Duel of Desire Page 2
'You talk about marriage,' he said tersely. 'What about love? You've been going out with Robin for months. It took long enough for you to make up your mind to marry him.'
'We were neither of us in a hurry,' she said angrily.
'Evidently,' he snapped. 'Have you been to bed with him yet?'
'The question took her breath away. Feeling her face burn, she said bitterly, 'How dare you ask such a personal question?'
He was on his feet, a few inches away moved. Looking down at her fixedly, he said, 'I'm damned sure you haven't. A few kisses here and there are the extent of your experience. If I were you I would find out what sort of lover he is before I married him.'
'Your opinion isn't worth a row of beans,' she said furiously. 'Just because you leap into bed at the drop of a hat it doesn't make you an expert on love. If I marry Robin it will be because I know I'll be happy with him, not because I want to…' she broke off, realising with horror the danger of finishing the remark.
His eyes narrowed on her flushed, dismayed face, and a gleam came into those silvery depths. 'Not because you want to sleep with him? Interesting, Miss Portman. Poor Robin! Does he know he's marrying an icicle? I wouldn't have said Robin was entirely sexless. It seems rather unfair to marry him feeling like that.'
Bitterness came in to the back of her throat. She looked at him, words boiling inside her head. 'You… bastard!' Choked, humiliated, she could barely enunciate.
Alex smiled tigerishly, the full sensual lower lip quivering with amusement. 'My God, this is the first time I've ever seen the cool, unshakable Miss Portman lost for words! Did I hit a sensitive target?'
She looked at the mocking, smiling face with a hatred that brought a red mist before her eyes. Then her hand flew up, slapping him viciously across his face, her rage needing some outlet for the shame and frustrated anger which were burning inside her.
The smile vanished from his face. For a second he looked stunned, then slowly he touched the red mark across his cheek with a hand that held her gaze in hypnotised dismay.
Her action had released her tongue. Stammeringly, she said, 'I shouldn't have done that…' She was horrified by the naked emotion she had displayed. She had never done such a thing in her life before. She detested scenes, and was appalled at having made one, even under the sting of his derision.
'You shouldn't,' he agreed grimly. He seized her hand and carried it inexorably to the place where it had struck earlier, opening the fingers until they lay against the red mark.
She quivered, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. His eyes held her glance. 'A little higher and I would have had a black eye,' he told her. 'How would I have explained that?'
She attempted to pull her fingers out of his grip, but he held them firmly beneath his own, pressing them hard against his cheek.
'You provoked me,' she said anxiously, half in protest, half in dismay.
'You've been provoking me for four years,' he said softly.
Her eyes widened, then fell away. The quivering in her body grew. 'I've got to go to lunch,' she said weakly. 'I'm meeting Robin, and I'm late now.'
'Will you tell him you slapped my face?' he asked teasingly.
She silently shook her head.
'It would shock him beyond belief,' Alex said sardonically. 'Robin has a very orderly mind.'
'He respects you,' she said rebelliously. 'Do you think I could repeat the things you said?'
He laughed, unabashed. 'I've no doubt he would decide I'd only been teasing you. Robin has a convenient mind. It rationalizes what it prefers not to see.'
Deborah looked at him, half irritated, half impressed. Robin's habit of ignoring what he preferred not to see had often angered her.
Alex slowly moved her hand from his cheek, still imprisoning it. 'I suppose if I asked you to kiss it better, you'd refuse?' he asked, tongue in cheek.
'You suppose quite correctly,' she retorted.
His gaze focused on her mouth disturbingly. 'Pity' he said softly. 'Do you realise I've known you for four years and I've never kissed you?'
Hot-cheeked, she said huskily, 'I'm sorry to be your one failure.'
He smiled tantalisingly. 'Are you, Deb?'
The rare use of her Christian name made her spine tingle with alarm. She backed, tugging at her imprisoned hand, but suddenly he jerked on it violently, pulling her forward. Brought up hard against his shirt, she pushed at his chest with her free hand, feeling the inflexible strength of the muscles under her palm, the animal warmth of his body striking into her own flesh. She had always avoided such close contact with him before, but the faint fragrance of his after-shave was familiar.
'Let me go,' she murmured angrily, but his free hand came round her, stroking the tense muscles of her back almost absently, while he watched her in unusual intensity.
'You don't even like to have me touch you, do you, Deb?' he asked curiously. 'You move away whenever I'm anywhere near you. Do all men affect you the same way?'
'No, just you,' she snapped, before realising the revelation behind her reply.
His eyes narrowed. 'Do you know, I suspected as much,' he said softly.
Her eyes fell before the penetration of his stare, and she said nervously, 'Robin will wonder where on earth I've got to… let me go, Alex, please…' then felt a sense almost of panic as she heard herself utter his Christian name. She had known from the start that she must always keep the formality of surnames between them for her own self-protection, and her lapse sent a wave of alarm down her back.
He lazily moved a hand to the stray lock of hair which was curling down against her white temple, playing with it idly. 'You've always had one little curl loose, like the girl in the nursery rhyme… the rest of you is as neat as a new pin. That wayward lock is revealing.'
She wriggled in the prison of his arms, her heart beating fast, but before she could frame another request to be freed, he suddenly bent his head and took her mouth softly, the slow sweetness seducing her lips apart, his hands sliding down her body in an intimate movement which made her head swim. Warmth flowed along her limbs wherever his hands touched. She gasped protestingly under his lips, and he lifted his head with a slow, reluctant movement.
They stared at each other in a silence in which she could hear the sound of his heart beating against her own. Huskily he said, 'I've wanted to do that for years.'
Her heart missed a beat. She found the darkened look in his eyes disturbing. With difficulty she made herself stiffen, pushing him away. 'I'm not putting up with being used as an amusement for your idle moments, Alex. I think you'd better have my resignation.'
For a moment he neither moved nor spoke. Then his hands fell away and he straightened, allowing her to stand alone.
Deborah felt her breathing slow to its normal rhythm, her heart beat calming. Anger and fear made her voice bitter, as she said, 'I'll leave today.'
'You can't,' he said abruptly. 'In your contract it stipulates three months' notice.'
'I'll forfeit my salary for that period,' she said immovably.
'I'll sue you,' he retorted.
'I don't give a damn!' she flung back, her eyes burning with hatred.
'Robin will care,' he said softly.
Her eyes spat contempt at him. 'Not when I tell him…'
'That I kissed you?' His face mocked her. 'I would have to rape you for Robin to agree to forfeiting money.'
Her cheeks burst into dark red colour. Alex laughed at her, his hands thrust into his pockets.
'Anyway,' he said, shrugging, 'this is a storm in a teacup. What's a kiss after four years? It hardly constitutes a hanging offence. I need you on this Nice trip. Ricky Winter is hard to handle and you always manage to seduce difficult young men so sweetly.' He gave her an insolent smile. 'If it were a girl, I'd handle it myself.'
'I'm sure you would,' she said bitterly. 'Very expertly.'
His eyes mocked. 'Exactly. We'll scrub what happened I promise, I'll dance at your wedding with gentlemanly di
scretion.'
Deborah was torn between reluctance to give up her job and a fear of the emotions which had flared between them just now. Working for Alex St James was a little like handling dynamite. One needed a cool head, and after the last few moments Deborah was no longer sure she could keep her head if he chose to make certain she lost it. She had always feared such an incident. Now she was confused and uncertain.
Alex was watching her keenly, observing the fleeting emotions in her blue eyes with shrewdness.
'I must resign,' she said slowly. 'All right. I won't leave right away, but you must take three months' notice.
He stared at her unreadably, his expression masked. Slowly he shrugged. 'As you like. You'll never get a job as good as this one again. You're good at it and you enjoy it. But if you want to cut your nose off to spite your face…'
'I've never wanted to work after I'm married,' she said lightly. 'Robin and I want a family.'
Alex turned away and walked to the window, staring out at the sky, his shoulders tense. 'Go to lunch, Miss Portman,' he said curtly.
2
Still very flushed, Deborah opened the door of Robin's office, three doors from her own, and glanced across the immaculately tidy room. Robin was at his desk, his head bent over an open file of papers. For a few seconds Deborah eyed the top of his head with affectionate but half irritated amusement. Then he looked up absently, met her glance and broke into a smile.
'Oh, no! Am I late for lunch? Darling, I'm terribly sorry…' He jumped up, crossed the room in two strides and kissed her warmly, his mouth gentle. 'You look beautiful,' he told her, admiring her new dress. 'Gorgeous enough to eat. I won't keep you a moment. Must just put that file away — you know how Alex is about security…' He drew a key from the small collection on the gold watch-chain he wore across his dark waistcoat and she watched as he carefully deposited the file into a drawer and locked it. He glanced over his desk briefly, smiled and turned towards her. 'Ready,' he said.
Robin was just thirty years old; a broad, well-built man whose clean-cut, rugged good looks did not go unadmired as they passed through the open office a moment later. Several of the younger girls fought over the honour of taking him coffee and doing work for him, although in a straight contest between the two men none of the girls were ever in any doubt that Alex was the more glamorous of the two. Robin had eyes and hair close to the colour of chestnuts in autumn, a rich, glowing brown enlivened by touches of gold. His features were regular, as well balanced as his calm nature, a strong, affectionate mouth, accustomed to smiling, a pleasantly shaped nose, a strong chin and broad, flat cheekbones which gave a Dutch placidity to his smile at times. He was not, Deborah knew by now, a passionate man, but his own secure, loving family background made him easy and confident in his way of meeting the world. Robin had taken their relationship in his stride, in no hurry to make decisions about the most important matter in his life, and Deborah had been sufficiently interested in her own career to accept without anxiety the unhurried pace of their courtship.
Deborah's parents had died in a fire during her first year of life. She had been found in her pram, in a garden under a sunny tree, some time later, crying pitifully. Her parents, having put her out into the garden on a Sunday morning after breakfast, had apparently intended to sleep for an hour, during which time the sitting-room had caught fire and, it was suspected, the young parents had been overcome by smoke. The only relative she had who was prepared to look after her had been an elderly uncle, Roger Seal, who had been sufficiently well-to-do to be able to pay for a nurse for her in her early years, and then, as soon as it was possible, had sent her off to boarding school. Her uncle had died during her final year at school, leaving enough money to finish her education. Deborah was grateful to him for the financial care he had taken of her, but the way in which she had been brought up had left her emotionally starved for affection, although she had learnt to be independent. It had been Robin's nature which attracted her to him. He carried about with him such an air of unruffled warmth. He talked frequently of his family, his parents, two sisters and brother. Deborah loved to listen to his tales of family life, to his childhood reminiscences, his jokes and nostalgia, the whole fragrance of family which enclosed him. Domesticated, affectionate, Robin seemed to her the perfect husband. As a lonely child at boarding school she had always longed for just such a life, busy, energetic, loving. Robin's small idiosyncrasies never bothered her. She approved of his carefulness about money, his economies and neatness of mind. An accountant by profession, he had a nature that inclined him to balance everything before action, and he had brought the same care to his romance with Deborah.
They lunched at a small restaurant a block away. It was one of their accustomed haunts, and the waiter smiled at them as he came to take their order. Deborah, without needing to consider the menu, ordered minestrone soup followed by chicken salad. As the waiter moved away, Robin said with a smile, 'Looking forward to the weekend?'
Deborah's relaxed expression tightened. 'Very much,' she said quickly. 'But…' she paused, biting her lower lip, 'Alex wants to take me to France with him tomorrow on a business trip.' She saw Robin frown, and added quickly, 'We'll be back on Friday night, so there's no danger that I'll miss the weekend.'
Robin's brows drew together. He fiddled with his cutlery, eyeing her silently. Then he said slowly, 'Refuse to go, Deb.'
Something in his voice surprised her. She looked at him anxiously. 'I did try to get out of it, but it's very secret — one of his big deals. I can't give you any of the details, but it's true that we can't afford news of it to leak out. There's no time to waste, so I can't even ask him to wait until after the weekend.'
Robin's face did not reflect resignation. Instead his brown eyes fastened on her face with a frown in them. Slowly, he said, 'I respect Alex. He's marvellous at his job. I admire the way he operates. But to be frank, my parents are concerned about your frequent trips abroad with him. He has a reputation, Deb.'
Her face flamed and her blue eyes widened. 'You can't suspect…' Her voice broke off angrily and she swallowed. 'Robin, you've never given me a hint before that you were worried… You must know that Alex and I are… Good God, I've never been involved with him!'
He leaned across the table, taking her hand quickly. 'I know,' he said gently. 'I've made it quite clear to my… my parents that I trust you, that there's nothing between you and Alex.' His face reflected uncertainty. 'To be absolutely frank, though, this is one reason why I delayed the announcement of our engagement.'
Deborah was taken aback, staring at him in indignant amazement. He had never, by a hint or word, given her any sign of jealousy. Indeed, he had always seemed to respect and admire Alex without hesitation. The waiter appeared before she could speak, placing her first course in front of her. When he had gone she said quietly, 'Why have you never said anything before, Robin?'
He shrugged. 'I told you, I've never given Mother's suspicions any credence. Good lord, I know you aren't sleeping with Alex!'
'Sleeping with him?' Her voice was stifled but husky with shock.
Robin looked unhappily at her. 'I know, it's ridiculous… I've never suspected it for a moment.'
'Then why did you delay our engagement?' she asked point-blank, her voice stiff.
'To give Mother time to get used to the idea,' he said, a little uneasily. Confusion made his face flush. 'I put that badly…' He gave her an embarrassed smile. 'I know she'll love you when she meets you. What I meant was…'
'I'm beginning to see what you meant,' she said curtly. 'Robin, is that why you've never taken me down to see your family? I thought it was just because you wanted to be quite sure of the future before we made anything so formal as a family visit.'
'That's true,' he said quickly. 'If they lived near London obviously you would have been able to meet them on a friendly basis, but asking you to come all the way to Devon makes it sound…' He broke off again, obviously unsure how to phrase what he wanted to say.
'No,' he protested. 'Oh, it's difficult to explain. I thought…' He spread his wide shoulders. 'This is our marriage. Once the family were involved there would be outside influences at work.'
Her face softened. 'That's true,' she said more warmly. Then her eyes grew serious again. 'We've been seeing each other for a long time. Surely you've told your family that I'm not one of Alex's women?'
'Of course,' he said quickly. Then he hesitated. 'But you see, before I got to know you…' The words trailed off and he gave her a quick, embarrassed look, his broad face flushed.
'What?' she asked shrewdly, staring at him.
Robin made a grimace. 'Well, when I joined the firm I heard some gossip about you and Alex… I wrote home, just mentioning it… and when I got to know you later of course I told my family it was all lies, but…'
'But they didn't believe it?' Her face was hot with angry emotion.
'Mother is naturally concerned about me,' Robin said in protest. 'You go abroad with Alex such a lot… she sees pictures of you both in the papers… Oh, darling, you're a very beautiful girl.' His brown eyes pleaded with her. 'It isn't surprising if she can't shake off those old stories.'
Deborah finished her soup and pushed the plate away, her mind filled with conflicting emotions. 'Robin, how long did you go on believing I was… was Alex's mistress?' Her eyes pinned him immobile, his face confused.
'I…' He stammered, thrown. 'Only a week or two. Once I knew you I was convinced it was lies.'
Deborah knew a moment of sheer rage. The feeling seemed to fly through her body, making her tense and on the point of bursting out into violent speech. She placed her hands on the edge of the table, her fingertips white as she pressed fiercely against the wood beneath the white cloth. After a moment she said, 'I've told you frankly that I am not, and never have been, involved with Alex. Either you accept my word or you don't. Marriage can't be based on hidden suspicion.'