An Unequal Partnership

by Rosemary Gibson

  'I've asked him to have dinner with us tonight,' Luke continued casually.

  'Us? Tonight?' Mike echoed. 'You might have consulted with me first to see if it was convenient! I could have been going --'

  'To wash your hair?' he enquired gravely.

  Mike threw him a withering look. It was like bashing her head against a brick wall!

  'Why this sudden urgency to have dinner with Nicholas Harrison anyway?' she demanded, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. There was an expression on Luke's face that she didn't trust. He was up to something, she was convinced of it.

  'Good PR.' He shrugged nonchalantly.

  'The real reason?' Mike murmured sweetly.

  He grinned. 'I bumped into Nick on Sunday night. Apparently he's considering extending his charter programme for next summer to include Crete, Tenerife and possibly Portugal.'

  'Fascinating,' she retorted, her eyes fixed steadily on the craggy face. 'I hope that you made it quite clear that, while we wish him well in his new venture, Kingston Air can't possibly undertake any more charter work. We simply haven't the aircraft or crew available.' Both were stretched to the limit during the summer months.

  'We could always wet lease another aircraft,' Luke answered casually, 'in which case the crew will be provided as well.'

  'I'm perfectly aware of the difference between dry and wet leasing,' Mike said cuttingly.

  He raised an infuriating dark eyebrow at her. 'We've obviously been studying the same textbook,' he drawled and despite herself Mike couldn't help grinning back at him. He did this to her every time, she thought ruefully—cut through her defences completely.

  'Before you start listing your objections, Michaelia, all I'm suggesting is that we have dinner with Nick and discuss the idea in principle,' Luke continued. He shrugged his broad shoulders. 'Nick is doubtlessly going to negotiate with other airlines as well and see who can offer him the best overall deal.'

  'But you'd like Kingston Air to get in first,' Mike said wryly. 'All right,' she sighed defeatedly. 'What time?'

  'I'll pick you up at seven-thirty.'

  She nodded. Seeing that Luke had to virtually pass her front door, she could hardly suggest that they drive in separate cars to the restaurant without offering a very good reason for it, she supposed. And right now her inventiveness seemed to have deserted her.

  She watched him turn away and vanish behind the closed door. So much for her resolution to confine her association with him to the airport, she mused ruefully. She could always back out, even now, and claim that she'd suddenly remembered a prior engagement, but she doubted whether he would believe her. Besides, she did rather want to keep tabs on him, she admitted, and had no desire to be presented with yet another fait accompli. Her eyebrows furrowed together. Where exactly had Luke 'bumped into' Nicholas Harrison on Sunday evening?

  As she heard the sound of a car drawing up the gravel drive outside, Mike quickly blotted her lipstick with a tissue, tucked an errant copper curl behind her ear and rose from the stool in front of the dressing-table. Picking up her evening bag from the bed, she threw a cursory glance towards the full-length mirror on the wall and frowned at the tall, slim girl with over-bright, warm hazel eyes and flushed cheeks who gazed back at her. The classically designed black dress with the demure neckline didn't seem to project the brisk, businesslike image that had been intended. The apparent severity of the style was deceptive and perversely accentuated the feminine curves it was supposed to minimise. It was too late to change now, Mike decided ruefully, glancing at her gold wristwatch, and closed the bedroom door behind her.

  Automatically assuming that John would have shown him into the drawing-room, she was thrown off balance to discover Luke waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Faltering for a second, she continued to descend towards him, the cool casual greeting sticking in her throat as she took in his appearance, the force of his blatant, arrogant masculinity striking her like a physical blow. Expertly tailored dark trousers emphasised the lean hips and powerful thighs. His blue shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, revealing smooth tanned skin, the sprinkling of fine dark hairs becoming thicker as they disappeared down his chest.

  'Ready?' The timbre of Luke's voice seemed even deeper than usual and the expression in his dark grey eyes made her heartbeat quicken.

  She nodded, her throat dry, and tore her eyes away from him. The light touch of his hand on her bare arm as he guided her out of the front door and into the waiting car made her skin tingle. She gazed fixedly ahead as he started up the engine, but every nerve in her being was alive to the male presence beside her.

  Slowly her erratic breathing returned to normal and she frowned as the car drew up outside a small red-bricked cottage.

  'We're having dinner here?' she asked, startled, and received a confirmatory nod. She had just taken it for granted that they would be dining at a restaurant. It had never occurred to her that Luke would have elected to entertain the travel agent in the small rented cottage, although it did now explain the comparative informality of his dress.

  'If you'd given me careful, detailed instructions, I'm sure I'd have managed to find my own way here,' she said drily, following him up the path to the front door. Why on earth had Luke thought it necessary to come and collect her in his car when he lived just down the lane?

  She was immediately conscious of the silence as they entered the cottage. There were no sounds of activity coming from the kitchen at the far end of the narrow hall. So Luke was presumably cooking dinner himself?

  Unease began to stir inside her, and grew stronger as she was shown into the living-room. Cheap reproduction prints adorned the stark white walls; the furnishings, although adequate, were well worn and ill matched. Mike's eyebrows furrowed together. This was hardly the most salubrious of settings in which to entertain a business client.

  'Thank you,' she murmured coolly as Luke handed her a glass of white wine. She'd been intending to ask for a soft drink but had changed her mind at the last minute, hoping that the wine might help her relax. She-sat down in an armchair and crossed her slim legs, the composed expression on her face revealing nothing of her inner disquiet, and watched Luke from under her lashes as he flicked on a table-lamp, the room instantly appearing less austere in the soft yellow glow. 'What time are you expecting Nicholas?'

  'Nick?' he enquired, moving over to the sideboard and helping himself to a whisky. 'I think you're under some misapprehension, Michaelia --'

  'He's not coming, is he?' Mike broke in evenly. It was a purely rhetorical question. She already knew the answer, having begun to suspect that something was amiss the moment Luke drew up in front of the cottage. 'You lied to me.'

  'I never lie,' he contradicted her mildly, sitting down on the sofa and nursing the whisky tumbler in his hand.

  'But you told me --'

  'I told you that I'd invited Nick to dine with us tonight. Which I most certainly had.' His straight mouth quirked at the corners. 'Unfortunately he wasn't able to accept my invitation at such short notice, so we've arranged a lunchtime meeting next week.'

  'You deliberately misled me!' He was simply playing with words.

  'Did I?' Luke enquired with infuriating innocence.

  'You know you did!' Mike took a much-needed sip of wine and surveyed him over the rim of her glass. 'So why all the subterfuge?' she demanded with a calmness she was far from feeling. 'Why didn't you simply --?'

  'You might have refused again. And I hate eating alone,' he informed her gravely.

  'Besides which you felt honour bound to return my lavish hospitality of the other evening?' Mike offered helpfully.

  'Exactly,' he agreed, straight-faced.

  'Well, thanks for the drink.' She tossed back the rest of her wine in one long gulp and rose to her feet. 'I can find my own way out.'

  'You mean you're walking out on me? When I've spent hours toiling over a hot stove?'

  She threw him a withering glance over her shoulder and walked briskly across to the
door, but Luke was there before her and stood blocking her exit.

  'Stay and have dinner with me, Mike.'

  The unexpected use of the diminutive form of her name caught her off guard, while the intentness in the deep voice made her stomach muscles contract.

  'Stay,' he repeated softly, and, raising a hand, gently touched her cheek with his fingers.

  Mike swallowed. What did she do now? Push Luke aside and run out of the cottage like a terrified teenager? Tell him she'd stay as long as he promised not to touch her again? Either way she was going to look like an absolute fool.

  'All right.' Did that cool, composed voice really belong to her? She looked up at him and her heart missed a beat as she saw the expression in his eyes as they rested lingeringly on her mouth.

  'Is there anything I can do to help in the kitchen?' she asked briskly.

  'You can lay the table if you like.' There was a wry note in his voice as he turned away and opened the door.

  'That was delicious,' Mike murmured appreciatively as she swallowed the last morsel of tender chicken.

  'My coq au vin --' Luke began solemnly.

  'Is the toast of Paris?' Mike grinned back at him across the square table, amazed to discover that she was actually beginning to enjoy herself. They were seated in the small dining area at one end of the kitchen. There were no candles on the table, no soft, seductive music in the background. It was so far removed from the intimate dinner that she'd been dreading that her earlier agitation now seemed laughable. Luke's conversation had been light and entertaining, the sense of humour she'd once mentally accused him of lacking very much in evidence, and matching her own exactly. He had quite deliberately set out to make her feel relaxed and at ease, and he had succeeded, Mike admitted.

  'And now for my piece de resistance,' Luke murmured modestly, collecting the dinner plates and carrying them through to the adjoining kitchen. He stooped to open the oven door and Mike nearly choked with suppressed laughter as she witnessed the expression of dismay that crossed his face.

  He stood up straight, slammed the oven door shut and grinned at her over his shoulder. 'Apparently my culinary expertise does not extend to chocolate soufflés. Cheese and fruit?'

  'I don't think I could eat anything else,' Mike murmured lazily. She was almost too comfortable to move, enveloped in a rosy glow of utter well-being.

  'We'll have coffee in the living-room,' Luke decided, switching on a percolator.

  'OK.' Reluctantly, Mike pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. 'I'll give you a hand with the dishes first.'

  'Leave them,' he instructed, setting out cups and saucers on a tray. 'I'll do them in the morning.'

  'Don't you have a daily?' she asked curiously.

  'No.' He shrugged. 'It hardly seems worth employing someone when I'm only going to be here temporarily.'

  'I suppose not,' Mike agreed vaguely, a pang of almost unbearable sadness twisting through her. It would take a lifetime to get to know this man and she had a few short months at the very most. 'So you're fending for yourself at the moment?' she teased. 'Doing all your own laundry, shopping, cleaning as well as cooking?'

  'Is there any reason why I shouldn't?' He quirked an eyebrow at her. 'Now who's being chauvinistic?'

  'I was just surprised, that's all,' she defended herself quickly, remembering all too vividly their first meeting, though deliberately closing her mind to its conclusion. She wondered why Luke had decided to rent the small, rather basic cottage. Most men in his position, she was sure, would have chosen to stay in the comfort of a luxurious hotel suite. Perhaps Luke simply enjoyed being self-sufficient and living alone.

  'I grew up with two strong-minded sisters who made quite sure that I didn't escape my fair share of the chores simply because I was male,' Luke explained with a smile.

  Mike smiled back, intrigued by the small insight into his family background, and a childhood that had evidently not been as pampered as her own. In a house full of domestic staff, she'd never been called upon to undertake any menial chore. In fact, until she'd started her apprenticeship she'd never so much as washed a dirty mug, she realised with a pinprick of shame.

  'Would you carry this through and I'll bring the coffee?' Luke handed her the tray.

  She followed him back into the living-room, set the tray down carefully on the low end table in front of the sofa, and then sat down at one end.

  'Cream? Sugar?' Luke asked, pouring coffee into the two cups.

  'Just cream, please.'

  He handed her a cup and then crossed the carpet and turned on the cassette player in one corner of the room.

  'La Traviata,' Mike murmured, recognising the haunting, poignant music instantly. 'Prelude to Act One.' She saw Luke flick her a surprised glance and confessed, 'I don't know much about classical music or opera, but this piece was one of Matthew's favourites. He used to play it all the time.'

  'You were very close, weren't you?' he said quietly, joining her on the sofa, one arm stretched out along the back behind her head.

  'Yes.' She was silent for a moment. 'I hardly ever saw my father when I was a child. He was abroad a great deal of the time, and when he was home he always seemed to be rushing off to some meeting or another.' She shrugged. 'I suppose that's partly why all his marriages failed. Business always took priority over everything else.' Men like her father should never get married and have families, she thought wryly. 'But Matthew was different. However busy he was, he always made time to listen to me.' She deliberately kept her voice casual, wary of sounding over-emotional, but she could feel tears pricking the back of her eyelids. 'I know it's trite, but time really is the most precious gift you can give to a child.' She stopped, wishing she could eradicate that last remark. It sounded sentimental and banal. Cautiously she turned her head and looked up at Luke, and was instantly relieved by the deep understanding in his eyes, and she knew too that he had guessed at much that she had left unsaid, guessed at those periods of aching loneliness she'd experienced as a child in a house full of people.

  'Time is the most precious commodity you can give to anyone, not just a child,' Luke murmured softly. 'And often the hardest.'

  Mike was conscious that his hand had dropped to her shoulder, drawing her closer, and it suddenly seemed the most natural thing in the world to let her head fall against his chest. She could hear the strong beat of his heart, feel the warmth of his body through the thin shirt. Her eyes were on a level with the open collar, and the longing to reach out a hand and touch the tanned skin was disturbingly acute.

  'Where do you come from originally?' she asked instead. She knew virtually nothing about his early life.

  'North of England.'

  She waited expectantly for him to elaborate on the brief, unsatisfactory answer but he made no attempt to do so. His reticence made her even more curious about his boyhood, but regretfully she decided that it might be wiser not to pursue that particular topic.

  'And now you live in New York?' That was surely a safe, casual enough question.

  'I divide my time between the States and Europe.'

  Mike recalled Christina telling her about the apartments in New York, Geneva and Paris. Did Luke regard any of them as a home, or were they all simply strategic bases from which to conduct his business? Shades of her father, she mused ruefully. Still, at least Luke seemed to realise that marriage and a family would not fit in with his itinerant lifestyle, and contented himself with short-lived affairs. She frowned. Her only evidence for that assumption was based on the gossip columns of the more sensational tabloids, and she was already beginning to suspect that the media's portrayal of Luke was not wholly accurate. But even if his playboy image was exaggerated it was inconceivable that a man as obviously virile as Luke should be leading a celibate existence. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want to think about those other shadowy women in Luke's life. Not now.

  Lean, sensitive fingers were stroking the nape of her neck, sending tiny little shivers tingling do
wn her spine. She felt his lips brush against her temple, move over the curve of her cheek, and trail a sensuous, teasing path down her neck. Enclosed in a bubble of warm, languorous pleasure, she stirred against him, tilting her face upwards.

  His eyes were half closed as they looked down at her, his mouth a few frustrating inches above hers. The warm, secure bubble evaporated, leaving her open and vulnerable to newer, disturbing emotions.

  'Kiss me, Mike,' Luke ordered huskily.

  Mike's breath lodged in her throat. Of their own volition, her hands crept up around his neck, drawing his head down towards her.

  His mouth took possession of hers, gently at first and then with increasing urgency, his tongue parting her lips as he sought a deeper intimacy. Mike's eyes closed, her head spinning, tasting Luke as he was her, matching his hunger with her own, drowning in a scalding whirlpool of sensations.

  His hand swept down the length of her body, and then closed possessively over her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple, already taut beneath the soft fabric of her dress. It was an exquisite form of torture, the need to feel his caress on her bare, heated skin almost unendurable.

  She murmured a throaty protest as he lifted his head, her eyes opening dazedly.

  'Do you have any idea of what touching you is doing to me?' he groaned, pulling her to her feet, covering her face with tiny, ,burning kisses as he crushed her against him, moulding her hips into the hard thrust of his thighs. Her hands gripped hold of his shoulders as she arched up against him, feverishly seeking his mouth again. She was incapable of coherent thought; her senses, her whole being was dominated by this man.

  She felt his hold on her relax and his arms fell to his side. The abruptness of the release left her feeling bereft and confused, her breathing shallow and irregular. Had she done something wrong? Uncertainly she gazed up at Luke.