Tiger Man

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‘You’ve got a lot to learn, Storm Templeton,’ he told her mockingly, ‘but I shall enjoy teaching you.’

‘I loathe you!’ Storm spat at him, pulling herself out of his arms.

He made no attempt to follow her, his expression thoughtfully assessing as it lingered on her dilated eyes.

‘You fear me,’ he corrected, startling her with his insight. ‘And you fear the emotions I might arouse, isn’t that more to the point? Is that why you chose David? Because he was nice and safe?’

‘You’ve no right to question me about my private life,’ Storm protested, fumbling with the door. ‘And whatever you may choose to think of your prowess, you do nothing for me.’

‘But I shall.’ Jago promised softly as she fled. ‘Believe me, Storm, I shall.’

Her first instinct was to go straight to David and tell him what had happened, but the tiny kernel of truth in Jago’s statement would not be denied. David hated trouble of any kind, and while she did not believe for one moment that he would ‘hand her over’ as Jago had suggested—she was not David’s possession, after all—she knew that he would probably try and reason her out of her present frame of mind, explaining away Jago’s comments as a form of teasing, or worse still a product of her imagination. She had always approved of his lack of jealousy, she reminded herself, so it was hardly fair now to wish that he might tell Jago in no uncertain terms that she belonged to him. Anyway, she had no need of David to defend her. Surely she was perfectly capable of telling Jago herself that he did not interest her? But somehow she had an idea that he would take ‘no’ for an answer.

She could still not quite believe that it had all happened. One moment they had been discussing work and the next… But no, that was not true, she acknowledged. From the moment he had looked at her in that disturbingly sensual manner she had known that he desired her. It had happened before and she had not felt the tremulous fear she felt now. But Jago Marsh was like no man she had ever known before, she acknowledged, and something deep inside her reacted to him whether she liked it or not. He aroused in her a primitive fear she had never known before, panicking her into all manner of foolish reactions. She would just have to strive to appear cool and in control of the situation, she told herself. Men like Jago Marsh did not normally have to work very hard to secure their sexual pleasures and doubtless once he realised that she did not intend to play ball, he would drop her and pursue someone else.

The shock of seeing him there in David’s office this morning had made her more vulnerable than she would normally be, but from now on she would be on her guard. He might desire her, but so what? an inner voice asked sardonically. She herself had said that he changed his girl-friends as frequently as he changed his shirts, and no doubt the sophisticated crowd he moved in thought no more of going to bed with someone than they did of shaking hands—possibly even less.

He was still on her mind later in the day when she left the studio, and she grimaced a little at her own stupidity in allowing him to monopolise so much of her attention as she unlocked the Mini. If Jago Marsh thought she was going to be another easy conquest, he had better think again. She loved David and would continue to do so. But did David love her? There had never been any mention of an engagement or marriage. David had never even held her in the way that Jago had this morning, making her intensely aware of the fact that he was entirely male and doing it quite deliberately. She had never felt the faintest sexual stirring in his arms, but then wasn’t that what she had wanted? So why did she suddenly long for David to sweep her off her feet and make love to her until she was irrevocably committed, and safely beyond the reach of Jago Marsh?

CHAPTER THREE (#ufcae9997-ffcd-5e91-b692-64c6703096b4)

FIVE days Jago had given them, and no five days had ever passed so swiftly. In fact they were so hectic that Storm barely saw David, except to exchange a few brief words of conversation in passing. She had noticed, though, that he seemed very subdued and she was glad she had not burdened him with her own problems. His stoop seemed to have become even more pronounced, but instead of filling her with compassion, his defeatist attitude made her long to tell him to fight back, to show Jago that he was equally capable of running the station.

As far as the others were concerned David might as well have ceased to exist as Controller. Jago had been accepted with a wholehearted approval that grated on Storm’s raw nerves. She was beginning to feel like the last surviving victim of a catalyst. Everyone apart from herself seemed to have succumbed to Jago’s cool charm, and even David deferred to him quite willingly. Sue and Janet, the two office girls, were already mooning over their new boss’s good looks; Pete mentioned his name with every other breath, and talked unceasingly of his hopes that their connections with Jago might lead to a D.J. spot for him in London, and even the technicians were full of praise for the man whom Storm still thought of as an intruder.

Never had she been so thankful to see a Friday. Half-way through the morning the Beton tape had jammed, and the result was that Storm was trying to placate a furious Mr Beton with the promise that his ad would get double time in the afternoon.

She was with the technicians waiting for their verdict on how long it would be before the tape could be run when Ken, the younger of the two, piped up admiringly:

‘You should have seen Jago this morning, Storm. We were having problems with the stereo output, and he located the fault in about ten seconds flat. Said it was easy after nearly fifteen years in the business. You’d never get David doing anything like that.’

Stung into David’s defence, Storm said sarcastically: ‘Perhaps I ought to take this tape to him, then. Did no one ever warn you about worshipping graven images, young Ken?’

‘And did no one ever warn you about making snide remarks where they could be overheard?’ Jago drawled from her shoulder.

He had come in so quietly that Storm had not heard him. She spun round, her body reacting instantly to his presence, alarm feathering along her nerves. She had been working too hard, she told herself as she felt an inner tremor; that was all. Her nerves were on edge from the strain she had been under.

Jago ignored her, crouching down beside Ken, murmuring a few words of advice while Storm waited for her tape.

‘What’s the matter?’ Jago drawled, when Ken handed it to her. ‘Spoiled the nice picture you had built up of me, have I? What did you think I was? I was mending tapes like these when you were still in your pram. You complain about the equipment you have here. You should have seen the stuff we had on board the old Cynthia. And by the way,’ he added, his eyes merciless as they scrutinised her pale face, ‘the next time you feel like criticising me, have the guts to do it to my face.’

He was gone before she could retort, leaving her trembling with nervous reaction and other emotions she found it impossible to name.

She mustn’t let him get to her like this, she told herself as she took the tape back to the studio. She must never forget that they were engaged upon a war and the moment she let him overpower her she would have lost it.

She was just about to telephone Mr Beton when Sue came in.

‘Jago wants to see you,’ she said breathlessly, her expression envious.

He had taken over David’s office—just as he had taken over David’s job, Storm thought rebelliously as she knocked on the door and walked in.

Jago was studying some papers, which he dropped on to the desk, reminding her that he wanted to see her to go over the advertising figures first thing on Tuesday morning. Was he actually giving her time to prepare her case? she asked herself acidly. Munificence indeed!

‘Something wrong?’ he asked coolly, leaning back in his chair—David’s chair really, Storm thought angrily. When she didn’t answer an understanding smile quivered across his mouth.

‘Ah yes, I see what it is,’ he drawled. ‘Poor Storm, what did you expect? A torrid love scene in the office? Been nerving yourself to fight me off, have you?’

He was on his feet, standing behind her, so close that Storm could feel his warm breath stirring her hair. Just being in the same room with him seemed to drain her energy and yet fill her with a claustrophobic fear at the same time. He hadn’t made the slightest move to touch her in any way, but she was more intensely aware of his maleness than she would have been had she felt his hard body pressed against her own.

‘I never mix business with pleasure,’ Storm heard him say. ‘Don’t worry, though. When I’m ready to make love to you, you’ll know all about it. Have dinner with me tonight?’ he asked unexpectedly. He saw the warning flash in her eyes and laughed. ‘David is going to Oxford—on business,’ he told her softly, ‘so don’t go running to him for help.’

’I wouldn’t have dinner with you if… if I were starving!’ she managed disdainfully as she thrust open the door. Surely he must know how much she disliked him? But then of course feeling would never matter to Jago Marsh. She was simply an appetite he wanted to appease, and once he had done so, she would be tossed on one side—discarded. But she would make sure that would never happen!

Back in her own cubbyhole of an office she buzzed through to Sue and asked if she knew where David was.

‘Gone out,’ came the other girl’s cheerful response. ‘Didn’t he tell you?’

There hadn’t been time to tell one another very much lately, Storm thought uneasily. She and David normally went out together on Friday evenings and he had said nothing to her about visiting Oxford, although she knew he had friends living there from his university days.

‘Doing anything tonight?’

She hadn’t heard Pete come in, and he perched on the edge of her desk grinning down at her.

‘And don’t tell me you’re going out with old David, because I know you’re not. Told me himself that he was going away for the weekend.’

It seemed that David had told everyone but her, Storm thought a little resentfully. Her phone rang and she moved to pick it up, covering the receiver as Pete coaxed, ‘Come on, we’ll go and have a drink with the crowd. Strictly platonic, I promise.’

She didn’t feel much like an evening at home, she admitted, acknowledging the growing restlessness she had experienced over the last few days. An evening out would do her good.

‘Pick me up at nine,’ she mouthed to Pete, who nodded and gave her a mock salute as he left.

Later in the afternoon she felt so tired that she half regretted her decision to go out, but it was too late to change her mind. Her father had offered to collect her from work, and he was waiting in the car-park when Storm got outside.

The fields were a patchwork of varying greens and golds, broken by the odd spot of dark brown where the earth had been turned for a winter crop, cobbled together with the neat grey lines of the dry-stone walls. Storm lay back in her seat and closed her eyes.

‘You’re quiet.’ Mr Templeton shot her an amused look. ‘Finding this new boss harder to handle than old David?’

‘David isn’t old!’ Storm expostulated, but Mr Templeton just grinned.

‘Some people are born old, my girl, and some are always young. Your David is one of the former, and you, my love, are most definitely one of the latter.’

Irreverently Storm wondered into which category Jago Marsh fell, squashing the admission that he was a man it would be virtually impossible to define or put into a precast mould, and then dismissed him firmly from her mind and gave her attention exclusively to her father.

‘Going out with David tonight?’ he asked quizzically.

Storm shook her head. ‘He’s in Oxford.’ No need to tell her father that David had neglected to inform her of his intentions. ‘I’m going out with Pete and the usual crowd, just for a drink.’

‘Do you good,’ Mr Templeton approved. ‘You’ve been rather preoccupied lately. Care to talk about it?’

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ Storm replied rather huskily. That was the beauty of her parents, although they never interfered they were always ready and willing to listen to her problems and suggest a solution.

She smiled a little wryly at her father’s reaction to the information that Jago Marsh wanted to make her his mistress. If one could apply such an outdated word to the undoubtedly ephemeral relationship he had in mind. Knowing her father’s love of logic he would probably have some perfectly rational explanation for the other man’s behaviour, Storm reflected with a sigh. This was one problem she could not share with her parents, although she admitted that perhaps some self-analysis was called for.

Her mind shied away from the admission. Just because Jago Marsh made her feel nervous… threatened. It was a perfectly natural reaction and one that any girl would have felt faced with his coolly stated intentions. She had no desire to become involved in any purely sexual relationship. Mutual respect; shared interests—these were the things on which durable relationships were formed.

She heard the familiar toot of Pete’s car horn while she was putting on her make-up. The crowd Pete mixed with were essentially a casual lot, so Storm had donned tight-fitting black cord jeans, topped with a silky white blouse with a yoke that emphasised the fullness of her breasts and full sleeves gathered into a tight cuff. A brief matching cord waistcoat drew attention to her slim waist, giving her an almost mediaeval air, and as she applied her eyeshadow with a practised hand she heard Pete cheerfully returning her mother’s greeting.

Peach blusher highlighted her cheekbones, and a shiny lip gloss emphasised the sensuous curve of her mouth. She brushed her hair quickly, then slipped on her knee-length suede boots, zipping them closed.