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And his mouth... No kiss had ever made her feel so hot and shivery at the same time. As if she had a fever. His lips scorched her with their dry heat. Moving sensually, he tasted her, one second barely brushing her lips, the next drawing her lower lip into his mouth, caressing the silky inner skin with his tongue. Ever gradually the kiss deepened, demanding more of a response—and getting it. Until finally her lips parted, and with a triumphant sound he claimed her with his tongue piratically plundering her sweetness until her own tongue flickered to meet his.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Raising his head, he eased away to look down into her flushed face.
‘What are you, some sort of witch?’ he demanded in a husky drawl.
She shuddered in reaction. If she was, then he was a wizard. She’d never felt such magic. ‘I...think you’d better let me go,’ she responded weakly, somehow unable to free herself.
For a moment it seemed he hadn’t heard her, then with a sort of mental shake he released her and stepped back. ‘You’re right, of course. You’re trouble with a capital T. A man would be a fool indeed to ignore the warning signs.’
He had recovered quicker than she, but Kay rallied her defences at that. What on earth did she think she was doing? And with him of all people? Self-disgust made her voice chilly. ‘There’s no need, because we won’t be seeing each other again after today.’
‘I sincerely hope not.’
Kay winced inwardly as he made it abundantly clear he deplored that moment of weakness. Well, she did, too, and she let him know it. ‘No more than I. Goodbye, Mr Radford. I won’t say it’s been a pleasure meeting you, because I hate lying.’
Without another word she turned and marched away, very much aware that his eyes were on her until she passed through the front door. Only out on the pavement again did she draw in a fresh breath, and found she was shaking. As much from sheer reaction as anger. Not caring where she went, she strode out, her pace mirroring her inner turmoil. Her response to Ben Radford filled her mind. She had always thought she had a low sex drive, but he had proved that notion as full of holes as a rusty pail.
Reviewing her life now, she realised she must have led a very cloistered existence to have arrived at that decision about herself. Or had she begun to believe her own publicity? Had her well-cut businesslike suits and dresses become so much a part of her that the sensual side of herself had been hidden from her? Until her encounter with Ben Radford had proved there was nothing staid in her make-up—when the right man triggered her natural responses.
Yet, while he had done that, he was the wrong man. He hadn’t wanted to feel that way about her any more than she had him, so why had it stung, the way he had chosen to fight it? Did the answer really matter anyway? His opinion of her and her ‘questionable motives’ should be enough to make her head easily conquer her wayward emotions.
Besides, there was Lance. He was solid and dependable. OK, so he had never lit any fires in her, but she hadn’t expected him to. How ‘real’ was it, anyway? Emotions were fickle. It had been a very emotional day. Her reaction was probably heightened by the unreality of the whole situation. The thought somewhat eased her troubled spirit.
Her footsteps slowed, and, glancing round, she discovered she had no idea where she was. Fortunately a taxi cruised into sight and she flagged it down. Giving the driver the office address, she sank back into the seat with a sigh. She thanked heaven she would never have to see Ben Radford again. She would put him from her mind, just as she intended doing with the sad business of Kimberley Endacott.
* * *
Two days later, as Kay was congratulating herself on her success—the diary once more resided in the case which now lay tucked away at the back of her wardrobe—she glanced up quickly as, after only a brief knock, her office door was pushed open.
‘Do you have a minute, Kay?’ John Kovacs, her immediate boss, asked as he popped his bald head through the gap.
‘For you, five,’ she returned with a grin. ‘What can I do for you?’ she enquired as he came in and sat down. His usual jovial face was glum.
‘A big favour, I hope. You know I wouldn’t ask this if it weren’t so important. There’s a VIP due to meet Matthew Winterbourne about now, only he’s in a jam somewhere between here and Heathrow. There’s been a monumental foul-up somewhere, and, what’s worse, we can’t contact the VIP to put him off.’
Kay could see what was coming. ‘And you want me to keep him entertained until Matthew gets here?’
John’s face began to beam. ‘I knew we could count on you!’ he declared, jumping up.
‘Hey, I haven’t said I’ll do it yet,’ Kay pointed out quickly, then almost laughed, because if John had had any hair left he would have been pulling it out. So, although the request smacked of male chauvinism, she hadn’t the heart to let him down. ‘All right, but you owe me one. Give me a minute to make myself presentable and I’ll be up there.’ She reached into a drawer for her bag, and rose. ‘Who is it, do you know?’
He paused briefly on his way out. ‘Ben Radford, the merchant banker. Not someone you’d want to upset. Thanks, Kay; Matthew shouldn’t be more than half an hour.’
With a wave of his hand he disappeared, not realising he’d left Kay in a state of shock. Ben Radford! His name was a silent groan. Of all the pieces of bad luck. If she’d known she never would have agreed. Now she was committed to spending at least thirty minutes in his unenviable company. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve it, but it was too late to back out.
Hurrying to the ladies’ washroom, she surveyed her face. Was it any wonder she looked pale? But that was soon remedied with make-up. Unfortunately there was nothing she could do about her black pencil skirt and tailored white blouse, which were comfortable but quite definitely prissy. Then immediately she was annoyed at herself for allowing just his name to put her into a spin. He was just a man, for heaven’s sake! Deciding she’d done enough primping, she let herself out and headed for the lift.
Kay nodded to Matthew Winterbourne’s secretary as she passed through en route for his office. At the door she stopped and rather nervously smoothed her skirt down over her hips before taking a deep breath and entering. Ben Radford had his back to her, standing at the window, but he turned as he heard the door, his smile turning to a deep frown.
‘Good morning,’ Kay greeted politely, despite her heart’s alarming tendency to gallop out of control. She then found herself the object of a long leisurely perusal from her head to her feet, the result of which clearly found her wanting, and made her blood boil.
‘My, my, you do turn up in the most unexpected places,’ he drawled, amusement dancing in his eyes as he witnessed her reaction. Slipping his hands into his trouser pockets, he paced towards her.
Still angered by the way he had looked her over so scathingly, it was an effort for her to remain polite, as the twitch of his lips showed he knew only too well. ‘It’s not unexpected at all. I happen to work here. I came to tell you that Mr Winterbourne has been delayed. An effort was made to contact you, but you couldn’t be found.’ Her chilly ghost of a smile suggested that any waiting he had to do was therefore his own fault.
His response to that was to step unnervingly closer to her, so that she was made vitally aware of the height and breadth of him, and the pure male scent that mingled with his cologne and so appealed to her senses that they went into overdrive.
‘Meanwhile, you were sent to keep me...entertained?’ he queried in a sexily husky voice.
Although she knew it was deliberate, on one level his voice did amazing things to her insides, and in pure self-defence she summoned anger. ‘No, I damn well was not!’ she responded, eyes spitting sparks.
His eyebrow quirked. ‘Tsk, tsk, now is that any way to talk to a client?’
It was a timely reminder, and Kay fought an inner battle for control, because he was right, damn him. It was not company policy to actively antagonise clients, especially ones designated VIPs. Yet there was clearly a double standard at work here, for, while he had leave to say what he liked, she must keep her place. ‘I’ll have you know it wasn’t my idea to come here.’
Ben Radford laughed. ‘No, I can well believe that! So, you work here, do you? That’s very interesting.’
She couldn’t see why. ‘Is it?’
He sent her a broad smile and wandered over to the desk, turning to prop himself against it, arms crossed. He was the epitome of male power, leashed for now, but ready to spring into action. ‘I hope you’ve taken my advice to heart, Miss Napier, otherwise things could become a little awkward. For you, that is.’
Kay stiffened at the renewed threat. ‘I had absolutely no intention of seeing anyone involved with the Endacotts ever again, and quite frankly I could have done without this meeting too.’ Because there was a deplorable part of her that found him so devastatingly attractive that it shattered her mind!
‘Rest assured, there are plenty of women whose company I would seek before yours, Miss Napier,’ he retorted scathingly, making her gasp in equal degrees of shock and hurt.
But she’d rather die than let him know that he could affect her in any way, and her lips curled. ‘Oh, I’m sure there are, and I can imagine the sort, too! Big flashy blondes with more chest than brains!’ she sniped sarcastically, losing control of her tongue yet again.
Blue eyes became frosty. ‘Perhaps. They certainly wouldn’t be avaricious little gold-diggers, who dress with as much sex appeal as cold rice pudding!’ Ben Radford shot back swiftly.
Kay didn’t know which description hurt the most, and while she struggled to find a response she was saved the need by the door being thrust open. Matthew Winterbourne rushed in, totally oblivious to the atmosphere, tossing aside his briefcase and holding out a hand to the other man.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Ben. Traffic was at a standstill!’ he apologised.
Ben Radford shook hands. ‘No problem. Miss Napier here has been keeping me amused,’ he said smoothly, no trace of animosity in his tone, which warned Kay she should never take this man at face value.
Matthew Winterbourne smiled vaguely in her direction. ‘Has she? Thanks for holding the fort, Kay.’
From somewhere Kay dredged up a smile. ‘You’re welcome,’ she responded before making good her escape, but not before she heard Ben Radford’s parting sally,
‘See you around.’ Well, not if she saw him first! Cold rice pudding! How dared he? He was a hateful, hateful man, and if she never saw him again it would be much too soon.
Unkind fate, however, saw to it that, while out of sight, he was lamentably not out of mind. It was during her dates with Lance that Ben Radford’s ghost kept rearing its ugly head. Try as she might—and she did try very hard—she couldn’t help but compare the two men. She hated herself for it, because Lance always seemed to come second—and a very poor second at that. How desperately she tried to feel something when he kissed her goodnight, but she just couldn’t. And to make it worse, in the middle of a kiss, she’d find herself thinking he was too short, too flabby—too unlike Bed Radford! Yet the more she tried to think better of Lance, the more she failed, and her nights were spent in restless self-condemnation.
Lack of sleep made her mind dull, too, and she found, by the end of the following week, that it was a struggle to concentrate. Never before had her beloved mathematics failed to absorb her whole attention, and it felt like the worst kind of betrayal. Never before had she looked forward to the weekend with quite such eagerness. She’d give her flat a good spring-clean and wash that man out of her thoughts at the same time!
Such was her plan. She should have known better. The telephone call she received on Friday morning came as a complete surprise, and a welcome distraction from the hours of wasted work the crumpled papers on her desk represented. Expecting her secretary to answer the ring, when it continued she realised Donna was out of the office and lifted her own receiver quickly.
‘Kay Napier,’ she stated briskly.
‘Charles Endacott here.’
Kay very nearly dropped the phone. Indeed, she replaced the papers she was juggling back on her desk with almost extreme care. ‘Sir Charles?’ she greeted him awkwardly after a pause of several seconds, during which her brain had gone into frantic convolutions wondering what he could possibly want, and at the same time dragging up an inimical picture of Ben Radford’s stony face. ‘This is a surprise.’
‘I’ve been doing some thinking, Miss Napier. Your visit was something of a shock, but it also intrigued me. I’d very much like to talk to you again, and I was wondering if you might be free for lunch today?’ The mellow tones of the old gentleman were warm in her ear.
But it was another voice that made her fingers tighten on the plastic. A cold voice which had warned her off in no uncertain terms, when advising her that just such an occasion as this might arise. Finding herself in the midst of a minefield, it behoved her to step very cautiously indeed.
‘Do you think that would be wise?’ she murmured diplomatically, and could almost hear his surprise.
‘I can see no harm in it.’
Kay sighed. ‘No,’ she admitted, ‘but others do. Mr Radford was quite emphatic, and I think I have to agree with him. My visit was a mistake, and perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to compound it in any way.’
Sir Charles sounded amused. ‘Warned you off, did he? If that isn’t like him! Ben is a very good businessman. Frankly, this bank would be lost without him. But he doesn’t know everything.’
‘He was concerned for you,’ she felt bound to point out gently. ‘After all, you know nothing about me.’
‘I didn’t get where I am without trusting my instincts. And I can look after myself. As for not knowing you, meet me for lunch and we’ll put it right. Now, what do you say? It would make an old man happy,’ he wheedled skilfully.
Kay, who had sorely missed having no other relatives, melted at the gentle cajolery. After all, she told herself, what harm could it really do? Ben Radford need never know, and she had liked Sir Charles on sight.
‘I usually have lunch between one and two,’ she said by way of acceptance, and burning her boats at the same time.
‘Good, good. My car will pick you up at one o’clock sharp. I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Napier,’ Sir Charles declared, and rang off.
Of course, as soon as she put the phone down, she started to doubt her sanity. She was laying herself open to all sorts of accusations if Ben Radford ever found out, and it wasn’t the wisest move if she wanted to put the whole of that encounter from her mind.
Yet, having given her word, she couldn’t go back on it, and therefore was waiting on the pavement when the silver-grey Bentley drew up on the dot of one. It made her glad that today she was wearing her favourite French navy coat dress. Anything else wouldn’t have done justice to the mode of transport!
The restaurant she was driven to turned out to be situated in a well-known gentlemen’s club. Sir Charles was already seated at a table when she was shown in, and he rose courteously, offering his hand.
‘Miss Napier. It was very kind of you to accede to an old man’s wishes.’
‘Please, call me Kay,’ she invited as they sat down, and paused until a Jeeves-like waiter melted away with their order before adding, ‘You make it very difficult for a person to refuse.’
Sir Charles smiled faintly. ‘I apologise for using unfair tactics on you, Kay. It’s a habit, I’m afraid. My grandchildren call me a wicked old blackmailer.’
Kay laughed softly. ‘It sounds as if they love you. You’re fortunate to have such a close family.’
‘I like to think so,’ he agreed and a short silence fell. Kay broke it a moment later.
‘What did you want to talk to me about?’
Sir Charles paused while the waiter returned with their starter, then cleared his throat. ‘As I mentioned the other day, since Kimberley disappeared there have been many attempts to extort money by people claiming to know where she was, and from children and young women claiming to be her. Naturally all were referred to the police who have the means to deal with such—frauds.
‘It used to make me very angry, but time has mellowed that. Today, what I feel is a deep sadness. I no longer hope for a miracle. Which is why your story intrigued me. You’re such a contradiction. Everything about you is right—your age, your colouring. Yet you want nothing, except to know you’re not Kimberley. You came to me, guilty and distressed because you had nowhere else to turn. I feel I should have been of more help to you. I would like to think that if by chance my granddaughter is alive, and if she has troubles, there will be someone for her to turn to. So, if you still wish to, why don’t you tell me exactly what it is that has so upset you?’
Kay felt more than a little choked. It was a long time since she had received such an unselfish offer. Advice without any emotional strings was exactly what she wanted, some objectivity which she seemed unable fully to reach herself. And considering the subject was one so close to Sir Charles, his offer was a generous one that she couldn’t refuse.
Sir Charles listened intently while she repeated her story, still carefully editing out any mention of the letter and telephone call, which she had decided were malicious, made by someone with a grudge against her mother. It wasn’t, she told herself, even as if it was necessary to the story. He nodded from time to time, as their meal progessed, to show his understanding, and occasionally interspersed a question. At the end, they both sat back, sipping at their coffee.
‘I can see why you suddenly had these doubts, Kay, but I have to say I agree with you about their being mere coincidence. If your mother had not kept a diary, it would never have occurred to you to doubt. I expect that if we did a survey, it would show that many redheaded babies were born on the day Kimberley disappeared, and that quite a few of their fathers walked out on the day the ransom was paid. You’re making the facts fit the case, but only by ignoring everything else.
‘No, my dear, I think we can safely say that you can rest assured your parents weren’t kidnappers. And as someone with a vested interest in the truth, I think you’ll trust my word, hmn?’
His smile was so kindly that Kay returned it easily. Everything he said made so much more sense than her own circling thoughts. Instinctively she reached out to touch his hand. ‘Oh, I do, and you’ve no idea how good it makes me feel to know I was being a fool. I needed someone to put it all into perspective.’
So engrossed had they been on their discussion that neither had seen the new diner enter the room. They only became aware of his approach as his shadow passed across them, causing both to look up at once, though their reactions differed vastly.
‘Very cosy, Charles. I had no idea you were entertaining,’ Ben Radford drawled.
Sir Charles laughed. ‘Even an old man can have secrets, Ben,’ he replied with bluff good humour, to Kay’s horror. She knew it was the wrong tack to take.
‘So I see,’ the younger man agreed, turning cold blue eyes her way. ‘Miss Napier,’ he greeted with an awful quiet that spoke volumes to her.
Kay experienced a sinking dismay. This was the last thing she wanted to have happened, and she didn’t need a high IQ to know what interpretation he was putting on a meeting he inevitably saw as clandestine. And as if that weren’t enough, she suffered again that instantaneous and all-encompassing awareness of him. His hand was just within her field of vision, long-fingered and tanned, in no way effeminate. She experienced a clear vision of it running caressingly over pearly skin—her skin—and felt heat rise all over her body.
Yet her voice was blessedly steady as she inclined her head. She would not let him see what effect his presence was having. ‘Mr Radford.’
‘Kay and I have been having a very interesting chat, Ben,’ Sir Charles went on, as if he couldn’t sense that the atmosphere had cooled. To Kay it was a red rag to a bull, and the very worst thing he could say.
Ben Radford, however, smiled with feigned interest. ‘I’m sure...Kay has a wealth of interesting stories to tell. Perhaps I’ll look her up some time and have a chat myself?’ There was no perhaps about it, as far as Kay could see.
‘If you’re trying to make a date, Ben, do it on your own time. Kay is my guest. Besides, she doesn’t have time to chat to you. If I don’t get her back to Winterbourne and Stonely in five minutes, she might be out of a job.’
It was extremely unlikely, but Ben Radford didn’t know that. The thought obviously pleased him, even if his words belied it. ‘We can’t have that, even though I’m sure Kay has her sights set on something higher than being a mere hireling all her life.’ With which parting salvo he sauntered away to a table by the window and proceeded to ignore them.
Kay knew in her bones that she hadn’t heard the last of it. Ben Radford had been paying lip-service to his partner. His true feelings were that she had ignored his warning and now woe betide her! Which thought caused her lunch to sit heavily on her stomach all afternoon.
By the time she returned to her flat that evening, she had developed a nagging headache, but as she had a date for dinner with Lance’s parents she hastily swallowed some aspirin and hoped they would do the trick. It was all due to the tension produced by one man. Waiting for Ben Radford’s appearance was like waiting for the axe to fall.
Making herself a snack of cheese on toast, she wished she could stop thinking about him. Just to mention his name conjured him up in her mind. Conjured up memories of his kiss, too, and how she wished she could make that vanish, never to return!
She lingered under the shower and felt better for it, and, after drying herself on a large fluffy bath sheet, donned sheer silk and lace bra and panties. Once it had seemed nothing more than an extravagant luxury that her underwear and night clothes were sinfully feminine, while her outer clothes were the ultimate in primness. Now, with the advent of Ben Radford, her wardrobe took on a hidden significance, her passionate nature concealed beneath a plain outer shell.
It was as if she had been lying to herself for years—and that made her extremely uncomfortable as she slipped on a simple black jersey dress, with its contrasting white bolero jacket. Stepping into low black pumps, to lessen her height—Lance was shorter than her and conscious of it—she checked her hair and make-up in the mirror. She was pleased with her appearance, and knew she would be approved of, but was also aware that that was due to her projecting negative sexuality. She realised she didn’t like that at all.
Such ambivalent thoughts made her even more unsettled, and so did Lance’s reaction to her when he arrived on the dot of seven-thirty. Not a second early or late, so that Kay had the unworthy idea he had been outside, checking his watch to make sure of the exact moment to ring the bell. Schooling her features not to show any doubt or irritation, she answered the door.
‘You look very nice, Kay, as always,’ he flattered, brushing his lips over her cheek.
Kay had a fleeting wish that he would sweep her off her feet instead of the customary kiss on her cheek, then mentally rapped her knuckles, knowing whose fault that thought was. Lance, with his wings of grey in his hair, and conservative grey suit, would consider it an insult to her. Besides, the disloyal thought ripped at her, being beneath his dignity.
‘Mother’s arranged dinner for eight. We’d better not keep her waiting,’ Lance urged moments later, and Kay obediently collected her handbag.
But these unsettling thoughts didn’t make for an enjoyable evening, although she did try. However, for the first time ever she allowed Mrs Young’s narrow-minded statements to draw her into an argument, which left that lady in a mood of high dudgeon and Lance bad-tempered, a fact which almost had her picking an argument with him, too. Which wasn’t like her at all. So that by the time they left, her relief was palpable. Lance saw her to her door, as always the perfect gentleman. Out of sorts, Kay felt the need to apologise. Unlocking the door, she turned.
‘I’m sorry I was such a grouch, Lance. Put it down to a headache. Did I utterly spoil your evening?’
