Josey was sympathetic. She saw problem. But this sort of thing was out of her league. ‘Maud, I’m no femme fatale. In a fight between this woman and me, I’d be outclassed. Besides, I’m all out of shark repellant,’
she added whimsically.
‘Josey, in a fight between Eve and you, I’d put my money on you anytime,’ Maud replied. ‘This isn’t going to be a woman against woman thing. I’ve set you up to fight Thorne.’
‘Why?‘Josey asked bluntly.
‘Let’s just say it’s an experiment, and leave it at that, shall we? Just be honest in your feelings
towards him and let nature take its course. I don’t want him to think you’re afraid of him, do you?’
It was that last remark that did it. Qn her way back to her room a few minutes later, Josey reflected wryly that Maud was a very respectable amateur psychologist.
Of course, there was one confession she hadn’t made to Maud. It could blow the whole thing up and ruin all of Maud’s plans, which seemed to consist mostly of allowing Eve’s jealousy make a fool of her. Josey shrugged. It sounded rather fanciful to her.
So far as she was concerned, she was standing her ground. If Thorne Macallan recognised her, she’d hire a lawyer to defend her case of parole violation. And she’d find one just as smart and ruthless as Macallan. She wasn’t running scared any longer.
She walked into her room before realising it was occupied. Macallan was standing beside her bed, examining a picture of John and Maud that she kept on her bedside table. She had snapped it herself last summer in the garden. She remembered the day vividly, and the happy smiles on the faces turned towards her.
He replaced the picture casually, as though he had a perfect right to be there. She stared at him stonily, aware of every single thing about him. He had changed out of his wet things into a shirt and slacks, and his thick, black hair gleamed wetly in the lamplight. The face he turned towards her wore a hard, questioning look, and he examined her face as though was seeing it for the first time.
‘Great view,’ he said blandly, indicating the window. ‘Maud must want you to stay. She gave me a room overlooking the neighbour’s greenhouse.’
Josey ignored the taunt. ‘What are you doing here?’ Her eyes lit on an open drawer. ‘I believe .you’ve been searching my things!’ she gasped.
‘I was waiting for you.’ His smooth voice didn’t give a thing away.
‘And amused yourself by prying through my things!’ she snapped.
‘What were you looking for? Love letters from John?’
A dry smile flitted across his face. ‘Something like that. Maybe I was just looking for an explanation for that piece of histrionics on the Beach.’
Her soft mouth hardened. ‘Are you referring to my refusing a bribe?’
‘I’m referring to that personal attack you made on my integrity.’
‘Oh?’ she purred. ‘Did that bother you?’
‘You know damned well it did,’ he said cheerfully. ‘No lawyer likes to be called corrupt.’
‘I didn’t call you corrupt, Mr Macallan, although I must admit that’s a thought. I think the word I used was dishonest,’ she added silkily. ‘To deliberately lie for the purpose of having a defendant judged guilty may be a common practice among you lawyers, but I consider it dishonest, especially when the defendant is innocent.’
He had been listening closely. ‘I almost never see an innocent defendant, Miss Smith. No matter what you might think, the police are usually very efficient in their jobs. But that’s beside the point. I defend, not prosecute. And you’re speaking of a prosecution situation. Obviously, you’ve confused me with someone else. Also, you have a sharp little tongue which I shall enjoy clipping if I hear any more libelous slander.’
‘That knife cuts both ways, Mr Macallan,’ she said slowly. ‘You slandered me, too. We shall both have to be careful.’
He laughed. ‘Oh, stop the Mr Macallan stuff.; It’s too formal for sworn enemies. Make it Thorne.’
She shrugged.
‘Who is this mysterious defendant? A father, a brother.. .?’
‘I don’t have to tell you that.’ ‘Are you sure he even exists?’ he asked smoothly.
‘Why should you think h-he doesn’t?’ A cold smile touched his lips, a smile of calculated cruelty. ‘It might be a ploy to pique my interest.’
‘Can’t you get it through your head that I don’t want your interest?’
she said angrily. ‘I learned all I wanted to know about you a long time ago!
I despised, you then and I despise you now. So keep your interest for your constant companion, Eve Sanders’ she added scornfully.
‘Eve Sanders?’ He added drily, ‘So Maud has been talking, has she?’
:
‘Yes, she has, but I assure you, I’m not plotting to entrap you. The trouble with you, Thorne Macallan, is your ego,’ she added deliberately.
‘Any woman you meet is fair game, and you automatically assume you ean make her your lover. It may come as a shock to you, but I am the exception. You don’t appeal to me and you never would, not in a million years. All I want from you is to get out of my room and leave me alone.
Permanently.’
His face darkened and a smile of anticipation tightened into a cruel mask. ‘You’re a fool, my dear. You’ve issued a challenge I can’t ignore, not with my ego—and not in a million years,’ he added mockingly. ‘Let’s see if you can make it good.’
Too late, Josey remembered Maud’s words, and realised she had been a fool. He was going to kiss her—she had practically asked him to. He pulled her into his arms and studied her dismayed face impersonally.
His arms prevented heriltcoil, holding her so close she couldn’t move. : Trlis breath fanned her cheek as he murmured} ‘I am sceptical of all that ranting and raving about a mysterious defendant, and the revulsion you apparently feel for me. I think you want mes to make love to you.’
‘Why, you conceited …!’ She had flung back her head, glaring, before she saw, too late, that he was grinning. She had fallen into a trap.
‘A temper, too. A temper to match that hair.’ He did not kiss her at once.
Watching her from beneath lowered lids, his hand moved slowly across her body until it reached a soft, rounded breast. She drew a sharp gasp as his fingers found the sensitive peak and teased it into a hard, tingling bud. She wanted to struggle, but sensed that to do so would unleash the dark feelings that were waiting just beneath the veneer of sophisticated amusement. ‘Very wise,’ he murmured mockingly.
Standing there in his arms, her heartbeat a muffled thud in her ears, she waited in frozen silence as he explored her face with warm, questing lips. Her senses registered everything about him—from the quickened sound of his breathing to the heady male odour of his after-shave lotion blended with a salty tang from the sea. She wondered if he was tasting the sea on her skin, too as he wandered across her cheek to the edge of her mouth, where he stopped to lick her lips. They opened involuntarily, and he kissed her.
She had been kissed before, but never with such assurance and never by a man so confident of his masculinity. Their breaths mingled as he explored the warm, soft sweetness of her mouth. Every nerve in her body sprang into tingling life; her skin bloomed; and there was an incredible sensitivity the nerve endings of her mouth. She was clinging blindly to his neck when she was suddenly aware that he had released her and was speaking. ‘Let me lock the door.’
She jerked away, a red tide of embarrassed colour staining her cheeks.
He was watching her with cool speculation. She felt humiliated, degraded. She fumbled for something to say to erase that raw triumph from his eyes.
‘I’m sorry but not even for Maud’s sake, will I allow you to seduce me,’
she said primly.
His face hardened. ‘Are you saying Maud put you up to—this?’
A chill feathered along her spine at the savage look on his face. ‘N-not exactly. I—I …’
<
br /> ‘We can’t disappointment Maud, can we?’ he broke in harshly on her stammered response.
This kiss was different—brutal, even contemptuous. Crushing her mouth beneath his, he forced it open with his teeth, mangling her lips.
She fought to free herself but he used his hard strength to quell her, keeping her immobile while his fierce tongue plundered her mouth with assured ease. Tomorrow, she was going to have bruises. Some element of common sense told her to stop struggling and she stood quietly until he released her, pushing her away from him savagely.
She went at him then, her hand darting, fingers curled into claws, aiming for his cheekbone. He caught her by the wrist before it could descend.
‘Try that again, bitch, and I’ll knock you down!’ he promised thinly.
‘I hate you!’ she sobbed.
He smiled cruelly. ‘And you know what I think about that.’ With hard knuckles, he forced her soft chin up until she met the bitter triumph in his eyes. ‘Tell Maud for me it worked,’ he said sardonically. He was barely keeping his temper leashed behind whitened lips. ‘I want you,’ he said deliberately. ‘You’re not the exception, as you boasted. Far from it. I can take you anytime I like, and make you like it. But it will be when I choose, not at Maud’s choosing or yours. When I decide, Josey Smith, I’ll become your lover.’
‘I’ll see you in hell first!’ she snarled.
He smiled slowly, relishing her furious frustration.
‘Almost certainly,’ he drawled appreciatively. ‘It should be a devilishly fine coupling. Tell Maud that, so she’ll remember the next time she’s tempted to play God.’
He turned and walked out of the room.
After a while, Josey moved slowly, almost as though she was unsure of the strength in her leys. Going to the closet, she pulled out the first dress she came to and flung it on the bed. Then, she moved unsteadily to the bathroom, where she peeled to the skin and stepped under the shower.
The sting of hot water on her face and body brought her back to life.
She stepped out and reached for a towel. She had regained a little of her old fighting spirit but she knew nothing was going to restore her to the proud woman she had been before Thorne Macallan showed her a new side to herself.
For someone with Josey’s cool dignity, Thorne’s shocking assault on her senses had been an assault on her self-esteem. She had spent many long, hard years building up her defences, shoring them with bitter self-denial until she had thought her citadel was invincible. But now, in the space of a few short minutes, Thorne had torn them down. He had destroyed her image of herself as a strong woman, one who could withstand any pressure. He had made her face her own sensuality and he had done it brutally, damaging her pride and self-respect. Even if he had not been her mortal enemy, even if he had been a man she liked and respected, she would have been shaken to the depths of her soul. As it was, she was devastated.
She wouldn’t tell Maud, of course: it would hurt her too much. She didn’t think Thorne wanted her to. In spite of his harsh words, he loved his aunt.
No, this was her battle, to fight alone.
She returned to her bedroom and saw that she had chosen her oldest dinner dress. It was a rusty brown velvet dating from her early years with John, when she hadn’t cared what she bought, so long as it was cheap. It suited her mood now. She slid the straight, severe little dress over her head and belted it at the waist. She was in the habit of wearing a lace collar with it—one of her grandmother’s—and she searched for it automatically. She had no idea that the creamy old lace was so flattering to her skin, nor that the brown velvet toned with her tawny eyes and copper tinted hair. She applied her lipstick listlessly—a bronze gloss—and gave a final, uninterested glance in the mirror. All she was looking for was the secret she was afraid might be revealed in her eyes: she did not see that she looked like a beautiful, crushed angel.
CHAPTER FIVE
THORNE and Eve were alone, occupying one of the living room sofas. He rose slowly as Josey entered, his eyes studying the proud face before lingering with a trace of satisfaction on the bruised lips. He was a picture of sartorial elegance in a black dinner jacket and a crisply tailored shirt front.
‘Good evening, Josey,’ he said suavely. ‘I’d like for you to meet Eve Sanders. Eve, this is Josey Smith, Maud’s secretary.’
‘Hullo,’ Eve drawled indifferently. She had been sitting so close to Thorne a paper couldn’t have been inserted between them, but there was no trace of embarrassment as she studied Josey covertly, her eyes narrowing on the swollen fullness of her lips. Leaning forward, she exposed a gaping cleavage as she handed her glass to Thorne.
‘Freshen my drink, won’t you, sweetie?’
His face did not change expression but Josey knew instinctively that he hated that word ‘sweetie’.
‘As soon as I’ve got Josey a drink,’ he said curtly. ‘What will you have, Josey?’
‘Oh, a spritzer, please.’
‘A spritzer! What’s that?’ Eve raised her eyebrows.
‘White wine and soda,’ Thorne explained briefly.
‘Oh. A sort of poor man’s champagne,’ Eve said disdainfully.
Perhaps she hadn’t meant to be insulting—or perhaps she had, Josey thought, meeting the ice-blue eyes. There hadn’t been a trace of friendliness on that beautiful face. Apparently, Eve’s sense of possessiveness, which Maud claimed was developed to a fine instinct, was already at work. She was subtlety warning Josey off.
As a matter of fact, Josey’s appearance had shocked Eve. She had heard a vague mention of Maud’s secretary, but she visualised an older woman, and had been looking forward with anticipation to dazzling Thorne with her beauty. She hadn’t expected competition.
She had over-dressed for the occasion—a skilfully draped blue silk that moulded her superb figure and boasted a plunging neckline. She hadn’t been able to resist wearing some of the loot she had retained after her divorce from Dolph Sanders—earrings, necklace and a tiny watch encrusted with diamonds. Eve was very confident of her powers—she was sure that her brains, breeding, plus a father who was a judge, was going to get her Thorne Macallan, whom she wanted badly.
Dolph had disappointed her. He had been a hard-drinking, womanising millionaire. She was determined that her next marriage would not be the humiliating experience the first was. She wanted a man whose virility was assured—he wouldn’t have to prove it with a constant turnover of lovers. She wanted, in effect, Thorne Macallan.
She knew Maud was her enemy and she was determined to get rid of her after her marriage. For now, she was going slowly although she had hinted to Maud that things were going to change.
But she was prepared to remain at Hilton Head until Thorne left, even if it meant, enduring Maud’s snubs and insults. Now, she knew she had been wise to come. Josey was Maud’s secret weapon.
Thorne did not return to the couch, but dropped into a chair. Eve’s lips tightened but she kept up a bright spurt of conversation until after a few minutes, she rose and sauntering over to his chair, draped herself across the arm. Putting a beautifully manicured hand on his shoulder, she leaned forward to drawl seductively, ‘Darling, please don’t work tonight.
It’s our first night here, and I want you to take me back to my hotel early. I promise not to keep you too late,’ she added, whispering something in his ear.
He looked at her impassively. ‘Sorry, my love,’ he said blandly. ‘I’ve a stack of work to finish tonight. After dinner, I’ll have Theodore drive you back.’
‘Why did you ask me to dinner then, if you intended to work?’ Eve pouted.
‘As I recall, you asked yourself,’ he replied coolly. ‘I did warn you, you know, that this would be a working holiday for me, when you decided to come. But you assured me you had plenty of friends on the island who would keep you amused.’
Her smile slipped a little and she turned petulantly to Josey. ‘What sort of work do you do for Miss Lorrimer?’ she asked shortly.
Josey started, disconcerted to have, the attention focused on herself. ‘I type Maud’s letters and her manuscript–when she’ll allow me to.’
‘When she’ll allow you to?’ Eve repeated amusedly. ‘Are you saying she won’t let you touch her work?’
Josey’s eyes met Thorne’s, then slid away. ‘Not yet,’ she said briefly.
To her surprise, Thorne answered her look. ‘Maud needs Josey, Eve,’ he said deliberately.
‘I wonder if she does?’ Eve questioned sweetly. ‘It sounds to me that Miss Smith’s life here is one long holiday. And she draws a whopping big salary at the same time!’
Thorne shrugged, but Eve was satisfied. She had planted a seed: she could do nothing now but wait for it to take root. Thorne wouldn’t like this girl taking advantage of his aunt. Inevitably, he’d begin to wonder why she was here, and see through his aunt’s scheme. He wasn’t a man to take kindly to being managed by a woman, even if it was his aunt.
Turning to Josey, she began to question her sweetly about her work background, her qualifications, and finally her personal background.
Josey answered her briefly, gradually resenting the impertinence.
‘And your parents?’ Eve asked. ‘Didn’t they object to you leaving home and living with John Trescott—at your age?’
‘No. They were dead.’
‘Oh. In Atlanta or …?’
‘I came from a little town in Alabama, Mrs Sanders.’
‘You must have been frightfully young to be on your own. Or perhaps you weren’t on your own?’ she added delicately.
Josey looked at her frowningly, seeing the spite behind the innocent questions. This was the sort of thing she had been getting from Thorne all afternoon, and she was damned if she was going to take it any longer!
Drawing a deep breath, she asked blandly, ‘Let’s see, Mrs Sanders, are you a widow—or divorced?’
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