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He rose from the stool, fully dressed apart from his tie and suitcoat. They had been discarded in her living-room. He would pick them up on his way out. His gaze skated over the long sprawl of her slender legs, paused at the deep indentation of her waist, skipped to the wild disarray of hair framing her face and shoulders, then fastened directly on her eyes. There was a dark, ruthless glint in his.
‘I hope you find the energy to move yourself in good time to get to the office at nine, Caitlin. I wouldn’t like to think you were taking advantage of your situation.’
It was a warning. Softly spoken, perfectly controlled, no direct threat involved, yet Caitlin’s spine crawled with the sense of having stretched beyond what was acceptable to him. The protective urge to quickly backtrack was shrivelled by a flare of burning resentment.
Did she have no importance in his life apart from being an efficient secretary and a ready source of sexual satisfaction? It was the final insult. She had worked herself to boneless exhaustion for David Hartley.
‘You have the sensitivity of a rhinoceros,’ she muttered darkly, more to herself than to him.
‘I’ll let that remark pass and pretend you never said it,’ he said testily.
‘Big of you,’ she complimented him.
The need to find out what she really meant to him surged through her with passionate intensity. Even if his heart was cold to her, his body wasn’t. She must mean something more than just being a body.
She swung her legs off the bed with a lithe, feline grace that captured his attention. She lifted her arms and flicked back her hair as she stood up and turned to face him, knowing the action tilted the firm fullness of her breasts into greater prominence. Her nipples hardened as the desire to seduce raged with white-hot heat. She rolled her hips, sliding her thighs against each other as she walked towards him, a sensual smile curving her generous mouth.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.
His chest expanded. His shoulders squared with tension. His hands clenched. He was definitely unhappy. He was tempted. His mind warred against the stirring of his desire. He had a schedule to keep. He didn’t allow anything to interfere with that. His face set with resolution but the glitter in his eyes had more to do with lust than determination. His feet stayed rooted to the floor. He didn’t move forward.
‘Is this the last time you want to see me like this?’ Caitlin taunted.
‘No,’ he cried hoarsely.
‘Stay with me. Hold me and cuddle me.’
‘I’ll be damned if I will.’
‘You’ll be damned if you don’t.’
‘I have the overseas delegation today.’
Caitlin knew she was being unreasonable but her need was great. ‘Defer it until tomorrow.’
His mouth thinned in frustration.
Caitlin moved in on him, playing the age-old role of seductive temptress. She had never done anything like this before, had never felt the need to, but the stakes were high.
All was fair in love and war.
Until now, David had always been one step ahead of her, taking the initiative with a boldness that could still leave her breathless. He had the primitive streak of a hunter who didn’t accept being thwarted. If one approach didn’t work, he used another, and another, until he had what he wanted.
Why shouldn’t she be the same? If this was the game he played, she would play it, too.
She slid her fingers out of her hair and dropped her hands on to his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles with varying pressures. ‘You need to relax, David,’ she said in a low throaty purr.
‘I need to go,’ he bit out.
She moved her hands to the back of his neck, caressing the sensitive nape as she lifted simmering green eyes to his. ‘Not before you kiss me.’ She moved up on tiptoe, brushing her breasts against the fine fabric of his shirt.
‘What are you trying to do to me?’
‘Find reassurance.’
His chin unbent enough for her mouth to reach his. She ran the tip of her tongue lightly between his lips as she pressed closer, arching her back, pushing her stomach into provocative union with his.
She heard his sharp intake of breath, felt the tingling touch of his tongue as it moved in response to hers. His hands closed possessively over the soft mounds of her buttocks, lifting her higher to meet the burgeoning thrust of desire she had stirred.
She invaded his mouth, sweeping his palate with the feverish purpose of increasing his arousal. She rubbed her stomach and thighs against his in wanton incitement, determined on making him burn for her. There was a fire in her belly that demanded total commitment.
An animal growl came from his throat. One hand splayed across her lower back, crushing her softness around the rigid bulge in his trousers. His other hand thrust through her hair, gripped the back of her head, holding it still as he forcefully invaded her mouth, plundering its sweetness with a passion as feverish as her own.
A feeling of triumph tingled through Caitlin’s veins. At long last he had forgotten his schedule. ‘Take me,’ she whispered huskily as his chest heaved for breath. ‘Take me, David.’
She dropped a hand to his shirt, her fingers tearing at the buttons. His stomach contracted as he muttered some fierce imprecation. Then suddenly, brutally, his hands were encircling her upper arms, pushing her away from him. It startled her into a cry of protest. Her gaze flew up, wild and accusing and mournful, meeting a blaze of furious blue.
‘You take away a man’s brain and leave him witless.’
‘You want me,’ she cried. As she wanted him.
‘You tempt me beyond endurance.’
‘Isn’t that what men want from the women they never marry!’ she flung back at him.
‘I’ve never referred to or alluded to you in any way to imply that you were my mistress.’
‘You just have,’ she said with infinite regret and a deadness of soul.
‘You goaded me into this, Caitlin,’ he responded. ‘I don’t know what the hell you think you’re playing at, but this isn’t the time for it.’
‘When will there be time for it?’ she fired at him, seething with frustration, crushed by his remorselessness.
A shutter came down on the blue blaze. ‘Maybe never.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ she said heavily. It justified everything she had said and done. Her voice shook with the vehemence of her feeling of rejection. ‘I won’t be here tonight.’
If he had ever liked her he would have known that already. He would have found out. The truth was that he wasn’t interested in what made her tick, what made her the person she was.
His eyes narrowed. He plucked his hands away from her. ‘Neither will I,’ he snapped, not understanding what was happening but not bending a millimetre.
‘Just as you have a life I don’t share, I have a life you don’t share,’ Caitlin threw at him. Her chin tilted defiantly. ‘You can take me now or leave me now. If you leave, I don’t know when I’ll be free again.’
His mouth took on a cynical twist. ‘Barter-time, is it?’
Her eyes flashed contempt. ‘Sorting out priorities.’
That gave him pause for thought. She could almost see his mind clicking over with calculations. ‘We’ll talk about this later,’ he said, and turned to go.
‘Don’t worry about turning on the percolator in the kitchen for me. I’ll do it myself.’
His eyes turned back to her with a dark, turbulent glare. His trousers still bulged. It had to be causing him some physical distress to leave her like this. His head jerked away.
Caitlin didn’t follow him out of the bedroom. She stood precisely where she was until she heard the door to her apartment click shut behind him. He still hadn’t asked her what she was doing tonight, why she wouldn’t be free for him. He didn’t care what she did when she wasn’t with him.
She shivered.
It spurred her to a burst of activity. She grabbed a robe from her cupboard and marched out to the kitchen, wrapping herself tightly in the all-enveloping garment. She filled the coffee-maker and switched it on, feeling furiously justified in not having done it for David this morning. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve anything from her.
Her eye caught the calendar hanging below the kitchen clock. Today’s date was ringed. It was important. February the fourteenth. St Valentine’s Day. The day her mother and father were married thirty years ago. The day she was given Dobbin as her very own pony. The day for lovers to declare themselves. A day to concentrate on romance. A day which would be as bleak as Hades because she had danced with the devil.
A wave of nausea cramped Caitlin’s stomach and pushed a choking lump into her throat. She tore off the offending page of February and crushed it in her hand. She didn’t need the reminder of her parents’ wedding anniversary any more, and she certainly didn’t need a reminder of what she didn’t have with David Hartley.
She opened the lid of the kitchen tidy and threw the crumpled wad of paper into the bin. She wished she could get rid of her unrequited love for David Hartley just as easily.
She looked up at the clock. She had an hour and forty-two minutes to don her role as his personal assistant and wear the label ‘For Office Use Only’. That was what David was going to get from her from now on until he decided differently about sex, sensuality and sharing.
CHAPTER TWO
CAITLIN stepped off the bus at Chatswood at five minutes to nine. Normally she would take that amount of time to arrive at the Hartley building. Today she was not eager to get to work.
The morning was fine and sparkling. A continuation of last night’s violent thunderstorm with its torrential rain would have been more in keeping with Caitlin’s dark misery. The intense blueness of a cloudless sky appeared to mock the bleak prospect of her future.
She had made the effort to present a meticulous appearance. David paid her a large salary. He expected her to perform well and look stylish and sophisticated.
Pride insisted she give him no grounds for any possible criticism where her job was concerned. It also insisted that she show no sign of the deep distress he had given her. As a result she looked particularly bright and shiny, so much so that she attracted a second look from many other pedestrians as she crossed the road to her place of business.
Her hair was freshly washed and blow-dried into a gleaming cascade of waves. It brought out the gold streaks in the darker tawny mass. It also provided a strikingly sensual frame for what was an essentially feminine face, oval in shape and set on a long Nefertiti neck. Her eyes were large, deeply lidded and emphasised with finely arched brows. Her nose was small and straight, the slight flare of her nostrils balancing a generous mouth.
Caitlin had applied a soft and subtle make-up; only a fine touch of shadow and eyeliner to emphasise the green of her thickly lashed eyes, a barely discernible brush of colour to highlight her cheekbones, and a dusting of very expensive powder to give her skin a smooth lustre. The curves of her mouth were perfectly outlined with a tan lip-pencil and filled in with peach gloss.
She wore an elegant long-sleeved blouse in a soft cream voile with lace inserts running down the bodice. Her long button-through crêpe skirt was of a darker cream, slim-lined and fitted snugly to her small waist. Her stockings were of fine quality, her court shoes taupe suede to match her shoulder-bag.
She looked a picture of style, which was what David Hartley expected of her. As Caitlin walked up the steps to the main entrance of the Hartley building, the showroom manager hurried forward to open the door for her, casting an appreciative eye over her appearance and giving her a welcoming smile. ‘Good morning, Miss Ross,’ he said cheerfully.
She dredged up a smile. ‘Good morning, Mr Jordan.’ He was a slickly handsome man in his early forties, always a bit too effusive for Caitlin’s liking, but that probably went with being a top salesman. David did not employ second-rate staff.
He grinned. ‘May I wish you a very happy St Valentine’s Day. And lots of lovers!’
Caitlin barely stopped herself from wincing. The greeting was undoubtedly meant as today’s variation of ‘Have a nice day.’ Paul Jordan made it sound offensive.
‘Thank you,’ she said, and hurried past him into the foyer.
She didn’t so much as glance at the vast showroom that took up most of the ground floor. It was packed with state-of-the-art office furniture, all designed to accord with David Hartley’s specialised standards. These were directly related to his study of the engineering aspects of the relationship between workers and their environment. When it came to ergonomics, no one knew more about it, or had cornered the market more effectively.
Caitlin headed straight for the elevator that would take her to the administrative offices on the first floor. Jenny Ashton, the telephonist and receptionist, looked up from her desk. She was two years younger than Caitlin, a pretty blonde with an infectious smile. The smile broadened to full beam as though she was bursting with good news.
‘Hi, Jenny!’ Caitlin greeted her briefly and quickened her step. She didn’t have the time or the inclination for chat this morning.
‘Great day!’ Jenny returned, her brown eyes sparkling.
‘Sure,’ Caitlin agreed. She forced another smile. ‘Did your boyfriend give you something special?’ she asked in passing, trying to look pleased for her.
Jenny rolled her eyes expressively. ‘I’d certainly call it special.’
‘Good for you!’ Caitlin called back to her as she pressed the elevator button.
The door opened immediately. It was a relief to relax her facial muscles as she stepped into the compartment. Common sense argued that she should break with David right now. He was never going to give her what she wanted. To stay on as his assistant could only be a torment to her. She told herself he had dazzled her into a love-affair. Her eyes were now well and truly open, and she knew where it was all leading to. Nowhere!
The problem was, she was addicted to him. The thought of never again experiencing the wild passion they shared together sent a wave of empty desolation through her body. Nor were there jobs of this quality lurking around every corner. Would she ever get another that would match this one?
David emitted a charge of electricity that made even the most mundane work appear exciting and fulfilling. She felt his intensity and responded to it. Would she ever meet another man to match him?
Was she prepared to end the addiction...cold turkey?
The thought was depressing.
Feeling emotionally torn by the prospect, Caitlin stepped out of the elevator and walked to her office on automatic pilot. She checked her watch as she opened the door. It was precisely nine o’clock.
Her timing was perfect, not a minute early, not a minute late.
She sniffed in puzzlement. A sweet, rich scent seemed to permeate the room. She looked up, then stared in astonishment at the magnificent arrangement of red roses sitting on her desk. There had to be dozens of dark velvety buds beginning to unfurl into full bloom. Incredibly beautiful, marvellous, heart-kicking extravagance!
Warmth flooded through her veins. Red roses were for love. Red roses were for eternity.
David must have relented. He had seen the errors of his ways. He didn’t want to lose her. Maybe he did love her.
Or perhaps he had ordered the roses yesterday. Which was why he wouldn’t consider any change in his schedule today. He knew what was to be delivered this morning. He wanted her to be surprised by his gift of love.
Caitlin moved forward like a sleepwalker. Her mind was abuzz with exciting possibilities. Attached to the decorative basket from which the roses sprayed in luxurious splendour was a large and fabulously elaborate St Valentine’s Day card.
A red satin heart was outlined in lace and seed pearls. The card itself had a mother-of-pearl sheen and above the heart was a fat little cupid set in gold, shooting an arrow at a heart. Her heart!
Caitlin’s fingers trembled as she opened it. Her pulse raced with the hope that David had written something personal and meaningful, something that might indicate his real commitment to her.
The hope was somewhat deflated. Within a wreath of roses was printed ‘Be My Valentine’. No address to her. No signature. Only the single message of the card.
But that was something. It was an advance on what had gone before. A lilt of happiness dispelled the disappointment. It was certainly more than she had ever expected from David. He was not given to sentimentality. He did not celebrate anniversaries.
She grinned as the realisation struck her that Jenny and Mr Jordan had both seen the roses arrive. Jenny had probably shown the delivery person to her office. Did they realise that David would not put his name on the card? Did they even suspect what was going on between them?
He certainly wouldn’t hand-write anything on such a public gift. Other employees would see he was flagrantly breaking his own rules. That would not be good for morale. But she knew, and she was the only one who was meant to know. Their love-affair was a private thing. She would make certain it was kept that way.
Caitlin breathed in the wonderfully intoxicating scent, then with a happy sigh set about preparing for work. She hung her shoulder-bag on the coat-stand, grabbed her shorthand pad and pen from the top desk drawer, and headed for the door that led into David’s office.
It was amazing. Five minutes ago she would have approached this door with every muscle in her body twanging and twitching with tension. Now she was eager to face David again, delighted he had unbent so far for her sake. He understood. He had given her a pleasure that he wouldn’t care about for himself. It was a turning point, a concession, a gesture that proved he cared about her feelings.
She opened the door and breezed in, bubbling with new confidence. David’s eyes snapped up from the papers on his desk. There was a fractional tightening of his jaw. He had the gritty look of a man who had been placed in the front line of battle, determined not to be seen shirking his duty, but hating the position of vulnerability. His eyes bored into Caitlin; angry, distrustful, broodingly belligerent.
