Firth

by Vaso

  'Herbert. Vanessa Herbert,' he mused, then snapped his fingers. 'Of course! John Sampson's latest. Bridge, wasn't it, or some such idiocy?'

  'Pontoon,' she corrected him prissily.

  'And you've got the part of the young girl——'

  'Had the part of the young girl, until a certain Max Anderson gave me the thumbs down. It folded a month ago. But you obviously haven't noticed that.'

  'No, I can't say I had.'

  'You just give your views and forget the whole thing. The casualties don't matter, do they?'

  'Not much,' he said calmly, then echoed Jonathan's words to her. 'It's customary. It's the law of the jungle. You fight or you fall to the bottom of the heap.'

  That's easier said than done,'

  'If you really think that, you shouldn't be doing the job in the first place,' he said cuttingly. 'Thousands of your colleagues since the year dot have been learning that lesson. What makes you so different?'

  'It was my first time in the West End——'

  'Well, what did you expect—instant stardom? Your name in lights, the press queue down the street to interview you, public acclaim?'

  'I expected a fair chance.' '

  'And you got it, just the same as everybody else. And, if I remember rightly, you made quite a hash of it.'

  'You certainly didn't throw me any bouquets,' she said bitterly.

  'You didn't merit them. Why should I?' he argued, reasonably enough.

  'So I'm out of a job now.'

  'My heart bleeds for you. You'll just have to pick yourself up and start again.'

  'I can do without the homespun' philosophising, thanks,' she told him.

  'Sweetness and light aren't my forte, I'm afraid.' It didn't sound like an apology and she was sure it wasn't intended to be one.

  'I can tell that. You enjoy tearing people to shreds, don't you?' Vanessa accused.

  He shrugged casually. 'About as much as you probably enjoy the necessary evils of your job. Selling yourself to men like Sam Galveston for promised favours must drag after a while. Or don't you find it so? At least I'm honest about my likes and dislikes.'

  'How dare you?' She had to clench her hands hard around the coffee cup she was holding to stop herself throwing it at him.

  'Wasn't that exactly what you were doing last night? Being dishonest?'

  She sprang to her feet. 'I don't have to listen to this! I'm not staying here to be insulted——'

  'Scared of listening to a few home truths about yourself?' he taunted her savagely. He thrust back his chair and got up too. The strength and power of the man intimidated her, but she stood her ground. Max Ander-son wasn't going to break her this time, whatever he had done in the past!

  'You're twisting everything out of all proportion,' she said.

  'Am I? You claim that you hate me. But last night you were making up to me as if I was the only man in the room.' He laughed briefly. 'Perhaps you're a better actress than I gave you credit for.'

  This wasn't the moment to explain what she had been attempting last night. Not that he would believe her even if she did. 'Or perhaps I wasn't acting at all,' Vanessa suggested. 'Maybe I was just bowled over by

  your powerful personality. Or was it your animal magnetism?'

  'It's happened before now.' There was a faint, reminiscent smile on his face.

  She could imagine it. He was handsome enough to disarm most women. Last night, with all the trappings of sophistication, he had looked superb. The well-cut dinner suit had moulded his powerful figure to perfection. But this morning, in a casual robe, the attraction was still there in the tilt of that firm chin, the healthy look to his skin, so different from the sickly pallor of most media personalities whom she had met, the curl in his dark hair that had been so ruthlessly repressed the previous night. At the party he had looked exactly what he was: a sleek, male animal, completely at home in the jungle he had chosen to inhabit. For all the careless air about him this morning Max Anderson was dangerous. And it would pay to remember that, Vanessa reminded herself.

  It was pure folly to taunt him, but she couldn't stop herself. 'Oh, I'm sure you appeal to the baser instincts of most women.'

  'And you claim to be immune, of course?'

  Vanessa didn't like the way he said the words, as if he knew something that she didn't. She wished for the hundredth time that she knew more about what had happened last night. 'I didn't say that,' she fenced uneasily, and took a step backwards, away from him.

  'Very wise,' he commented. 'But you would be, wouldn't you, about declaring your true feelings? I realised last night that you didn't have the courage of your convictions. You wouldn't have been struggling so hard with Sam if you'd been able to make up your mind to go through with it.'

  'Really?' She tried to sound politely bored and faileddismally. He knew how to hit out when it suited him.

  'Really,' he confirmed. 'You're all talk and no action, Vanessa. You promise and then don't deliver.'

  'It seems to bother you. What did I ever promise you?'

  'Nothing. As yet.'

  'Nor ever will, if I can help it,' she claimed vehemently.

  'Don't be too sure of that.'

  'Are you suggesting that I owe you something more for last night?'

  'And if I was?'

  'If you were any kind of gentleman——' began Vanessa, horribly conscious that she sounded as if she had come straight from a Victorian parsonage.

  'I'm not,' he said flatly. 'I thought you'd realised that. And, as you scarcely merit being described as a lady, it shouldn't worry you too much. You haven't any finer feelings.'

  'Just like you, in fact,' she blazed, throwing caution to the winds. 'We ought to be soul mates. Anyway, I'm sure your motives last night weren't that disinterested.'

  'Meaning?'

  'It wasn't an accident that you came and found us, was it?'

  'No. I made it my business to track you down.'

  'Why should you care about finding me?'

  'Perhaps I like to call the tune,' he said coolly. 'I'm not accustomed to being tossed aside so casually.'

  So she had scored a slight hit, after all. 'You mean you acted like a dog who'd had a choice bone stolen and wanted to get it back?'

  'Possibly,' he conceded. 'Are you sorry I did?'

  'No.' Vanessa looked down and found with faint surprise that she was still frantically clutching her coffee cup. She roused herself and walked over to put it in the

  sink. She stood with her back to him and made her next words studiedly casual. 'And afterwards?'

  'After you passed out on me, you mean?'

  'Yes.' She swallowed hard. 'You brought me back here.'

  'There wasn't much else I could do with you. I didn't know who the hell you were. Your evening bag contained a handkerchief, a bottle of perfume and a door-key that could have fitted any one of a million doors in London,' he said impatiently. Tm not Sherlock Holmes. Of course I brought you back here. Would you have preferred it .if I'd toted you into the party and asked if anyone could identify you? That would have caused quite a stir.'

  'No, of course not. I wasn't thinking.' But he had not explained everything. She turned to face him, willing herself to remain expressionless and wondering how to go on.

  But Max Anderson was a keen observer. His eyes narrowed as he looked over at her. 'Or have you been thinking too much? What's biting you?'

  'Nothing.'

  'Oh, yes, I think there is1. You're wondering if I took my payment in full last night while you were out cold.'

  'Do you blame me for wondering? You've just admitted that you're no gentleman.'

  'I don't need to sink to those levels,' he said contemptuously. 'I brought you here. I undressed you—you weren't capable of doing it for yourself. As you may or may not have noticed, this is a one-bedroomed flat. I didn't see why I should crucify myself on the living-room sofa when there was a perfectly good double bed available. And you weren't raising any objections about the propriety or other
wise of my actions. Satisfied? Is that plain enough for you?'

  'Yes,' she muttered, feeling an utter fool.

  'But, as you seem to expect me to take advantage of you, and I'm never one to refuse an invitation when it's offered——' Before she was even aware of what he intended he had moved forward and seized her in his arms.

  'What do you think you're doing?' she demanded indignantly.

  'Don't ask stupid questions,' he commanded, and then, as she protested further, silenced her himself as his mouth came down on hers.

  She had been kissed before, of course, but not like this. Vanessa acknowledged that truth only seconds after the touch of that hard, rather cynical mouth on hers. If he chose, Max Anderson knew exactly how to arouse a woman's senses and, with calm deliberation, that was just what he was doing, to her.

  At first the very suddenness of his action had stunned her into shocked immobility and she offered him no resistance. Then realisation dawned, and she struggled. But the arms that held her dealt mercilessly with her attempts to free herself and then the insistent power of his kiss drugged her and deprived her of the strength to fight him off. Against that skilled assault there was no defence, and Vanessa succumbed to the inevitable, her body crying out for more than just his kisses even while her mind was warning her that she was a fool to do so.

  Waves of sensation ran through her as Max pressed her closer to him, pulling away the folds of the sheet that enveloped her and letting his fingers trace a tantalising path down her spine. She was responding eagerly now, her mouth opening under the insistence of his and giving back kiss for kiss. Her hand moved to draw aside the edges of his robe and pressed itself against the hair-roughened wall of his chest, delighting in the feel of him. She gave herself up totally to the

  pleasure of his touch, caring only that this could go on for ever.

  She came back to the world of sanity with a sudden shock when he released her abruptly to ask, 'Shall we go back to bed?'

  The words fell like stones on her conscious mind. From somewhere she found the strength to thrust him from her and stumble aside.

  'I take it that means the answer's no.'

  She looked at him, hating him. Her head was still reeling from shock, her body still registering its own protest at being deprived of his lovemaking. But Max Anderson hadn't lost his cool. He stood there, hands on his hips, surveying her with a faintly quizzical look that gave no hint that he was in any danger of giving way to his emotions. She might have been turning down the offer of another cup of coffee for all the impact her refusal of him seemed to have on his ego.

  'I want to go home,' Vanessa said. She knew she could not take much more. The sooner she removed herself from this man's company the better for her peace of mind.

  He didn't argue the point. 'All right. I'd better find you something to wear. That sheet isn't a very adequate cover.'

  Hastily she swathed herselfr in it again, suddenly aware of how far his roving hands had strayed.

  'Don't worry, I wasn't going to try to change your mind for you.' He sounded jaded, suddenly bored with her. 'If you'll trust me as far as the bedroom, I think there's a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that will do for you. They'll be yards too big, but it doesn't matter.'

  In silence she followed him and watched while he sorted out some clothes from one of the cupboards there. He tossed them over to her, commanding, 'Putthese on.' Then, as she hesitated, 'For God's sake, forget your precious chastity for a minute! Is sex all you can think about? I saw all you had to offer last night and it didn't attract me.'

  But he hadn't been averse to taking advantage of her this morning, Vanessa thought. His hand went to the tie of his robe and she realised that he certainly wasn't going to consider any feelings of modesty that she might be expected to possess. He would only laugh if she protested or took herself off to the bathroom. Her eyes lingered on the muscled perfection of his body before she dragged her gaze away, scared that he would notice and comment on the fact.

  She wasted little time getting dressed. As he had predicted, the jeans slid on to her hips, the legs impossibly long, and the T-shirt was baggy to say the least. But both garments, when adjusted, were a great improvement on the sheet they replaced.

  'Ready?' In a black cashmere sweater and dark slacks he still retained that quality of controlled power that intimidated her.

  'Yes, I suppose so.'

  Til drive you home.'

  'There's no need,' she protested. 'If you'll lend me the money for a taxi——'

  'Don't be a bloody fool,' he said, and that seemed to settle the matter.

  Vanessa rolled up the wreck that had been her evening dress into a tight bundle along with her solitary shoe and the evening bag that she had retrieved from the bedside table where he had dropped it. Better to remove all traces of her offending presence, she thought, stuffing them under her arm. Then she followed him to the door.

  A glossy black Maserati was parked at the kerb outside the flats and he unlocked the passenger door and

  motioned her inside without a word, before taking his own seat. 'Where are we heading for?' he asked her.

  She gave Jill's address and began to offer directions.

  'It's all right, I know it,' he said, cutting her short.

  To judge by the speed he drove at, he obviously wanted to be rid of her as soon as was humanly possible. Vanessa glanced at the hard, unsmiling profile and wondered what he was thinking. Probably blaming her for wasting his time, both last night and this morning. Max Anderson was not accustomed to unscheduled disturbances in his smooth-running life and a girl who brought him nothing but inconvenience could hardly expect the red carpet treatment that he no doubt dished out to some people. It was strange that he had even bothered to drive her home. She sank back in her seat, devoutly hoping that the journey would be a short one.

  For the first time it occurred to her that Jill must be worried sick about her. What had her sister thought when she had not come home from the party? She had never stayed out all night before. She wasn't the type. Would Jonathan have rung to ask what had happened to her? And what must he be thinking? Vanessa grew more anxious by the second.

  Max Anderson must have noticed her preoccupied air. 'Having regrets?' he taunted her.

  What did he mean? Regrets that she hadn't gone to bed with him? That was what he would think, of course. Any girl who turned down the chance would inevitably have second thoughts. The nerve of the man! She had no intention of being drawn on the subject. 'Only that I was ever unlucky enough ever to have met you,' she snapped at him.

  He laughed harshly. 'The feeling's mutual, believe me.'

  He turned his attention back to the road, frowning slightly, and they completed the rest of the journey in astrained silence that did nothing for Vanessa's tautly stretched nerves. With relief she saw the familiar Hampstead landmarks come into view and roused herself to direct him to the large Victorian house, the basement of which was Jill's flat, situated in one of the roads near the southern end of the Heath. There didn't seem to be any panda cars parked outside, so perhaps Jill hadn't got as far as having the river dragged yet.

  Vanessa gathered up her things and had the door open almost before the car had come to a halt in her haste to get away. She didn't care what Max Anderson thought about her any more. She just wanted to get as great a distance as possible from him and subside into a hearty bout of tears.

  'Thank you for the lift,' she said over her shoulder as she exited faster than she had ever left a car in her life. Then she slammed the door behind her and took to her heels, running for sanctuary as if from the devil himself.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ONCE safely inside, with the reassurance of a sturdy front door between herself and the man she had just left, Vanessa stood for a moment in the tiny hall, panting with effort and trying desperately to listen for sounds that would indicate that Max Anderson had taken exception to her rush away from him and had come in pursuit. The bolt that she had slammed home looked
strong enough, but she didn't hold out much hope of it surviving a determined attack from Max Anderson. He wasn't the sort of man to let a little thing like that get in his way. She shivered slightly. Then, with relief, she heard the harsh crash of gears as the Maserati turned and the rev of its engine as he speeded away. He was not wasting any more time on her. But, by the sound of it, he was angry. Well, so was she. And Max Anderson didn't have to face a sister who was probably demented with worry by now. She braced herself and headed for the living room.

  'Jill? Are you there?'

  Silence. And no one in the kitchen, either. Vanessa flung open the door of Jill's bedroom to see it in its usual pristine condition, the bed made and everything in its place. A further check revealed that her sister's coat and handbag had gone. Thoroughly alarmed by now, she tried her own room, where a note slipped under the door solved the mystery.

  'Waited up till 2 a.m. for you, then gave it up. I'm a working girl, remember? I suppose you crawled in atif you feel like any breakfast. Tell me all about it tonight. Love, Jill.'

  Why was everyone so keen to force food on her this morning? Vanessa screwed the paper into a small ball and threw it viciously into the corner of the room. So Jill hadn't even missed her. She had gone to work as usual, not suspecting that anything was wrong. At least that was one less set of explanations to make. She sighed. Her brain still felt like cotton wool. More coffee would be a good idea. The two cups that she had downed already today hadn't gone even halfway to making her feel human again.

  She sat down on the living room sofa and cradled a steaming mug of coffee in her hands as she reviewed the situation. The next person to be dealt with was Jonathan. Vanessa eyed the phone dismally. One didn't treat Jonathan the way that she had done last night, disappearing without any explanation and leaving him to hunt high and low for her when he decided it was time to leave. What must he have thought? Better to get explanations over with, she thought, and reached for the receiver.

  Jonathan wasn't at home, but her second call to his office found him. 'You got home all right, then?' he asked. 'I was just about to ring you.' Amazingly, he didn't sound either offended or cross. If anything he was faintly placatory.