Playing Safe

by Claudia Jameson

  She wasn't sure how to answer. 'Er—well, that sounds good to me. What do you think about it?'

  'I think it's great. She is talented, you know, what she's done with that house is—but of course you know, it was you who suggested a career in that field.' To her relief, he added, 'And I'm very grateful to you, Grace. She needs a goal in life and she's much brighter than one might think, she left school with good qualifications…'

  Grace drove back to The Beauty Parlour in a state of… in a state. Full stop. She shouldn't have been driving at all, she was feeling heady from the champagne and from—from her experience with Demetrius, heady with pleasure and relief at his reaction to Melissa's news, heady with… with all she had learned about him. He had apologised for misjudging her. Well, she had certainly misjudged him, too; he was in fact a man of integrity, of tact, he had a capacity for understanding which she would never have given him credit for. The way he had listened to her ramblings about Raymond Ferris and her feelings towards her father…

  But, beyond the relief and the pleasure, the afterglow of the encounter, there was disappointment because he hadn't asked to see her alone again.

  That was soon remedied. No sooner had she got back to The Beauty Parlour than the telephone rang—it was Demetrius.

  'Two things,' he said, sounding businesslike again. 'I wanted to check that you got back all right, and I want to tell you I feel grossly unsatisfied.'

  'Unsatisfied?' She had no idea what he was talking about. 'What do you—'

  'I think we have unfinished business.'

  Unfinished business? The phrase made her smile. If he meant that they could happily, easily, have talked more, he was right.

  'Your hesitation,' he said, his voice firm but soft down the telephone line, 'confirms it. So let's have dinner tonight. I'll pick you up at—shall we say, eight o'clock?'

  She was smiling, there was no hesitation now. 'Eight o'clock it is.' She put the phone down and caught herself staring at it again. This time there was no one to see the look on her face, no one to tease her about it…but at a little after four o'clock she came in for plenty of teasing. She was in the back of the salon when Jillian came for her.

  'Grace? Could you come out for a moment? I think you'll want to know about this straight away…'

  Mystified, Grace followed her to the reception area. On the counter top there was a magnificent arrangement of flowers, displayed in a basket dressed up with ribbons. The accompanying card was in a tiny envelope and Grace read it silently.

  'I can't wait until eight,' it said. 'I want to know more and more.'

  So did Jillian, she was watching her boss expectantly, but Grace wasn't volunteering anything. She slipped the card into the pocket of her overall and grinned. 'Don't look at me like that, Jillian. This is just a gesture of appreciation from a friend.'

  'A friend?'

  'A friend.'

  Grace laughed and went back to her client. Demetrius Knight was full of surprises. She spent the rest of the day looking forward to eight o'clock, by which time she was ready and waiting in the drawing-room at home. She had taken care with her appearance, having swept her hair into a chignon and chosen to wear a soft, jersey-knit dress in beige.

  Demetrius arrived on the dot. He looked her over and smiled approvingly. The flowers he had sent were on the hall table now and she thanked him for them. 'They're beautiful, Demetrius.'

  'My pleasure,' he said, his eyes sweeping over her once again. 'Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.'

  She had no idea where they were going to dine, but she soon guessed; they headed west and in time they drew up at a favourite restaurant of hers, some twenty miles from home. They were shown to a corner table which had a 'reserved' sign on it when they arrived. It was a cosy place with excellent food, a small dance-floor and a trio which played most evenings, tonight being one of them.

  Right from the start the evening was a success; although she had changed her opinion about Demetrius, she was still surprised at how very easy he was to talk to. He was witty and amusing, he seemed to know something about everything except, perhaps, the beauty business.

  'Aromatherapy?' he said at one point, when she was telling him, at his insistence, about everything they did at the salon. 'What on earth is that?'

  'It's a full body massage using essential oils. It's proved to be more popular than I'd expected, actually. It's very good for—'

  'I can imagine,' he cut in, grinning. 'I'd like to experience it some time.'

  Grace acted as if she was missing the point. 'Really? Well, you may or may not be surprised to learn that we do have one or two male clients. I could book you in with Jillian, if you like, she's very well qualified—'

  She got no further. Demetrius threw back his head and laughed. 'That isn't quite what I had in mind—as I'm sure you realise.' His dark eyes were glittering in the candlelight, moving slowly over her. 'I was thinking of a private session with the boss, in my pool room, perhaps, after we've taken a sauna together…'

  'Were you, indeed?' She raised an eyebrow, determined to keep her face straight. 'I'm afraid I don't make house-calls.'

  'Not even for friends and neighbours?'

  'Not even.'

  'You're a hard woman, Grace Allinson. Shall we dance?'

  It was a mistake. When she moved in to his arms she was made immediately aware of how very strong the physical pull was between them. He held her too closely, although she tried to tell herself he had to because of lack of space. The floor was quite crowded, and small to begin with, but he was not obliged to hold her the way he was holding her, so that she could feel every inch of him, the hard length of his body against hers.

  And then his lips were against her temple and he was speaking softly. 'Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. I'm having difficulty concentrating.'

  She didn't look at him, she knew her face was going pink. 'Maybe you should loosen your hold a little.'

  'Why don't we just call it a day, get out of here?'

  'If—if you like.'

  It was raining when they got outside. They laughed and made a dash for his car, gleaming silver in the lights of the car park. Grace slid in to the passenger seat while he held the door open for her, laughing again as he let out a low whistle, his eyes on her legs.

  'By the way, when do I get to see your new horses?'

  'Horses!' He switched on the ignition, stuck the gear lever into drive and pulled away smoothly, laughing again. 'How can you think of horses at a time like this?'

  A time like what? She wasn't going to voice the question, she knew what he meant, she had been aware of his response to her on the dance-floor. His mind was working very differently from hers and it made her nervous. It was for that reason that she started to chatter. 'Where—I mean, when did you learn to ride?'

  'In South America. Ten years ago. I was over there for four months, I took to it like a duck to water.'

  'To South America?'

  'To riding, you idiot!'

  She was laughing again, nervous laughter. What the devil was the matter with her, why did she feel she had to be on guard? Because she felt sure he was going to pounce, that was why, and she wasn't exactly surprised when he pulled off the road, about halfway between the restaurant and their homes. She knew what to expect when he turned into a narrow, deserted lane and cut the engine.

  But she was quite wrong. Demetrius made no move, he merely looked at her. She couldn't see his face too well because it was so dark and wet outside and there was no moon, but she could hear the concern plainly in his voice.

  'What's the matter, Grace? Why are you suddenly twitchy?'

  'I—' She felt foolish. Had it been so obvious?

  'I'm not.'

  'Then relax.' His hand came out and slid under her hair at the nape. 'You're tense, I can feel it.' His fingers started massaging the top of her neck, and it didn't help one bit. It just made things worse. His touch was nothing short of erotic, or so it seemed to her.

  'Dem
etrius—' She turned to him, her eyes beseeching. For what, she wasn't sure.

  His hand dropped to her shoulders, and he pulled her swiftly into his arms, his mouth claiming hers with a pressure which parted her lips and made her head spin. He kissed her forcefully, deeply, and although it was what she wanted, had been wanting all evening, she resisted. 'Demetrius—enough, please!'

  He just laughed, his lips moving to the base of her ear, to the delicate skin at the side of her neck. When she shivered at the touch, he laughed again, soft laughter which was in itself exciting to her. 'Enough, Grace? I've been longing to kiss you all evening, and you know it. You've felt the same way.'

  'No. I—please.' She heard the note of pleading in her own voice, and then, annoyed with herself, she snapped at him. 'Demetrius, let go of me.'

  He let go of her at once, his black eyes searching hers. 'Hey, take it easy, will you?'

  'I'm sorry, it's just—it's all a bit much,' she said lamely.

  'Could you enlarge upon that for me?'

  She had been holding her breath; she let it out slowly now, on one long sigh. Once again she opted to keep things simpler by saying precisely what she was thinking, feeling. 'I mean I'm extremely attracted to you and it comes as a shock, quite honestly.'

  'It does?' There was just the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. 'You mean you don't want to be?'

  'No, I don't mean that. Well, not exactly. I mean…'

  'You mean you need a little time to get used to the idea?'

  She took his offering gratefully. 'Yes, I—think that's what I'm trying to say.'

  There was a momentary silence. Demetrius put a finger to her lips, moving it very slowly as he traced their outline, while Grace sat motionless, with a knot of tension inside her unlike anything she had ever felt before. She couldn't look him in the eyes any longer, she couldn't, because if she did he would see the desire in her own eyes and she did not want things to go any further than they had.

  'Is there someone?' he asked softly.

  'What? What do you mean?'

  'Come on, Grace, I mean is there a man in your life, someone who—'

  'No.' It came out on a note of surprise; she thought he had realised that. 'No, there's no one.'

  'Then what's wrong?'

  She had kept her eyes on his chin, had tried to concentrate on the square, unyielding shape of it. They moved to his mouth now and she quickly dragged them away. 'Nothing's wrong. I just told you—this is all a bit much, a bit fast.'

  He considered that, and her, for a long moment. At length, he nodded slightly, firing the engine as he spoke. 'All right, you need time, I'll give you time. But you know what's happening between us, Grace, and I don't see why you should fight against it.'

  She was annoyed by that. 'You seem to be taking a lot for granted, Demetrius. I've told you, that's a mistake as far as I'm concerned.'

  'We'll see,' he said softly, turning to glance at her. 'We'll see, my lovely.'

  They drove back to the manor in silence, both occupied with their thoughts. When he brought the Mercedes to a halt, he turned to her and said he would see her indoors.

  'There's no need for that.'

  He wagged a finger at her. 'You'll do as you're told, Miss Allinson.'

  She shrugged. 'I see you're not called Knight for nothing. OK, if you insist on being gallant…'

  He saw her inside, had a look around and pronounced the place safe. 'You don't get spooked, being here alone so much?'

  'Matty's in bed upstairs.'

  'Ah, that's all right then,' he grinned. 'I'm sure no one would dare break in while the buxom Matilda's on the premises!'

  Grace was giggling now. 'You have a fine imagination. We're in the peaceful English countryside. You lived in London for too long.'

  He caught hold of her by the waist, pulling her against him, grinning. 'Perhaps I did. Look what I've been missing all this time. Why did your father never tell me his daughter was a beauty?'

  'A beauty therapist?' she teased, her eyes dancing with laughter. She tried to wriggle away from him but it didn't work, his grasp tightened.

  And his smile vanished. 'A beauty,' he said quietly, firmly. 'My God, if you will insist on looking at me like that, with those gorgeous big blue eyes…' Suddenly it was happening again, he was kissing her and, this time, she didn't resist. She kissed him back. Maybe it was because she felt safe now, being on home ground.

  Which was stupid of her. She learned, fast, that giving Demetrius Knight the slightest encouragement was a very risky business. He was easily aroused, a passionate man whose mixed European blood was very easily inflamed. He groaned against her mouth, his tongue probing, probing and ex-citing, his hands sliding to her bottom as he pulled her hips tightly against his.

  'Demetrius—' She had to break away from him roughly, otherwise she wouldn't have escaped. 'I— it's time I went to bed.'

  He raised an eyebrow. 'There's no answer to that.'

  Grace couldn't laugh, she had to stick to her guns this time. How could she have thought herself safe here? Matilda would be aware of nothing, she was in the wing at the other end of the house.

  'Goodnight, Demetrius, and thanks for a lovely evening.'

  'Are you trying to tell me something?'

  She laughed in spite of herself then. It was something else she liked about him, his sense of humour. 'If there's one thing I do admire, it's a man who's quick on the uptake!'

  'Hey, seriously now.' He caught hold of her hand, smiling. 'How about coming for a ride with me in the morning, bright and early? Can you manage that? I'll introduce you to Horace and Greta.'

  'I'd be delighted! Shall we say six o'clock? I think that's the nicest part of the day. I'll come to you, shall I? And I'll introduce you to Annabel.'

  He nodded, smiling, bending forward to kiss the tip of her nose. 'Sounds good to me. But you're wrong about that, at least as far as today is concerned. I'd say—oh, that somewhere between eight o'clock and midnight was the nicest part of the day. Goodnight, Grace.'

  'Goodnight, Demetrius.'

  She went up to her room feeling light-hearted. She had enjoyed the evening and she was looking forward to riding with him in the morning. There was so much more to him than she had imagined, he was more sensitive than his sister gave him credit for, he was also more… more what, exactly?

  Grace woke earlier than she had intended to. It wouldn't take long to get ready, but there was no point in going back to sleep, even if she could. She flung back the bedclothes, eager to get round to Demetrius.

  It didn't show on her, the fact that she hadn't had enough sleep. Demetrius was just saddling Horace, a three-year-old chestnut-coloured stallion who did not suit his name. Still, Horace it was; he was a magnificent animal, as was his master. Grace's eyes flicked appreciatively over Demetrius in his riding gear, her smile instantly being returned by him, as was her look of appreciation.

  'Good morning, Grace, You're looking good. You have an unfair advantage, you know.'

  'Over whom?'

  'Other women, of course. Not many women look so good this early in the morning.'

  She supposed he would know about that, and she told herself to keep a balance on things, not to let this new friendship go to her head. They trotted along the bridle path which cut through the woods and turned left on to Feathers Lane. It was a route Grace knew like the back of her hand. They rode for just under an hour, enjoying the crisp morning air, the solitude, a conversation which was intermittent but comfortable. Demetrius laughed when she told him Horace was ill-named.

  'He doesn't look at all like a Horace.'

  'Is that so? What does he look like?'

  'More like a—oh, I don't know. He needs a stronger name. Speaking of which, what does the "K" stand for?'

  'What?'

  'In DKK Holdings. What's the middle "K" for?'

  'Kester. Sorry about that!' He shrugged. 'It was my father's idea, a tribute to an army buddy of his, someone who was killed in
action. It's actually a diminutive of Christopher, but Kester is what I got on my birth certificate.'

  'I like it.' She paused, considering what she'd just said. 'Yes, I do… but I'm not sure about it with Demetrius Knight on either side of it!'

  'Absolutely, I couldn't agree more.'

  She was reluctant to part from him when they had to part, when it was time to go to work. They rode together to the stables at the manor, but Demetrius made no mention of seeing her that night. The extent of her disappointment angered her—hadn't she told herself not to let this thing go to her head, not to read too much into it?

  That proved to be difficult, because Demetrius dismounted and reached for her, catching hold of her by the waist and pulling her into his arms. It was minutes before they separated, by which time they were both breathless and Grace was bewildered all over again. To think she had so recently disliked this man, and now…now she was in danger of liking him too much. 'I really must get a move on, Demetrius.'

  'Me, too. I'll see you at the weekend, Grace. I'll ring you.'

  The weekend. But it was only Thursday today. In any case, she couldn't manage it. 'No, not at the weekend. I want to talk to my father, remember? I want—well, just to be with him.'

  Something unreadable flitted across his face. 'He's coming home for the weekend, is he?'

  'I assume so, I'm expecting him home tomorrow.' What was this? Why should he suppose her father might not come home? Because he hadn't come home last weekend? 'He doesn't normally stay in London over the weekend.'

  'I see. Then I'll see you early next week. I'll ring you to make arrangements.'

  'Please do.' She hoped she was managing to hide her pleasure, to appear friendly but not over-enthusiastic. She stood, watching until he was out of sight, knowing that he was going to be on her mind all day whether she liked it or not.

  He was, and when his sister telephoned at lunch time that day, Grace cursed herself for her own stupidity.

  'Grace?' Melissa sounded fed up and she said as much. 'I'm bored. Can I come round to your house tonight? Only, Demetrius just phoned to tell me he won't be coming home this evening, he's spending the night in London. Honestly, it's all right for him. He'd made no mention of this before, but suddenly he tells me he has to go to a party. A likely story! Of course it means he's spending the night with one of his women. He must think I'm… oops, sorry, Grace!'