‘In that case perhaps you would prefer to wait and talk to one of the senior partners?’
‘I understood from your secretary that there is no one else available before Monday.’
‘I’m afraid there isn’t,’ she confirmed shortly.
He studied her heart-shaped face. She was quite lovely, he thought, with flawless skin, a short, straight nose, generous mouth, dark silky hair taken up into a neat coil, and almond eyes beneath winged brows the deep, purple-blue of pansies.
Eyes that at the moment were sparkling with anger.
It had been his intention to leave—his company’s new lawyer would be taking up her post in ten days’ time, and at a pinch his business could wait—but all at once he changed his mind.
This woman interested and intrigued him. As well as beauty, she had brains, character and spirit.
She also had a temper.
Deciding to test that temper a little more, he said, ‘I see.’ Glancing at her from beneath long, gold-tipped lashes, he added, ‘Well, if you think you can cope …?’
Forcing back an angry response, she said, ‘I can cope.’
‘Then the answer to your question is, no.’
She took a deep, steadying breath, before saying coolly, ‘Well, if you intend to stay, Mr Devereux, perhaps you’d like to sit down?’
Ignoring the chair, he came and sat on the edge of the desk, turning slightly to face her.
Suddenly he was much too close and instinctively she flinched away.
It was only the slightest movement, but he noticed it and looked amused.
This time she kept her cool, but her hand itched to throw something at him.
And he knew it, damn him. In fact the gleam in his eye gave her the distinct impression that he was enjoying needling her.
Before she could make any attempt to regain the initiative, he asked with smooth effrontery, ‘So after only a year, and young as you are, you’ve been offered a partnership? You must be exceptionally clever and talented.’
A flush rising in her cheeks, she said tightly, ‘I don’t claim to be either of those, Mr Devereux. But I graduated from one of the top English law schools with honours, and while I’ve been with the firm I’ve kept studying and learning.’
Her voice as dispassionate as she could make it, she went on, ‘If you knew my father and my uncle at all well, you would know that they have no time for nepotism. Any advancement in this firm has to be earned by hard work and competence.’
Yes, she certainly had a temper, but she knew how to control it, he thought admiringly.
Deciding to change tactics, he slid off the desk and turned to face her in one fluid movement.
When green eyes met deep blue, he said simply, ‘I apologize. While I believe I have every right to be angry, I shouldn’t have vented it on you.’
She wanted to say, no you shouldn’t. Instead, the wind taken out of her sails, she said inanely, ‘That’s all right.’
‘Forgive me?’
‘Of course.’
He gave her a smile that lit his eyes, put creases beside his mouth and sent his already powerful sex appeal soaring. ‘And you’re not still angry with me?’
That smile robbed her of breath and, unable to speak, she shook her head.
‘Positive?’
‘Yes, I’m positive,’ she managed.
His gaze dropped to her hands which were long and slim with neat oval nails, mercifully free from the dark-coloured varnishes he so disliked.
Pleased that she appeared to be neither married nor engaged, he asked, ‘Are you doing anything tonight?’
Taken by surprise, she echoed, ‘Doing anything?’
‘I mean do you have a date with a boyfriend, or a live-in lover waiting impatiently at home for you?’
‘Neither.’
‘Why not? A beautiful woman like you.’
‘For the last five years I’ve been working so hard I’ve had no time for boyfriends or live-in lovers,’ she told him pointedly.
Suddenly human and likeable, he pulled a droll face. ‘I suppose I asked for that.’
‘You did, rather.’
‘Well, now you’ve cut me down to size, how about having dinner with me tonight?’
Feeling a strange pang of regret, she said, ‘I’m afraid I can’t. I’m driving down to Catona tonight to start my vacation.’
‘Are you meeting someone there?’
‘I’m staying with a friend.’
‘Oh?’ He raised a questioning brow.
For no good reason, she found herself explaining, ‘Sam’s an old school friend.’
‘Male or female?’
‘Female.’
‘I see.’ He looked satisfied. ‘What time is she expecting you?’
‘No particular time. Whenever I get there.’
‘Well Catona’s only a couple of hours away at the most. You could always have dinner with me first. After all, you’ll need to eat some time,’ he pointed out persuasively.
As Caris hesitated, he added, ‘If you don’t say yes, I’ll know you haven’t forgiven me.’
‘But I have forgiven you.’
He smiled into her eyes. ‘Then tell me where you live and I’ll pick you up at … shall we say seven?’
Without intending to, Caris found herself telling him, ‘I live in Apartment One-A, Lampton House, Darlington Square.’
She was about to explain how to find it when he said cheerfully, ‘I know Darlington Square. I have a small apartment quite near there.
‘Until seven, then.’ He sketched a brief salute and was gone.
She must be stark, staring mad! she thought, gazing after him. Pressure of work had meant burning the midnight oil for the past couple of weeks, and she had intended to get to Catona in time to have an early night tonight.
So what on earth had made her agree to go out with a man she had only just met, and whose first name she didn’t even know? A man who had proved he could be not only difficult but downright demoralizing? A man she had felt instinctively was dangerous?
The truth was she had found him damn-nigh irresistible, and that element of danger added a dash of excitement and spice that had been sadly missing from her life.
When her doorbell rang promptly at seven, Caris was ready and organized, her evening bag and jacket to hand, her small vacation case and holdall packed and waiting to be put into her car later.
With no idea where he intended to take her, she had been undecided what to wear. In the end, having little else because she so rarely went out, she had put on her one and only cocktail dress, a silky sheath in midnight blue with matching high-heeled strappy sandals.
Needing little in the way of make-up, she had applied a light foundation and a touch of lip gloss, taken her hair up into an elegant chignon and fastened pearl drops to her small lobes.
As she opened the door she wondered if he would approve. She very much hoped so.
His gaze travelled over her slowly and appreciatively. Now she had shed the formal business suit, he could see that, as well as a lovely face, this woman had a stunning figure.
Seeing the open admiration in his eyes Caris was satisfied that he liked what he saw.
Knowing now how attractive he was, she had thought herself prepared, and hadn’t expected to be bowled over by the sight of him. But, looking more handsome than ever in an immaculate dinner jacket and black tie, he made her heart lurch crazily.
Taking a deep breath, she invited, ‘If you’d like to come in for a moment, Mr Devereux …?’
‘Won’t you call me Zander? Everyone else does.’
‘Zander?’ she echoed uncertainly.
‘A mistake on my birth certificate,’ he explained with a twinkle in his eye. ‘My parents had intended to call me Alexander, but somehow Zander went down and the name stuck.’
Following her into the light, pleasantly furnished living-room, he remarked with a smile, ‘A nice place. Do you live here alone?’
‘No, I share. But
Mitch is on vacation in Rome and won’t be back for another week.’
‘Mitch?’
‘Diana Mitchell, but everyone calls her Mitch.’
Then, recalling the time, Caris added hastily, ‘I’m all ready. I just need pick up my jacket and bag.’
‘It’s a pleasure to find a woman who’s prompt as well as beautiful.’
His words sent a little thrill of excitement running through her. But, knowing it was necessary to keep her feet firmly on the ground, she observed practically, ‘I need to be prompt. I’m hoping to be back here in time to put my luggage in the car and get down to Catona this side of midnight.’
Glancing at the waiting case and holdall, he asked thoughtfully, ‘Will you be doing much driving while you’re there?’
She shook her head. ‘None at all, I imagine. First thing tomorrow morning, Sam and I will be joining a small group of hikers who’ll be doing a five-day trek along the Rowton Way. But I need my car to get to Catona and back.’
‘If that’s all, I’ve a suggestion to make. The restaurant I’m planning to take you to is well on the way to Catona.’
Feeling suddenly breathless, she waited, wondering what was coming.
‘So, if we take your luggage with us, after we’ve eaten instead of bringing you back here I could drive you down to your friend’s. That would save a good deal of time.’
‘Oh, but …’
‘It would give us the chance to be together longer and have a more leisurely meal.’
The chance to be together longer …
Her heart doing strange things, she pointed out, ‘But then I wouldn’t have a car to get back.’
‘My house is only about twelve miles from Catona, so if you let me know when your vacation’s over I could quite easily pick you up.’
‘I couldn’t possibly put you to all that trouble,’ she protested.
‘It’s no trouble. If it had been I wouldn’t have suggested it.’ Briskly, he added, ‘Is this all the luggage you have?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is there anything else you need to do before we go?’
Common sense told her she ought to dig her toes in and refuse to be hustled but, looking into those green eyes, she was lost.
‘Nothing else,’ she answered.
He put her jacket around her shoulders and handed her her bag, before picking up her case and holdall. ‘Then let’s get started.’
Feeling as if she was being swept along by a prairie wind, Caris allowed herself to be escorted out to a sleek silver sports car that waited by the kerb.
When her luggage had been stowed in the back and she had been helped into the passenger seat, Zander slid behind the wheel. ‘All set?’
She nodded.
The engine purred like a satisfied cat; they traversed the quiet square and joined the busy evening stream of traffic.
Some five minutes later they had left the outskirts of the city behind them and were heading roughly south-west.
Seeing the wooded peaks of the Catskills in the distance, she asked, ‘Where exactly are we going?’
‘The restaurant is called Le Jardin Romarin. It’s rather a special place, and they have an excellent French chef.’
‘How far is it?’
‘Not too far. It’s near the mountains, on the outskirts of a pretty little village called Bright Angel Falls.’
‘Oh, we once drove through Bright Angel Falls!’ she exclaimed. ‘I remembered it because it was such a lovely name.’
‘Do you know the area well?’
‘Not very well. But my father took me that way once or twice when I was younger, and I always thought it was really picturesque.’
‘So it is,’ he agreed. ‘That’s why I chose to buy a house in that area.’
If he had a house, as well as an apartment in town and a luxury car, he must be a relatively wealthy man; the way he dressed seemed to confirm that.
But, even if he hadn’t had a cent, with his looks and charisma it was a wonder he was still free.
They were following a quiet, spruce-lined road when he broke into her thoughts to remark, ‘We’ll soon be at the bridge that spans the Bright Angel Gorge. If you look to your left, you’ll get a good view of the falls. They’re quite spectacular.’
When they dropped down an incline, Caris saw the bridge ahead of them, and on the opposite side a small parking area from which a short but steep and narrow flight of rocky steps led down to a viewpoint guarded by a chest-high railing.
As they crossed the bridge, she glanced left, as she had been bidden. A series of delicate waterfalls, looking like skeins of bright spun silk, plummeted gracefully into the rocky depths; lit by the rays of the sinking sun, a rainbow arched in the air, forming a multicoloured halo.
Her first thought was that he had been right to call them spectacular. In fact even that adjective seemed to be something of an understatement.
When he glanced at her, as if trying to judge her reaction, she said a little huskily, ‘They’re magnificent. Absolutely magnificent.’
‘So is the gorge itself. But it’s so deep you can only see it properly by going down to the viewpoint.’
‘Could we do that? Have we time?’
‘If you want to go down, we’ll make time.’ As he spoke, he was drawing into the car park.
Having helped her from the car, he warned, ‘Better let me go first. Some of the steps are worn and uneven, and could be tricky with those high heels.’ Carefully, she followed him down and, standing by the railings, looked over into the gorge.
The tumbled rocks and surging white water far below took her breath away, and she was still gazing in wonder when her companion reminded her, ‘If you want to get down to Catona tonight we’d better be moving.’
The awesome scene still filling her mind, she held on to the metal handrail and began to climb back up the steps, Zander at her heels.
She had almost reached the top when she missed her footing and slipped off a step.
Her companion stopped her falling and held her steady until she’d had time to gather herself, before asking, ‘Any damage done?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ she answered.
But when she tried to climb the remaining steps she couldn’t prevent a gasp of pain.
‘What is it?’
Reluctantly, she admitted, ‘I’m afraid I’ve twisted my ankle.’
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‘HOLD on,’ he instructed, and squeezed past her. ‘Now then, put your free arm around my neck.’
She obeyed and, lifting her clear of the steps, he swung her up into his arms.
Though he was no stranger to women, he was unprepared for how the weight of her slim yet curvaceous body lying against his set his heart beating faster.
For her part, Caris felt distinctly awkward. Being carried was an unfamiliar sensation for a woman of five feet seven who weighed a hundred and thirty pounds and she was pleased they had the place to themselves so there was no one to stare.
After a moment or two the awkwardness passed. He bore her weight with such ease that by the time they reached the car she was starting to feel safe, protected and feminine, and to quite like the novel experience.
When she was settled on the front passenger seat, he crouched to pull off her sandal and examine her left ankle and foot. As his long fingers probed, she couldn’t prevent a wince.
He glanced up sharply.
‘It’s all right,’ she assured him.
His examination over, he reported, ‘There doesn’t seem to be anything broken, but it’s started to swell already, and it’s my guess that you have quite a nasty sprain.’
Then, his tone vexed, ‘I’m an absolute fool! I should have had more sense than take you down there in those heels.’
‘It isn’t your fault,’ she assured him quickly. ‘I should have had more sense than go down. But I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. A
nd it’s really not too painful.’
As she moved her foot experimentally, a stab of agony made her gasp, giving the lie to her words.
‘Take your stocking off,’ he instructed. ‘I’ve a first-aid box in the trunk.’
While he was gone, on the grounds that it was better to have bare legs than be odd, she took off both her stockings and put them in her purse.
He returned after a moment or two with the box and, having applied an analgesic spray and a crepe bandage, asked, ‘How does it feel now?’
‘Much better, thank you,’ she replied cheerfully as she slipped her sandals back on and swung her legs into the car.
‘That’s good. Though I doubt if you’ll be doing much serious walking for a few days.’
‘Oh Lord!’ In the excitement of the moment, she had given scant thought to her vacation.
‘I suppose I ought to warn Sam that I may not be able to join the group. But I don’t want to disappoint her unless I’m forced to.’
‘Then why not wait until we get to the restaurant?’ Zander suggested. ‘If you leave it for a while you may have a better idea of just how much of a problem the ankle’s going to be.’
‘You’re right, of course.’
When he had slammed the car door, he replaced the first-aid box and got behind the wheel.
As he drove, his thoughts were busy. It was odds on that her ankle would prevent her from joining a trekking party, but would she still want to join her friend in Catona?
He rather hoped not. Past experience told him she was already attracted to him, and he couldn’t wait to get her into bed.
With a lot of women it would have been easy—too easy, in fact. Most of them had been so over-eager he’d soon become bored and only too keen to bring things to an end.
But already he felt certain that this woman was different. Rather than being the worldly, extrovert, anything-goes type, she was quiet and self-contained and, beneath what he guessed was normally a cool, composed exterior, maybe even a little shy.
Suddenly he was looking forward to finding out, filled with anticipation at the thought of getting to know her a whole lot better. Of holding her in his arms and making love to her.
Smiling wryly to himself, he realized he hadn’t felt this interested and eager since he had been a lanky seventeen-year-old and really enamoured of the pretty girl who lived across the way.
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