by Susan Napier
Heat flushed through Jane's veins as she guiltily realised how far her mind had wandered. Steel doors slammed shut on the forbidden thoughts and she jerked back in her seat, horrified to realise how close her face had drifted to his during their whispered conversation.
What had he been saying? Something about her being sociable to his other guest. Was he suggesting that she act as his hostess for the evening? The idea was so bizarre that she shivered.
'Are you cold?' He laid a finger against her bare upper arm, and again the brief physical contact had a mind clouding effect. Jane's mouth went dry; as she looked down she saw the fine hairs rise on her skin, all the way down to her wrist. Fear. It had to be fear creating this smothering, debilitating awareness of his physical strength, his power.
It was Dan Miller who answered, with the hearty boom that seemed to be his natural mode of expression. 'Cold? I know just the way to warm you up. How about tripping the light fantastic with me? That dance floor is looking awfully lonesome with nobody on it!' He grabbed Jane's left wrist and pulled her to her feet, the jolting reminder of her injury helping to startle the automatic protest out of her mouth.
'Really, I don't think-'
'Oh, go on, Jane. I don't mind being abandoned to my own devices, and you know how much you enjoy dancing,' Ryan interposed lazily as she floundered for a tactful form of excuse. 'If I get bored over here by myself I can always come over and cut in,' he added to her dismay, and Dan laughed.
'No chance, mate!' he said, tugging Jane in his wake. 'It's your own fault for not evening up the numbers. Find your own dancing partner; I've staked my claim on this one!'
Glancing back over her shoulder, Jane saw Ryan was wearing a complacent smile of satisfaction, his half-closed eyes glittering as he watched them thread their way through the tables to the small, fan-shaped polished wooden dance-floor.
Although he was a competent enough dancer, light on his feet in spite of his stocky build, Jane found that Dan's ebullience made even a sedate waltz a challenge as he constantly sought to out-perform his own ability. On the turns he added extra steps, flourishes and dips that forced her off balance, forcing her to maintain a tight grip with her left hand that made her sore fingers feel as if they were trapped in a wringer.
Perspiration filmed her body as she mindlessly followed Dan's eccentric moves, fighting to block out the increasing pain by concentrating all her attention on his sprightly conversation. She discovered that he was staying at the hotel, he was in his early fifties and acrimoniously divorced. He chuckled over the fact that Jane was a full head taller than he was, and joked that he always felt safe in the arms of a well-built woman.
If he hadn't been hurting her she might have been amused by his heavy-handed gallantries, but as it was she merely pinned a vacuous smile to her face and endured, relieved when the set ended after the second dance and her cramped fingers could relax.
Ryan made no attempt to disguise his interest in her body as they returned to the table, his big frame lounging in his chair, his eyes studying her over the top of his glass as she walked towards him, rising slowly from her legs to the sway of her hips, to the shimmering fabric tautly encasing her generous breasts. He had got over his initial surprise at her attire, it seemed, and was now intent on a more intimate inventory.
Angry adrenalin coursed through her veins as Jane realised she was being mentally stripped by a connoisseur. She wasn't going to let him undermine her confidence in herself as a woman as well as her ability to run a company. Shoulders back, her hair flaring around them, she flaunted her last few steps with a defiance that made his eyes narrow and his chin lift sharply, the way it had when she had clipped it with her fist. As it had then, a hot wildness trembled in the air between them. Then he smiled, and Jane's skin tightened at the benign pleasantness that prowled across the primitive features.
Ryan Blair benign? Mild and gentle? She didn't think so!
As they sat down the waiter came to take their orders and Jane, who had arrived with the intention of taking full advantage of a free meal, found herself scanning the menu with a total lack of appetite. She had a feeling that if she tried to put anything deliciously rich or spicy into her tense stomach it wouldn't stay there long. In the end she chose a salad starter, with grilled fish as her main course.
'No need to stint yourself on my behalf, Jane,' Ryan said drily, in a tone that implied she was trying to impress him with the economy of her choice. 'I can afford to indulge your taste for luxury - you're not going to spend the rest of the night washing dishes in the kitchen.'
'I should say not! We have better things to do, don't we, honey?' Dan gave her an incomprehensible wink of complicity. 'Not dieting, are you, Jane? No need to with a sexy figure like yours.'
His crude flattery didn't soothe away the sting of Ryan's words. 'No, just selective,' she said, directing a blue glare at her tormentor that made him smile sardonically.
Her right shoulder kicked up and she half turned so that her hair swung forward, obscuring her face from his line of vision, attempting to ignore his taunting politeness by pretending a fascination .she didn't feel for Dan's brash tales of his own numerous exploits.
To her surprise Ryan made no attempt to interrupt, allowing Dan to dominate the conversation and Jane to get away with her studied rudeness. Unfortunately she paid a painful price, for Dan liked to touch as he talked and whenever her left hand was idle he would cover it with his own, playing with her fingers, squeezing to emphasise the punch-lines of his jokes.
Twice more he rousted her onto the dance-floor. After the second occasion Jane excused herself and, staring at her brittle face in the powder room mirror, knew that it was time to admit defeat-she wasn't going to be able to get through the evening without some chemical assistance. Her hand was throbbing unbearably, and the two glasses of wine she had hoped would have an anaesthetising effect had made her head begin to pound.
She was not going to give in now, dammit! Ryan had offered a reward and she was going to hang in there until she could demand her due: a moratorium on his revenge.
She dug into her drawstring bag for the painkiller the clinic doctor had prescribed and dry-swallowed the small, innocuous-looking capsule. After a moment's pause she took another, reasoning that a double dose would be twice as fast and effective and last twice as long. She wasn't intending to drive or operate machinery, and who knew when this interminable evening would end? She lingered on as long as she dared in the fashionable marble cavern, reapplying her war paint and brushing her hair, mentally girding herself for a fresh round of bruising social courtesies.
The pills provided a euphoric buzz rather than the deadening numbness that Jane had expected, and, without the pain clouding her perceptions, she suddenly became aware of the thinly veiled malice with which Ryan was watching her try to fend off Dan's increasing over-familiarity. It struck her forcibly that he had deliberately needled her before Dan's unexpected arrival, guessing that her knee-jerk reaction would be an attempt to crunch Ryan's ego by cold-shouldering him in favour of the brash Australian.
She tried a polite yawn and a tentative comment on the lateness of the hour.
Ryan shot back his cuff to expose the stark Roman numerals on his watch and observed blandly, 'Mmm, all good girls are certainly tucked away in their cosy little beds by now...'
'Are you implying I'm not one of them?' Jane challenged, her blue eyes turbulent with repressed aggression.
Dan chuckled, his thigh drifting suggestively against hers under the table. 'Are you kidding? You wouldn't be here if Ry didn't think you were very, very good. He told me you were class, honey, real class-and he was right!' As he groped for her hand she hurriedly wrapped it around her water-glass, and he was forced to settle for patting her knee with a moist palm.
'Oh, really, what else did he tell you about me?' Jane swiftly jerked her leg away as his touch threatened to wander, a slimy suspicion slithering around in the murky depths
of her imagination.
'Well, honey, if you really want to know ... why don't we go up to your room and discuss it over a nice nightcap?' Dan's slightly bloodshot brown eyes crinkled in a friendly leer that gave Jane goose-bumps. She knew what sort of nightcap he had in mind and it wasn't the alcoholic kind! Before she could summon the words to adequately voice her outrage he suddenly spotted an acquaintance at a distant table and jumped to his feet.
'Hey, Tom!' He gestured expansively with his brandy glass, his voice booming across the elegant room. 'Fancy seeing you here. How are you, old mate?' He dropped his voice and clapped Jane on her slender shoulder, his pudgy fingers curving possessively over her bare skin.
'Gotta have a little chat to Tom-be back in a tick, honey. Why don't you settle up in the meantime, Ry? Then Jane and I can toddle off and do our own thing. Thanks for fixing it up--I'd ask you to join us for our nightcap but you know what they say ... three's company and all that!'
As soon as he was out of earshot Jane leaned forward, her eyes aflame under furious black brows as she fired her suspicions point-blank at her target.
'What exactly is it that you're supposed to have "fixed up" for him?' she demanded savagely. 'What makes him think I would go anywhere with him? And how did he get the impression that I'm staying here?'
Ryan slid a flat hand towards her over the heavy white tablecloth. He lifted it to reveal a plastic key-card embossed with the Lakepoint logo. 'Perhaps because you are. In room 703, to be precise.'
'What are you talking about?' Jane whispered, staring at the key as if it were a grenade primed to explode in her face.
'Well, since he thinks you're so classy you can hardly take him back to your sleazy flea-pit,' he said contemptuously. 'And in view of his divorce proceedings he can't risk taking you to his room. Anyway, I thought you'd appreciate being able to conduct business on your own piece of turf, albeit a temporary one. This way you don't have to check in or out, and when your "discussion" with Dan is concluded to his satisfaction you can simply discreetly disappear.'
The key blurred as a mist of red descended across her vision, a thick, suffocating blanket of rage and soul shattering disappointment.
'So this is your so-called business proposition?' she choked, almost shaking with the fury of her emotions. 'You want me to sleep with Dan as a favour to you, to sweeten some deal you have going with him? And what do I get out of it?' she spat sarcastically. 'Your gratitude and goodwill? Your agreement to stop hounding me?'
'Oh, I had a far more professional arrangement in mind,' he interrupted silkily, stroking the scar on his lip. 'I did promise you a generous reward for your cooperation, didn't I, Jane? And I always keep my promises...'
He reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a folded piece of paper with his fingertips. Holding her eyes with his, he once again slid his hand towards her with a taunting slowness. This time, when he removed it, a cheque lay on the starched tablecloth between them. A bank cheque, Jane noticed in a single, sweeping glance. Her spine stiffened.
'Money?' Her voice dripped with disdain as she snatched it up to flaunt her scorn at his transparent attempt to humiliate her. 'You expect me to prostitute myself for the sake of-' Her eyes fell upon the amount and her icy tone cracked in disbelief at the number of zeros. 'F-for ten thousand dollars?'
His cobalt gaze glowed with an unholy light as he greedily drank in the disintegration of her haughty mask, his dark, slashing features acquiring the recklessness of a devil incarnate as he purred seductively, 'Tempting, isn't it, Jane? Just think-you could earn more in one night than you ever did in a month, that's if being a high-priced whore doesn't go against your precious Sherwood principles!'
CHAPTER FIVE
JANE wanted to launch herself across the table and scratch his eyes out. She wanted to kick and bite and scream bitter invective that would condemn him to everyone within hearing as a vile and despicable monster.
The only thing that stopped her was the certainty that that was how he expected her to react. His stillness gave him away; it was that particular straining stillness of a predator gathering himself for the kill.
She could feel him willing her to lose control. He wanted her to throw a screaming, hysterical fit, to create another humiliating public scene that would set the seal on her already soiled reputation.
'What's the matter, Jane?' he goaded softly. 'Isn't it enough?'
They both knew it was too much-far too much. Jane would have been able to shrug off the obvious insult of a few dollars with a disdainful laugh, but this kind of serious money was enough to give anyone pause, let alone a woman who was drowning in debt. All she had to do was sacrifice her pride, her self-respect...
Never!
And he knew it! He knew that she would fling his degrading suggestion back in his teeth!
A dangerous cocktail of alcohol and drugs spiked with anger swirled stormily through Jane's veins. Colour streaked along her cheekbones, adding a fiery animation to her features as she lifted her chin and stabbed him with a poison-tipped glare.
'You think I'd fall for a con like this? What's to stop you cancelling the cheque tomorrow-if you haven't already?'
She might have known he would provide no such easy escape from temptation. 'As you can see, it's a bank cheque, not one of my own…it' s as good as cash in your hand.'
'A great deal of cash for a single transaction.' She was proud of the fact that her voice didn't falter.
'Don't you consider yourself worth it?' he asked silkily.
'Every cent,' she said, folding the cheque and meticulously creasing the edge before folding it again.
'Consider it in the light of a retainer.' His deep voice was taut with anticipation as his hooded eyes feasted on the jerky movements of her gloved fingers, waiting for her to contemptuously tear the folded square into tiny pieces. 'Naturally I'll expect to command your exclusive services. I have numerous overseas clients who like to be entertained in style while they're in town, men who prefer a more intelligent, sophisticated companion than is usually supplied by the local escort agencies ... '
Jane's fingers tightened involuntarily on the cheque and she saw the infinitesimal muscular shift in Ryan's body as he braced himself for an explosion.
Instead, she tapped the slim column of paper against her lips, then smiled sweetly as she trailed it down her throat and tucked it into the scooped neck of her dress, where it nestled securely in the lacy cleavage of her bra. Then she put her elbows on the table and leaned forward to enjoy the fruits of her pre-emptive strike, laughing huskily into the congealing triumph on Ryan Blair's face.
'Why, thank you, Ryan, the money will definitely come in handy ... but I hope you don't mind if I think over that exclusivity clause? I don't like to close down my options before I thoroughly investigate the market.'
For a moment he didn't move, then the full realisation that she was calling his cruel bluff detonated in his consciousness.
'You don't mean that,' he said hoarsely, his eyes lowering to the spot where the cheque had disappeared.
'Don't I?' She flipped her hair back over her shoulder with a carelessly provocative gesture, fired with a wild glee. He was about to find out that she could bluff as well as he-and better! 'Why not? I'm desperate and, as you pointed out, desperate people take risks that they normally wouldn't even consider taking...'
His black-browed scowl betrayed his thwarted frustration. Muscles flickered in his hard jaw and she could almost hear his teeth grinding. Oh, yes, revenge was indeed sweet! thought Jane dizzily. No wonder Ryan had pursued it with such relentless fervour ...
'What happened to the famed Sherwood pride?' he sneered. 'What would Daddy say if he knew his little girl was doing business on her back?'
Jane wondered why his insults persistently nagged on the paternal theme. Did he imagine he was trampling on sacred memories? She had no illusions about her father's business morality-and, far from being his protected 'little girl', sh
e had been toughened fast and early by his insensitivity and rigid expectations. He had seen nothing wrong with accepting dates on Jane's behalf from men whom he shrewdly judged might be useful to him, which made Ryan's choice of humiliation rather ironic.
Maybe his taunts were more revealing of the vulnerabilities in his own background!
'I wonder what your father would say if he knew you'd turned into a pimp!' she flashed back.
Dark colour flooded his hard face. 'My father was killed twenty years ago,' he grated.
Curious at the lingering intensity of grief in his voice, Jane felt a pang of shame. 'I'm sorry...was it an accident?'
'No.' His denial held a wealth of repressed anger that sent a prickle down her spine.
'He was murdered?' She was jolted by the idea of anyone daring to deprive Ryan Blair of anything that was rightfully his. He would have been at a vulnerable age for a boy-just entering his teens. It was difficult to visualise him as a child but she imagined he had been aggressive even then, a dark, intense little boy with a fiercely possessive streak.
Jane's hand crept unconsciously to her breast, flattening over the small, prickly piece of paper that now felt the size and weight of a boulder. 'I'm sorry,' she repeated nervously as the silence stretched. 'It must have been a difficult time for you.'
Ryan's raw laugh of contempt made her regret her momentary display of compassion. Like her father, he obviously viewed it as a weakness to be turned against her.
'Still, maybe it explains what a bastard you turned out to be,' she rallied spitefully. 'Your mother obviously couldn't teach you any manners. I bet you were a hellion as a teenager.'
He bared his teeth. 'I still am, sweetheart. And let's leave my mother out of this ... she's no part of our fight.' Fortunately by this time Jane was feeling no pain whatsoever, and she was able to ignore the pressure on . her injury and bat her long, mascaraed eyelashes at him, her eyes bright with reckless exhilaration.