Out of Control

by Charlotte Lamb

  If she did go to Hartwell, she would have to cope with Keir Gifford at much closer quarters and she had butterflies at the very idea of that.

  'Of course Liza will come! She can break her other date,' Nicky said hastily.

  it isn't every day you get an invitation to Hartwell, after all,' Terry chimed in, and both men glared at Liza, begging and demanding in one stare, while Pam sat in stunned, incredulous anguish, unable to speak.

  Liza sighed and met Keir's ironic, watchful eyes. She had no choice at all, did she?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Liza heard the girls in the outer office talking before she even set foot out of the lift. Their voices were excited and they were all apparently talking at once, but the name Hartwell rose out of the general uproar. Liza stopped in mid-step, scowling. Now how on earth had they heard about that so soon? She had only told Maddie the previous afternoon and had sworn her to secrecy—had Maddie leaked it?

  As she pushed through the swing doors the voices stopped dead; the girls moved like greased lightning in all directions, one to a computer terminal, another to a filing cabinet, and Joan dived for the machine room where Liza could hear the chuntering of the photocopier. Maddie was at her desk looking as cheerful as someone who had just seen her doom prophesied. Liza walked briskly across the room, bending a peremptory finger in Maddie's direction as she went.

  Maddie followed, pad in hand, and burst out as soon as they were in Liza's office, it wasn't me! I didn't tell them!'

  'So who did?'

  'Joan ran into Pam and Gabi in the coffee shop across the street.'

  Liza closed her eyes, i see. I hope Pam hasn't told too many people.' She opened her eyes and groaned impatiently, i told her not to tell a living soul!'

  Maddie giggled suddenly. 'Perhaps Pam didn't think Joan counted?'

  Liza stared blankly. 'What?'

  'As a living soul!' said Maddie, then gently pointed out, 'This is a publicity campaign we're involved in, remember? I don't see why anyone should mind if word gets out that you're filming at Hartwell.'

  'Not filming—planning the locations for the first advertisement,' Liza said, but sighed. 'And you're right, of course. I'm being a little hysterical about this. I'm just nervous.'

  'About going to Hartwell?' Maddie looked at her with disbelief, 'I wouldn't have expected you to be nervous about anything. You're so cool, you always seem to have got it all together.'

  'Thanks,' Liza said, smiling at her. She couldn't explain to Maddie why she was so uptight about this visit to Hartwell. The palatial scale of the house didn't bother her; it wasn't Hartwell she found overpowering, it was the house's owner, the master of the whole estate. Whenever she remembered him as he'd seemed when they had first met she felt a surge of rage. He had looked so shabby, untidy, down to earth—that man she had felt at ease with; she had argued with him and been infuriated by him, but she hadn't been painfully on edge every time he came near her. Had he really cooked in the kitchen in her cottage? Liza found that hard to believe now.

  Keir Gifford was a bewildering man, though, and he was a very influential one. He could do her agency a lot of damage if he decided to! He could raise her rent for the office, or refuse to renew her lease at the end of the three-year term for which she had signed. He had a lot of friends, and even more acquaintances, who would be anxious to please him by being hostile to her once the word was out that he wanted her out of business. It would be so easy for a man with his pull. She would suddenly be ignored by advertising agencies, fashion houses, maga­zines—her models wouldn't get work, she could be ruined in a few months.

  What on earth's the matter with you? You're going mad, she thought impatiently. Why on earth should he do that? Pull yourself together.

  'Let's get some work done, shall we?' she said to Maddie, who was watching her with a worried little frown, as if Liza's face had been as ferocious as her thoughts.

  Liza dictated some letters and read through the report cards filed by the various people who had employed her girls the previous day. Any complaints were always dealt with at once, but this morning it was nothing but compliments, and Liza smiled more cheerfully as she gave the cards to Maddie to file. An agency depended on its reputation, and that was the basic reason why it alarmed her to have an enemy like Keir Gifford. He was powerful, he could do her a lot of harm.

  Why should he, though? she thought after Maddie had gone. Bruno was out of the picture, safely away from her in the States—why should Keir Gifford hound her now?

  A shiver ran down her spine. She knew why, he had said it bluntly. He wanted her, and a man like that was accustomed to getting what he wanted. He didn't like being told 'No'. He hadn't accepted it—or else why was he insisting that she visit Hartwell? Why had he turned up at that lunch with Nicky and Terry Lexington?

  He hadn't given up, nor would he go away. He was still in close pursuit, at her heels, and Liza's nerves were fraying at the edges, especially whenever she thought about spending a whole weekend at his country house. There would be others there, she comforted herself; she could stay close to Pam and Nicky, but even if she did she had the strong suspicion that Keir would find an opportunity of getting her alone, and she was afraid of what might happen if he did.

  Since she had come to London she had been armoured against men. Now and then she had met a man she found pleasant, a man she thought of as a friend, like Bruno. As long as a man didn't attract her strongly, as long as she wasn't tempted, she felt safe, but once her own sensual instincts were aroused she was terrified of losing control, and it was disturbing now to find herself spending so much time just sitting around thinking about Keir Gifford.

  She knew he attracted her; when he touched her she felt every pulse in her body going crazy, but he was light years out of her world, he was dangerous to her, she must forget him, keep him at bay.

  She ran her hands through her hair, groaning aloud. How could she forget him when he wouldn't leave her alone?

  He rang her on the Friday morning. When Maddie said reverently, it's Mr Gifford on the line!' Liza sat at her desk pulling faces for a second and Maddie said, 'Hello? Did you hear me?'

  Liza said that she had, her voice grating. 'Put him through,' she added, because what else was she to do? It would be childish to pretend she wasn't here, and anyway Maddie would start to wonder, to be curious; Liza didn't want that.

  His voice was deeper than she remembered; she felt a strange weakness inside her as she heard it, as if her insides had just turned to water.

  'How are you getting down to Hartwell?' he asked without preliminaries, and she was flustered, stammering.

  i—suppose by train.'

  'Is your model coming with you?'

  'Yes.' Maddie had made all the travel arrangements, as usual; Liza wasn't sure exactly what time the train was, but she knew it would be smoothly organised, Maddie would make sure of that. She would have a folder ready containing the tickets and anything else she might decide Liza needed—information about the destination, the name of the station and perhaps the telephone number of the hire-car firm who would meet the train and drive them to Hartwell. Liza didn't know all that; she didn't need to when she could rely so much on Maddie.

  'I'm taking my plane,' he said coolly. 'Why don't the two of you come with me instead? Much quicker.'

  Liza opened her mouth to refuse, but for some reason the words didn't come out the way she had intended.

  'Thank you,' was what she said, stupidly.

  He said in a brisk voice, 'I'll pick you up in the lobby at three-thirty, then,' and rang off.

  She put the phone down, staring at it in stupefaction. He didn't waste time, did he? She buzzed for Maddie, re­arranging the files on her desk in an absent-minded way.

  'Oh, Maddie, what arrangements did you make about picking Pam up? Is she coming here and what time?'

  Maddie whisked away to get the folder and laid it open in front of her. 'You're picking Pam up on the way to the station.'

  'F
rom Gabi's place?'

  'That's right. At three-forty-five. The train is four-lifteen; you should make it in plenty of time.' 'We aren't going by train—will you ring Pam and tell her to get to the office by three-fifteen, instead? Mr Gifford is taking us in his private jet.'

  Maddie looked suitably impressed. 'Golly!'

  'Shut your mouth, Maddie, and ring Pam,' Liza said drily.

  'Aren't you excited?' Maddie asked, but at Liza's impatient glance she left the office to ring Pam, Liza tried to concentrate on the work she had to get through before she left that weekend.

  Pam hadn't arrived by three-twenty and Maddie rang her again, but Gabi's number was engaged for the next five minutes. Maddie only got through just as Liza was about to go down to the lobby to meet Keir Gifford. She appeared in the doorway as Liza was checking her reflection.

  'She left rather late, but she should be here any minute,' Maddie said breathlessly.

  'Let's hope so,' Liza said with grim patience. 'Mr Gifford isn't the type to enjoy being kept waiting.'

  He was in the lobby when Liza stepped out of the lift and she tensed immediately she saw him. Keir watched her intently all the way across the marble floor between them; she felt like hitting him, because he knew he was making her nervous and it was amusing him.

  Lifting her head, she consciously walked with a sway; a model's trick, faintly arrogant, very cool. It erected a shield for her; kept him at a distance.

  'I'm sorry, I'm afraid Pam hasn't arrived yet. She may have been delayed in traffic, but she is on her way and I hope she won't be long.'

  He raised his brows and looked at his watch. 'We'll wait for a few minutes then." Turning, he beckoned to the doorman who shot over, all attention. 'We're going down to the car park. When Miss Jones arrives, send her down, will you?'

  'Why don't we wait for her here?' asked Liza as he took her arm to lead her back to the lift.

  He didn't answer and she frowned as they shot downwards, suddenly afraid that she was going to find herself alone with him in his car, but as she stepped out of the lift she saw a uniformed chauffeur straighten and step on a cigarette before springing to open the passenger door of a long, black limousine.

  'This is more comfortable than standing around in the lobby,' Keir said, sliding her into the rear seat and getting in beside her, and in one sense she had to admit he was right because the car was ultra-luxurious—the deep leather seats and air conditioning made it a very comfortable place to wait for Pam—but on the other hand Keir's presence was distinctly inhibiting.

  Keir had told the chauffeur to wait by the lifts for the third member of their party, so they were alone once the man had put Liza's suitcase into the enormous boot of the car. Keir hadn't had a case; perhaps his was already in the boot?

  'Will your family be at Hartwell this weekend?' she asked, smoothing down her straight blue linen skirt.

  'My mother and sister will be,' he said, watching her brief gesture before his narrowed eyes slid down her long, sleek legs. Liza was watching him, angrily vibrating at the cool way he assessed her, and yet even angrier to find herself noticing the way his black hair sprang back from his forehead in a widow's peak, the moulding of that hard mouth, the line of his throat rising from a stiff, white collar. His suit was pure Savile Row today; very formal, very elegant. She had a flash of memory: Keir in his shabby tweeds and muddy boots. There was a funny little ache inside her. Why hadn't he been what he seemed that day?

  He said softly, 'Missing Bruno?'

  'Yes,' she told him with defiance in her voice, and their eyes met; Keir's sharp, searching, Liza's veiled by deliberate refusal to show what she thought. She did miss Bruno; she had enjoyed the free and easy nature of their relationship, the total absence of sexual awareness, any sexual hassle. It had made life so much more fun not to be challenged or disturbed the way she was every time she saw Keir.

  'But you're not dating anyone else,' he said, his tone a cool statement. 'Who says?' she shrugged, tossing back her head. 'My detective.'

  Liza's mouth opened wide and she drew in air sharply. 'You're kidding!'

  He wasn't; he smiled.

  'You've still been having me watched?' She had to make sure this wasn't one of his elaborate jokes, although his face wasn't teasing. It was amused, though, so she couldn't be sure.

  'I'd put an agency on the job when I first heard about you and Bruno,' he told her calmly, i told you that. I had you checked out.'

  'I didn't realise you meant. . .' She was slowly getting angry. 'You've really had me followed about by some little sneak in a dirty raincoat or something?'

  'I've no idea who was doing the legwork,' he said and frowned as there was a purring sound in the car. Liza frowned, too, irritated by the distraction. 'Will you excuse me? That's the phone,' he said, and leaned forward. Liza had a start of surprise as she saw a telephone in his hand; where had that come from? With

  Alice-in-Wonderland disbelief she heard him speaking.

  'Hello? Yes? Oh, I see. When? See if you can get a better price, but if it looks as if it's climbing, buy immediately.' He firmly replaced the phone and said to Liza, 'The detective is off the job now, anyway—there's no need to get agitated.'

  'You come from another planet!' Liza burst out furiously. 'What earthly right do you think you have to spy on me, just because I've been seeing your nephew socially?'

  'Liza, you told me why you'd learnt to be wary of men,' Keir said flatly. 'Well, I have just as good reason for distrusting women. I told you we had more in common than you thought. Why do you think I've never married ?'

  'Why bother, when you can have all the fun without the wedding ring?' she said sourly and he eyed her with a sardonic smile.

  'Who told you that? Bruno? My God, I'm a busy company executive—I work a twelve-hour day and I don't have time for a mad social whirl. You could count the women that I've dated on the fingers of one hand; dated for any length of time, I mean. Over the years there have been some women I hoped might mean something, but sooner or later I've always found out that they weren't what I was looking for, or that they cared more for my money than me, or even that there was someone else hidden away, some guy ready to step out of the picture until his lady had safely netted me. Since I was a schoolboy I've met them all, all types of women, and not one of them ever really made me happy.'

  Liza listened soberly, watching the wry contours of his face as he talked, his mouth incisive, cynical. What Keir said didn't surprise her. She didn't doubt it, either. She could believe that he had been a target for some clever, ambitious, greedy women—a man as wealthy as Keir

  Gifford was bound to be!

  'So when I heard that Bruno had started seeing a '

  'Blonde ex-model,' Liza supplied and he grinned at

  her.

  'Exactly. When that news reached me, I rang the agency I use to check out my possible acquisitions and I told them to dig up everything they could on you.'

  She frowned, i want to see that file.'

  'One day,' he promised.

  'Now, at once!' Liza said in spitting rage, i want to destroy it, and I want you to promise to destroy all the copies—it makes me sick to think of a file like that sitting about in your computers, all the data on me, my private life, my personal records ...'

  'Most of them were on a computer tape before my agency started looking!' Keir's mouth was hard with impatience. 'These days we're all on file, Liza; from the minute we take our first breath—no, before that, while we're in the womb. Somewhere there is always a computer record of your every movement, and as the years go by it gets worse, your privacy shrinks and shrinks.'

  'You have a computer company, of course,' Liza said and he pulled a face.

  'Of course. They're money spinners, even now.'

  Liza looked at him with horror and alarm. 'You're a dangerous man, Mr Gifford. You're too powerful, you have too much money and too many tentacles; you can go anywhere, do anything. Someone like me has no chance against you, do I?'r />
  'I'm just a man, Liza.' His hand came out and touched her cheek—lightly, almost imperceptibly, with a delicate uncertainty, if you cut me, I bleed. If you shoot me, I may die. I'm flesh and blood, like you. I can be hurt, or be made happy.' His fingers caressed her skin and he watched her with blue, smouldering eyes. 'You can do that to me, Liza; hurt me or make me happy—so how powerful does that make you?'

  She laughed angrily, breathing very fast, because the touch of his hand was like a magnet to her blood; she felt it flowing hotly where he brushed her skin, and she was so tense she could hardly breath. She must not let him undermine her like this! He couldn't mean it; he was seducing her with that deep, husky voice, those hungry eyes.

  'I'm just an ordinary girl, Mr Gifford. I have no power.'

  'You are as ordinary as spring,' he murmured. 'As powerless as sunlight.' He ran his fingertips down her neck. 'And when I touch you, I burn,' he said, making her heart stop and a flare of wild panic light inside her. He was too close; he was getting to her.

  At that instant she heard the click of Pam's very high red heels on the concrete and she arrived, chattering, pink and breathless, seeming quite blind to the atmos­phere between the two in the limousine.

  'I'm sorry, I couldn't get a taxi and then it got stuck in a traffic jam and I was going spare, honest. I thought I'd never get here, I was leaning forward, yelling at the driver, and he yelled back at me and said what did I want him to do, get out and push it? I'm very sorry, Liza, Mr Gifford. I hope I haven't kept you waiting about too long—I mean, we haven't missed our plane, have we?'

  it will wait for us,' Keir said coolly as the limousine smoothly drove out of the underground car park.

  Pam stared, goggle-eyed. 'Ooh!' she said, deeply impressed. 'Will it really wait? I've never had a plane wait for me before.'

  Keir smiled at her indulgently. 'Well, today it will.'

  The plane was waiting on the runway; a small, private jet with very comfortable fittings. They took off at five o'clock and were in Somerset within an hour, landing at a private airfield just a few miles from Hartwell. Pam was chattering most of the way, but Liza hardly spoke. Pam was sympathetic, assuming she was airsick.