Trail Of Love. AMANDA BROWNING
Disbelievingly, she made the mistake of meeting his gaze. His eyes were no longer cool. They blazed, but not with anger, and they both froze. Slowly, almost incredulously, he raised a hand to stroke a finger down the fragile line of her cheek.
Kay felt that brief caress to her bones. It was like a lick of flame. Her shiver this time had nothing to do with fear, and her lids dropped. Something was happening between them that was way beyond her experience, and instinctively she fought it. ‘I’m touched by your concern,’ she retorted with all the sarcasm she could muster. ‘Now let me go!’ The order held a quiet desperation as she felt the situation slipping out of her control.
He did no such thing, and it seemed to Kay almost as if he couldn’t. ‘I can feel you trembling,’ he declared in an oddly strained voice.
Kay drew in a ragged breath, as the suggestion triggered off a shock wave through her system. ‘If I am, it’s because I detest you,’ she choked out, looking away, sensing freedom a step away yet unable to reach it. Then her eyes were drawn helplessly back to him. Something he saw there made his fingers tighten.
‘Not that. You’re afraid. What do you think I’m going to do to you?’ he asked dulcetly, as if he’d entirely forgotten where they were.
‘I’m not afraid,’ she denied thickly. ‘I just want to say goodbye, Mr Radford.’
He drew in an audible breath. ‘They say you’re only afraid of what you don’t know,’ he murmured, almost to himself. As if he had to convince himself of something.
In the next instant every nerve in her body quivered with shock. He caught her to him, one hand curving about her jaw as the other encircled her waist and gathered her fast to his strong male body. Her gasp died under his descending mouth.
After a moment’s frozen surprise, she began to struggle for freedom. But trying to drag her mouth free only made him slide his free hand into her hair to hold her still. It was the most incredible thing, for as his fingers slid through her hair, running over her scalp, frissons of excitement brought the hairs up all over her body, and she shivered. Time and space became encapsulated. She forgot to fight because too many other messages were shooting to her brain. How his solidity had a potency she could never have dreamed of. That her breasts found the feel of that strength incredibly exciting, and flowered into aching points that wanted to press closer.
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