a temper like a little spitfire. Who'd have thought it?'
'I never lose my temper,' she flared.
'Never?' he broke in with a throaty chuckle.
'Only when I'm provoked,' she snapped. 'Now take your hand off the control and let me out. I mean what I say. You haven't heard the last of this!'
'What a clawy little creature you are!' The thought seemed to delight him, and his Prussian blue eyes sparked approval, lingering over her face in a way that could only be described as suggestive.
'Look, I'm going to get the sack because of you!' She felt like hitting him and he must have suddenly realised how serious she was, for his expression changed.
'I'm sorry, I didn't intend to get you into trouble. My thoughtlessness. I still haven't got used to the strict regimen here.'
'You will!' she muttered darkly.
He gave a non-committal smile. 'Not if I can help it.'
'Then you'll be out on your ear.'
He ignored that and, hand still pressed over the door control, demanded, 'Well?'
'Well what?'
'Aren't you going to ask my name so you can report me?'
'No.' She scowled. 'You know full well I'm not going to cause trouble—provided you open the doors right now.'
'And if I don't?' He looked as if he was about to press the ascent button again.
She grabbed hold of his wrist and tried to get to the control first, and to her surprise, instead of making a scuffle of it, he moved back with a little inclination of his dark head and her hands fell to her sides, burning where she had felt the touch of his wrist.
'I'm sorry. You have every right to get out. I was simply hoping for a longer talk. What about lunch?'
'With you?' She gave him a slow, appraising look, feeling safe now that the doors were opening and she was already half out of them. It enabled her to prolong one of her haughtiest stares. 'I wouldn't have lunch with you,' she declared, as she looked him up and down, 'if you were the last man on earth!' He was standing with his hand held over the rubber guard on the doors.
'You're extremely sure about that,' he remarked, his eyes, his blue eyes, glinting dangerously as they suddenly swept her from top to top in a mirroring of the arctic glance she was giving him.
'You bet I'm sure.'
'You will have lunch with me,' he said quietly.
She gaped at him. 'Want to bet?' Then she spun on her heel and stalked off, conscious, even as she did so, of the stranger's blue stare following her along the corridor. When she reached the door she couldn't help turning, just to make sure. He raised his hand in a small gesture of farewell as if he'd been waiting for just that backward glance and, conscious of his eyes raking her trim form in its figure-hugging jeans and plain pink sweater, she tilted her chin and pushed her way blindly through the door, feeling that, despite her own coldness, he had somehow got the better of her. It was that last betraying glance that had done it.
'Sorry I'm late!' she exclaimed at once when she saw Lulu. 'The most impossible man got into the lift when I was coming up just now --' and briefly she explained what had detained her.
When she finished Lulu looked puzzled. 'Can't imagine who it was. Someone in men's fashions?'
'Admin, I should think,' replied Rachel. 'He was with Mr Maynard and some of the directors yesterday. I thought he was one of them at first. But he's far too young.' She scowled and gathered her things together. His behaviour had been too self-assured by half. 'And to crown it all,' she added, pursing her lips, 'he actually had the gall to ask me to lunch, and when I said --' She paused.
'Go on, what did you say?'
She told her.
'Goodbye, you handsome stranger!' murmured Lulu. 'But if he's as heavenly as you say he is, I for one shan't be sorry. It means I can be first in line!'
'Did I say he was heavenly?' Rachel scowled even more.
'Not in so many words,' with a little laugh Lulu turned from the mirror where she was applying lip gloss, 'but if he got behind that barrier of ice you hide behind, he must be really something!'
'Rubbish,' she gave a hollow laugh, 'I mean, rubbish about ice barriers and rubbish about getting through --' She stopped, confused, before adding,
'The very last thing I want is a man hanging round, clipping my wings, ordering me about and getting in the way of my career.'
'Personally I can think of nothing nicer!' Lulu snapped her make-up bag shut and gave Rachel a teasing smile.
Suddenly she could keep her secret no longer. 'Actually, Lulu, I'm not thinking about my job here. It's just that I've started to do something I've always wanted to do and somehow it doesn't leave time for anything else. You see, I've started singing in a nightclub,' She explained, 'I've always dreamed of a singing career. I want to tour. I want to make records. I want to see the world. That means men are most definitely out.'
'They don't have to be,' remarked Lulu with a worldly little smile.
'I'm not the sleep-around sort,' Rachel muttered, knowing the other girls could overhear and would think she was very old-fashioned in her attitude. But she didn't care. Maybe it was her country upbringing, but that was how she was.
She was conscious of one or two little glances between the others as she went towards the door. But she held her head high. The thought of what Ray had told her the previous night came back to restore her confidence. They might all scoff at her dedication now, but when she was a big name they would know this was how it had had to be.
The girls were clustered round the staff notice-board when she came up later that morning. There was a buzz of interest and she peered between their heads to see what it was that was causing the excitement.
'I can't read it from here,' she said. 'What's happened?'
'Listen,' said someone at the front. '"In order to extend a welcome to the new member of the board of directors, and to facilitate more contact between the various levels of employees, staff are invited to an informal buffet luncheon on Tuesday the eleventh inst. at twelve-thirty prompt. Signed," as you might have guessed from its pompous tones --' the girl turned with a smile '—"The managing director, Mr Hilda Maynard."'
'Good old Hilda.'
'I'm shocked to hear you call our respected boss by any name but his own,' Lulu reprimanded them, then she spoilt the effect by bursting into laughter. 'I bet he's livid. More contact between the various levels! That's the last thing he'll want. He loves to feel he's sitting with the gods up on that top floor. He won't want the underlings encroaching!'
'New brooms sweep clean. It must be the idea of this new man. They say he's a nephew of the chairman.'
'Obviously he's got the power to bring staff relations into the twentieth century,' Lyn remarked. 'I must say I like the idea of the buffet lunch. It'll make a change from sandwiches or fighting shoppers for service in the crush bar.'
'I wonder what he's like,' mused Francine. 'I haven't seen him around yet. Has anybody?'
'Obviously he's going to make his debut on Wednesday when we all present ourselves for inspection.' Lulu gave a dry smile. She'd been with the store for two or three years and enjoyed the prestige of working there but never failed to point out how out of date she thought it was in its attitude to sta
ff. She had a continual battle with the buyer for Couture, urging her to go for new, young designers instead of sticking with the more expensive and traditional ones, but to no avail.
Rachel shrugged off her jacket and hung it up. Her decision to hand in her notice was still on her mind and she couldn't feel part of everything any more, knowing her days here were numbered. It was just a question of taking the plunge. Maybe she would give it another month. It would be nice to have two salaries for a time so that she would have the money to fit herself out with a wardrobe suitable for her new role.
She asked Lulu's advice when they all began to separate to their different departments. 'I need a good, strong image for Zia—and the clothes to fit in with it,' she added.
The girls clustered round, pleased to seize on this new topic, but by the time they went down to their separate floors Lulu had taken the matter into her own hands.
'I'll come round the store with you after work one night and find you something really gorgeous,' she told her firmly. 'I like nothing better than telling people what they should wear,' she went on. 'Much more fun than dressing dummies in the window.' She gave Rachel an appraising look. 'With your frail, pale, gamine looks you ought to dress French.'
Rachel widened her blue eyes. 'What does that mean? Berets and striped T-shirts?'
'No, you idiot, chic and black. Something very sophisticated. Clingy. Spiky even. I know what I mean.'
'I'm not sure I do,' murmured Rachel, wondering what she had let herself in for.
'You ought to invite me to this club of yours so I can get a feel for its style,' she suggested.
Rachel shot her a grateful glance. 'I'd love you to come. I daren't mention it before because I felt so nervous, but now it would be lovely to have friends in the audience. I'll ask Ray if he'll waive the membership requirements for you. I'm sure he'll let you in as my guest.'
With everything going along so swimmingly Rachel relaxed as much as possible on the Monday. She had arranged for Lulu and her brother and a friend to come to the club on Wednesday night. But first there was 'Hilda's picnic', as everyone called the directors' luncheon.
It was being held on the upper floor in a part of the store none of them had ever been to before. Everyone was impressed by the deep blue carpet that took the place of the polished parquet of the lower levels. A glimpse through the open door of the boardroom elicited further comment. Rachel smiled. She felt quite detached from all this. Yes, it was impressive, but not overwhelmingly so. She found the formality of the occasion dull rather than daunting. Hemmed in with a plate and a drink, attended by a fleet of tail-coated waiters, she felt a sudden longing for the freedom of the open countryside. Store life, she was thinking, is a bit of a charade.
'So, do I win my bet?' A husky voice in her ear brought her back to the present with a thud. She turned and her eyes locked with a pair of laughing blue ones approximately six inches from her own. She would have liked to step back out of their electrifying range but the crush was pushing her even closer to him. She felt the hard-packed muscles skim her own body with a thrill of raw sexuality. Her face crimsoned.
The stranger from the lift was laughing softly. 'Thank heaven for crowds,' he murmured. 'It means I can get closer than I dared hope and you can't do what you would obviously like to do.'
'Which is?' she whispered furiously.
'Sink your little claws into my face by the look of it. Do you hate losing bets?'
'I didn't bet --' she began.
'What? Are you going to renege? I heard you distinctly say, "Want to bet?" when I said we'd be having lunch together. Don't tell me you've forgotten?' He pulled a face of mock hurt, looking comical and devastating at the same time.
'I hardly call this having lunch together,' she clipped.
'It wasn't exactly what I had in mind either, but it's better than nothing. I'll arrange something more to your taste next time.'
'Will you?' She gave him a haughty stare. 'You're taking rather a lot on yourself to imagine you can arrange anything for me.'
'Am I? Is this another brush-off?'
'What do you think?'
'I think you're simply playing hard to get. But you should be able to tell I'm the type who doesn't give in easily.'
His body brushed hers again and she staggered a little as she tried to step back. At once a hand shot out and he held her tightly in the small of the back. 'Very intimate,' he murmured just above her ear. 'Maybe this was a good idea after all?'
'There's no need to take the credit for yourself!' She couldn't move out of range but she could lift her chin and warn him with her eyes that she gave nought for his influence on events.
'That look,' he mocked. 'My lady Basilisk, Cruella de Ville!' He bent his head as if to glance at his watch and she felt his lips brush the side of her head.
'You're outrageous. What do you think people are going to say if they see you with your arm around me?' She felt her face flood with crimson again.
'Do you care what people say? I wouldn't have thought you gave a rap for anybody?'
'I --' She tried to think of a retort but his presence was doing the most extraordinary things to her mind. Her thoughts were scattering and skipping before her like a flock of sheep on the run. She licked her lips and tried to pull herself together. 'Is that—is that all you have to say?' she began weakly.
'Of course not.' He looked surprised. 'Now I've proved I can win, why don't you stop resisting and simply enjoy it?' He used the same husky tones as before, as if to avoid being overheard, but what it meant was that she had to strain towards him to hear what he was saying.
'You haven't proved anything,' she managed to stammer, forcing herself not to tremble as their intimacy showed no sign of ending. They seemed to be wedged between a potted palm and a chatting group from Admin, and Rachel could see no opening for escape. Besides, her limbs had turned to jelly again and seemed to refuse the command to walk away.
'Enjoy what?' she managed to ask.
'Me,' he said succinctly.
He was so blatant, it made her gasp. 'I hardly think I'll be doing that!' she exclaimed.
'Your eyes are the most perfect shade of cornflower I've ever seen,' he murmured, scarcely moving his lips.
'Yours are a sort of Prussian blue --' she blurted before stopping herself in confusion.
'So you have noticed?' He gave his husky laugh again. 'I knew I couldn't be wrong. Eyes like yours don't lie... they're wide enough to drown in.' He seemed to pull himself together. 'Tell me,' he went on conversationally, 'why do you keep trying to turn me down? What are you afraid of?' He removed his hand from the small of her back and she swayed dizzily until he ran one finger with knee-buckling slowness down the inside of her wrist towards the crease of her elbow.
Rachel felt her mouth open and close and her breath do strange jerky things in her throat before she could bring herself to speak. 'I'm not afraid of anything,' she said rapidly on one quick breath. 'I simply don't choose to get involved with strangers who try to pick me up in lifts.'
'Strangers? I don't count as a stranger, surely? I thought this company was just one big happy family?'
She couldn't help but smile, then quickly changed it to a scowl in case he thought she was weakening.
He picked up her wrist and held it between his thumb and forefinger as if taking her pulse. It was strangely soothing and arousing at the same time, 'I hope to be less of a stranger before long. That's what this is in aid of.' He glanced round the crowded room. 'Seems to be working quite well for everyone else. Why not for you?'
'I don't know why you keep trying to imply you've set something up. You haven't won your bet even if there was one because it's sheer chance we both happen to be invited to the same staff luncheon. And,' she went on, 'as I've already said, I'm not interested in getting involved with anyone. So that's that.'
'Got a boyfriend already, of course.' He frowned. 'Give him the boot. I'm the best bet.'
She smiled again. 'Honestly, you're impo
ssible! Can't you imagine anyone turning you down because they simply don't want any involvement with anyone?'
'Does that mean no boyfriend?' He narrowed his eyes.
'Mind your own business,' she replied, nettled.
'I can find out.'
'What are you, the store detective?' She gave a little laugh. Feeling she was getting the upper hand, she said coldly, 'I'd like you to let me go, please.'
'You say that. But a few seconds ago it was a different story.'
'You took me by surprise.
He gave a little laugh and released her wrist. 'What about a pact of no involvement, then, if that's what you'd like? Play it strictly for fun?'
'Play what?'
'Us.' He eyed her expression carefully. 'I'll risk it, if you will.'
'Risk?' Now all she seemed able to do was reply in monosyllables, and he was still standing too close for comfort.
'Or are you all talk?' he was going on. 'A coward? Frightened to risk it?'
'I don't see that there's any risk,' she clipped before she could stop herself, immediately realising what she had said and what it would lay her open to.
She bit her lip as he came in at once with, 'So, if there's no risk to your freedom and your heart, Rachel Jackson, why not take a chance with me? You know it makes sense!' He was laughing now, the Prussian blue eyes full of a humour that seemed to belie the intensity of his purpose.
But Rachel was on to something else. 'My name!' she exclaimed. 'How on earth do you know it?' Her eyes opened very wide. 'Are you the store detective?'
Her words sent him into a delighted chuckle. 'You should know enough to check the names of the men who invite you to lunch,' he remarked enigmatically, then he flicked another glance at his watch, turning when he saw the time, saying, as the chatting groups miraculously opened before him, 'You'll be seeing me. You can give me your answer later!'
Senses still reeling from the encounter, Rachel heard the sound of a voice raised above the clamour at the upper end of the room and then Mr Maynard was heard calling for silence. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' he announced, holding up his hands for quiet, and as the clink of knives and forks was stilled he launched into a short speech of welcome for the new director. Like everyone else she felt herself pressing forward to see better. The dark head of the stranger from the lift had already been swallowed up in the crowd, she was pleased to observe.
Steps to Heaven Page 2