Читать книгу Fire Beneath The Ice - HELEN BROOKS, Helen Brooks - Страница 7

LYDIA awoke very early the next morning, aware that she had been dreaming but unable to remember what about But it had been a disturbing dream. She flicked her long blonde hair out of her eyes and glanced at the tiny alarm next to the bed. Five o’clock. Even Hannah wasn’t stirring yet. She padded through to the small bedroom next to hers and stared down at the delicate baby face of her tiny daughter. She had been asleep when Lydia had got home the night before. She said a quick mental prayer for staunch grandmothers who insisted baby-sitting was a joy, but she had missed the night-time routine of bath and then story in bed with Hannah. She wished she could see more of Matthew in the minute features, but they were all her own. Everyone commented on the remarkable likeness between mother and daughter.

Within an hour, the instant Hannah opened huge, liquid brown eyes, in fact, the small house was a hive of activity, the normal morning routine of breakfast, shower and dressing taking all Lydia’s concentration.

‘You didn’t kiss me night-night, Mummy.’ Hannah’s face was reproachful as she spooned cornflakes into her rosebud mouth. ‘Gamma told the story all wrong.’

‘Did she, darling?’ Lydia stroked the top of the silky blonde head lovingly. ‘You didn’t tell her that, did you?’

‘Course not.’ Hannah was a true diplomat even at three. ‘Are you going to pick me up from nursery today?’

‘I doubt it, sweetheart.’ Lydia knelt down by the breakfast stool and cupped the heart-shaped face in her hands. ‘Did Grandma tell you about my job?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Hannah was distinctly disenchanted. ‘But I want you to pick me up.’

‘Well, this job is a bit different from my usual ones,’ Lydia said carefully. ‘The man I work for needs me to work much longer hours sometimes, but he is going to give me a lot of money if I do that. How about if we think of a new bedroom for you? You could choose the curtains and quilt and everything, even a new carpet if you want.’

‘Really?’ Hannah planted a swift milky kiss on her cheek. ‘Can I have Pretty Pony, Mummy? Sophie has.’ Sophie was her best friend at nursery and the two were inseparable most of the time.

‘I should think so.’ Lydia rose to look down at the small face smilingly. ‘But you must promise to be good for Grandma when she picks you up and brings you home, even if I’m very late. I’ve only got the job for a little while, so we need to get as much money as we can for your room, don’t we?’

‘Yep.’ Hannah obviously realised she was on to a good thing. ‘Gamma says I’m her little angel,’ she continued, fishing for praise which Lydia dutifully gave. ‘Little angel’ was pushing things a bit far, but then she had never wanted a placid child anyway.

She was in her office at just before nine after dropping Hannah off at the nursery, which unfortunately was in the opposite direction to the Strade office-block, and found Wolf was already at his desk, his black head bent over a long report as she tapped nervously at the inter-connecting door. ‘Come in, Lydia, don’t stand on ceremony.’ He didn’t raise his head as he spoke and she wondered for an instant if he was telepathic as well. ‘You can get straight on with that dictation from yesterday,’ he said, after making a few notes in the margin before raising his head. ‘I have an appointment at the other end of the city in an hour, so you should have a relatively undisturbed day.’ He didn’t smile.

The fine silk shirt he wore exactly matched the clear sapphire-blue of his eyes, she thought inconsequentially as she smiled and nodded her reply before leaving the room, and his aftershave——She caught her thoughts abruptly, annoyed at the way they were heading. His aftershave was aftershave, that was all, she told herself sharply as she sat down at her desk and pulled out her notebook. He had probably paid a fortune to get the sort of reaction her senses had made when the sensual, intoxicatingly masculine fragrance had reached her nose.

She worked steadily for the next half-hour, pausing as he left to take a note of where he could be reached, her face bland and polite as he rapped out the telephone number and name of the firm, his face preoccupied and his voice remote.

There were several interruptions during the morning, but none she couldn’t handle, and after snatching a quick meal in the canteen at lunchtime she continued to work her way through the pages of dictation until three, when a courteous knock at her outer door interrupted her as she had almost completed the notes.

‘Come in.’ The polite smile on her face widened as the tall, good-looking man who had poked his head round the door spoke her name in surprise.

‘Lydia? What on earth are you doing here?’

‘Mike!’ She felt inordinately pleased to see a friendly face in the huge, overwhelmingly decorous estab-lishment. ‘How nice to see you. I’d completely forgotten you work here.’

‘You’re not working for Wolf, are you?’ He came fully into the room and walked over to her desk, his eyes bright with interest. Mike Wilson was the husband of one of her oldest friends, Anna, who had been a tower of strength to her when Matthew died, often arriving unannounced when she was feeling at her lowest pitch to whisk her out to lunch and provide a rock-like shoulder to cry on. Lydia didn’t know Mike that well—usually the two women met during the day when the agency didn’t have any work for Lydia, or at the weekend when Mike was playing his endless rounds of golf—but whenever they had met, Mike had seemed warm and pleasant, if slightly effusive.

‘Temping.’ She smiled up at him ruefully. ‘The agency dropped me in the deep end this time, straight to the top.’

‘I rather think that’s a contradiction in terms, but I know what you mean.’ Mike grinned sympathetically. ‘Bit of a slave-driver, isn’t he, from what I’ve heard?’

‘I don’t know really, I’ve only been here a day or so.’ A little alarm bell, deep in the recess of her mind, tolled warningly. There had been something in his face, she couldn’t quite define what, that had made the words more than what they seemed at face value and, ridiculously, she felt a surge of defensive loyalty to Wolf without knowing why.

‘Well, this is a nice surprise.’ He wandered round the side of her desk as he spoke, glancing idly at the papers lying on the top of it as he smiled down at her. ‘Wait till I tell Anna.’

‘How is she? I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks,’ Lydia said uncomfortably, feeling she should cover the detailed report on an important contract that she had just completed and printed, but knowing that it would look as though she suspected him of being nosy.

‘Fine, fine. You know Anna, nothing gets her down.’ He gestured towards the door of Wolf’s office, still with his eyes on her desk. ‘I presume the great man is elsewhere?’

‘Yes.’ To her relief he moved round the front of the desk again and bent down with his elbows resting on the wood as he spoke quietly.

‘Well, that being the case, could I make a suggestion, Lydia? Wolf is a little…difficult about his personal secretary fraternising with the mere workers.’ There it was again, that faint caustic note. ‘The reputable Mrs Havers was a positive iceberg. Have you met her?’ Lydia shook her head silently. ‘Well, you haven’t missed anything,’ he continued with a faint grin. ‘Anyway, it might be better for you if Wolf doesn’t know we’re old friends. He wouldn’t like it, and as you’ll only be around for a short time it seems silly to make waves, don’t you think?’

‘Well, I——’

‘It might make things a bit uncomfortable for me too,’ Mike continued quietly. ‘You never know how Wolf is going to jump on things like this.’

‘Well, of course I don’t want to do anything that might reflect on you, Mike,’ Lydia said quickly. ‘It’s just that it seems…unnecessary.’

‘It isn’t, believe me.’ He smiled quietly. ‘Well, do we have a deal, then?’

‘Well, I can’t see it matters one way or the other; so I suppose it’s all right,’ she said hesitantly.

‘Good girl.’ His smile widened. ‘And how about you and that delightful little daughter of yours coming to Sunday lunch soon? I haven’t seen her in months. I’ll get Anna to ring you, shall I?’

‘That would be nice, thank you.’ She forced a smile.

‘And don’t forget, not a word about our little secret.’ He leant across and kissed her lightly as he had done several times in the past, a social gesture, nothing more.

‘Good afternoon.’

If the ceiling had suddenly fallen in on her Lydia couldn’t have reacted more violently. She shot out of her chair, hand to mouth, as she stared at Wolf’s dark countenance in the doorway. It was clear he had heard, and seen, more than enough. ‘I—I didn’t know you were back,’ she stammered, aware she had gone a brilliant red.

‘Obviously.’ He eyed Mike coldly. ‘I presume you are in these offices for a reason, Mike?’

Mike had recovered far more quickly than she had, thrusting his hands casually in his pockets as he faced Wolf with an easy grin. ‘Just wanted a word with you about the figures for Kingston,’ he said calmly, ‘if it’s convenient?’

‘Perhaps later.’ Wolf’s narrowed gaze brushed Lydia’s hot face before he gestured to the finished work on her desk. ‘Bring that in, would you? I’ll glance through it before I do anything else. I want some of those letters to go off tonight.’ His voice was infinitely cold, and she shivered as she glanced at Mike before gathering the files together. ‘I’ll ring you if I have time today, Mike.’ It was a dismissal, and Mike went without another word, not even glancing in Lydia’s direction as he left.

She followed Wolf into his office and placed the work on his desk. ‘You’ve been busy.’ He was looking at the pile of correspondence as he spoke, but she felt the words were the proverbial two-edged sword and remained silent. ‘Sit down, Lydia.’

She sank into the chair facing his desk as he seated himself without taking his eyes off her troubled face. ‘I didn’t know you knew my financial director,’ he said slowly, his voice expressionless but as cold as ice. ‘You didn’t mention it.’

She stared at him helplessly. What on earth was the matter with the man? Why did it matter to him who she knew anyway? ‘I…’ There was something so chilling in his face that it was freezing her thoughts. ‘I didn’t know I had to,’ she said weakly, his aggressiveness making her feel twice as guilty as she did already.

‘How long have you known him?’

This was ridiculous, she thought frantically. Pull yourself together, Lydia, explain you are a friend of Anna’s, talk to the man. But she couldn’t. Those ice-blue eyes were totally unnerving and, when she thought back to how the little tableau in the office must have seemed, embarrassment sent its red fingers all over her face. ‘I don’t know…’ She tried desperately to think of how long Anna and Mike had been married. ‘I think——’

‘No matter.’ He straightened suddenly in his chair as though he had just come to a decision, and she stared at him, alarmed.

‘Do you often wear your hair loose for the office?’ he asked coldly as his gaze moved to the soft, silky locks lying in a shining veil across her shoulders.

‘My hair?’ She raised an unconscious hand to her head as she stared back at him. What had her hair to do with this?

‘I prefer it tied back in the sort of style you wore yesterday,’ he said coolly. ‘As my secretary you have a certain reputation to maintain, and a neat, unassuming appearance gives the sort of impression I like in my staff. There are always men who are inclined to stand and waste time by the desk of a pretty woman, given the slightest encouragement’

She really couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She stared at him open-mouthed as she wondered if what she had heard was what he had really said. ‘Exactly what are you saying?’ she asked, after a moment of stunned silence.

‘I’m saying that I would prefer a more discreet hairstyle,’ he said calmly as he picked up the phone that had begun to ring on his desk and gestured for her to leave. ‘If you don’t mind.’

There was nothing she could do but leave him to take the call, but as she returned to her own office her wits returned along with a flood of hot colour in her face. The cheek of it. The absolute cheek of it! Once that call ended she would tell him that she did mind, she minded very much, the arrogant, overbearing——

‘Could I leave this with you for Mr Strade, please?’ She came out of her silent fury to see one of the office juniors timidly holding out a large sealed envelope. ‘It’s from Mr Collins in Personnel.’

‘Of course.’ Lydia smiled at the nervous girl, who couldn’t have been a day over sixteen, as she took a deep, silent breath. When that call ended, Wolf Strade, when it ended…But half an hour later she was still waiting, by which time her anger had cooled, along with her face, and reason had asserted itself. This was a golden opportunity to get on her feet financially, and if she had to put up with this unpleasant, unreasonable male chauvinist pig as the cloud on which the silver lining was placed, then so be it.

But surely he didn’t expect to choose her clothes and her hairstyle, did he? Even the reputable Mrs Havers couldn’t have tolerated that, surely? She sat back in the chair with a puzzled little sigh. She didn’t understand a thing about this man and, worse still, she didn’t under-stand how he could get under her skin so badly. She had worked for more than a few awkward types in the last three years, but the most she had felt in the past was minor irritation accompanied occasionally by silent contempt for their crassness. But Wolf Strade…He was different. Totally different. And she had a good few months to get through yet. Could she do it? She frowned. Of course.

She thought of Hannah’s bright little face as they had chatted about a Pretty Pony beanbag to match the rest of her proposed new bedroom, and sighed resignedly. But it wasn’t going to be easy. She had the feeling Wolf Strade didn’t like her much, even if he appreciated her attributes as a secretary. Still—she glared across at the closed door as a tiny flame of anger reignited—he shouldn’t have given her the job, should he? She was blowed if she was going to be bullied into altering either her manner or her appearance to suit that pompous swine.

Nevertheless, the next morning she found herself fixing her long hair into a loose knot on the back of her head even as she told herself it was simply because it was less trouble that way. Wolf made no comment when she knocked and opened the door of his office to announce her arrival, wondering as she did so if he lived at the office. He was always around when she left at night and immersed in work when she arrived. She had been right. He was a machine.

‘Could you work on these tapes before you do anything else?’ he commanded abruptly as he handed her two audio-tapes from his desk. ‘It’s a report involving some complex financial data and I want it done immediately. And make sure you get the numbers right,’ he added tersely.

‘Of course, Mr Strade.’ The tone and the name were a cold rebuke, and he raised his head abruptly to meet the dark, angry gleam in her eyes.

They stared at each other for a good thirty seconds before he surprised her utterly by leaning back in his chair and running his hand across his eyes with a weary gesture that spoke of utter exhaustion. ‘I’m sorry, I sounded very rude.’ The icy blue eyes were a little dazed, she realised suddenly, almost as though he hadn’t slept. ‘I’ve been here all night working on this damn mess. Why I employ an accounts department and do the work myself, I’ll never know…’

‘You’ve been here all night?’ She saw the shirt was the same one he had worn the day before, but definitely the worse for wear, and the black stubble on his square chin made her heart give a solid little kick against her breasts before she could control it.

‘Crazy, eh?’ His smile was very boyish and rueful, and again her heart jerked uncomfortably. ‘The graveyards are full of guys like me who can’t let go of a problem until they’ve beaten it.’

‘Or it beats them,’ she added quietly.

‘Yeah, maybe.’ He settled back in the big black leather chair, stretching his hands above his head in a way that brought the muscled wall of his chest into stark prominence against the blue silk of his shirt. Some time during the night he had undone his tie and opened the first few buttons of his shirt, and now the sight of the dark, rough body-hair that covered his chest made her hands damp and her throat dry. What is the matter with me? she asked herself in disbelief. This wasn’t sexual attraction, was it? She didn’t fancy Wolf Strade of all people…did she? ‘How about a strong cup of coffee, and then maybe I’ll grab a couple of hours’ sleep on the couch before the meeting at eleven?’

‘Weak tea would be better if you’re going to sleep,’ she answered automatically as her gaze flicked to the large studio couch in a shadowed corner of the huge room. She didn’t want to be here when he lay down on that thing. She didn’t even try to analyse why.

‘I said coffee.’ The cold authority was back in his voice but she didn’t mind; that other Wolf was too dangerous to contemplate. ‘And strong,’ he added warningly.

‘Coming up.’

Thankfully he was still sitting in the chair when she returned with the coffee a few minutes later, and she hurried out of the room after depositing the cup in front of him without speaking, her cheeks flushed.

At a quarter to eleven she was just contemplating gathering every scrap of courage she possessed and venturing into his office to wake him, when the connecting door opened and he stood framed in the doorway, blinking a little in the harsh artificial light overhead. ‘If anyone arrives early, sit them down out here until I buzz,’ he said abruptly, his eyes red-rimmed. ‘I’m just going for a wash and brush-up.’

‘Where?’ she squeaked nervously, having visions of her room filled to overflowing with irate managers as they waited and waited.

‘The washroom next door.’ He glanced at her in surprise. ‘Didn’t you know it was there for your use too? I keep a change of clothes in there for emergencies— you can do the same if you wish.’

‘I don’t think that will be necessary,’ she said stiffly, ‘and how could I know it was there if you didn’t see fit to tell me?’

‘By using your initiative?’he suggested coolly.

‘My initiative?’ All thoughts of Hannah’s bedroom faded into insignificance. ‘In the three days since I’ve worked for you I haven’t had time to breathe, let alone go exploring this block of concrete.’ She glared at him angrily. ‘It’s got nothing at all to do with initiative, Mr Strade.’

‘I thought blondes were supposed to be cool and unemotional,’ he said drily, studying her angry face with a superior frown. ‘Are you like this with your husband?’

‘Mr Strade, I——’ She stopped abruptly as hot colour flooded her pale, creamy skin in a hectic flush. She couldn’t ever remember having a cross word with Matthew. Life had been a flat, tranquil sea with him, with the days stretching out before them, calm and untroubled. In fact, until she had met Wolf Strade, she could have sworn on oath that she had the mildest of tempers.

‘And the name’s Wolf.’ His voice disappeared as he stepped through the doorway, and as she sank back in her seat she was aware of feeling slightly disloyal to Matthew’s memory without understanding why. She stared at her wedding-ring for a long painful moment and then turned resolutely to the word processor and began to work. These fluttery feelings of excitement and agitation were a direct result of her nerves coping with the unusual sensations of anger and irritation, that was all. That was all. And in view of the self-opinionated, downright arbitrary despot she had been thrust into contact with, it wasn’t surprising either. She had never met anyone, male or female, who could make her so mad so quickly by doing so little. He was so cold, so self-contained. Didn’t anything touch him?

At five to eleven he reappeared in the doorway restored to his usual immaculate self, black hair slicked back, face shaven and a fresh grey silk shirt replacing the blue of the day before. He looked gorgeous. She held his glance with a cold composure that was the best piece of acting she had ever done, and listened as he gave her a list of tiles he needed for the meeting. As she deposited them on his desk two minutes later she caught a whiff of his aftershave and despised herself for the way her stomach clenched in an involuntary response, but she was honest enough to admit there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. For some strange reason her body was determined to be aroused by a man she both disliked and disapproved of. Did he know? She glanced at his bent head as he checked through the files, and her heart thudded against her chest. She would die if he did. Just die.

‘Right.’ As he raised his head she saw his face was preoccupied and distant, the ice-blue eyes cold and hooded as they met hers. ‘I’d like you to sit in on this one, Lydia, and take notes, OK?’ She nodded quietly as a rush of relief made her light-headed. He didn’t know, and she would have to make darn sure he never suspected even for a second if she wanted to keep her job. Thank goodness she had said she was married; it would probably never even cross his mind that she was attracted to him in a physical sense. ‘Record anything Mike Wilson says, incidentally.’ He paused, and the handsome, cruel face hardened into stone. ‘No matter how obtuse. OK?’ He was watching her very closely and she felt a little shiver flicker down her spine.

‘Why?’ she asked carefully.

He shrugged slowly. ‘You’ll know soon enough, if my suspicions are right.’ He lowered his head in dismissal.

At exactly eleven o’clock her office filled as though by magic, and as she ushered the group of men through she reflected, with wry uncomfortable humour, that Wolf had certainly got them well-trained. As the meeting progressed she didn’t understand half of what she took down, but dutifully recorded everything in case she missed something vital.

It was a long day and an arduous one and, as she put the minutes of the meeting on Wolf’s desk at just after six, she was conscious of an illogical, and quite unreasonable, sense of injustice that he should still appear cool and razor-sharp whereas she was visibly wilting.

‘Your friend has been on the take.’ It took a second for the words to register, spoken as they were in such a casual tone.

‘Mike? No.’ She raised shocked eyes to his. ‘What are you going to do?’ She somehow knew instantly it was true.

‘It has already been done.’ She looked away, her mouth unconsciously tightening at the flinty hardness in his face. ‘You refuse any requests for references and refer any queries concerning him directly to me.’

‘You’ve sacked him?’ she asked with a horrified gasp.

‘Too damn true.’ He was flicking through the work she had just given him as he spoke, his head lowered. ‘He’ll be lucky if he gets a job sweeping the roads after I’ve finished with him.’

‘But surely——?’ She stopped abruptly as the ice-blue gaze switched to her face. This was awful, awful—poor Anna.

‘Yes?’ His tone was not encouraging.

‘If it wasn’t actually illegal…?’ Her voice trailed away at the darkness in his face. ‘I mean——’

‘I know what you mean.’ He shook his head tightly as he settled back in his chair, the razor-sharp eyes hard on her face. ‘And, no, it wasn’t “actually” illegal, not at this stage, but it would have been.’ He eyed her grimly. ‘You think I ought to have let the thing progress until I could throw a court case at him?’

‘Of course not.’ She flushed slightly at the hard scrutiny. ‘But have you asked him why he did it?’

‘I’m not interested in why,’ he said coldly. ‘He lied to me, that was his first big mistake, and then he thought an abject apology and a great deal of grovelling could extricate him from his foolishness. That was his second error of judgement.’ He moved forward in the chair and lowered his gaze to the papers again. ‘I won’t tolerate being lied to, Lydia. I never have.’

‘Oh.’ She was glad he was looking downwards and missed the sudden surge of hot, guilty colour into her cheeks. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll say goodnight.’

‘Wait a moment and I’ll give you a lift home,’ he said casually, still with his eyes on the papers in front of him. ‘I’m dog-tired and enough is enough. The rest of this will wait’

‘There’s no need.’ She spoke so hastily that the words came out in a breathless rush. ‘I don’t want to take you out of your way and——’

‘Get your coat.’ It was as though she hadn’t spoken.

‘I…’ She thought frantically for a cast-iron excuse to refuse the lift, but nothing came to mind, and as she stood hesitating in front of him he swept the papers into a neat pile and raised his head, his eyes blank.

‘Well, go on,’ he said irritably as he moved from the desk towards the coat-stand in the corner of the room. ‘I haven’t got all night.’

She hesitated for one more moment and then turned quickly and sped into the outer office, her thoughts in turmoil. She didn’t want a lift with him, she didn’t, she thought, panic-stricken as she slipped into her coat and checked the word processor was switched off. How was she going to make conversation with this iceberg of a man on the way home, and what if he expected to be asked in? He wouldn’t, though, of course he wouldn’t— would he…? She shut her eyes for a moment and prayed for calm. But if he did, she could say her husband was at work, or away, or something. Her eyes snapped open as he appeared in the doorway, his big black overcoat and heavy, dark briefcase adding to the image of formidable imperiousness.

Why had she started this? she asked herself desperately. Why had she lied? A tremor raced through her as she remembered his face when he had spoken of Mike Wilson’s deceit. She should have come out in the open, made her position as a widow clear, and then the ball would have been in his court. And she hadn’t explained properly about Mike either.

‘Ready?’ He waved a dismissive hand towards the door and followed her out into the corridor, his face remote and withdrawn and his body straight. She glanced at him carefully as the lift took them swiftly downwards. She knew why she had lied. It was there in the almost tangible signals of dissociation his body was sending to hers, the total repudiation of any involvement, however slight, on a personal level. He wanted an efficient machine in his office. That was all. If she had said she was in effect single again…She nodded to herself mentally. She had done the only thing possible in the circum-stances. And of course he wouldn’t want to come in for coffee—one didn’t fraternise with machines, after all.

‘You seem to be settling in very well.’

It was as she opened her mouth to reply to the obviously forced cool pleasantry that the lift shuddered to a halt between floors, the momentary imbalance of the big box shaking her off her feet and throwing her against the solid bulk of his chest. His arms opened automatically to receive her as he in turn stumbled against the wall of the lift, and for a breath-stopping moment she was aware of being held in his arms, her face lifted up to his, for all the world like two lovers about to kiss as the lights flickered and dimmed.

‘Are you all right?’ Afterwards she realised he hadn’t reacted as she would have imagined by pushing her impatiently, or even distastefully, away. In fact his arms tightened fractionally as he looked down into her frightened upturned face, in which the darkness of her eyes stood out like two velvet pools. ‘Don’t worry, lifts have a habit of playing silly devils,’ he reassured her softly.

‘Do they?’ She tried to smile but the combination of her fear of plunging to her death trapped in this little metal box and, more especially, his closeness was making her feel as helpless as a child. Although certainly her body was reacting in a way that was definitely not child-like, she countered wryly as she carefully eased herself away from him. He was holding her loosely now, his hands under her elbows, but the smell and feel of him were all around her and they were…unsettling. And thrilling. Undeniably thrilling.

‘You haven’t hurt yourself?’ For a split second she considered saying yes so that he would hold her a little longer, but that impulse alone was enough to shock her out of his hold as she shook her head, moving back a pace quickly.

What on earth’s the matter with me? she asked herself weakly as he moved across the few feet of space and pressed the emergency button, his movements cool and controlled and his face expressionless. Is it sexual frustration? She shut her eyes briefly and prayed for the trembling that had taken over her limbs to still. But she didn’t even have a sex drive, did she? Or not until three days ago, anyway.

‘Claustrophobia.’

‘What?’ She opened startled eyes to see his face inches from her own again, and the next moment he had taken her into his arms, stroking her face comfortingly as he held her close against him.

‘The panic you’re feeling,’ he said softly, his voice deep and low. He had seen her trembling and put it down to claustrophobia? She said a mental thank you to her guardian angel. ‘It’s perfectly natural and you’ll be out of here in a few minutes. Just relax and let me take the load—you’re doing fine.’

This wasn’t helping, it definitely wasn’t helping, she thought weakly as he enfolded her into him, wrapping his overcoat round her as he held her next to his heart. He thought she was scared to death but, instead of the biting scorn she would have expected, he was displaying a tenderness that was alarming. She was immensely glad a few seconds later when the emergency button buzzed loudly and the small intercom next to it crackled out the security guard’s voice. ‘Hello? Is anyone in there?’

‘Rogers?’ Wolf moved across to answer and Lydia leant limply against the wall of the lift, her heart thudding as she watched him. ‘My secretary and I are in here. What the hell’s happening?’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Strade,’ the male voice answered promptly, ‘but there’s some sort of a power-cut that’s affected all this side of the road. I understand it’s being dealt with as quickly as possible, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do at the moment.’

‘Brilliant.’ He glanced across at her quickly before speaking again. ‘Any idea how long before we’re out?’

‘Not long, sir.’ There was a brief pause while they heard him talking to someone else. ‘About twenty minutes or so at the most.’

‘Right, keep me informed.’

As he turned to face her fully again she spoke quickly in case he thought he had to continue the role of comforter. ‘I’m fine now, really.’ She smiled brightly. ‘It was just the suddenness of it all.’

‘Good.’ He clearly thought she was just trying to be brave, because the expression of gentle concern that was so surprising on the harsh features didn’t lessen. ‘Well, we may as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait. I suggest you take off your coat—it’s already getting a little warm in here.’

‘Right.’ As she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders he moved quickly and drew it down her arms, his light touch burning her flesh as his fingers briefly made contact.

‘Sit on this.’ He made his own coat into a large cushion, crouching down as he plumped it into shape. As she sat down on the wad of material he gestured at his tie. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked mildly. ‘I don’t like these things at the best of times.’

‘Of course not.’ He stood up again, for which she was supremely grateful. The way the material of his trousers had moulded to his thighs had caused her breathing a few problems. He unbuttoned his jacket, revealing the grey silk shirt tucked into the flat waistband of his trousers, and then loosened his tie, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. Somehow, in the close confines of the small lift, the action was painfully intimate, but for the life of her she couldn’t draw her eyes away from his broad shoulders and muscled chest, the dark body-hair beneath the shirt causing hot colour to surge into her cheeks. Was he hairy all over? She shut her eyes against the thought.

‘OK?’ Her eyes snapped open to see him sitting against the opposite wall, his narrowed gaze fixed on her face. ‘You look hot.’

‘No, I’m absolutely fine.’ She smiled brightly.

As she brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek his eyes followed the action, his gaze resting on the smooth blondeness of her hair. ‘How did you come to get such unusual colouring?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Your hair is so fair and yet your eyes are almost black.’

‘I don’t know.’ She tried for a casual smile—that piercing gaze was more than a little unnerving. ‘Some errant gene, I suppose, but it must be a strong one. Hannah, my daughter, is exactly the same. Everyone says she is a carbon copy of me.’

‘Do they?’ There was something in his expression she couldn’t read and it unnerved her still more. ‘Your husband is a very lucky man to have two beautiful females to love,’ he said, after a few strangely tense seconds had ticked by.

Lydia’s stomach clenched and she looked away quickly, her eyes downcast. How could she reply to that? She took a long, hidden breath and prayed for calm. ‘How long have we been in here now?’ she asked tensely.

‘About ten minutes.’ He didn’t glance at his watch as he spoke; his gaze never left her face. ‘Shut your eyes a moment and try to relax,’ he added gently. ‘Take a few deep breaths and regulate your breathing.’ He thought there was a danger of her hyperventilating? Lydia thought weakly. How right he was, but not for the reason he imagined! Nevertheless, she did as he instructed, leaning back against the wall of the lift and shutting her eyes tight as she folded her arms protectively over her breasts. The dim light from the emergency batteries in the lift’s back-up system produced a dull charcoal glow against her closed eyelids, and after a few seconds she heard Wolf’s briefcase snap open and the rustle of papers.

He was going to work now? She opened incredulous eyes to see him crouched over a long report, a slight frown wrinkling his brow as he peered at the small figures in the shadowy gloom. He was unbelievable, quite unbelievable. Didn’t he ever stop working? She smiled bemusedly.

‘What?’ She hadn’t been aware that the blue eyes had flicked upwards, but now saw they were trained on her face.

‘I’m sorry?’ She was flustered and it showed.

‘You were smiling, a Mona Lisa smile if I may say so,’ he added softly. ‘Why?’

‘Oh, nothing, it was just——’ She stopped abruptly as she wondered if she dared tell him. Oh, blow it, he had asked, after all. ‘I was wondering if you ever stop working,’ she said quietly, ‘that’s all.’

‘Do I detect a note of disapproval?’ he asked smoothly as he crouched back on his heels, the position emphasising strong muscled legs and hard inner thighs.

‘Not really.’ She smiled with what she hoped came across as cool composure. ‘I’m sure it needs your sort of dedication to stay at the top in this business——’

‘You’re right,’ he interrupted expressionlessly, ‘it does.’ He stood up slowly, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. ‘But that is only part of it. I like what I do, that’s the bottom line.’

‘Yes…’ She shook her head slowly. ‘But incidents like the Mike Wilson thing, don’t they bother you at all?’

‘Mike Wilson has been dealt with before he could do any damage,’ he said coldly, ‘and, more importantly, has been seen to be dealt with. He will serve as a timely example of what happens if anyone is stupid enough to try and cross me, so, if anything, I have gained, not lost, from the episode. That being the case, why should it bother me?’

She stared at him silently, shocked by the blatant ruthlessness his words revealed. ‘But he has a wife and child,’ she murmured, after a pregnant pause. ‘You said yourself he’ll never get another job——’

‘That is his concern, not mine.’ The handsome face was stony now. ‘He had an excellent and extremely wellpaid position with me, which he chose to put in jeopardy through his own greed. He has lived an executive life-style for several years, complete with large house, private schooling for his boy, all the trappings wealth brings, and that has been on the salary I have paid him. If you are asking me to feel guilty, forget it. I don’t.’ He eyed her grimly. ‘Besides which, the Mike Wilsons of this world always get by,’ he finished brusquely.

He was right. She had to admit there was more than a grain of truth in what he said, and he had had the option of giving Mike enough rope to hang himself but decided against it, and yet…She too rose, very slowly, to stand looking at him across the few feet of space. Did he have to be so cold, so remote, so untouched by it all? She doubted if he had any normal feelings at all or, if there were a few, they were deeply encased in solid ice.

‘I can understand what you are saying but——’ She stopped abruptly, not quite knowing how to continue. This was her boss, when all was said and done, her bread and butter, so to speak.

‘But?’ His expression was cynical and cold, and suddenly Lydia knew he was totally aware of her feelings about the matter and they didn’t bother him an iota. He was a man who would always do exactly what he thought was right in any situation in which he found himself, and to hell with the rest of the world. Her own mouth hardened, but even as she opened it to speak the security guard’s voice crackled over the intercom again.

‘Mr Strade?’

‘Yes?’ Wolf’s voice was clipped.

‘Any minute now, sir. Are you all right in there?’

‘Fine, Rogers.’ He bent, stuffing the papers back in his briefcase, and gesturing to her coat by her feet. ‘I suggest you put that back on,’ he said calmly as he reached across for his own. ‘No doubt it’ll strike cold once we’re out of this sauna.’

At the same moment that the lights flooded back on the lift began to move, but in the same instant it jerked violently, throwing Lydia off her feet for the second time that night as it stopped again. And this time she was frightened, petrifyingly so. ‘Wolf?’ He had caught her as she fell, the momentum of her body and the bending position he had been in sending him to his knees and now she lay across his lap, her face uplifted and hair fanning out across his arm as the knot came loose. There was one split second, as she looked up into the hard, masculine face above her own, when she knew what was about to happen and felt the blood pound through her veins, her body beginning to quiver in anticipation. His eyes were bright and glittering as they stared down into the velvet brown depths of hers, the desire she could read so plainly in his dark face hot and hard and incredibly sensual.

He was going to kiss her. The thought exploded into her mind, and now little tremors of helpless excitement reached her toes and curled the small pads into the soles of her feet as she envisaged his mouth on hers. She could feel his heart pounding against the solid wall of his chest and the expensive, heady, totally masculine smell of him pervaded every nerve and tissue.

She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything in her life and, strangely, the thought didn’t seem shocking as his arms tightened and his eyes narrowed into brilliant blue slits.

Wolf. She was never sure even afterwards if she said his name out loud or just breathed it in her soul as a silent, helpless plea, but just as she thought his dark head would lower to hers, that she would know what it was like to be kissed by this fierce, powerful, cold man, he moved her from him, his face stiffening with unconcealed disgust and his body rigid with control.