Dangerous Male

by Marjorie Lewty

  He didn't exactly dash. He lingered for another long appreciative look at Gemma's slender body wrapped in the green towel, and then, with one of his devilish grins, he turned and went out of the flat.

  Gemma stood where he had left her, thinking about nothing much, but feeling a good deal. Her mind was far away, floating on a cloud somewhere, when the key sounded in the front door. He had come back! She clutched the towel more firmly round her and turned to the open bedroom door, her heart racing.

  Then it plummeted downwards, for it was not Harn who came across the hall and straight into the bedroom, but a staggeringly beautiful girl in a white fur jacket and a scarlet culotte skirt. Her hair was ash-blonde, her skin was perfection and the eyes that regarded Gemma with contempt were clear sea-green.

  She stood with one hand on the door-knob in the effortlessly elegant pose of a model. 'So— you're the new secretary I've heard about, are you?' The perfect mouth curled into a sneer. 'It hasn't taken you long to get into Harn's bed.'

  Gemma tried desperately to keep her cool, but being naked except for a bath-towel put her at a distinct disadvantage. 'Look, Miss—er—' she began, 'you've got it all wrong. I hadn't anywhere to sleep last night and Mr Durrant very kindly offered to put me up and—'

  The girl laughed, a high, metallic laugh. 'Perrin's the name—Yvonne Perrin. I'm the girl that Harn is going to marry.' She waved her left hand and Gemma saw the emerald that flashed there. 'But there's no need to explain to me, my dear, I'm quite accustomed to his little ways. I certainly don't begrudge him his bit of fun on the side.' She eyed Gemma up and down superciliously. 'I take it he's not here?'

  'He's—he's left for the office early,' Gemma said. Harn engaged—to this glittering bit of nastiness! And he had said he wasn't in the marriage market.

  The sea-green eyes narrowed. 'Then you'd better hurry up and go after him, hadn't you? If you really are his secretary, that is, and not some little tart he picked up last night.'

  'How dare you?' Gemma flashed out with one hand, goaded beyond all thoughts of caution. But before she could connect with that lovely, sneering face her arm was caught in a steely grip and twisted.

  'Oh no, you don't try that on with me.' Gemma was flung backwards and collapsed in a heap on the floor, the towel trailing round her.

  The girl stood over her and for one awful moment Gemma thought she intended to kick her in the face, but instead she leaned over and smacked her cheek hard. 'Just remember that, my girl,' she bit out viciously, 'and don't try crawling into my fiancé's bed in future!'

  She turned and swept out of the room and the front door slammed behind her.

  Gemma picked herself up, rubbing her cheek and seething inside with rage. She dressed rapidly, talking to herself while she did so, dragging her tights on so that they laddered, which small disaster brought her close to the tears she wouldn't shed on account of the nasty little scene that had just taken place. 'This is the end, Mr Harn Durrant,' she vowed, as she rubbed soap on the end of the ladder. 'If you think I'm going to stay here to be insulted and attacked by your girlfriends, you can think again!' She would hand in her notice as soon as she reached the office, and leave for Lessington and a peaceful life at the first possible moment.

  And I so nearly fell under his spell myself! She shuddered as she remembered last night. I so nearly kidded myself I was in love with the man! She wanted nothing more to do with him, she just wanted to get away quickly and never see him again.

  She dragged a comb through her hair, rummaged in her bag for some powder-cream to dab on her cheek, which was still stinging, and went into the hall to find the number of a taxi firm.

  Miss Wright was sitting at her desk as she went into the office. Harn was standing beside the desk and as soon as Gemma entered the room she saw that something dire had happened. She had seen him look angry before, but never this angry, never the blazing rage that he was so obviously controlling with the utmost difficulty.

  'So here you are at last!' he snarled. 'Now come and sort this one out.'

  Gemma's eyes went from the accusation on his face to the smug satisfaction on May Wright's. 'W-what's the matter?' she stammered. 'What's happened?'

  'What's happened,' he said chillingly, 'is that there's no trace of my report for today's meeting. Miss Wright couldn't print it out because it's not there on the disc. Not in the index, not on the duplicate disc either. Where the blazes is it?'

  Gemma's inside cramped as she remembered sickly that she hadn't duplicated the disc before she left last night. One of the first rules of using a word-processor was to duplicate any disc that you didn't intend to print out straight away. She had been in such a hurry to get to the party to help Brenda that she had forgotten to do it.

  But the original document on the original disc— what had happened to that? It couldn't have just disappeared—it couldn't! Not unless someone had deliberately deleted it. She caught the gleam of triumph in May Wright's pale blue eyes, and was suddenly sure that was what had happened. It would be the work of a couple of minutes, to anyone familiar with the machine, to wipe out all trace of the report by simply calling up the index on the screen and deleting that particular document.

  'Let me look.' She almost pushed Miss Wright out of the chair and sat down before the word-processor. By this time she knew her way about it blindfold; it was an old friend. She knew exactly which keys to press to bring up the wretched report on the screen. But after thirty seconds it was apparent that it just wasn't there. Report No. 46a was missing from the index and that was that.

  'Well?' Harn barked.

  'It's—it's not there,' she faltered.

  He drew in a deep breath through his nose. 'I know it's not bloody there! What do you intend to do about it? My meeting's at twelve—it's nearly ten now. I've been working on those figures for days.'

  There was no time for argument or excuses —or even for accusations against May Wright—and anyway, she couldn't prove anything. This was an emergency. Gemma's mind was suddenly ice-cold. 'I've still got the tape you dictated the report on,' she said, hoping that the horrible Miss Wright hadn't found that too, and wiped it clean. 'And I've got the first print-out, the one you did all the revision on. I think that between the two I could type out the report again in—say—an hour and a half.' She wondered if that were humanly possible, even while she said it. Well, it would jolly well have to be.

  Harn was staring at her grimly. 'All right, get on with it, then. That won't give me time to check it before I leave, but I'll have to risk it.' He jerked his head towards Miss Wright. 'Off you go,' he said.

  Miss Wright fluttered her hands. 'Isn't there something I could do to help, Mr Durrant? I could—'

  'Out,' he said, and opened the door for her, and with a fast spiteful look in Gemma's direction Miss Wright left the office.

  At the end of an hour and a half, or shortly less, the report was typed. Gemma felt like a squeezed-out rag. Her head was spinning with dollars and yens and all the language of electronics with which she still wasn't quite at home. But she had done it.

  She carried it in to Harn's office and laid it on the desk before him. He looked at it. 'Good,' he said briefly.

  Gemma went back to her own office and sat with her head in her hands. All she wanted to do was to get away from this place, from London, from Harn Durrant. It had been a terrible mistake from the beginning. But she would wait until the Japanese contract was finalised before she gave in her notice. At least, she thought wryly, he would have no difficulty in replacing her. May Wright was fairly panting on the sidelines, waiting for the call to launch her into the game. She'd been determined to get the job and not at all averse to playing dirty to do it.

  This isn't my scene, Gemma thought unhappily. I'm just a small-town girl after all. I can't compete in the rat-race.

  Harn emerged just before twelve and she got to her feet. 'Is it—will it do?' she asked nervously, with a glance towards his briefcase.

  He looked tense and grim as he re
plied shortly, 'It had bloody well better do.' Then, without another word, he went out of the office.

  Five minutes later Brenda appeared. Her face was white and drawn and she looked nothing like her usual confident self. 'Gemma, I had to come to—to say I'm sorry.' She stood before Gemma's desk like a culprit before a headmistress. 'Last night—I don't know what came over me, I guess I must have had too much wine and I—I lost my head completely. I said some awful things to you and I didn't really mean them, and of course it has nothing to do with me, what you choose to do. Anyway—' she spread out her hands '—I'm sorry, and that's all I can say.'

  Gemma got to her feet. 'Let's forget all about it,' she said, and saw the slow smile that appeared on the other girl's face.

  There was a silence in the small office, then Brenda said, 'What do you say if we go out and have some lunch at the Tavern? On me, of course.'

  'I'd like that,' Gemma said simply. She picked up her handbag, locked the office door, and they went out together. Harn wouldn't be back for some time yet and if there were any phone calls it was just too bad. She felt as if she had already resigned her responsibility here.

  'You're not really serious about leaving, are you, Gemma? Why, you've only just come, and you're doing very well.'

  The two girls had walked down to the river after lunching off sandwiches and lager at one of the many old pubs in the City. Gemma stood watching a heavily-laden river steamer plough its way slowly under the bridge before she replied. 'Yes, I'm really serious. I don't fit in here, Brenda, and that's the truth. I thought I was ambitious to be a top secretary and so on, but somehow I've changed my mind.'

  Brenda eyed her sagely. 'Is it because of Harn Durrant? You've fallen for him, like the rest of us.'

  Gemma didn't answer immediately. She stood staring out across the grey water, trying to think, trying to be honest with herself. At last she said, 'I suppose you're right, Brenda. I've been confused about the job and the people at the office—Miss Wright in particular—but yes, I suppose it's really because I'm trying to persuade myself that it would be asking for unhappiness to stay around Harn any longer. I know quite well there's no future with him for a girl like me. And by the way—' she turned to Brenda with a twisted little smile '—I encountered this Yvonne woman this morning and we had a slight—disagreement. She informed me that she was engaged to Harn and waved a great emerald ring at me.'

  Brenda raised her dark eyebrows. 'Oh, she did, did she? I'd say that's wishful thinking. Harn Durrant isn't going to marry anyone, if my guess is right.' She laughed harshly. 'At least, not until he's seventy and needs a wife to warm his slippers.'

  Suddenly she put a hand on Gemma's arm. 'You're right, Gemma, get away from the man before you get in too deep. He can tear you apart—and don't I know it! You may have heard on the office hot line for gossip—about me, I mean. I went over the top for him, put my marriage at risk—and ended up in hospital with an overdose. No, don't say anything, my dear—' as Gemma gave a horrified little gasp and would have spoken '—it all happened last year and it's water under the bridge now. I thought, until last night, that I was over it, but it seems that I wasn't. Look at the way I reacted when I thought you'd been sleeping with him. Pure feline jealousy, that was, I'm ashamed of myself, I can tell you. That man gets under your skin.'

  'I hadn't, you know,' Gemma said quietly. But she knew that it had been touch and go, and if Brenda hadn't telephoned—

  She glanced at her watch. 'I'd better get back. Thank you for being so—so frank with me, Brenda. It's helped me to make up my mind.'

  Back at the office the porter said, 'There's someone to see Mr Durrant, Miss Lawson—a Mr Underhill. I've put him in the waiting room. Mr Durrant's not back yet—will you deal with it?'

  'Oh yes, thank you, Grayson. I know Mr Underhill, I'll go up and see him.'

  Derek was sitting at a polished table reading a magazine. He jumped up when she opened the door and his fair face lit with pleasure. 'Gemma— I hoped I'd see you. How are you?' He took both her hands and squeezed them hard.

  'All the better for seeing you, Derek.' She gave him a sunny smile. He brought with him everything that she had left behind—Lessington— and home—and the shabby old office of Durrants (Fine Paper), and all that she felt confident of measuring up to.

  'The boss is out, they tell me,' he said, and she nodded.

  'He may be quite a while. An important meeting.'

  'Splendid! Then you'll have time for a chat.' He drew her down to a leather chesterfield that stood against the wall in the luxuriously-furnished waiting room. 'I want to hear all your news and how you're liking London and the job and everything. Is it going swimmingly?'

  She looked away from his nice, concerned face, blinking back quick tears. 'Gemma! What's up?' He turned her round to face him. 'What's gone wrong?' He grinned crookedly. 'Tell Uncle Derek.'

  She sniffed and blew her nose. 'Pretty well everything's gone wrong. I—I've almost decided to pack it in.'

  She couldn't miss the look of hope that spread over his face. 'And come back to Lessington?'

  'Where else?' she said. 'It's my home.'

  He didn't speak for a full minute, just sat looking at her delightedly. 'Well, that's the best news I've heard in ages!' He flushed. 'I can't tell you how disappointed I was when you left—just when I thought we were getting to know each other. Can we go on where we left off, Gemma?' He leaned towards her, taking her hands.

  The door burst open and Harn stood there, his eyes on Gemma, sitting with both her hands enclosed in Derek's. The two on the chesterfield got to their feet, and Derek stepped forward, one hand held out tentatively. 'I looked in to see you as I happened to be in town, Mr Durrant.'

  Harn gave Derek a long, cold look, ignoring his outstretched hand. 'Have you anything to report? Anything to consult me about?' he rapped out.

  'Well, no, not exactly,' Derek replied awkwardly. 'Things are going along quite well in Lessington, and—'

  Harn nodded curtly. 'Good. Then, if you'll excuse me, I have work to get on with. Come into my office, will you, Gemma.' He turned and walked out of the room.

  Derek had turned crimson. 'Well, blow me down—how rude can you get? I almost feel like giving up the whole job!'

  Gemma put a hand on his arm. 'Don't do that, Derek. He's in a bad mood today, that's all. Things have gone rather wrong.'

  He grinned wryly. 'O.K., I'll take your advice. I'm going back this evening. Keep in touch, won't you, you know my office address. Please, Gemma.'

  She gave him a smile, but no promises, and ran back to her own office. Harn had fuelled her anger still further by his rudeness to Derek and she had to give him her notice and get it over with before she could change her mind. She wondered if the Japanese deal had fallen through and if that was why he looked so specially grim when he walked into the waiting room just now.

  She followed him into his own office, as he had ordered her, and stood beside his desk and waited. He leaned back in his chair, stared at her for a moment in silence, then said, 'Well, aren't you going to ask me how the meeting went? As a good secretary you should be involved.'

  She didn't like his ironic tone at all, but she said, 'How did it go?'

  He smiled suddenly and she looked away because if he smiled at her like that her resolve might be weakened. 'Splendidly,' he said. 'It's in the bag.'

  That was her cue, then. She was shaking inside, but she said quite calmly, 'I'm glad the report was all right. I'd have been sad if my swan song had turned out to be a disaster and spoiled the deal for you.'

  'Swan song?' he said absently. 'What on earth are you talking about?'

  She took a long deep breath. 'I'd like to give in my notice, Mr Durrant. And I'd like to leave straight away. I'm sure Miss Wright will be quite happy to fill my post.'

  She really had his attention now. 'Don't be silly, Gemma, of course you can't leave just like that!' He almost barked out the words, then added more quietly, 'It's most inconvenient.'

/>   'But I can,' she said. 'I shan't expect to be paid, of course. I don't know what the correct procedure is. Do I pay you a month's salary in lieu of notice?'

  He made a noise of extreme exasperation. 'Look, this nonsense has gone far enough. I won't accept your notice, my girl, so that's that.' He jerked his chin out aggressively. 'What's the idea, Gemma? Why this sudden change of heart? I thought you were keen to learn, to get experience, to be a top secretary?'

  'I thought so too at first,' she said, and was surprised how calm and reasonable her voice sounded. 'But it didn't work out, did it?'

  'Oh, you mean this business of the report this morning?' A smile of relief crossed his face. 'You mustn't take that to heart. As a matter of fact it wasn't important after all. Mr Okimo had made up his mind, apparently, even before we met for lunch, and the report wasn't vital. So don't let that little slip-up worry you. And anyway—' he looked grim suddenly '—I'm not altogether convinced that it was your slip-up. The Wright woman was fussing about with the discs. I shouldn't be at all surprised if she messed the whole thing up before you got here. I've been doubtful about her work for some time. I think she'll have to go.'

  Gemma shook her head stubbornly. 'It's me that's going.' Oh, please, please don't look at me like that, as if you cared, as if you minded whether I was here or not.

  He slapped a hand hard on the desk. 'No, Gemma, I won't let you go, even though your grammar still leaves a lot to be desired.' He smiled, inviting her to share the joke, to give up this ridiculous idea of leaving. He was so sure he could make her change her mind.

  She turned her head away, because when he smiled at her and the long dark lashes brushed his cheek she remembered how it had been when he held her in his arms last night and her insides melted and she was afraid her resolution would weaken. Then she put a hand to her cheek, where the girl Yvonne had slapped her as she lay on the floor. Yvonne, who was wearing his ring. Even if he didn't marry Yvonne, there would still be a long trail of girls wanting him. She couldn't stay here and watch that. Not after last night.