by Penny Jordan
‘Is this how you entrapped him? With the lure of your body and your pseudo-innocence? Oh God, I…’
The savage disgust in his voice hurt. Susannah wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that this was something she had never shared with any other man and never would, and then reality struck her, starkly and inescapably. What was she doing?
She took advantage of his momentary relaxation to push him away.
He released her, and then cursed as she sprang off the chesterfield, tugging her dress on, her eyes glittering with green fire.
‘Don’t you dare come anywhere near me! Don’t touch me.’ Her voice shook, but she was back in control of herself now. ‘I don’t know who you are, or what you think you’re doing… I don’t know what you think gives you the right to—question me!’
‘Don’t you?’ His voice was flat and derisive. ‘Odd, I could have sworn that not so very long ago you knew exactly what it was.’
The way his glance lingered on her breasts made his meaning all too clear. Before she left this room, she had to convince him that he meant nothing to her. Nothing at all. Her pride demanded it. What had happened was too demeaning—so shocking. She moved and winced as her stimulated breasts thrust demandingly against the constraining fabric of her dress, her awareness of her own arousal increasing her humiliation. How could she ever have allowed herself to be caught in such a situation, and with a complete stranger?
‘Oh, that,’ she told him coolly, striving for detachment and self-control. ‘Please don’t take it personally. It’s been rather a long time since I was last—with my lover.’
She shrugged, triumph buoying her up as she caught the fierce glitter of anger darkening his eyes, knowing that he wanted to reject what she was saying. She was hurting his pride and she was glad, fiercely glad.
‘Men don’t have the monopoly on sexual frustration, you know,’ she told him.
‘You…’ He lunged towards her, but as she backed off he stopped, his face contorting with savage bitterness. ‘You wanted me,’ he told her flatly.
‘No,’ she corrected him acidly, ‘I wanted a man…any man, if you want me to be totally honest.’ Her eyebrows lifted as she viewed his bitter, dark face. ‘Oh, come on. You look like a sophisticated man. Surely you didn’t think I was overcome with passion for you?’
He looked as though he wanted to kill her, thought Susannah, torn between exultation and stark, terrifying fear. What on earth had she done? What on earth was she going to do if he refused to believe her? But no, he was turning on his heel and walking towards the door.
At the door, he stopped and turned to look at her.
‘With luck, you and I will never meet again,’ she told him sweetly.
‘Don’t be too sure.’
A threat? But why? He couldn’t want to see her again. Shrugging slightly, she waited until she was sure he had gone and then hurried up to her room.
One look in her mirror told her that she had made a wise decision. Her lips, bare of lip gloss, still looked swollen from his kiss. Her eyes glittered with febrile arousal, and her breasts—Guiltily, she stared down at where they strained against her dress, her nipples hard and erect. She touched them, covering them with trembling hands, as though to protect herself from harm.
Weak with shock and reaction, she collapsed on to her bed. What on earth had got into her? Thank God she would never see him again. Thank goodness, he had believed her claim that she had used him as a substitute for her lover, but that had only been in the shock of the moment, when his brain had been confused by the arousal of his body. Later, when he had time to think…to question… Shaking her head, she got up again. She couldn’t stay up here. If she did, Mamie would come up, wanting to know what was wrong. She would have to go back down.
She was half-way across the hall when she bumped into Paul, walking the other way.
‘Ah, there you are! Ma has just sent me to look for you.’
Susannah let him take her arm. Several people were milling about around the entrance to the marquee but, when Paul stopped, her glance went instinctively to the tall, dark-haired man with his back to her. Her heart started pumping frantically, her body shaking.
‘Good, there’s Hazard. He made it, after all. I’d better introduce him to Ma and Pop.’
‘Hazard?’ Susannah queried faintly.
‘Yes. Hazard Maine. He and I both did a stint in Sydney. I met him a few months ago, and then we bumped into one another on the Qantas flight coming over. He’s taking up a new post in this country and he’s at a bit of a loose end. He was at school over here, apparently. He’s lost touch with people since, and so I invited him here.’
‘Where…where is he?’
‘Over there.’
She stared, dumbstruck, at the dark head he was pointing out to her, and an appalling awareness of what she had done swept over her. The man who had accused her of having a married lover, the man she had let caress and arouse her in a way that no man had ever done, the man she had quite deliberately allowed to believe she was the very worst kind of hardened tramp, was Hazard Maine. Paul’s friend…her new boss!
She made a small, inarticulate little sound of despair in her throat.
‘Something wrong?’
‘Paul…I…I have to go and talk to Richard,’ she invented. ‘I’ve just remembered something I should have told him.’
‘Richard?’ Paul called queryingly after her, but she was already disappearing into the crowd, and so he shrugged his shoulders and went on alone.
Hazard Maine! How could fate have tricked her so cruelly? Why had she not had any intuitive warning? Not even his accent had betrayed him. She had never imagined—never dreamed… She wondered frantically whether it was possible to change her whole appearance before Monday, whether she could somehow make herself unrecognisable. Then logic intruded, and she squared her shoulders.
There was nothing he could do. He could hardly sack her because she had allowed him a few physical intimacies, or because she had implied that she was simply using him to satisfy a need aroused by another man. No, he could hardly sack her for that, not without making himself look a fool, and Hazard Maine had not struck her as the type of man who welcomed being made to look a fool.
No, like her, he would just have to accept their working relationship.
And yet, reassure herself as she might, nothing could completely dispel her fear. It was too late now to regret her folly. And Aunt Emily hadn’t brought her up to run away from life’s problems. Besides, where could she run to? No, she would just have to brazen it out.
Brazen… She couldn’t have chosen a more appropriate word, Susannah thought despairingly, remembering the taunting challenge she had flung in Hazard’s face.
CHAPTER THREE
‘COME ON, SUSANNAH. It’s lunch time.’
Abruptly, Susannah came out of her reverie. All weekend, the awful coincidence of Paul knowing Hazard Maine and, worse still, of him inviting him to his parents’ party, had preyed on her mind.
She had been right to dread meeting him again. It had lived up to her worst expectations. She had had to sit there in the full glare of his contempt, inwardly writhing with humiliation, while outwardly trying to appear calm and unmoved.
‘Lizzie, I honestly don’t think I want any lunch today.’
There was a moment’s silence, and then the other girl said shrewdly, ‘Why? Because Hazard singled you out at this morning’s briefing? Don’t be an idiot. If you don’t turn up at the wine bar, the others are bound to guess why. This business isn’t exactly running over with the milk of human kindness. I sometimes think that compassion is something that ceases to exist the moment anyone starts working in the media. If you miss out this lunch time, they’re all going to guess why.’
Lizzie was right, of course. But it was her fierce outburst that caught Susannah’s attention, more than what she had actually said. Lizzie had already been working as Richard’s secretary when she herself had arrived. Normally, she was so q
uiet and placid, the kind of girl who preferred to keep herself very much to herself, and as she was not on the editorial staff in a reporting capacity she normally held aloof from any wrangles that broke out. And then Susannah remembered hearing that Lizzie’s ex-husband had been a reporter on one of the television news programmes, and that he had left her for a colleague.
And Lizzie was quite right, of course. The others would all guess immediately what was wrong if she ducked out of lunch.
‘I’ll just get my coat.’
‘And your umbrella,’ Lizzie warned her. ‘It’s raining again.’
They had never had such a wet summer. Soon it would be autumn. A tiny shiver ran across Susannah’s skin. Would all her hopes for the future and her career, hopes which had seemed so bright under Richard’s benevolent eye, fade with the dying season? But why should Hazard Maine sit in judgement over her? He had been all too willing to take what he thought was on offer.
Use your brains, she derided herself as she followed Lizzie out on to the wet street. The fact that he wanted you, even momentarily, will make him resent you all the more.
‘Hey, come on, we’re here,’ Lizzie reminded her, giving her a small push in the direction of the basement wine bar the magazine staff favoured for their lunch-time and after-work gatherings.
The rest of the crowd was already there—a noisy, cheerful bunch who drew amused and occasionally disapproving glances from the other lunch-time diners.
A small silence fell as Susannah walked in, and she mentally thanked Lizzie for making her come.
‘Come on, have a pew,’ someone called out. ‘We were just bemoaning our collective fate. It seems our new boss is no Richard.’
‘Yeah, that was some grilling he gave you this morning, Susie.’
She hated having her name abbreviated, but for once she forbore to comment, smiling vaguely in the direction of the speaker, and then shrugging her shoulders carelessly.
‘What did you do?’ someone else asked.
‘Nothing, as far as I know. Perhaps he just doesn’t like red hair.’
It was the best thing she could do on the spur of the moment, but it drew several appreciative laughs, and to her relief her colleagues’ attention was drawn away from her by Claire, who announced drawlingly, ‘Well, children, I’m afraid I must leave you. I’ve got to finish my column this afternoon, and I’m due at a society bash tonight. However, before I leave, I will give you all one word of warning. Be careful with our new boss, because rumour hath it that he’s tipped to become chairman of the whole group when Mac retires.’
Mac was the term by which they all knew the chairman and owner of MacFarlane Publications, Tom MacFarlane, and in the storm of questions that followed Claire’s announcement Susannah sat back to dwell silently on what she had said.
No one disputed her information. All of them knew that when Claire made that sort of statement she was invariably right.
‘But what about Richard?’ someone commented at last. ‘Surely, as Caroline’s husband…’
‘Oh, Richard… A nice guy, but hardly corporate king-pin material,’ Claire announced dismissively. ‘No, it’s definitely going to be Hazard. I got all the gen from a friend of mine who used to work with him.’
‘But how do you know?’ someone queried, obviously exasperated by her superior air.
‘I have my sources. For instance, how many of you know, I wonder, that Hazard Maine’s father was in partnership with Mac at one time?’
None of them, obviously.
‘Well, he was, and then for some reason the partnership was dissolved, but our Mr Maine has always been pretty close to Mac. Practically like a son to him, apparently.’
‘I wonder how Richard feels about that,’ someone commented, and instantly, before she could prevent herself, Susannah leapt to her ex-boss’s defence.
‘Richard won’t mind. He’s not like that…’
‘Unfortunately for you.’
There was an ominous silence before Claire said lightly, ‘Well, darling, as Richard’s favourite protégée, let’s face it, there could have been virtually no limit to the giddy heights to which you could have risen if he had been ambitious. Right to the very top, perhaps.’
Susannah wasn’t sure if she liked what Claire was saying, but she held her tongue, knowing how her colleague loved to stir up trouble.
‘Richard was very kind to me,’ she agreed calmly.
One of the men, she wasn’t sure which one, remarked sotto voce, ‘I wonder why?’ But once he realised she wasn’t going to rise to the bait, he dropped the subject, and started talking instead about Hazard’s likely changes to the magazine.
Susannah didn’t enjoy the lunch she had ordered, but she forced herself to eat it, and gradually found herself relaxing slightly. No one really knew much about Hazard Maine, and she contented herself with listening to her colleague’s comments about him.
Thankfully, none of them realised that there was more to his dislike of her than appeared on the surface; they were all taking his antipathy at face value, and it seemed to be the general consensus of opinion that it was caused by the fact that she had been Richard’s favourite protégée.
‘Don’t worry,’ one of her older male colleagues told her comfortingly as they returned to the office, ‘once he gets hold of something he can really get his teeth into, he’ll forget all about you. The trouble with these ex-newspaper men is that none of them can really ever accept that a magazine can be worthwhile editing. And you can bet that he’s none too pleased about being landed with the job, no matter how rich the silver spoon it came on.’
As they walked back into the foyer, Lizzie glanced at her watch. ‘I must go,’ she apologised. ‘Hazard has a very full afternoon. Planning meetings and goodness knows what.’
Which at least meant that she was hardly likely to see him again that day, Susannah thought thankfully as she sat down at her desk.
For the last few weeks, she had been painstakingly building up a file on a new author who had burst on the literary scene several months previously. No one had been allowed to interview him. He lived almost like a recluse, apparently, in some remote part of Yorkshire, and the only facts the media had on him were those grudgingly released by his publishers when it became clear that his book was going to be a runaway success.
It would be a wonderful coup for her if she could secure an interview with him, and at the moment she was engaged in very delicate negotiations with his publishers to that end.
She was lucky enough to have a contact within the publishing house itself—a fellow graduate who had actually met and knew the author.
‘He’s adamant that he doesn’t want to get caught up in a publicity merry-go-round, but I’ll do my best for you.’
Ever since she had come to work on the magazine, Susannah had never had a direct boss, reporting only to Richard, who allowed her to organise her own projects. She preferred working that way. She enjoyed the independence it gave her. She was deeply engrossed in her work when her internal telephone rang, and she cursed as she picked up the receiver.
To hear Lizzie’s quiet voice on the other end of the line was the last thing she had expected, and her stomach muscles tensed anxiously as the other girl said apologetically, ‘Susannah, Hazard wants to see you in his office right away.’
Never once in all the time she had worked for him had she ever received that sort of summons from Richard, but it was no use comparing the two men; there was no comparison.
Feeling appallingly nervous, but determined not to let it show, Susannah made her way down the corridor. The sight of Lizzie’s head bent over her typewriter as she walked into the office didn’t do anything to relieve her anxiety. Not quite able to meet her eyes, Lizzie motioned her towards the inner door.
‘You’re to go straight in.’
What on earth was she so frightened of? Susannah asked herself as she did as she was instructed. The worst he could do would be to sack her. Sack her… When she thought of how l
ong she had had to wait for this opportunity! To lose her job now, when the employment market was so depressed; to be branded as a failure, which she would be…
It gave her an uncontrollable jolt to see the dark head bent over some papers, she was so used to seeing Richard sitting in that chair. Hazard didn’t lift his head and, mindful of office etiquette, Susannah didn’t sit down. He was signing something, letters it looked like, and she had to grit her teeth to stop herself from screaming out loud with the tension building up inside her. He was doing it deliberately, of course. Well, she would show him that she was indifferent to such treatment!
When at last he deigned to raise his head and look at her, she was proud of the calm, unconcerned way in which she was able to meet his scrutiny.
He was looking at her as though he found her in some way offensive, she realised with inner bitterness, but beneath the veneer of acid contempt she could just glimpse a darker, deeper anger.
This was a man of intense male energy and pride, and she had challenged that pride, had touched it where it was perhaps most vulnerable, she acknowledged. Although he didn’t look like a man who was in any way sexually vulnerable, he must be, otherwise surely he would never have been so angry.
Wouldn’t he? Would any human being relish being told that they were simply being used as a sexual object? She shivered a little. It was too late to regret that now. Not for the first time in her life, Susannah inwardly cursed her own impulsiveness. This wasn’t the first unpleasant situation it had led her into, but it was certainly going to be the worst.
‘Sit down.’
It wasn’t a request but a command, and Susannah stiffened instinctively, resisting the harsh voice.
‘Are you aurally, as well as morally deficient, Miss Hargreaves?’
The acid words were spoken softly, each one tipped with deliberate venom, and Susannah had opened her mouth to cry out a furious denial before she realised that this man standing in front of her was her boss and not merely another colleague.