When Strangers Meet

by Kemp, Shirley

  Almost as though in answer to her silent question, he drew her closer, pressing his lips against her hair, and she sighed, letting the sudden tension drain from her body.

  ‘Hayley Morgan,’ he murmured against the softness of her cheek, ‘I want you now. Let’s go.’

  There was no time to ponder the brief flash of resentment before the excitement began, mounting swiftly to bring colour flooding to her cheeks.

  Was their haste obvious? she wondered as she allowed him to take her hand and lead her off the small dance-floor, through the now crowded lounge, and on up the staircase to her room. Once inside, she was swept up into his arms, and nothing and no one mattered but this man who had the power to lift her to the heavens.

  They made love through the night, and the first pearly fingers of dawn found them still in each other’s arms.

  * * *

  As the car ate up the miles to the city, Hayley’s heart began to sink. It had been a long and wonderful night, but now it was day, and Marcus had given her no hint of what lay ahead.

  She stifled a yawn, and he turned with a warmly intimate smile that lifted her spirits.

  ‘Tired?’

  ‘A little.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know if I’ll be up to much in the way of work today.’

  He nodded. ‘Which is why I’m taking you home. After all, it’s Sunday, and since I intend to be out of the office anyway you may as well take the day to rest, sleep, whatever.’

  Hayley was conscious of disappointment. At least in the office she stood a chance of seeing something of him. Left to herself at home, anticlimax was sure to set in.

  Oh, why couldn’t he just say something encouraging, loving...let her know what he was thinking? There had been no shortage of words between them last night, but not once had he mentioned love. Neither had she, for that matter. She’d been waiting for his lead, when she would have eagerly followed.

  Many times the words, I love you, had trembled on her tongue, only to be swallowed back. He wanted her, and for that moment it had to be enough.

  She gave a deep sigh, wishing she could ask him what she wanted to know. But there was an indefinable barrier between them this morning that spoke more clearly than words. He had promised her nothing...offered her nothing...but what had been between them.

  She wouldn’t spoil those memories now by asking for more.

  Outside the flat he drew the car into the kerb, shutting off the engine. Hayley’s heart leapt a little with hope. Did that mean he was coming in? Anthea would be with Lenny Barnes. They would have the flat to themselves.

  ‘I won’t stop,’ he said, dashing the small flicker of hope. ‘I have a few quite urgent personal matters to catch up on.’

  She nodded, dismayed to find that tears were pressing behind her eyes. Oh, God, she wasn’t going to cry, was she?

  Swallowing hard, she said, her words sounding more like a plea than a statement, ‘Then I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.’

  He raised his brows. ‘Not before then? I thought we could have dinner together. I have some things to say to you.’

  She said tentatively, over sudden palpitations, ‘Good things, or bad?’

  He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss into her tingling palm.

  ‘Wait and see. I’ll come for you about eight.’

  Hayley’s heart sang as she climbed the stone steps to the front door. Later, soaking in a deep, warm bath, her mind kept wandering back to the last two days, reliving the highlights over and over until her head felt dizzy with the sweet visions.

  And at eight o’clock tonight he would be here. He had things to say to her. She tried not to speculate on what those things would be. Too much anticipation often led to disappointment. It was better to wait and see.

  The telephone was ringing as she wrapped herself in the large bath-towel. Still dripping, she was tempted to let it ring, but the thought that it might be Marcus had her stumbling out of the bathroom into the hall.

  ‘Hayley! I wondered if you’d be home!’ Anthea’s strong voice rang in her ear. ‘Have you seen the newspaper? I put it there on the hallstand.’

  Hayley, who was struggling with her disappointment, said irritably, ‘No, I haven’t had time.’ Then she added on a note of sarcasm, ‘Why? Is there something I should be in a hurry to see?’

  ‘Take a look for yourself.’ Anthea made a wry sound. ‘That must have been some meeting.’

  Hayley demanded touchily, ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Open the paper. You’ll have a fit. And so will Marcus, I should think.’

  With a sinking sensation in her stomach, Hayley wrapped the towel more securely around her and picked up the newspaper, skimming through the pages for something that would explain Anthea’s obtuse remarks.

  Turning another page, she found it and, as Anthea had predicted, her senses began to spin.

  Headlines confronted her in large bold type: Maury’s Most Promising Merger.

  And underneath, a reported account that made her blood run cold.

  Marcus Maury, currently involved in mergers with ailing engineering companies, found time this weekend for a little merging of his own. And who can blame him? Sexy secretary Hayley Morgan was the centre of a three-way tug of love, from which the tycoon emerged victorious. He was involved in a fracas with her former boss, who undoubtedly claimed prior rights.

  Where did they get all their information from? Hayley wondered in amazement. Gripped with horror, she read on.

  Felicity Braun, the beautiful British actress, who recently won the leading role in a new all-action American movie, is in for a big surprise. While she’s busy wowing the boys across the Atlantic, her home-based male lead is taking time out for a little action of his own. Seems even she can’t win them all!

  The article continued in the same malicious vein, interspersed with photographs. One, which was obviously taken outside the hotel after the fight with Frank Heaton, showed her in Marcus’s arms, with her face pressed against his throat and his hand stroking her hair. Further snaps showed her and Marcus kissing beneath the trees, dancing, and, finally, Marcus leading her up the hotel stairs to bed.

  All those photographs taken—when and how? she wondered bemusedly. Eyes and cameras had been watching all the time. How could they not have noticed...been so oblivious?

  With nausea tugging at her insides, Hayley flung down the paper and rushed for the bathroom.

  She emerged minutes later, pale and dazed, to answer the telephone, which was ringing again insistently.

  ‘Hayley.’ Marcus’s voice reached her through her haze. ‘I’m just ringing to say I won’t be able to make it tonight. Something important’s cropped up.’

  She said, in a nervous rush, ‘I’ve just seen the paper.’

  ‘Oh! Then you know.’ He sounded bone-weary.

  On the verge of tears, she gave a little hiccup. ‘Oh, God, Marcus! I’m so sorry! What are we going to do?’

  ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for. And it’s for me to do what’s necessary,’ he said abruptly. ‘But it’s a mess, nevertheless, and it’s going to take some sorting out.’ His tone told her he was keeping a tight rein on his fury.

  ‘I’m coming into the office tomorrow,’ she said insistently. ‘If I stay at home I’ll go mad.’

  He sighed. ‘OK, if that’s what you want. You could start work on the notes you’ve taken.’

  She said, sounding a little desperate, ‘Will I see you there?’

  ‘Not tomorrow, but soon.’ His voice seemed distant. ‘If any reporters come around, just stay calm and tell them nothing. Goodbye for now.’

  He was going to ring off, she thought, in the grip of sudden panic.

  ‘Marcus! Wait, please!’

  His voice softened a little. ‘I have to go, Hayley. I’ll be in touch.’

  * * *

  He’d promised to keep in touch, but three days later there’d been no communication from him other than a curt message, taken by
Anthea while Hayley was sleeping, to say he’d had to go out of town.

  ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ she demanded furiously. ‘What did he mean? Out of town? Did he say where? Or when he’d be back?’

  Anthea shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid not. He sounded fed up, and I didn’t like to ask.’

  Then, as Hayley’s face crumpled, she gripped her in a fierce hug, patting her back in a clumsy gesture of comfort.

  ‘Come on, Hay! He’s not the only man in the world. You’ll just have to forget him.’

  Hayley tried to gulp back her tears. ‘So you think he’s giving me the brush-off too!’

  ‘Probably. In his position you can hardly blame him.’

  ‘You think not?’ Hayley blazed. ‘Just another boss playing around with his secretary, until the going gets rough?’

  She sucked in her breath. Blame him! Did she blame him? No. Perhaps not. He was a man...like all men...like Frank Heaton and the rest. Just out for what he could get. Taking what she had so obviously put on a plate for him. Why should he refuse? How was he to know she hadn’t really been aware of the name of the game?

  But it had been so wonderful, so natural, so fulfilling. Could it have been that way if he’d had no feelings for her beyond lust? Perhaps it was possible for a man and what Anthea had hinted at was right: all he wanted now was to get out of the corner he found himself in.

  But just to leave her like this, without a word of goodbye, cut like a knife, deep into her heart, because...despite everything she had hoped...

  ‘Maybe this one’s just for experience, Hay,’ Anthea said softly.

  Hayley wrenched herself away, unable to bear the confirmation in her friend’s sympathetic eyes of her worst fears. If there ever had been a chance for her with Marcus, she’d lost it.

  But the real confirmation, which left little room for doubt, came the following day, in the same paper, which headlined the news: Marcus Crosses the Atlantic to Confess. I’ve Been a Bad Boy!

  ‘So that’s what he meant by out of town,’ she told herself, adding with bitter finality, ‘And that’s it! Finished! Kaput!’ Before it had even had a chance to begin.

  It seemed impossible that she could be hurt any more, until she saw a further heading the next day, above a photograph of Felicity in Marcus’s arms: Marcus and Felicity Kiss and Make Up. Looks Like Wedding Bells.

  Martin phoned to ask her out to lunch. She didn’t feel like going, but he sounded so pleased with life that it would have been cruel to turn him down.

  It was the first time she’d been outside the door in a week, the first time she’d made the least effort to hide the ravages of her unhappiness.

  At Anthea’s somewhat impatient insistence, she’d had her hair trimmed and set and was wearing the short-skirted black dress that Martin had admired.

  Now she’d made the effort, she felt some of her spirit return. Anthea was right. Marcus Maury wasn’t the only man in the world. There would be others. The difference was that in future she’d be the one in control.

  And if her sore heart cried in bitter disbelief, she turned a determinedly deaf ear to its pain.

  Martin, looking handsome and happy, met her at their agreed rendezvous with a gift of chocolates.

  ‘I would have brought flowers too.’ He grinned. ‘But you’d have had to carry them around all day.’

  Over the meal she asked him about his new job and enquired after Mr Heaton Senior.

  ‘The job’s great and the old man’s blooming, now that he’s got rid of that millstone of a son.’

  ‘What’s happened to Frank?’ she asked, with an echo of the old familiar shudder the thought of him used to bring.

  Martin grinned. ‘Taken off for Australia, I believe. Just like the good old days, when villains got deported.’

  Hayley groaned. ‘Goodness help Australia.’

  ‘I agree. But at least he’s out of your hair how, for good. So you can relax.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I’ve got a message for you from Mr H. Any time you get fed up with being Maury’s slave, there’s a job waiting for you.’

  Martin unexpectedly covered her hand with his, giving it a little squeeze that felt oddly comforting. ‘He still thinks a lot of you, Hayley. And he’s serious, if you should ever think of taking him up on it.’

  When she got back to the office there were two men hanging about in the corridor.

  ‘There she is,’ one said, waving excitedly in Hayley’s direction. ‘Hello, darling! How about a picture?’ He took her arm and pushed her against the wall. ‘Put your hand on the handle of the door and move your head a little. At the moment it’s obscuring his name, and we want that in.’

  Hayley flung her arms up to hide her face as the bulb flashed.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded indignantly. ‘No unauthorised person is allowed on this corridor.’

  ‘Great!’ the reporter said, undaunted. ‘Get a shot of that expression, Fred. Even though he’s gone chasing off after his old flame, the little secretary’s loyal to the last. That defiant stance will knock them dead. Stick your boobs out a little bit—’

  ‘Get out! Or I’ll have you thrown out.’ Hayley turned her back on them and fumbled her key into the lock. As the door gave, she rushed inside and slammed it tight shut against them.

  ‘How about an exclusive story, darling?’ the one persisted, his strident voice sounding through the thick door. ‘How the great man used and abused his doting secretary. It will be worth a lot of money to you. Don’t turn down a beautiful opportunity like this. Don’t be a fool. He’s not worth it.’

  Hayley put her hands against her ears. Not worth it! The man’s words echoed in her whirling brain. Perhaps he was right. Marcus himself had accused her of misplaced loyalty, and here she was again, lying at some great man’s feet, waiting to be trampled on like any other doormat. It was no use to tell herself Marcus was different. He’d run off to make his peace with Felicity, leaving her here at the mercy of these hard-bitten reporters.

  And maybe tomorrow he would be back, expecting her to have completed all the work of typing up the notes of the meetings. He would entrench himself behind the high wall of his authority and everything would go on, for him, just as it always had.

  But for Hayley nothing would ever be the same again. She simply couldn’t stay and go on pretending her heart wasn’t broken.

  Crossing to the desk in Marcus’s room, she picked up the telephone. She dialled Security first and then she rang Martin.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HAYLEY stood on the platform of the station patiently waiting for the train that would take her away from the heartache. Once she’d run away from Heaton’s and escaped into the arms of a stranger. How could she have guessed then what would happen when strangers met? Now she was running back to Heaton’s to escape a worse pain. Her brain was numb, her body stiff and aching, as though she’d taken a harsh beating. But her eyes were dry of tears. There was none left to shed.

  In some deep, inner recess of her mind she knew that, when feeling eventually returned, she would be glad. It was finally over. Nothing more to hope for. When the dreams came now she would push them away—pack them tightly down into a compartment of her brain that she would label ‘the past’.

  She took a deep breath, letting the air, growing cool at the onset of autumn, pass deeply into her lungs, exhaling on a long drawn-out sigh. There was melancholy comfort in the realisation that it would soon be winter.

  Then she could hibernate, cocoon her heart in the deepest ice until the spring, when hopefully the pain would have passed.

  Turning her mind deliberately outwards, she scanned the platform. There were few people about at this early hour of a Monday morning, she noted with satisfaction, and the train drawing smoothly into the station was half empty. There would be plenty of room to find a solitary seat.

  She found a corner seat to the rear of the train and settled down to stare desultorily out of the window as the train drew away. Her mind was tu
rning inwards again, and she closed her eyes wearily.

  It was no use now, trying to stem the misery. Everything reminded her of him. This was where it had all started...on a train. She’d kissed him and opened the door to the most wonderful—and the most hurtful—experiences of her life. How could she believe, for one moment, that the memories would ever leave her?

  She was slipping into daydreams. Let them come. It was pointless to resist. She would welcome the pain and the pleasure.

  He was near. She could sense his physical presence...almost believe he was here beside her. His lips were on hers, light, tender, tearing her heart from her body. His fingers were against her cheeks, brushing away the tears she made no attempt to stem.

  ‘Hayley.’

  He was whispering her name against her mouth, and her voice was husky as she replied.

  ‘Marcus. Oh, Marcus.’

  She shook herself awake, unable to bear any more, and found herself looking into the intense blue of his eyes—eyes that were guarded, uncertain.

  ‘It really is you,’ she whispered. ‘I thought I was dreaming.’

  His face softened. ‘Was it a good dream?’

  Reality was flooding back, and with it the barriers. There was no way she would lay herself open to him again.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded coldly.

  He straightened, moving away from her in response to her withdrawal.

  ‘Looking for a girl I met—a long time ago.’

  She stared at him, wishing that her trembling weren’t so obvious. ‘Is that the only reason you’re here?’

  ‘The only reason,’ he confirmed, his gaze never leaving her face.

  There was something in his eyes, a kind of glimmer that longed to be a smile, but his expression was solemn, waiting.

  ‘But then you’ve met so many girls, it’s unlikely you’d remember one well enough to find her.’

  ‘This one was special.’ The corner of his mouth curved a little. ‘A pushy little number, who kissed me without so much as a by-your-leave.’

  There was no doubting now the warmth that was creeping into that vivid gaze. ‘I’d like to pay her back.’