Firth

by Vaso

  She refused to be provoked. 'And do you think that I'll be able to satisfy any of your requirements?'

  'Certainly the last.' His tawny ga/e lingered appreciatively over her and she resisted the impulse to tug at her skirt, which had ridden r up over her knees. So much for wearing old clothes to economise! The fashions of two years ago were a little short for today's standards.

  'And the rest?'

  'We'll work on that as we go along,' he said calmly. 'I imagine I'll be able to lick you into some kind of shape before I've finished with you.'

  She didn't like the sound of that. 'So I'm to consider myself employed, am I?'

  'For a trial run,' he agreed. 'But you'll be out on your ear the first time you make a mistake.'

  'I shouldn't be too critical if I were you,' she told him sweetly.

  'Meaning I ought to make allowances for your inexperience, I suppose?'

  'Meaning good secretaries are harder to find than you seem to think,' she corrected him.

  'We have yet to establish your excellence. I'm warning you, Vanessa, that I don't suffer fools gladly.'

  'There's no need. You've already made me quite aware of that. It's painfully obvious, I'm afraid.'

  'Were you referring to my professional opinion of your lack of talent?' he enquired. 'Or was it something I said to you at the party? That was careless of me. I don't usually let my women know what I'm thinking about them.'

  'No, that would never do. It might give the game away.' Vanessa seethed. 'But I'm not one of your women. I turned you down, if you remember.'

  'Was that why you asked them to send you here? Were you looking for a second chance?'

  'I'm not interested in you. Not now, not ever. Is that clear enough for you, Mr Anderson?'

  'As crystal. If you mean it. And you'd better make it Max.'

  'I thought that was reserved for your friends.'

  'Play your cards right and I might number you among them one of these days.'

  'There's a thought.' She laughed harshly. "That's a pleasure I can forgo, thank you all the same.'

  'Oh, I don't know about that. I think you could be persuaded to change your tune. What does it take to sway you, Vanessa Herbert? Money? Influence? The promise of a good part in a new play? Or something

  else?' His eyes were on her lips and she knew exactly what was the something else that he had in mind.

  'I wouldn't advise you to try,' she said as coolly as she was able. 'You'd be wasting your valuable time.'

  'That's my business, surely? But I very much doubt it.'

  'Do you always get your own way?'

  'Only ninety per cent of the time. The rest I put down to experience.'

  'It's all a game to you, isn't it?' Vanessa accused him. 'And you're not a good loser.'

  He shrugged. 'Is anyone? Are you suggesting that I've lost where you're concerned?'

  'Haven't you?' she challenged. 'It looks very much like it to me. I think I'm pretty well immune to your fatal charms.'

  'Do you?' He smiled, an easy, confident smile that held all the assurance in the world. 'Come on, Vanessa, we both know that's not true.'

  He was reminding her of that awful morning that she had tried so hard to forget. That morning when she had gone into his arms as if it had been the most natural thing in the world. Vanessa tossed her head. 'You didn't get what you wanted that time.'

  'Perhaps I wasn't trying too hard. I think that little scene would have had a different ending if I had.'

  'No,' she said, as much to herself as to him. She didn't trust him an inch. He was playing with her like a cat with a captive mouse. She felt suddenly breathless. It was exciting, this verbal sparring, exhilarating even, but it was dangerous. 'Shall we get on? If you tell me what you want me to do, perhaps we can get started?'

  A mobile brow registered faint mockery at her attempt to sound businesslike, and for an instant, she wondered if he would deliberately choose to put an-other meaning to her words. She tensed expectantly.

  But she was mistaken. He motioned her to the desk. 'Did the agency pass on any details?' He went on before she had a chance to reply. 'I expect you've forgotten them already if they did.'

  'They said it was something urgent and you were prepared to pay over the odds to get it done.'

  'Oh, that went home at least,' he said insultingly. He rooted about impatiently^amongst the mass of papers on the desk top, then produced a bundle of handwritten sheets roughly clipped together. 'This is it.' He thrust it at her. 'Well?'

  'Can I cope, do you mean?' Vanessa glanced at the top sheet. tThe writing's appalling, but I've had worse to decipher and managed.'

  'You'll have to leave me a note if you get into difficulties with .it. Or, in an emergency, I'll let you know where you'll be able to find me. But I'm a busy man, don't bother me with details.'

  She looked at it again. 'It's a script of some kind.'

  'Brilliantly deduced,' he said with heavy sarcasm. 'But of course, an actress would recognise that. Yes, it's a television play.'

  'Yours?' she asked curiously.

  'Yes.'

  He wasn't exactly volunteering a wealth of information. 'I didn't know you wrote that sort of thing.'

  'I haven't until now. It's my first attempt. And it's to be kept strictly confidential, if you know the meaning of the word.'

  'Of course I do.'

  'If that's true, you'll be the first actress who ever did,' he said caustically. He glanced at the heavy gold watch on his wrist. 'I must be going. I've an appointment in town in half an hour. Any questions?'

  'No, I don't think so.'

  'Your hours are nine to five unless I tell you otherwise. Sometimes I'll be here, sometimes I won't. Just carry on as usual. O.K.?'

  'Yes.' She hoped he wouldn't be at home that often. It was a very small flat and she could do without his disturbing presence to upset her balance.

  'I don't want you wasting time by going out for lunch,' he went on. 'Raid the fridge. There's plenty of food there and I'll see that it's kept stocked up for you.'

  'Thank you.' +

  'If the phone rings take messages and leave them where I can find them. All you need in the way of paper and that sort of thing is in the desk drawer. I want two carbons. You know the format to use, I suppose?'

  'I'm not a complete idiot!' she flared. He was talking to her as if she was a not very bright six-year-old.

  'Prove it, then,' he said. 'I always did prefer deeds to words.' He stooped to pick up a dark leather jacket that was tossed carelessly on the floor and shrugged himself into it. He turned to go and Vanessa drew a breath of relief. 'Oh, and there's one more thing, Vanessa——'

  'Yes?' she said with exaggerated patience.

  'Don't start getting any ideas, will you?'

  'What about?' She was genuinely puzzled.

  He gestured towards the script in her hand. 'My play. I wouldn't want you to cherish any false hopes that there's a part in it for you. I'll be specifying good actresses for the leading roles when it's produced.'

  'If it ever comes to that,' she retorted. 'What's the acceptance rate for television plays these days—one in a thousand?'

  'Something like that.' He didn't sound too worried about it. 'I hope you enjoy reading it.'

  'I doubt that very much,' she said rudely.

  He laughed, not noticeably put out by her remark. 'You could be in for a surprise,' he said. Then the door banged behind him and he was gone.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HE was right, of course; Vanessa might have known that. She did enjoy reading his play, a wicked send-up of bureaucracy which nevertheless held a few serious social comments. And, strangely enough, as the days went by, she became aware of another startling fact. She enjoyed working for Max Anderson.

  Not that he was an easygoing boss by any means— far from it. He expected hard work and plenty of it and was quick to notice any drop in standards. Sloppiness and untidiness irritated him. If something did not meet with his approval it w
as waiting, heavily scored through, for Vanessa to retype the next day. It became almost a challenge to see how much of her work could pass muster first time round, and she was pleased with herself as she registered the improvement that came about.

  'Not that he'll ever praise me,' she told Jill, almost bitterly. 'I could be a machine for all the notice that he takes of me.'

  'Does it matter? I thought you hated the man. When you told me you were going to work for him I didn't think you'd last a week without sticking a knife into him.'

  'Don't worry, I'm still tempted to do just that. Working for him hasn't changed a thing,' Vanessa assured her. 'Except that there's a certain poetic justice about the man who put me out of work having to employ me himself.'

  'Did you think it might alter things?' Jill was curious.

  'Was that why you took the job in the first place?'

  'You mean, was I hoping to convince him that he was wrong about me?' She laughed in genuine amusement. 'What did you have in mind—a few quick passages from Shakespeare delivered in between punching the typewriter keys to make him realise that I'm really talented?'

  'Of course not, idiot! But there are other ways of going about it.'

  'Spread a little sweetness and light and see the man weaken at the knees?' Vanessa jeered. 'If only you knew him!'

  'He's supposed to like women.'

  'And they like him. But that doesn't mean that they get anywhere with him. He changes them to fit the mood of the moment. One day it's a bubbly blonde, the next a redhead. When he gets bored he moves on—and believe me, Max gets bored very quickly.'

  'Don't they mind?' asked Jill.

  'Sometimes.' Vanessa recalled a couple of fairly agonised messages that she'd had to relay to him. He hadn't seemed particularly disturbed by them. 'But that's their hard luck. If that man's got any finer feelings, he keeps them pretty well buried.'

  'It sounds as if you're pretty well out of it, Van.'

  She recognised the slightly cautionary note in her sister's voice and grinned. Jill didn't know that she'd got her fingers burnt already where Max Anderson was concerned and didn't need warning off. 'Are you scared I'll succumb to the man's devastating charms? I'd rather go ten rounds with a man-eating tiger than try my luck with him! I'm safe enough. I just feel sorry for anyone who doesn't have the sense to steer clear.'

  Vanessa said as much to Max himself the next day. It was one of the rare occasions when he was at home, sprawled across the living room sofa, working at a sheaf

  of papers spread across his knees. Usually he left her pretty much to herself, as often as not communicating with her by phone or note from one day to the next. Vanessa preferred it that way. For all her vaunted immunity to the man she felt distinctly uneasy in his presence. When he was there the flat seemed even smaller somehow, dwarfed by his powerful build. She found it difficult to settle to her work with him in the same room and spoiled sheet after sheet of paper, ripping them furiously out of the typewriter.

  He noticed. Not much passed him by. 'I hope we're well supplied with typing paper,' he commented. 'We'd need to be at the rate that you're getting through it.'

  'Are you planning to dock my wages to compensate for it?' She was cross with herself for letting the fact that he was there get to her and cross with him for seeing it.

  'Touchy, aren't you?' he observed.

  'I don't like to feel someone breathing down my neck when I work. It puts me off.'

  'I'd have thought that in your profession you'd have got used to an audience,' he said, mildly enough. 'But I agree that this flat's too small for two, unless they're on pretty intimate terms.'

  'Which we're certainly not.'

  'Quite.'

  'You'll have to find something larger when you get married.' She didn't know what made her say that. Perhaps, by talking to him, she was trying to ease the tension she felt building up inside her every time they met.

  'If I get married,' he corrected her. 'It certainly doesn't feature in my plans at the moment, whatever the gossip writers may be saying to the contrary.'

  'They say you're playing the field.'

  "They're right for once.' He smiled thinly. "There's safety in numbers.'

  'Scared?' she challenged.

  'Should I be?'

  Vanessa shrugged her shoulders casually. 'There seem to be any amount of stupid women lining up to try and catch you. If the law of averages operates one of them is bound to drag you up the aisle some day.'

  'I doubt it,' he said calmly. 'I don't like stupid women.'v

  'I can't say that I've noticed. Those who try endlessly to get you on the phone don't seem too bright to me. It's a shame they can't take the brush-off when it comes.'

  'You'd have got the message instantly and understood it, of course,' Max drawled.

  'Oh, they've got the message, loud and clear. They could hardly fail to when you'rfe seen out on the town with someone new. They just refuse to accept it.'

  'Is that my fault?' he asked carelessly.

  'No, it's theirs, the poor fools.'

  "Then why waste any sympathy on them? They ask for all they get.'

  'You despise women, don't you?' she said.

  'I wouldn't say that.'

  'All right, put it another way. You use them.'

  'They allow themselves to be used. I'm not to blame if they get hurt in the process.'

  'You never get hurt yourself, of course.'

  A shuttered look came to his face and, for a second, Vanessa wondered if she had hit some hidden nerve. 'Emotion is a waste of time,' Max said harshly. 'I learnt that lesson long ago.'

  'If you really think that, I'm sorry for you,' she said.

  "There's no need. I concentrate quite successfully on the other areas of life.'

  'Mere physical relationships don't bring lasting

  happiness,' Vanessa claimed, sounding priggish even to her own ears.

  'I never said they did.' He laughed. 'You would know about all that, wouldn't you?' he added with faint contempt. 'It's a case of the pot calling the kettle black. I don't think your encounter with Sam Galveston had much of the spiritual plane about it. But you didn't expect it to, did you?'

  "That's none of your business!'

  'No. And I'd remind you that my affairs aren't your concern either. Perhaps you'll keep your thoughts to yourself in future.''

  Til be delighted to.' Vanessa turned back to the desk, seized some paper and fed it into the typewriter with a purposeful clatter. 'Don't worry, I know my place.'

  'That I very much doubt, but I'll live in hope,' he said sourly.

  She resisted the impulse to answer back and bent to her work again. This time she tried hard to get absorbed in what she was doing and, with effort, managed to forget his offending presence behind her.

  'Coffee?'

  She started nervously at the sound of his voice. 'What? Oh, yes, thanks.'

  He disappeared to the kitchen for a few minutes and returned bearing two mugs. 'Black with two sugars, isn't it? Did I get it right?'

  That was the way she had drunk it on the only other occasion that he had made coffee for her. She shifted edgily in her chair at the memory. 'I don't usually bother with sugar, but this will do,' she said ungraciously, as she accepted it.

  'Dieting?' She could feel his eyes assessing her body. 'You've no need. You've got a figure that most women would envy.'

  "Thank you. You would know, wouldn't you?'

  'Of course.' He smiled as if recalling something pleasant.

  Her face flamed with anger. "There's no need to throw that at me at every opportunity!'

  "The fact that I'm a connoisseur of the female form?' he asked blandly.

  'The fact that you've seen more of my figure than other men have.'

  'I can't believe that. Such modesty, Vanessa! Or is it that you prefer to undress in the dark?'

  He was enjoying baiting her, she could tell. She felt the spark of temper inside her fan into a full-scale blaze. 'Shut up!' she snappe
d. 'I don't want to hear any more.'

  'No? But I find it interesting.'

  'I'm glad you think so. / don't, particularly.'

  'No, it's not so pleasant, is it, when your private life is the one under discussion?'

  'Discussion? Dissection is the word!'

  He ignored the protest. 'Tell me, how many men have there been, Vanessa? Or have you lost count?' he asked pleasantly.

  Without conscious thought she raised the mug and threw its contents squarely at him. He dodged and the hot liquid just missed his face, spreading instead in a dark stain down his sweater and trousers. Vanessa stood aghast, her hand going to her mouth in horror.

  'You little vixen!' The fury in his voice broke the spell that held her rooted to the spot and, in a blind panic to escape him, she ran for the door. She didn't know where she was going, just anywhere away from the icy rage that she saw in his face. 'Oh, no, you don't!' Strong arms halted her long before she reached her target and pulled her back towards him. 'I think you just pushed your luck a little too far,' he said softly.

  'What do you think, Vanessa?'

  She couldn't have answered to save her life. Her head was spinning with the suddenness of it all. She was caught like an animal in a trap, capable of nothing except resignation to its fate. She watched with a kind of fascination as Max's head bent towards hers, his purpose all too clear. Then hard lips were on hers, forcing, demanding a response. Logic told her to suffer his embrace passively in the hope that he would let her go when he got no reaction from her, but logic was nothing to do with flesh and blood. It was impossible to deny her pleasure- at his touch, and she did not try, her mouth opening beneath the assertion of his, her body moulding itself closer against him.

  She made no protest as his hands released her blouse from the confining band of her skirt and stroked the bare flesh beneath it. He reached upwards to caress her breasts and they swelled with desire at his touch. Her whole body seemed to come alive, engulfed in a wave of passionate need that cried out for fulfilment. No man had ever brought her to such a state, half floating, half drowning in a tide of feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.

  Then as suddenly as he had seized her, he let her go again. Vanessa staggered back from him, weak with reaction. Not that he was unmoved. He was breathing hard and there was a tautness about the firm line of his mouth that suggested that he too was having difficulty in keeping his feelings in check.