The Sex War Read online

  The Sex War

  By

  Charlotte Lamb

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  Harlequin Plus

  Daniel's eyes were fierce with emotion.

  "You left me, but now you'll come back knowing I own you."

  "You can't own human beings," Lindsay stammered.

  His eyes flashed with bitter humor. "Can't you? If you want to save your brother's neck, you'll come back to me. And on my terms."

  "You're crazy. You won't get much enjoyment out of forcing me to—"

  "Won't I?" he asked. The next second he had one arm around her while the other forced up her chin.

  "Don't," she whispered, and Daniel's eyes glittered as he smiled in threat.

  "That's one word you'll never use with me again." His mouth came down on her lips, burning with a fever she felt leaping up inside herself. The demand of the kiss was met by an answering demand in her. She was out of control…

  CHARLOTTE LAMB

  is also the author of these

  Harlequin Presents

  393—OBSESSION

  401— SAVAGE SURRENDER

  404—NIGHT MUSIC

  412—MAN'S WORLD

  417—STRANGER IN THE NIGHT

  422—COMPULSION

  428—SEDUCTION

  435—ABDUCTION

  442—RETRIBUTION

  448—ILLUSION

  451—CRESCENDO

  460—HEARTBREAKER

  466—DANGEROUS

  472—DESIRE

  478—THE GIRL FROM NOWHERE

  528—MIDNIGHT LOVER

  545—A WILD AFFAIR

  585—BETRAYAL

  and these

  Harlequin Romances

  2083—FESTIVAL SUMMER

  2103—FLORENTINE SPRING

  2161—HAWK IN A BLUE SKY

  2181 —MASTER OF COMUS

  2206—DESERT BARBARIAN

  Harlequin Presents first edition October 1983

  ISBN 0-373-10636-1

  Original hardcover edition published in 1983

  by Mills & Boon Limited

  Copyright ® 1983 by Charlotte Lamb.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lindsay was in the shower when the phone rang, and she was half inclined to ignore the ringing, but it might be Aston to say he couldn't make their date, so with a sigh she stepped out of the shower cubicle, pulled on her short white towelling robe and ran down the corridor to the sitting-room, leaving wet footprints on the carpet everywhere she trod. Snatching up the phone, she said breathlessly: 'Hallo?'

  'Lindsay, it's Alice.'

  'Oh, hallo,' said Lindsay, feeling water trickling down her spine from the wet tail of red hair clinging to her nape. 'I was in the shower and I'm very wet, Alice, is it urgent?' 'I'm sorry, I didn't… I just wanted…' Her sister-in-law sounded incoherent, which was unusual for Alice; a placid, quiet girl whose only interests seemed to be her home and family. Alice's brown eyes and hair both had a red-russet tinge which, coupled with her demure manner, always reminded Lindsay of a squirrel watching everything from a safe distance but with bright-eyed interest.

  'Is anything wrong?' Lindsay asked, clutching the lapels of her robe.

  Alice seemed to hesitate, then she asked unsteadily: 'Is… is Stephen with you?'

  'Stephen? No, he isn't here. Is he coming to see me?' Lindsay turned her head to look at the clock on the mantelpiece. Aston would be here in half an hour. They were going to the theatre and she didn't want to be held up.

  Without answering her question, Alice asked another of her own, her voice even more shaky. 'Have you seen him since yesterday?'

  'No.' Frowning, Lindsay wondered what this was all about, but before she could ask Alice audibly sighed.

  'He hasn't rung you, you haven't heard from him?'

  'No, I haven't.' The urgent note in Alice's voice seemed very disturbing, Lindsay gripped the phone tighter. 'Is something wrong, Alice?'

  'If he's talked to you, tell me, Lindsay, don't lie to me, please!'

  'Why on earth should I lie to you? I haven't heard from Stephen for a week or so, he rang me in the middle of last week and asked when I was coming over. I said I'd try to come and see you all soon.' Lindsay had never interfered in her brother's life, nor would she have allowed him to interfere in her own, but she was very fond of Stephen and something in Alice's voice worried her. 'Have you and Stephen had a row?' she ended uncertainly.

  'He's disappeared,' said Alice on what sounded like a sob.

  'Disappeared?' Lindsay felt a dart of shock. 'What do you mean, he's disappeared? Since when?'

  'He didn't come home from work last night, and he hasn't been at the, factory at all today, nobody seems to know where he is.' Alice stopped, swallowing audibly. 'Lindsay, I'm so worried, I don't know what to do, I'm going out of my mind!'

  Lindsay stared absently at the wallpaper a few feet away from her, her eye following the curve of a green branch from which tiny pale pink rosebuds broke. She didn't quite know what to ask, how to respond. Alice's news had come as too much of a shock. Stephen had seemed quite normal when he talked to her last week. He hadn't said anything which might alert her to any change in his usual behaviour. Stephen was the last person she would have expected to disappear without warning; he was an even-tempered, cheerful man whose life seemed very much under control.

  'Have you rung the police?' she asked at last, falling back on the purely practical.

  'No, not yet. I wasn't sure if… should I? He's only been gone for twenty-four hours, there could be a perfectly rational explanation, he might have left a message that didn't get passed on. If he turns up he'll be so embarrassed, he'll be furious with me for getting into such a state, and I'll feel a fool if I've made a fuss over nothing.'

  'Is he in his car?'

  'Well, yes, he went off in it yesterday morning, anyway.' Alice drew a sharp breath. 'Do you think he might have had an accident?'

  'Could be,' said Lindsay. Failing any other explanation that would have been the first thing that Came into her head. 'Did he have anything on him to identify him? If he did have an accident, that is…'

  'I don't know, I suppose so, he usually has his credit cards and driver's licence in his wallet.' Alice sounded as though she just wasn't thinking clearly, which was hardly surprising in the circumstances. 'And it's hours now since he left the factory yesterday. It isn't like Stephen, he always comes straight home.'

  'He could have gone off on urgent business and forgotten to let you know,' Lindsay pointed out gently.

  'It isn't like him.' Alice sounded as though she was on the point of tears and Lindsay had a strong suspicion that there was a great deal which her sister-in-law wasn't saying, but as she couldn't see her face she could only guess at that.

  'I was in the shower, it will take me ten minutes to get dressed,' she said firmly. 'I'll be with you inside an hour, then we'll decide what to do.'

  'Oh, thank you, Lindsay.' Alice's voice trembled, was husky. Lindsay had said the right thing, Alice's call had not been so much a check on whether Stephen had been in touch with her as a wordless ay for help. Alice couldn't cope with whatever was wrong between her and Stephen, and that didn't surprise Lindsay. She' had always guessed that all the strength in that marriage came from Stephen, her brother had always been someone you could rely on, and Alice had leaned heavily on him from the start. Whenever you saw them together, Alice kept close to him, listened while he talked, had very little to say for herself, left all the decisions to hi
m. If Alice was a secretive little squirrel, Stephen was a broad oak in which she sheltered.

  Lindsay rang off and went back into the bathroom. She dried her hair roughly, got dressed in a formal white silk blouse and tight-waisted, pleated black skirt, then blow-dried her hair into the style she liked best, the red-gold strands gleaming loosely around her face, in a casual light wave. She had just finished doing her make-up when the door bell rang. She knew it was Aston, he always gave three short rings. He was early, which was just as well, she wouldn't have to leave a note pinned to the front door for him.

  'Hallo, gorgeous,' he said as she opened the door, and held out an enormous bunch of flowers; roses, carnations, freesias, their scent masked by the polythene envelope holding them.

  'They're beautiful—thank you,' said Lindsay, smiling, as she accepted the flowers. 'Come in, I'll put them in water before they wither.' She walked back into the kitchen and Aston followed her, closing the front door behind him. Her flat was on the second floor of a large block of service flats in central London. The rooms were tiny, just big enough to swing a cat, but they were modern and comfortable and she was within easy walking distance of the West End.

  She filled a large, green-glazed pottery jar with water and unwrapped the flowers, while Aston leaned against the wall watching her. Over her shoulder, Lindsay said apologetically: 'I'm sorry, Aston, I'm going to have to break Our date tonight. Something's come up—family troubles.

  'I've got to go over to see my sister-in-law, she just rang me and asked me to come at once. I'd have tried to get in touch with you, but…'

  'What's wrong?' Aston asked, frowning. He wasn't exactly a good-looking man; but his rugged face had strength and humour and a very distinct personality. His hair was a goldy brown, the colour of a new penny, coppery bronze, and his eyes were hazel and smiled a great deal. For a very big man, over six foot and built on muscular lines, he walked lightly and moved with grace, but there had been nothing subtle about his interest in her. He had begun to pursue her from the minute they met, bombarding her with phone calls and dropping in at her flat without warning all the time. Lindsay had begun by giving him the cold shoulder; she had been in no mood to encourage any man when she met Aston and when her icily polite refusals did not have any effect she had been forced to tell him bluntly that she wasn't interested, so goodbye. It hadn't made any difference that she had noticed. Aston had kept on turning up, amusement in his face, as though Lindsay's snappy rejections merely made him laugh. His water-dropping-on-a-stone technique was irresistible. Lindsay started to laugh, too, in the end, and found herself saying: yes, instead of: no way!

  'My brother seems to have done a bunk.' Lindsay was briskly pushing the flowers into the vase, her eyes oh their colour, her nostrils assailed by their muted scent. 'There, how do they look?' she asked, turning back to Aston.

  'Nice,' he said. 'What do you mean, he's done a bunk? Left his wife?'

  'I'm not sure what he's done, Alice wasn't very coherent on the phone. I'm sorry about the theatre tickets, Aston, maybe you could find someone to go with you? A pity to waste them.'

  'That doesn't matter,' he said, shrugging the suggestion aside. He was a man who talked with his body, his broad shoulders and hands in movement when he spoke, like an Italian. 'Where does your brother live? I'll drive you over there.'

  'That's very kind—are you sure?'

  'Get your jacket and we'll be on our way,' he said, grinning at her. Lindsay smiled back wryly; it was typical of Aston to take charge of whatever was happening. He was an organiser to his fingertips, he ran his life the way he ran his firm; with humour and determination and unstoppable energy which did not make him disliked by his employees. He had several shops in London, selling electrical goods. Lindsay had met him through her brother, who manufactured electrical components. Stephen had made friends with Aston at an international trade fair in Germany two years ago. They did not deal directly with each other on a business level, they were merely drinking companions on occasion.

  His car was parked outside the fiats, a sleek Ferrari with, an engine that purred like a cat and could eat up the miles without really trying. Aston liked fast cars and good clothes and, not being married, could afford them. He slid Lindsay into the passenger seat, closed the door on her and walked round to get behind the wheel.

  As he drove off with a roar, he asked quietly:

  'Stephen in some sort of trouble? Or is it a private matter?'

  'I told you, I have no idea at the moment what's wrong. I suspect he and Alice have had a row, but she wasn't saying on the phone, I can't think of any other reason why he should go walk-about.' She looked sharply at Aston, her dark brows lifting. 'Unless you know different? Have you heard something? His factory isn't in trouble, is it?'

  'We're all in deep waters these days.' Aston wasn't looking at her and his face was not giving anything away, he watched the road as though afraid to take his eyes off it. 'There's a recession, in case you hadn't heard.'

  'Stephen's been hit by the recession? He hasn't said anything. At least, not to me he hasn't.'

  'Would he?' Aston put the question very gently and she sighed.

  'I suppose not, he does tend to hug his problems to himself. Stephen never forgets that he's my big brother.'

  'He's about five years older than you, isn't he?' Aston asked, tongue in cheek.

  'Seven, do you mind?' She laughed and Aston turned his head to smile at her, eyes teasing.

  'Which makes you…?'

  'Twenty-five.' Her glance mocked him. 'I've packed a lot into my life, if you're wondering how I got so wise at my age.'

  'I wasn't actually. I was thinking that Stephen looked much older than thirty-two. I'd got him down as nearer forty.' He put on speed, frowning again. 'His face is quite lined. How long has he been running the factory?'

  'Since my father died. Stephen was nineteen, then, and the factory only employed three or four men. Stephen began to expand about five years ago. Now he employs around forty.' Lindsay was very proud of her brother's business achievements. She had only been twelve when her father died, and within three years her mother had been dead, too; of pneumonia caught because she neglected a bad cold. Mrs Grainger had stopped caring about her health after her husband's early death. His heart attack had been a bitter shock to her from which she never recovered. Left alone to carry the family, Stephen had taken over at home as well as in the business. Stephen hadn't married until after Lindsay left home, and brother and sister had been very close. Their relationship might appear outwardly offhand and casual, but although they were neither of them openly affectionate they cared very much what happened to each other.

  'Five years?' Aston repeated. 'I suppose that was around the time…'

  'I got married,' she agreed flatly.

  'Did Randall take an interest in your brother's firm?' Aston sounded very casual, but she felt him watching her out of the corner of his eye.

  'Financially, you mean? I don't think so. It has always been a family firm, Stephen wouldn't have wanted to part with any shares, even to Daniel.' Lindsay laughed shortly, her face derisive. 'Not that Daniel Randall would have been interested in a firm as small as Graingers—quite out of his league, they have to be pretty big fish for him to start angling for them.'

  'I'd have thought that as Stephen is your brother—' Aston began, and she cut him short, shaking her head.

  'I can tell you don't know Daniel. He'd be the first to tell you that sentiment has no place in business.' She paused. 'And how!' she added with emphasis.

  'I've heard that he's ruthless.'

  'Who told you that? It must have been a friend of his—it's far too generous. Daniel Randall is red in tooth and claw. He doesn't merge with other firms, he devours them and spits out the pieces, and he doesn't care who gets hurt in the process. I'm grateful for the fact that Graingers didn't arouse his attention, it was just as well for Stephen. Heaven knows what would have happened after I divorced Daniel Randall if he had had any
hold over the firm.'

  'You don't like your ex-husband much, do you?' Aston asked wryly, half smiling as he drew into the kerb outside the modern white house where Stephen and Alice lived.

  'Like him? Boy, is that an understatement!' muttered Lindsay, swinging her long legs out of the car. 'I loathe the man!' She walked round to join Aston, the light from a street lamp gleaming on her red-gold hair, and he looked down at her with appreciation, his hazel eyes very bright.

  'I'm glad I don't have to worry about competition from that quarter, any way,' he admitted. 'When you kept turning me down, I did wonder if you still hankered for him. He's a good-looking guy, it wouldn't have been surprising if you had still carried a torch.'

  'For Daniel Randall? Do me a favour, I have too much sense. I was too young to know what I was doing when I married him, but once I'd found out how devious he really was I lost no time in making my escape.'

  Aston laughed. 'How green your eyes look at night, like an angry cat's. I wouldn't like to feel your claws!'

  'As long as you realise I've got them,' said Lindsay, sliding him a wicked look from beneath her lashes.

  'Oh, I'd noticed them. You made sure I did right from the start, didn't you? I was paying Randall's bill, was I?'

  'I was off men then,' she agreed, shrugging, as she started to walk up the drive to the front door of the house.

  'And now?' Aston asked, catching up with her after a second's pause. 'How do you feel about men now?'

  Before she could answer, the front door flew open and Alice stood in the doorway with the light behind her, staring at them eagerly for a moment before the light in her eyes went out and her mouth trembled in disappointment.

  'Oh, it's you, Lindsay.' It was obvious that she had thought it was Stephen returning, no doubt she had heard the car and jumped to conclusions. She was pale, her usual colour absent from her small face and her hair was ruffled and untidy. It looked as though she had flung on her clothes without thinking; her jeans were creased and shabby, her red shirt had come out of the waistband of the jeans and the top button of it was missing, her neckline giving a clear vision of her small breasts. She looked amazingly young, almost childish, and Lindsay could see she had been crying; her brown eyes were red-rimmed, her eyelids puffy.