Mike didn't answer but rose abruptly to her feet, deciding that it might be politic to escape to the kitchen for a while, before she said something she might later regret.
'I'M make some coffee,' she murmured, collecting the empty plates. At least she wouldn't feel redundant tomorrow, she thought wryly.
She heard the sound of music floating down the hall as she emerged from the, kitchen, clasping two mugs of coffee. 'Do make yourself at home,' she muttered caustically under her breath, automatically assuming that Luke had turned on the radio or television. She nudged open the drawing-room door with her shoulder and her eyes darkened with amazement.
Luke was seated at the piano at the far end of the room, his fingers moving over the ivory keys. Tchaikovsky, she guessed accurately. Even to her own untrained ears, it was obvious that she was listening to someone with far more than just average ability. She was transfixed, her eyes riveted to Luke's absorbed face, the haunting music washing over her, drawing out a web of confused emotions from deep inside her. One moment she felt exhilarated, happy, and the next she was torn apart by sadness.
He glanced up and the spell was broken, the tempo of the music changing, the tune catchy but unfamiliar.
'What's that?' Mike walked silently across the carpet, drawn irresistibly towards the piano.
'You're listening to the first public rendition of a Duncan original score,' he informed her with mock solemnity, and to her disappointment stopped playing. She could have listened to him all night.
He swivelled around on the stool and faced her. 'Do you mind?' he asked quietly, quirking an eyebrow at the piano. 'I couldn't resist it.'
'Of course not,' Mike said quickly, handing him a coffee. She wanted to tell him to come and use the piano whenever he wanted, but didn't feel sufficiently at ease with him to make the offer. She would hate him to misconstrue the invitation, to think that she had some ulterior motive in extending it. 'Matthew used to play,' she continued, and then added with simple honesty, 'He wasn't in your league though.'
'I once considered becoming a professional musician,' he said carelessly, sipping his coffee.
'Why did you change your mind?' Her tone was casual but her eyes rested intently on his face. She was beginning to realise just how little she really knew about this increasingly enigmatic man.
He didn't answer. 'Can you play "Chopsticks"?' he asked instead.
Mike shrugged. 'Matthew taught me when I was a child.' She felt snubbed because he had deliberately evaded her question. 'I haven't played for ages though.'
'Come on, see what you can remember,' he murmured persuasively, taking the mug out of her hand and placing it with his own on a table. He returned to the piano, deliberately making room for her beside him on the stool.
'Come on,' he repeated with an encouraging grin, dark eyes on her reluctant face.
As usual it was his smile that was her undoing—it made her weaken and give in to his request.
'Why not?' she murmured with a nonchalance she was far from feeling. She sat down next to him, instantly regretting it as her slender hips encountered a hard band of muscle. This stool had most emphatically not been designed to accommodate two—the lower halves of their bodies were practically cemented together.
'Ready?'
She nodded, not daring to look directly at him. Her hands began to fumble over the keys, her fingers stiff and awkward.
'You're not concentrating,' Luke admonished her. 'And if you're not careful you're going to fall off the edge of the stool.'
'I told you I'm out of practice,' Mike snapped, her nerves as taut as a wire. 'You're going far too quickly for me.' She stopped playing. 'I can't remember any more anyway.'
Before she had time to protest, warm strong hands covered her own smaller ones, guiding her fingers across the keys. If her fingers had been clumsy and stiff before, they were now frozen rigid.
'Relax,' he murmured softly. 'This is supposed to be fun.'
She could feel his breath on her cheek and, turning her head, discovered that his face was barely inches from her own. His hand moved from hers, and slid inside the sleeve of her jumper, the long fingers languidly stroking the sensitive, delicate skin of her forearms. Her eyes locked into dark grey shadowy depths and a warning bell clanged in her head. It was imperative that she extricate herself from this potentially dangerous situation as swiftly as possible.
She jumped to her feet but was thwarted in her escape. The pressure of Luke's hand on her arm increased and he pulled her down on to his lap. One hand curved around the nape of her neck, tilting her face up towards his. The other snaked around her hips, drawing her even closer against his body.
'Now, this could be even more fun,' he murmured, his mouth brushing tantalisingly against her lips before moving to imprint sensuous little kisses over her temples and cheekbones. Shock waves tingled up Mike's spine. Her eyes closed as his mouth took possession of hers again, her arms moving up instinctively around his neck, her hands curling through the thick dark hair.
'Now, this could be even more fun.' The words suddenly burnt into her brain. The tenderness in that warm, seductive mouth was a sheer hypocrisy. Luke was simply amusing himself with her. A burst of adrenalin surged through her. Rebelliously, she compressed her lips together, refusing to allow the deeper intimacy Luke was now seeking, fighting against the sweet, drugging pleasure that threatened to engulf her completely, and make her lose all reason.
Did this man think he had unrestricted licence to touch her, to kiss her whenever he chose? With all her strength, Mike pushed against the hard wall of his chest and wriggled free of his embrace.
'Do you make a habit of kissing all your business associates?' she demanded with an iciness that was in direct conflict to her burning, inflamed cheeks. Her small, rounded breasts rose and fell in time with her erratic breathing as she confronted Luke.
'Is that my cue to say only the beautiful ones with red hair and the most irresistible freckles?' he drawled as he rose to his feet, his hand moving to her waist as he implanted a swift kiss on the tip of her nose.
Mike flung his hand away. 'No, it's your cue to say goodnight and go home!' Her mouth curled disdainfully. Did he think that she was trying to flirt with him? That she welcomed his casual, meaningless caresses?
She stalked across the room and flung open the door. 'I believe your jacket is still in the kitchen. Don't forget to collect it on your way out.' The freezing hauteur on her face had quelled more than one amorous attempt by hopeful, intoxicated young men at her father's parties, but it seemed to have no such effect on Luke. Instead he was looking at her with unconcealed amusement.
'Have dinner with me tomorrow night, Michaelia. After the staff meeting.'
She gazed up at him incredulously. He was unbelievable. The utter nerve of the man! He'd invited Christina to lunch tomorrow and now he was trying to arrange a dinner date with her for the same day. Who did he have lined up to share his breakfast with? she wondered caustically.
'No, thanks,' she said sweetly.
He shrugged his broad shoulders, and made no effort to persuade her to change her mind, seemingly unconcerned by her refusal.
Mike waited until he had fetched his jacket from the kitchen and then, keeping a safe distance, followed him to the front door.
'See you tomorrow evening, Michaelia.'
She tensed, expecting him to try and kiss her again but he made no attempt to do so. He started to walk down the wide steps and then paused, swinging back round to face her, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown.
'Will you be all right in the house on your own?' he asked abruptly.
She was taken aback by the seriousness in both his eyes and voice. She simply couldn't fathom out this baffling man. An arrogant, ruthless, cynical man who was nevertheless capable of playing the piano with such feeling that it could almost reduce her to tears; a man who, judging by his single status and reputation as a playboy, was incapable of committing himself to any one woman. And yet he was no
w looking at her as if her welfare was of the utmost importance to him... as if she genuinely mattered to him...
'I'll be fine,' she finally muttered.
'Well, you know where I am if you get lonely,' he drawled.
'Don't lose any sleep waiting for my call,' she advised him drily. How easily she'd been duped by that apparent concern in his eyes. Asking her if she minded being alone in the house had simply been a line—and she'd so nearly fallen for it. If she'd been foolish enough to confess to her ridiculous fears, she could just imagine the remedy he would have suggested.
She watched him stride away into the darkness and slammed the front door shut, bolting it securely. As she wandered back into the drawing-room, she heard the sound of the powerful car fading into the distance. She slumped down on the sofa. Now Luke had gone, the house seemed even more deathly quiet. She leapt to her feet and began to prowl around the room restlessly, inspecting the well-stocked bookcase, before finally coming to rest in front of the piano. She stood there for a long time, gazing down at the keyboard, her eyes dark with confused thoughts.
Mike glanced at the clock on the wall. Luke would be on the motorway now, approaching London.
'Come in,' she murmured in response to the tap at the office door.
'Where I shall put these?' Tina appeared clutching a pile of letters. 'They need Mr Duncan's signature before I can send them off.'
'If you'd like to leave them here, please, I'll sign them,' Mike said easily.
With evident reluctance, Tina placed them on the desk and then paused uncertainly. 'If anybody phones to speak to Mr Duncan today, shall I tell them he's not here?'
'Just put the calls through to me,' Mike said patiently and grinned wryly as the door closed. It was evident where the young receptionist's allegiance lay. She was clearly unhappy about Mike's presence in what she obviously regarded as Luke's domain.
Mike started to read through the letters, and then looked up as she was interrupted a second time. She smiled at the silver-haired man, the gold braid on the sleeves and epaulettes of his dark jacket signifying his rank as captain, who walked into the office in response to her summons.
'Luke about?' he asked casually.
'He's in London for the day,' Mike explained. 'Can I help?'
She saw the hesitation on his face. 'Not to worry, I'll catch Luke tomorrow. I only wanted to ask him if there was any chance of taking two days' leave next week.' He started to turn away and Mike felt a wave of frustration tear through her. Why did everyone seem to assume that it was only Luke who had the authority to make decisions?
'I'll have a look at the roster,' she said swiftly before he reached the door, 'and see what I can do.'
He paused. 'Right. Thanks. He smiled. 'I'm sorry, Mike, I was forgetting that you --'
'Yes, I know,' she cut in drily. 'Pop in and see me when you get back from Alderney.'
It wasn't until she started to juggle with the roster, swopping the crews around, trying out various permutations, that Mike realised that her task wasn't as straightforward as she'd imagined.
She had to be careful to ensure that none of the flight deck crew worked more than the legal number of hours and had the statutory rest periods between flights. She had to make allowances for possible delays—the crews' hours were determined from the time they came on duty and not the time they were actually airborne. She didn't want a situation where an aircraft was stuck in Glasgow or the Isle of Man with an out of hours crew, unable to fly the return sector. It didn't help matters that one of the first officers was already on leave the following week.
There was one way of granting the requested leave but that would mean leaving two early morning flights without a full standby crew. Should she risk it? She grimaced. What happened if someone fell unexpectedly sick or there were extensive delays?
'I'm sorry,' she apologised to the captain when he returned for her answer later that morning. 'It's not possible, I'm afraid.' It was her first real decision, she realised, albeit a very minor one.
He shrugged resignedly. 'Didn't think there was much chance, actually. I should have put in for the leave earlier, but my daughter only telephoned last night to say that she was bringing my two grandchildren down to stay with us for a couple of days at the beginning of the Easter holidays. It would have been nice to have taken them all out for the day somewhere, but not to worry.'
'How old are your grandchildren?' Mike asked, thinking rapidly.
'Eight and ten.'
She glanced briefly at the roster again. 'You're operating the Guernsey flight on Wednesday. If there are seats available, I'll authorise two sub-load tickets for the children.'
'Thanks very much, Mike. They'll be thrilled to bits.'
Mike watched him walk out the door, doubts beginning to assail. Should she have offered him two discounted tickets to which he wasn't strictly speaking entitled? It had been Matthew's policy, and, since she and Luke hadn't discussed it, was presumably still company policy that only employees of Kingston Air, their spouses, parents or children were eligible for concessionary staff travel. She frowned. Surely it didn't hurt to stretch the rules slightly for once?
She glanced at her wristwatch. Luke would have arrived at his London office by now.
The internal telephone summoned her attention and she picked it up quickly, recognising the brisk voice of the reservations supervisor, an efficient, down-to-earth woman in her early fifties.
'Mike, we're up to our eyes in it at the moment,' she said without preamble. 'Julie's off sick, there are dozens of tickets on departure to prepare for this afternoon's flights, accounts are screaming for the weekly ticket summary and the telephone's never stopped ringing. Any chance of sending someone on from Ops or Traffic to help out?'
There were no strong demarcation lines within Kingston Air. Matthew had insisted that all the ground staff had a basic grounding in traffic, operational and reservation procedure, enabling one department to provide cover for another if necessary.
Matthew, Mike recalled, had been prepared to undertake any task himself if the need arose, even the most menial.
'I'll come and give you a hand,' Mike offered. She had nothing of great urgency to attend to in her office, had already carried out Luke's thinly disguised orders of the night before, and would welcome an opportunity to gain more reservation experience. She'd attended a short reservation and domestic ticketing course run by one of the major airlines in London for her own satisfaction, but had so far little chance to put theory into practice. Matthew had been proficient in all fields and she was determined to emulate him.
Quickly, she dialled the number of the reception desk. 'Tina, I shall be in the reservations office if anyone needs me.'
'Yes, Miss Harrington.'
Mike soon became engrossed in her new task, operating the computer cautiously at first and then with growing confidence, only occasionally needing to consult the reservations manual. Most of the calls were from travel agents, some simply wanting to check the availability on certain flights for indecisive clients, others requesting firm bookings. Some of the bookings involved onwards connections with other international carriers, and these Mike passed over to more experienced staff, unfamiliar with the procedure for constructing international fares. It was an area she would have to gen up on, she reminded herself.
She took a short break at one o'clock, hastily eating a sandwich in the canteen. Luke would probably be ensconced in some small, intimate restaurant with Christina by now. Did he have further business to attend to this afternoon, or was he planning to spend the time with Christina? An unwanted image of Luke smiling down into her half-sister's eyes floated uninvited into Mike's head, giving her an uncomfortable and unexpected jolt.
The pressure in the reservations office eased by late afternoon and she decided to return to Rakers' Moon for a couple of hours before the staff meeting. She'd been at the airport since seven and was beginning to fell tired and decidedly grubby. Luke couldn't accuse her of slacking today,
she thought wryly. What time would he arrive back from London?
His car wasn't in the car park when she returned to the airport in the early evening. She'd changed out of her businesslike tailored navy suit into a soft cream woollen dress, one of her favourites. She had never been attracted to ornate, fussy clothes, preferring them to be simple and well cut. She'd added two pearl drop earrings and varnished her nails the same subtle shade of pink as her lip gloss, wondering as she'd done so why she was taking quite so much trouble with her appearance for a staff meeting.
She sat in her office, pretending to read through the reservations manual, her ears tuned for the sound of brisk footsteps coming down the corridor, the sound of a certain familiar, deep voice. There was a knotted sensation in the pit of her stomach. She'd experienced the same edgy, wound-up feeling just before an exam, or when she was waiting outside the dentist's surgery. Surely she wasn't apprehensive about seeing Luke again? Where on earth was he anyway? He was cutting it a bit fine now and she had no desire to hold the meeting on her own.
The door opened and Mike was shocked by the rush of warm pleasure that swamped over her as she looked up into the dark craggy face, hoping desperately that her eyes weren't betraying the confusion inside her.
'What are all these people doing in the ops-room at this time of the evening?' he growled, without even greeting her. He strode across the carpet and came to a halt in front of the desk.
'Hello, Luke. Had a good day?' Mike murmured sweetly. Did he have to glower at her like that for no apparent reason? He must have returned to the cottage to shower and shave before coming to the airport, she decided, her nostrils assailed by the subtle tang of expensive aftershave, mingled with the more disturbing scent of clean, soapy male skin:
'I thought Ops would be the best place to hold the meeting as it's the biggest office,' Mike continued, answering his question. 'I asked all the staff to attend, by the way,' she added casually. 'After all, the handling contract is going to affect everyone.'
'You've done what?' He groaned. 'I suspected as much when I walked in.' His eyes narrowed. 'I thought we agreed that the meeting should be confined to the senior staff.'
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