Out of Control Read online

  There was another loud knock and Keir Zachary sauntered back towards the sitting-room, shrugging. Liza opened the front door and a man almost fell into the hallway. He must have been leaning on the door. Liza looked blankly at him; she had never seen him before in her life, but he wasn't wearing police uniform, in fact his clothes were shabby and disreputable. One look and she had a strong suspicion that he was a tramp; he needed a shave, he smelt of drink and it wouldn't have hurt him to have a wash, either.

  'What do you want?' she asked sharply, stepping into his path as he tried to move further into the house.

  'Miss Thurston? Liza Thurston?' He gave her what he obviously believed to be a placating smile. 'I'm from the Argus, the local paper. I'm sure you know it . . .'

  'A reporter?' Liza's tone betrayed disgust and he looked uneasily at her.

  'Well, yes, but I don't just work on the Argus, I'm a stringer for several Fleet Street newspapers and one of

  them just rang me up and asked me to get over here and talk to you."

  'Well, I don't want to talk to you,' Liza informed him icily, holding the door open in a pointed way. 'Good­night.' With the door wide open, freezing air drifted in and she shivered, clutching the throat of her dressing-gown together. "Please hurry up and go—that fog is thicker, if anything. I can't imagine how on earth you got here in it!'

  *I was at the Green Man,' he said, making no attempt to leave. 'I'm covering the fishing contest they're holding and I decided to stay the night.'

  Have you got a room?' Liza's eyes widened as it occurred to her that he might let Keir Zachary share it. Then she started thinking a little more coolly and realised that at all costs he must not even know that Keir was in the house with her!

  'Well, not exactly,' he said, grimacing. He was a short, bulky man with a round, balding head and a red neck. His sharp little eyes had already made a tour of the hallway and Liza and she was glad she hadn't been alone in the cottage when he arrived. He made her far more nervous than Keir Zachary had done.

  'I'm Bob Tanner,' he told her. 'Call me Bob, Liza.'

  'Call me Miss Thurston, Mr Tanner," she said with hauteur, but he just laughed, as though he thought she was being funny!

  'Why did you ask if I had a room?' he asked eagerly, looking up the stairs. 'You haven't got one free, have you? The Green Man is full; packed up to the rafters, in fact. I've been told I can sleep in an armchair in the bar, but if you had a room I could use, I'd be glad to pay."

  'I don't have any free rooms, I'm not a hotel,' Liza said impatiently. 'Look, Mr Tanner, will you please go? I am not talking to a newspaper. Tell them I said "no comment".'

  'You here alone?' he asked in a tone which made her face stiffen, and she was so angry that she got hold of his arm and pushed him forcibly towards the door.

  'Get out!'

  'I just want to ask a few questions!' he said, resisting her efforts to evict him. He was short but he was heavy, and Liza could not budge him. Ts is true that the Gifford family have objections to Bruno marrying you? What are you and Bruno going to do if they refuse their consent? Are you going to marry in spite of them? Where is he, by the way? At Hartwell? Is he going to join you here?'

  'I'm not telling you anything, so please go away!' Liza fumed, pushing as hard as she could without managing to shift him, and he leered down at her, catching one of her hands.

  'Just give me a few quotes, and I'll go, I promise, Liza! And 1 don't blame Bruno, by the way—you're a real knock-out, aren't you? I go for blondes myself, always have.'

  Liza was so furious that for a second she was almost blind with rage and distaste, which was why she did not hear or see the arrival of Keir Zachary at first. One minute she was staring in helpless fury at Bob Tanner's grinning, unshaven face, the next he was whirled away as Keir picked him up by his coat collar and the seat of his trousers and threw him out of the door.

  Liza had pulled herself together enough by then to hear the crash as Bob Tanner hit the path. She didn't have time to see what he had done to himself, because Keir snarled after him, "And don't come back, or next time I'll break your neck!" before slamming the front door.

  "You may have killed him!' Liza gasped.

  'Good,' Keir said through his teeth, his face dark red. 'I hate scum of that sort. I kept quiet because I could see you didn't want him to know I was here, but when he started making a pass at you that was more than flesh and blood could stand ... the miserable little toad!'

  Liza couldn't deny the aptness of the description, but she was still angry with Keir for interfering. 'Don't you realise what you've done?' she asked him fiercely, glaring. 'You've given him exactly what he came here to get a story! And much better than a couple of weak quotes! He's going to scurry to the nearest phone and tell the world that I've got a man staying with me down here!'

  He stared at her, his brows together, and in the silence they both heard Bob Tanner pick himself up and hurry away. His running footsteps sounded very loud in the damp river mist shrouding the house.

  'You can explain to your boyfriend . . .' Keir began and Liza looked at him scathingly, interrupting.

  'That I didn't even know you, but you stayed the night?"

  'That we crashed into each other and I couldn't get home!" he re-phrased drily.

  'And that's what I tell Fleet Street? You think they'll believe that lame story?'

  'The cars are outside for all the world to see!" He considered her with a cool smile. 'I think you're making a mountain out of a molehill.'

  'That's what reporters always do!' she snapped.

  He shrugged. 'I apologise if I've embarrassed you, but that guy was asking for a good punch on the nose. If I hadn't intervened he might have done more than tell you he fancied you. I got the impression he was leading up to a little demonstration!'

  Liza shuddered. She had had the same impression and the thought of that odious little man touching her made her feel sick.

  'Did I hear him mention the name Gifford?" Keir asked, staring hard at her. 'He didn't mean the merchant bank people, did he?'

  Liza was too weary and distraught to think of an evasive reply. She just sighed and nodded.

  'I'm going back to bed,' she said, turning towards the stairs, but Keir caught her arm and detained her.

  'Is your boyfriend one of the Giffords? Are you engaged to him?'

  Liza turned on him, heavy-eyed and fed up. 'Look, I've had enough questions from that reporter! I'm not answering any of yours, either. It's none of your business.'

  'Are you in love with him?' he threw at her, as if he hadn't heard a word she had said.

  Liza shook herself free and ran up the stairs, aware of him standing in the hall, watching her, but when she was safely out of reach she paused to look back at him, half apologetically.

  'Thank you for coming to my rescue," she said with faint reluctance. 'I realise you meant well!"

  'Thank you," he said with wry impatience. 'Next time I'll let the guy do what he likes with you, shall I?'

  'Don't be angry,' Liza said, suddenly smiling down at him. 'I'm sorry, it's just that you don't understand—you don't realise what's going on!'

  'So tell me, maybe I could help?' He put a foot on the bottom stair and Liza's body stiffened. 'Don't come up here!'

  He leaned on the banister, his lean body relaxed and yet held in a controlled tension she could feel, as though he was willing himself to stay calm, but was coiled for action all the same.

  'Are you afraid of me?' he enquired, the blue eyes holding hers, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe, although she couldn't think why she should be having trouble dragging air into her lungs, just because a total stranger looked at her.

  'Afraid of you? Why should I be?' she retorted, wishing she didn't sound so husky.

  'You tell me!'

  'Do you think 1 should be?" Liza asked, wishing she knew what he was thinking. 'You know yourself better than I do—should I be afraid of you?"

  He smiled slowly, a cynical,
amused, half-teasing smile. 'I think maybe you should, Liza,' he said, and she turned and almost ran into her bedroom and bolted the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Liza slept so heavily that when she woke up it was a wrenching shock; her nerves jangled as she felt herself coming back to life, and for a few seconds she was too disorientated to know where she was or remember everything that had happened last night. She lay there, eyes closed, hearing noises she could identify, but which for some reason filled her with alarm. Shouts, the slamming of a door, knocking.

  Then she sat up, trembling—what was going on downstairs? It was daylight; a cool, clear daylight. It was morning, but Liza could have slept on for hours if she hadn't been forced to wake up. She slid her legs out of bed and stood up, staggering, as if she was drunk, and in a way she was—drunk with sleep, almost drowning in it.

  She had been so tired when she'd finally got to bed— not merely with the long journey she had made from London, or the alarums and excursions when she arrived—all the tension of running into Keir Zachary's car and arguing, the reporter, everything that had happened—but with the exhaustion of the previous two days, Bruno and the Press. Emotional hassle could be as tiring as physical exhaustion. She had needed to sleep to process everything that had happened to her over the past few days.

  And now she had woken up to what sounded horribly like more problems! It sounded, in fact, as if the house was under siege, and Liza grabbed up her dressing-gown and splashed her face with cold water to make sure she was awake, then groped for the door, yawning convulsively.

  The hall was empty and as Liza made her way down the stairs the banging and shouting outside the house faded away. From the kitchen floated a delicious smell, though.

  Coffee, Liza thought, following her nose. She pushed open the door and was surprised to find the kitchen shadowy; Keir Zachary had pulled down the blinds, something she almost never did, although they were very pretty—white cotton printed with apple blossom and red apples and green leaves, very sharp and bright. The colours matched the green and white of the kitchen units. The whole room was gay and cheerful, especially in the mornings, when the sun flooded in, so why on earth had he pulled down the blinds?

  'Why haven't you gone?' she demanded as he turned to look at her. He was surprisingly well groomed for a man who had spent the night on a sofa; his dark hair was brushed and neat, his skin smooth and shaven, his clothes were not the ones he had worn last night, and Liza stared in stupefaction and growing suspicion. 'Where did you get those clothes from?' she asked furiously.

  'My suitcase,' he said.

  'Suitcase? What suitcase?'

  'It was in the back of the estate car.'

  Liza thought about that, frowning at him. 'Why did you have a suitcase in the back of the car?'

  'Because I've been spending a few days with some friends in Essex, and I was on my way back home when you ran into me!' he said, pouring coffee. 'Sugar? No, I remember, you don't take it.' He handed her a cup and she absent-mindedly inhaled with a sigh of pleasure.

  'So that's why you were able to shave, too,' she thought aloud, and he nodded. Then Liza remembered the noise outside the house, and asked, 'What on earth was all that shouting and banging?'

  'I was up an hour ago,' said Keir in a casual, conversational tone. 'I had my first cup of coffee, then I went out to my car and got my case and changed, and had a wash and shaved. I meant to be on my way long before you woke up, so I rang the local garage and they promised to come and get my car and tow it away. They arrived ten minutes ago and they brought a hire car for me. They handed me the keys and drove off and I was just leaving myself when that reporter came back.'

  'Oh, no!' Liza groaned and he grimaced.

  'Oh, yes, and he brought a friend.'

  'A friend?' she asked, apprehensively.

  'A photographer.'

  Liza went white, then red. 'They . . . they didn't get a . . .?'

  'Picture of me? No,' he said grimly. 'They almost did, but my antennae are too good. I opened the front door and they dived out a car at once, but I spotted them immediately, saw the camera, and got back indoors. They pounded up the path and started yelling and knocking.' He sipped his coffee and lounged on one of Liza's tall, kitchen stools, green leather with shiny chrome legs. She had thought of them as very functional, but Keir Zachary's lean body draped on them gave them a distinctly glamorous air; the kitchen took on the look of a night-club.

  'Damn!' Liza said, biting her lip.

  'You're very mild this morning. I expected something a little more explosive,' he drawled and she ignored him, going over to the window to let the blinds up.

  'Why on earth did you pull these down?' she asked, reaching for the cord, and Keir Zachary's body hit her at that instant, dragging her away and clamping her so powerfully that she couldn't breath. Her eyes opened wide in shock.

  'What do you think you're doing?' she managed hoarsely, her skin now icy cold, now feverish, as she felt his hard body so close, touching hers from neck to thigh.

  'Don't touch the blinds! Are you stupid?' he asked in a deep, impatient roar, and she jumped again, afraid and bewildered.

  'Why shouldn't I? What are you talking about?'

  'Why do you think I pulled them down? Those men out there have already prowled round the house, looking in the windows—luckily I'd anticipated them and they didn't see a thing."

  'They can't do that,' Liza said blankly. 'That's trespassing. They can't walk through my garden and look in my windows!'

  'They're the Press—they think they can do what they like!"

  'I'll call the police!"

  'Do that," Keir said drily as though he didn't believe she would, and Liza bristled because the only reason why she hadn't called the police yesterday to report the crash was because she did not want the Press alerted as to her presence at the cottage. Since the Press now knew she was there, it no longer mattered if she called the police.

  'I will, don't worry," she said furiously, trying to break away from the hard grasp of his hands on her back. 'Let go of me!" she insisted and Keir looked down into her face, a funny, crooked smile curling his mouth.

  i like you better like this," he murmured, and his voice was deep and warm and sexy, and Liza felt her skin break out in goose-bumps as though in fear, which was crazy, because why should a man's voice make her scared? But she was scared, she looked back at him nervously, her pupils huge and her throat pulsing violently.

  'I'm going to ring the police. Let go,' she said in a stilted little voice she tried to make normal.

  'With your hair down and your face flushed, just out of bed," he continued softly, one hand slowly moving up her back, stroking and pressing along her spine.

  'Stop that," she said, her voice rising.

  'Why are you shaking?' asked Keir, watching her, and his hand reached the back of her neck and pushed into the cloudy blonde hair lying heavily on the nape. She shivered as his fingertips caressed her neck.

  'Rage,' Liza said through her teeth. 'I'm shaking with rage! Will you get your hands off me? We may be marooned together in this house for a little while, but that doesn't give you any rights. Get away from me and stay away, or I swear I'll maim you, Mr Zachary! And don't think I don't know how, because when I started modelling I soon discovered I needed some lessons in self-defence and I could do you some nasty injuries, believe me, without needing any weapon but my own two hands.'

  He looked at her with incredulity and then mocking amusement. 'Amazon!' But his hands dropped and Liza darted away again, her knees weak and her legs only just bearing her weight. She didn't know why she felt so light­headed; she hardly knew Keir Zachary and he certainly wasn't the first man to make a pass at her. She had fought off far too many other men without ever getting this funny, swimming sensation which was dangerously close to fainting, so why should Keir Zachary do this to her? She knew nothing about him, she didn't know if she like him much; in fact, she was beginning to dislike him intensely. He was
taking advantage of being alone here with her; he seemed to think it funny to scare the living daylights out of her. He was not a nice man.

  'You're not what I'd have expected,' he said thought­fully, staring at her with narrowed eyes. 'Aren't models usually rather more . . . experienced?' The hesitation made the question insulting. What he really meant was: don't models usually go to bed with any man who shows an interest? Liza glared back at him, her teeth together.

  When she could speak, she said icily, 'We come in all shapes and sizes, we aren't identical! I don't sleep around, Mr Zachary, so keep your hands to yourself in future."

  He didn't believe her, she could see that; his cynical amusement made her even angrier, but there was no point in insisting that she was telling the truth. Let him think what he liked. If he tried to touch her again she would hit him so hard he wouldn't need another warning!

  'I'm going to ring the police and ask them to come and send those men on their way!' she told him, turning.

  'They won't,' he drawled indifferently. 'They never do. There's no law against sitting in a car on the public road, you see. If they commit a crime, the police can act, but the Press are far too sharp to get caught doing anything illegal. The police will just talk to them and go away and the reporter and his chum will sit out there until the crack of doom.'

  'We'll see about that," Liza said determined to make somebody do something. The police were polite, but not exactly breathing fire and brimstone. They said more or less what Keir Zachary had said- unless the journalists broke the law they had every right to park their car on the public highway and sit in it.

  'Unless they're in a no-parking zone?' the policeman suggested helpfully, and Liza grimly said they weren't, but would he send someone along to talk to the men, anyway? That might scare them off. He said he would ask one of his cars to drop by on their usual round, but they were very busy.

  'I didn't realise this was such a criminal area,' Liza said, but the sarcasm was water off a duck's back.

  'We get our share,' the policeman said and hung up. Liza put the receiver down and began to walk away. The phone rang and she went and picked it up, but a voice began to gabble questions at her and she slammed the receiver down again, then took it off the hook and left it on the hall table.