Firth

by Vaso

  'You asked for that,' he said thickly. 'You all but sat up and begged for it. So don't expect an apology, because you won't get one.'

  She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself and shake the reaction from her trembling limbs. 'I don't want——' she began.

  'What you want is immaterial as far as I'm concerned. But don't try and tell me that you didn't want me just now.'

  'I hate you!'

  'Was that what it was?' he scoffed. 'Come off it, Vanessa. You were desperate for me. You didn't want me to stop. But you won't admit that, will you? You haven't got that much honesty about you.'

  She was silent. He was right, of course. He could have done anything with her and she would not have protested. On the contrary, she would have been a more than willing partner. Her cheeks burned with shame at the thought of how freely she had offered herself, invitation in every line of her body.

  'Women like you sicken me at times,' Max added coldly.

  'Really? A fine way you've got of showing it!'

  'I wasn't in danger of losing control,' he said.

  She wasn't altogether sure of that. 'Then why?' she asked.

  'I wanted to teach you a lesson. One that you wouldn't forget in a hurry.'

  'And what was that?'

  His smile was faintly cruel. 'That sometimes, Vanessa, you can't have just what you want. It would have been all too easy to ignore the come-on signals, the advancing and backing-off that's been going on. I'm not blind, you know. You've been out to get some kind of reaction from me ever since we met, haven't you?'

  'No,' she said fiercely, although a voice inside her acknowledged that it was true. She knew that she had been playing with fire from the beginning, but something had driven her on to ignore the danger, even to take pleasure in it.

  He shrugged. 'All right, deny it, if it makes you feel

  any better. We both know I'm right, though.' He looked down at his stained clothes and frowned. 'And you know what to expect if you ever try any tricks like that again.'

  'I won't,' she vowed, as much to herself as to him.

  He walked to the door, obviously intending to go and change. 'Remember that in future and we may reach some kind of understanding.'

  Vanessa doubted that very much. Left alone, she slumped back against the sofa feeling totally drained. Then, with determination, she forced herself to get up and go back to the desk. It seemed that she still had a job. Whatever her employer thought about her, it appeared that his opinion of her typing skills was unaltered. She sat down and automatically tidied some papers, a good three-quarters of her brain alert for the sound of Max's return to the living room. Had she got the nerve to ignore him and what had taken place between them? Forget it, she couldn't, of that she was sure.

  But her shakily assumed poise was not tested after all. The bedroom door opened and closed and she tensed nervously. But then the front door slammed behind him. A few minutes later she heard the snarl of the Maserati as he drove away, accelerating down the road with a fine disregard fot such things as speed limits. Clearly Max had taken as much as he could stand from her this morning.

  Vanessa looked at the page in front of her and realised that she had been typing total gibberish for the last five minutes. She noticed that her hand shook as she reached to pull the paper from the machine and start again. Shock, she thought. It took one that way sometimes. She got up, went to her employer's well-stocked drinks cabinet and poured herself a generous slug of brandy. It was the first alcohol that she had touchedsince the night of the party. After that episode she had almost sworn off drink altogether. But this was strictly medicinal. She took a cautious sip, then another, and felt better as a comforting warmth resulted.

  Rebellion stirred within her. Damn Max Anderson! Just who did he think he was to treat her the way he had done and expect to get away with it? He had claimed that he wanted to teach her a lesson. What right had he to direct her education? She wasn't a child any more. If he had still been there instead of running away from her like that, she could have told him as much. She took another sip of Dutch courage and then put the glass down with a sigh. 'Face the truth,' she told herself firmly. 'You wouldn't have had the nerve to do anything of the kind. And your best course now is to say nothing more about it and" hope that he doesn't either. What kind of fool are you, Vanessa Herbert, to think you can take him on and win?'

  She went back to work, but found it hard to keep her mind on what she was doing. Max's face kept coming between her and the page and she ruined sheet after sheet of paper. Lucky that he wasn't there to see her, she thought wryly, as she emptied the wastepaper basket for the umpteenth time. The telepone rang twice and each time she tensed as she stretched out a hand to answer it, wondering if it was Max. She was half disappointed to find it wasn't although she couldn't think why she should be.-But her feelings where Max was concerned were too difficult to analyse, the way she was this morning.

  She did another hour's work and then broke for lunch. She was in the kitchen, surveying the contents of the fridge in a lacklustre fashion and trying to work up some enthusiasm for a meal, when she heard the front door open. So Max was back. Then she realised her mistake. That quick, light step was not Max's purpose-

  ful tread. Vanessa spun round as the intruder paused at the living room door and then cam on to the kitchen.

  'Max? Where are you hiding yourself?'

  If the visitor was surprised to find himself confronted by a strange female wielding a wicked-looking bread-knife in one hand he concealed it admirably. He was as tall as Max and, like him, in his mid to late thirties. But there the resemblance ended. This man was rake-thin and slightly built and had a mop of untidy blond hair that fell in front of his eyes. Certainly not a potential burglar. Vanessa relaxed.

  He put up a hand and smoothed his hair out of his eyes, revealing a friendly blue gaze that was frankly appreciative as he said, 'Was the knife intended for Max, or did you think I was the neighbourhood strong-arm guy?'

  She laughed a little self consciously and lowered the weapon. 'You rather took me by surprise. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand.'

  'I'm Daniel Jensen. For his sins Max is a friend of mine.' He held out a hand and she shook it, wincing slightly at the bone-crushing strength of his grasp.

  She detected a faint transatlantic drawl. 'American?' she guessed.

  'Canadian—careful, we're touchy about that.' He didn't look too put out at the mistake. Vanessa warmed to him. 'But I'm almost an Englishman by adoption, I'm over here so often. Max lends me this place when he's not using it. I get sick of hotel rooms.'

  'So you've got a key to the flat.' She was relieved to solve that mystery.

  'Sure.' He grinned at her. 'Did you think my education included a course in breaking and entering?'

  She remembered her manners rather belatedly. 'I'm Vanessa Herbert.'

  'And you're Max's——'

  'Secretary,' she supplied hastily, anxious that there should be no misunderstandings on that score.

  'I see.' And he'd noted her tone too. 'And right now you're calling him all the names under the sun for not telling you to expect me, right?'

  'Something like that,' she admitted ruefully. 'He might have mentioned it.'

  'Blame me, not him. He didn't know. It's only a quick trip this time. I'm en route to Europe and had a few hours to kill between planes. Waiting round airports isn't my kind of fun, so I thought I'd stop by and see Max. I tried calling from the airport and couldn't get through, so I reckoned I'd come over anyway and hope to find him here. I'm sorry if I startled you.'

  'It's all right.' Vanessa smiled at him.

  'Where is Max?' he asked. 'Is he around?'

  'He left a while ago. I've no idea where he was going.' That didn't sound like a conscientious secretary, but she couldn't help it. 'You could try the television centre. Or he might have gone to Fleet Street to his office there.' She frowned with the effort of working out how to track him down. 'I could phone round, if yo
u like? How much time have you got?'

  'Forget it. There's no problem. I'll see him next time I'm over. And I've just thought of a much better idea.' Daniel Jensen dismissed her suggestions with a wave of one large, bony hand.

  'Well?'

  He rubbed his stubbly chin and grimaced. 'I'm just off an overnight flight from the States and in no fit state to escort a lady anywhere at the moment, but I look quite presentable when I'm cleaned up, believe me. I've got my overnight bag with me. How about me grabbing a quick shave and shower and taking you out to lunch instead of Max? You're a whole lot easier on

  the eye to a jaded traveller like me than he would be, I'm telling you.'

  'I don't know what to say.'

  'Say yes and make me happy,' he said persuasively.

  Vanessa was tempted by the offer. From the little she had seen of him so far, she liked Daniel Jensen. He was friendly and uncomplicated and an hour or so in his company would do far more to revive her flagging feelings than brooding alone in the flat. But what if Max came back and found her gone? What would his reaction be? She shuddered to think.

  Daniel was looking amused. 'Is it such a heavy decision to make? You look as if the cares of the world had suddenly descended on you. I don't bite, you know.'

  'I'm sure you don't.'

  'Then what's the problem? A girl doesn't usually take so long to make her mind up when I ask her out to lunch.'

  She laughed. 'It's no reflection on you, I assure you.'

  He gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. 'That's great. I was beginning to wonder.'

  'Let's compromise, shall we?' she said. 'You go and have your shower and I'll make us some lunch here. Then, if Max gets back before you have to leave, you'll be able to see him.' And he won't be able to pitch into me for disappearing without his august permission, she added silently. What a coward she was where that man was concerned!

  Daniel shrugged. "That's fine by me, if it's not creating too much trouble for you.'

  'You haven't sampled my cooking yet,' she teased him. 'I might be offering you beans on toast.'

  'And, if you are, I'm sure I'll enjoy every mouthful in such delightful company.'

  'You're not by any chance flirting with me, are you, Mr Jensen?' she asked him.

  'Trying to,' he admitted with a grin. 'And the name's Daniel, so use it, will you?' He turned for the door. 'Give me ten minutes. O.K.?'

  'Fine,' she agreed, and set to work.

  By the time he reappeared, looking considerably fresher for a wash and a change of clothes, Vanessa had two steaks sizzling on the stove. Max had probably intended them for an intimate supper with his woman of the moment, but that couldn't be helped. She made a quick salad with an oil and lemon dressing. There was fruit for pudding and cheese and biscuits if he wanted them. Not a very ambitious meal, but it was quick to prepare and it smelled appetising.

  'Mm. Something looks good.' Daniel slipped a casual arm round her waist.

  She slapped his hand and twisted free. 'Don't distract the cook at work. Your steak will be a charred ruin if you don't watch out.' She wasn't worried. She'd met men like Daniel before and knew exactly how to handle them. 'Would you like wine with your meal? You'd better look at Max's store and see if there's anything there you fancy.'

  'I fancy what's on view at the kitchen stove,' he said with heavy gallantry. 'But I can see that I'm getting nowhere fast.'

  'Got it in one,' she answered, and he shrugged good-humouredly. He went to inspect Max's wine collection, stored at the other end of the kitchen.

  'I think this will do nicely.' He selected a bottle and held it up for#ter approval.

  'Whatever ^bii like. I'm no expert,' she told him, and searched for a corkscrew for him.

  Vanessa made no claims to being a Cordon Bleu cook, but she felt reasonably pleased with her efforts when

  they sat down to eat, and Daniel praised her fulsomely. They had elected to stay in the kitchen. There didn't seem much point in taking everything into the living room and, in any case, the table in there was pretty well occupied with books and papers that Max had left there. It was more than her life was worth to move them and hope to put them back in the right order.

  'So tell me about yourself,' said Daniel, as he filled her wine glass.

  'What sort of things do you want to know?'

  'Everything.'

  'That's a tall order.' She smiled at him, relaxed in his company. 'Well, I'm free, white and over twenty-one. I'm really an actress, but I'm doing secretarial work while I'm——'

  'Between jobs?' he suggested carefully, with a tact that she found surprising.

  'Resting, as we say over here,' she responded with a laugh. Somehow she could joke about it to Daniel. 'I was just in a terrible flop in the West End. It was going to make me a star, only it didn't.' She pulled a face. 'Something will come up soon, I hope. In the meantime what I earn here pays the rent.'

  'And do you like working for Max?'

  'It's a job,' she said carefully.

  'That means you don't.' He looked amused. 'Well, wonders will never cease!'

  She didn't pretend to misunderstand him. 'Terrible, isn't it? I should think half the women in London would swap places with me, if they had the chance/Do you think there's something wrong with me?.'n^

  'Not from where I'm sitting, Vanessa.1 fie studied her with frank admiration. 'You look like an angel. You cook like a dream. What more could a man want?'

  'Quite a bit more, if his name's Max Anderson,' shesaid. 'But we won't go into that.'

  'Discreet, too,' he noted. 'Are there no end to your virtues?'

  'Stop teasing me, Daniel, and tell me something about yourself. I think it's your turn. What do you do for a living?'

  It seemed to her that he paused slightly before answering. 'Oh, I'm just a businessman,' he said.

  'High-powered?'

  'A real whizz-kid,' he assured her solemnly, and she burst out laughing. In a casual checked shirt and slacks he certainly didn't look like a captain of industry, and she told him as much.

  'Appearances are deceptive,' he told her loftily. 'We can't all afford Savile Row suits, you know.' He reached for the wine bottle. 'Hey, you're not drinking. Come on now, keep me company.'

  Vanessa complied reluctantly, draining her glass and letting him refill it. 'Red wine in the middle of the day always makes me sleepy,' she explained. 'Goodness knows how I'll manage to work after all this.'

  'I'll give you the rest of the day off.'

  'Thanks for nothing! You're not my employer.'

  'I wish I was. Secretaries don't come looking like you at home. Trust Max to grab you. Are there any more where you came from?'

  They broke the mould after they made me,' she told him.

  'I suspected as much.'

  Daniel was fun. Vanessa was enjoying herself, responding happily to the outrageous things he said to her and teasing him in her turn. They finished the meal and he insisted on helping her with the washing up.

  'When do you have to be back at Heathrow?' Vanessa asked as she dried the final plate vigorously and put down the drying cloth.

  'Are you so desperate to get rid of me?' he said in mock offence.

  'Far from it. In fact,' she told -him impulsively, 'I haven't enjoyed myself so much for ages.'

  'I think the same goes for me as well.' He turned and planted a light kiss on her upturned cheek. 'How about letting me give you dinner some time and thanking you properly?'

  She paused within the circle of his arm, looking up at him as she wondered what to say. Instinct told her to accept, but what would Max make of it, if he found out? Were her employer's friends out of bounds where she was concerned?

  She discovered what Max thought sooner than she expected as a cool voice came from behind them. 'This is all very cosy. I'm glad to see you're keeping busy, Vanessa.'

  CHAPTER SIX

  MAX was standing in the doorway, looking distinctly unamused by the little scene that was being played out before hi
m. Vanessa sprang away from the man beside her as if his touch had suddenly become red hot.

  'Hi, Max.' Daniel was the only one of the three who seemed totally relaxed in the situation. She suspected that it was probably one that he had taken part in many times before. 'How's everything going with you?'

  For a moment Vanessa held -her breath as it seemed that Max was not going to respond to the cheerful greeting. Then, with the faintest of shrugs, he answered, 'I'm fine. And you're enjoying life as usual, I see. Dan, with all the women in London to choose from, do you have to distract my secretary from her work?'

  'I never could resist a pretty face.'

  'I realised that a long time ago.'

  'And she wasn't complaining, were you, Vanessa?'

  A glacial gaze turned in her direction. 'I can imagine,' Max said.

  Daniel sensed the atmosphere and did his best to put matters right. 'Come on now, Max, there's no need to behave like a bear with a sore head. I turned up out of the blue, gave Vanessa a hell of a fright by walking in on her unannounced and then demanded lunch. What could the poor girl do but play along?'

  'Play seems the operative word,' Max agreed dryly. 'I wonder whose idea the after lunch entertainment was?' A cold look in her direction made it clear that he had supplied his own answer to that question. He appeared

  to dismiss the matter from his mind. 'Well, come on through with me. I want to hear all the news.' He waved Daniel towards the living room and, as the other man went past him and into the passage, turned to follow him, saying casually over his shoulder as he did so, 'We'll have some coffee as soon as you can make it. I could use some.'

  Vanessa presumed the remark was addressed to her. 'Have you eaten? Shall I make you some sandwiches?'

  'Oh, spare me the fuss. I'm not Daniel,' he said rudely. 'And Vanessa——'

  'Yes?'

  'Don't think the matter's closed, will you?' He went into the other room and shut the door firmly behind

  him.

  She hadn't time to think. He would want to know where the coffee was if it didn't appear pronto. She rushed round and, when it was ready, put the cups on a tray with milk and sugar and carried it to the door. It seemed silly to knock, but perhaps what they were discussing was private? She compromised by rattling the handle loudly before she opened the door, glad she had done so when she realised that she had clearly interrupted a serious discussion of some kind.