Читать книгу Carole Mortimer Romance Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 11

‘WELL?’ Lyon demanded as she continued staring at him.

Well, indeed. What could she say? She knew exactly what her mother and Henry had done—and she couldn’t blame them in the least. Not in the circumstances. The last thing Henry needed at the moment was tension and strain, and dealing with Lyon over this situation was sure to cause that. Much better simply to present him with a fait accompli. Lyon was aware of that too—and he was obviously absolutely furious at the idea of being duped by the older couple.

‘Well,’ Silke repeated slowly, leaning back in her chair, playing for time really. What could she say? She didn’t know any of the details of her mother and Henry’s disappearance, only appreciated the reason for it. But at the same time she knew Lyon wasn’t going to believe her ignorance about the older couple’s plans.

‘Where are they, Silke?’ Lyon ground out harshly at her continued silence.

She looked at him consideringly, at his set features, the cold fury in his eyes—and she was grateful she knew none of the details of the runaways’ wedding. Because she knew that, if she had, Lyon wouldn’t have relented until he had extracted those details from her. Which she was sure her mother and Henry were aware of too.

She drew in a deep breath. ‘I know you aren’t going to believe this—’

‘If you’re about to tell me you don’t know where Henry and your mother are, then no, I’m not,’ Lyon grated, eyes glittering.

Silke grimaced at his determined expression. ‘I don’t know where Henry and my mother are,’ she repeated evenly, her own gaze unflinching.

He let out a controlled snort of disbelief. ‘Silke, you—’ He broke off as the telephone on the desk began to ring. ‘Instruct your secretary to hold all calls,’ he bit out harshly, glaring balefully at the offending telephone.

Silke arched blonde brows at him at the same time as she reached out for the receiver. ‘I have a business to run, Lyon, and—’

‘It’s your mother’s business,’ he snapped. ‘And after today it doesn’t look as if she’s going to need it any more!’

Silke picked up the receiver, her gaze never leaving Lyon’s determinedly set face as he moved to sit in the chair facing her desk. Not that he looked in the least relaxed once he had sat down, his body filled with a powerful tension as he sat so quietly watching her. Unnerving!

What was even more unnerving was the voice on the other end of the telephone line! No wonder Jackie hadn’t hesitated in putting the call through!

‘Silke! Darling, I—’

‘Hello, Mrs—Adams.’ There was only the slightest hesitation before the surname—thank God. The last thing she wanted was for Lyon to realise it was her mother on the telephone! As it was, her own palms were sweating as she held the receiver, and she was sure she must have gone slightly pale. ‘No, my mother isn’t here at the moment,’ she said pointedly; Lyon was the one who was here! ‘I believe she’s getting married today,’ she added even more pointedly, frowning warily as Lyon instantly looked furious.

‘Who’s there with you, Silke?’

Thank goodness her mother had picked up on the near panic of her words, even if she had managed to keep her tone lightly friendly! ‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ she replied dismissively. Guess, Mummy, guess! Who else but Lyon Buchanan would make her behave in this way?

‘Lyon,’ her mother realised heavily. ‘He’s been to the clinic?’

‘Yes,’ Silke replied economically.

‘Oh, God, Silke,’ her mother sighed. ‘I’m so sorry. Is he very angry?’

‘Very,’ she confirmed lightly, a brief glance at Lyon’s face telling her his mood wasn’t being improved by the interruption of this telephone call. And that was without even realising who the caller actually was!

‘We thought this way was for the best, Silke,’ her mother explained apologetically.

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she quickly assured her; the longer this call continued, the more short-tempered Lyon was likely to become—and he was difficult enough to deal with already. ‘I’ll tell my mother you called,’ she briskly decided to conclude the conversation as she saw Lyon move in his chair impatiently. ‘Perhaps you could call back?’

‘Tonight, Silke,’ her mother instantly agreed. ‘At my apartment?’

‘That would be best,’ Silke agreed in a relieved tone.

‘Are you all right, Silke?’ her mother said worriedly. ‘God knows I realise how obnoxious Lyon can be—’

‘I’m just running things for my mother while she’s away,’ she cut in quickly, sure from the increasing displeasure on Lyon’s face that he was actually going to wrench the receiver out of her hand in a minute and tell ‘Mrs Adams’ to go to hell. And once he had spoken to her mother that would ruin everything! ‘We’ll look forward to hearing from you.’ She rang off quickly before her mother could say anything else, putting down the receiver as if it were red-hot.

At which Lyon instantly reached out and pressed the internal button. ‘No more calls,’ he barked to Jackie when she answered the call, looking across challengingly at Silke as she watched him with raised brows.

She glared at him. ‘Make yourself at home, why don’t you?’ she said sarcastically.

‘Our conversation is more important than your mother’s clients,’ he snapped icily.

‘In your opinion,’ Silke drawled, sitting back in her chair. At least she had heard from her mother, no longer had to wonder about that particular situation. And she would talk to her again later in the day. Lyon didn’t have that reassurance.

His eyes flashed. ‘Aren’t you in the least concerned that your mother has just disappeared with my uncle? Stupid question,’ he dismissed disgustedly, his mouth twisted contemptuously. ‘Once the two of them are married—’

‘Don’t say it, Lyon,’ she warned sharply, no longer quite as relaxed, green eyes flashing warningly.

His mouth twisted scathingly. ‘The benefits of becoming Henry’s stepdaughter can’t have escaped you!’

She looked across at him with narrowed eyes. ‘At the moment the only thing I can think of in connection with that marriage is that it somehow makes the two of us related—and I can’t see that as any sort of benefit at all!’ In fact, quite the opposite. Especially with the physical effect this man, unwillingly, had on her! Coming into contact with him on a regular basis was—well, it was unthinkable.

‘No?’ Lyon arched dark brows. ‘Is that why Henry has been extolling the genius of your jewellery designs?’

Silke looked at him sharply, frowning deeply. ‘As far as I’m aware, Henry hasn’t seen any of my designs...’ What on earth was Lyon talking about?

‘Exactly,’ Lyon drawled.

Her frown deepened. ‘What do you mean?’

He shook his head derisively. ‘Henry wouldn’t need to have seen your designs to have decided you’re a genius—as far as he’s concerned at the moment, anyone connected with his wonderful Satin can do no wrong!’ And it was obvious he didn’t share his uncle’s opinion—in fact, the opposite!

Silke’s mind was racing; why on earth had Henry been praising her jewellery designs—designs she was positive he hadn’t even seen! Surely he couldn’t—he wouldn’t— She looked up at Lyon with wide, startled eyes as she realised that Henry would!

Lyon raised mocking brows, grey eyes scathing. ‘Don’t tell me you aren’t aware of the fact that Henry believes Buchanan’s should branch out with its own jewellery designs?’ he scorned.

Her stomach lurched, her face paling; Henry had! Oh, God! Of course she had had no idea. She wouldn’t have let Henry... Let him? It wasn’t a question of letting Henry do anything, he was turning out to be as arrogantly determined to have his own way as his nephew was, albeit in a more charmingly persuasive way. She was sure it hadn’t been her mother’s idea to go off and get married in the way they were; her mother had been quite prepared to fight Lyon herself on his own terms. Henry’s determinedly persuasive hand had to have been behind that move too, Silke was sure of it. Henry’s only saving grace at the moment, as far as Silke was concerned, was that she didn’t doubt his love for her mother, or that he would do everything in his power to ensure her happiness. Including setting her daughter up in business...!

Lyon’s gaze raked over her appraisingly, finally settling on the now pale beauty of her face. ‘I don’t recall ever seeing you wear jewellery yourself...?’ he finally said pointedly.

Her designs were more of the chunky costume jewellery kind, not the sort of thing she could wear in the day with jeans and T-shirts, her usual daytime wear. Besides, the state of her personal finances, she couldn’t even afford to produce samples of her designs in the gold and silver needed. But Buchanan’s could... No! She had no intention of encouraging Henry in this mad scheme. Of opposing Lyon...

‘I—’ She broke off her protest as the telephone on her desk began to ring for the second time during this meeting.

Lyon scowled his displeasure at the interruption. ‘I thought I told your secretary no more calls?’ And he wasn’t used to having his instructions disobeyed, his tone clearly implied.

And normally Jackie wouldn’t have dreamt of disobeying them either, which told Silke there had to be a good reason for her having done so now. Her mother calling again...? Didn’t she know Lyon well enough to realise Silke wouldn’t have managed to get rid of him yet?

She almost panicked completely as Lyon, tiring of waiting for her to answer the call, reached out for the receiver, and she snatched it up herself first, avoiding his gaze as she turned away. ‘Yes, Jackie?’ she responded huskily.

‘Silke,’ Jackie sounded breathless herself. ‘James is on the line.’

James? James...! Her James? No, not her James, not if it was the same James who had walked out of her life a year ago and married someone else on the eve of their own wedding. It couldn’t be that James!

‘James Cameron, Silke,’ Jackie instantly confirmed that indeed it could be! ‘And he says it’s urgent that he talk to you,’ she added by way of explanation for this interruption when she had been given clear instructions, albeit by Lyon Buchanan, not to put any more calls through.

Urgent? After almost a year of complete silence James had found something urgent to talk to her about? He had to be joking! Besides, whatever his problem was, she certainly had no intention of taking his call now, not with Lyon Buchanan sitting across the desk from her so watchfully.

‘Get his telephone number and tell him I’ll call him back, Jackie,’ she instructed—God, was that shaky voice really hers?

But maybe she could be excused that; this was certainly turning out to be a traumatic day, with first Lyon on the warpath, and now James on the telephone—for goodness’ knew what reason. Perhaps he wanted them to get together to celebrate what should have been the first anniversary of their wedding-day? God, she was becoming hysterical now, she realised; but how else could she feel in the circumstances? Today was turning into a nightmare!

‘I would have reprimanded her for her inefficiency,’ Lyon rasped once Silke had put down the receiver.

‘Well, that’s where we differ,’ Silke replied without her usual fight where this man was concerned—she was still shaken by James’s call. A year, a whole year of silence; why was he calling her now? He had been away on his honeymoon with someone else when she had cancelled their wedding, their honeymoon, sent back the unwanted wedding gifts; he hadn’t wanted to know, hadn’t cared about her pain, her humiliation, her—

‘Him?’ Lyon prompted, grey eyes narrowed questioningly on the paleness of her face when Silke looked up at him almost dazedly.

She frowned, swallowing hard. What had the two of them been talking about before her telephone call from James? She had no intention of telling Lyon who ‘him’ was! She could all too easily imagine his derision if she told him about James, her ex-fiancé who had married someone else on the eve of their wedding!

She forced her expression to become coolly dismissive. ‘I believe we were discussing Henry’s interest in my jewellery designs,’ she prompted pointedly.

‘No,’ Lyon said slowly. ‘We were discussing the fact that you never wear jewellery yourself.’ His narrowed gaze moved to the bareness of her hands as they rested on the desktop.

Was it her imagination, or did that all-seeing gaze rest more intently on the bareness of her left hand, where until a year ago an emerald and diamond engagement ring had nestled on the third finger? A ring that had been returned to James along with everything else once the wedding had been cancelled; she hadn’t wanted anything left in her flat to remind her of James and their engagement. She could still remember the feeling of desolation as she parcelled up the box that had contained all her memories of the years she had spent with James; it had seemed so little to show for three years of her life. And now, with one simple telephone call, the memories were back... At a time when she could least deal with it; Lyon Buchanan was seated opposite her, obviously on the warpath!

And even though she was sure there could be no evidence that she had once worn an engagement ring on her left hand, the indentation that had once been there having long gone, she found herself putting that hand beneath the desk, where Lyon could no longer see it.

‘You’re quite wrong,’ she told Lyon coolly now. ‘I often wear jewellery; you’ve just never met me in the right setting to see me wearing it.’ Even as she said it, Silke winced, remembering all too vividly—as she was sure Lyon did!—the circumstances in which they had first met; she had been wearing very little on that occasion, and certainly no jewellery.

Lyon looked at her thoughtfully, grey eyes narrowed. ‘Then perhaps I should rectify that,’ he finally said slowly.

Silke gave him a startled look. ‘What do you mean?’

He shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘It seems I can do little to stop this wedding between my uncle and your mother—so perhaps the two of us should have dinner together this evening to celebrate their marriage.’

Silke looked at him suspiciously; why had he suddenly changed from opposing the marriage to suggesting they go out and celebrate it? He was suddenly being altogether too pleasant—and Silke distrusted this mood even more than she did his outright objectionable one.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so—’

‘Frightened, Silke?’ he taunted softly.

She frowned at the suggestion. ‘Of what?’

‘Me,’ he derided, brows raised mockingly.

And suddenly she was—of the fact that he realised how physically vulnerable she was towards him. And why shouldn’t he? She had hardly beaten him off with a stick on the occasions he had taken her into his arms and kissed her!

Both her hands were beneath the desktop now—to hide the fact that they were shaking. First James, and now this man; it was too much in one day!

She forced herself to meet his gaze unflinchingly. ‘I’m not frightened of you, Lyon.’ Her voice was steady too, determinedly so.

He gave an acknowledging nod of his head, his mouth quirked mockingly. ‘In that case—’ he stood up in one fluid movement ‘—I take it you have no objection to joining me for dinner this evening? I’ll pick you up—’

‘Now just a minute,’ Silke cut in hastily. ‘I’m not frightened of you, Lyon—why on earth should I be?’ she added with impatient dismissal. ‘But neither do I want to have dinner with you, tonight or at any other time,’ she said exasperatedly.

He towered over her, looking down at her, those dark brows still mockingly raised. ‘Careful, Silke,’ he taunted. ‘You’re starting to sound like a woman who protests too much! Now I suggest—’

‘That must be a novelty for you!’ she snapped impatiently.

‘—that I call for you at your flat at seven-thirty,’ he continued as if she hadn’t made the interruption. ‘That way we’ll have time for a drink before dinner. Unless you intend being at your mother’s apartment? You seem to spend as much time there as you do at your own home,’ he added drily.

‘How do you—?’ Silke broke off abruptly, glaring at him. ‘Of course, your report on my mother. Or was it just on my mother?’ she suddenly realised warily. My God, he wouldn’t have had her investigated too, would he? What a stupid question; of course he would—this man was arrogant enough to do anything he wanted to do! Maybe she hadn’t been so wrong about his lingering gaze on her left hand earlier, after all...

Lyon calmly met her gaze. ‘Seven-thirty, Silke,’ he repeated smoothly. ‘At your own or your mother’s apartment?’

‘I told you,’ she snapped, completely flustered by her racing thoughts as to what his report had told him about her. ‘Neither!’ She glared up at him.

He bent forward, his face only inches from hers now as he leant over the desk. ‘I may—regrettably—have lost one battle today, Silke.’ His breath softly stirred her wispy blonde fringe. ‘I have no intention of losing this one too,’ he added grimly.

As she doubted he actually intended losing the war; she had no doubts whatsoever that Henry’s and her mother’s battle with him was far from over. Lyon was just retreating slightly in order to rally his troops. And Silke didn’t want to be caught in the firing line!

‘I’m busy tonight, Lyon,’ she told him firmly—and every other night as far as this man was concerned. He was far too dangerous for her peace of mind!

‘Cancel it,’ he instructed arrogantly.

She gasped. ‘I—’

‘I’ll be at your mother’s apartment at seven-thirty, Silke.’ He walked over to the door. ‘We can discuss your jewellery designs over dinner.’

As carrots went it was far from subtle; but then Lyon Buchanan had never been subtle where she was concerned. She doubted he was ever subtle with anyone; he didn’t need to be, was far too powerful ever to need to be. But Silke wasn’t interested in anything he had to say about her jewellery designs—if indeed that was what he actually wanted to talk about, which she doubted; no doubt he still believed she knew where his uncle and her mother were!—because she could never work for this man. Never!

And she didn’t want him coming to her mother’s apartment at seven-thirty, either; what if her mother hadn’t rung by then and happened to ring once Lyon had arrived to pick her up? God, no, she didn’t want that!

‘My designs are all at my flat—’

‘Then I’ll call for you there,’ he nodded, opening the door. ‘Seven-thirty,’ he repeated as if to a backward child, before striding arrogantly from the office.

Silke was left sitting behind her mother’s desk opening and closing her mouth like a floundering fish. She had been about to tell him that her designs were all at her flat but that she had no intention of having dinner with him anyway. But he hadn’t let her finish. Had railroaded over her objections. As he seemed to do with everyone, she realised, as she saw Jackie sitting behind her desk with a similarly dazed expression on her face as she watched Lyon’s departure.

Jackie turned her head slowly, and the two women looked at each other for several long seconds, both looking totally bewildered.

Finally Jackie shook her head. ‘I don’t know what it is about that man, but he—well, he—’

‘It’s all right, Jackie,’ Silke sympathised, running an exasperated hand through the length of her hair. ‘He has the same effect on everyone.’ And she appeared to be stuck with going out to dinner with the man; how was she going to get through the evening?

‘Here’s that telephone number you asked for, Silke.’ Jackie stood in front of her desk, holding out a piece of paper towards her.

Silke blinked up at her, completely puzzled for a few seconds—and then she remembered. James! How could she have forgotten that he had telephoned? Lyon Buchanan, that was how! He was enough to drive every other thought from anyone’s mind—even that of an ex-fiancé who had contacted her after a year of silence—and almost a year of his being married to someone else!

My God, James had a nerve after all this time. What on earth could they have to say to each other now? The truth was, she had nothing to say to him. She had wanted to say it all a year ago and hadn’t been given the chance; now it was all totally irrelevant, even her pain and anger towards him having faded to a mild contempt for the way he had behaved.

She stared down at the piece of paper with his telephone number on long after Jackie had returned to her own outer office, vaguely registering the fact that James still worked for the same firm of accountants. Some things didn’t change, she acknowledged with wry self-derision. But she had, and James contacting her now was nothing more than an irritation. An irritation she could well have done without with Lyon Buchanan present!

Finally she opened her handbag and put the piece of paper with the telephone number inside her purse. Whatever James wanted to talk to her about, it could wait; it had already waited a year, so it couldn’t be that urgent.

The urgent thing on her mind at the moment was the thought of dinner with Lyon Buchanan. What was he up to? Because she didn’t for one minute believe the two of them were about to celebrate his uncle’s and her mother’s marriage. Or that he was seriously interested in her jewellery designs...

* * *

There was absolutely nothing Silke could do about her mother’s expected telephone call at her apartment. The only complication Silke could see was that once her mother received no reply at her own apartment she would then try Silke’s flat. As Silke luxuriated in a much-needed relaxing bath once she got in from the office, she could only hope her mother called before Lyon arrived. Although the way her luck was going at the moment, she very much doubted that would be the case!

She had firmly put the subject of James to the back of her mind—at least for the evening. He had waited this long; he could certainly wait another day!

The first thing Silke had done when she got in from work had been to look through her wardrobe for something to wear to go out with Lyon, something smart and elegant, but nothing that gave him the impression she had wanted to look beautiful for him; he would be sure to comment on something so obvious. But the truth of the matter was she did want him to find her attractive; the few occasions they had met he had hardly seen her in a good light, and she needed all the ammunition she had to withstand an evening spent in that particular man’s company.

The dress she had finally settled on was just a plain black, with a high neckline, and long sleeves. But the material was of a type that moulded to her body rather than clung, and the short length, just above her knee, allowed for a long expanse of her shapely legs. Yes, it was just the right sort of dress to wear to go out with Lyon Buchanan, provocative without being suggestive.

And because of the plainness of the dress she would be able to complement it with some of the jewellery he had commented he had never seen her wear, the dress being perfect for the chunky style of her designs.

Lyon Buchanan would see a completely different Silke Jordan tonight, one who was as sophisticated and self-assured as the women he usually associated with! It was ridiculous that she had to go to these lengths at all, she knew, but she had been forced into going out for the dinner in the first place, and she needed every weapon available to her to get through it. God, there she went with the warlike vocabulary again. But that was exactly what it had felt like since she first met Lyon!

But she forgot all about war and battles and weapons when the doorbell rang shrilly at a quarter past seven; Lyon was early! She wasn’t even ready, had already laddered one pair of sheer tights and had to search frantically for another pair. Of which she had only smoothed up one leg!

The doorbell rang again—more insistently this time? Damn him, he was fifteen minutes early; as well as not being dressed, she hadn’t yet applied her make-up or even attempted to brush her hair. Had he done this on purpose, as a deliberate attempt to disconcert her before the evening even began? She wouldn’t put it past him!

She was flushed and cross by the time she reached the door after its third ring, having frantically pulled the tights off because she didn’t have time to smooth them on, only succeeding in laddering that pair too as one of her nails broke in her rush. Lyon had succeeded in more than disconcerting her; she was furious with him for trying to put her at a disadvantage!

‘Stop ringing the damned—’ All of Silke’s anger disappeared into mind-blowing disbelief as she opened the door to find, not Lyon standing on the doorstep, but James! What on earth—?

‘Silke,’ he said quietly, looking down at her intently.

Damn it, why did he have to be another tall man, able to look down at her with his male superiority? It was totally illogical to Silke at that moment to accept that she would be hard pushed to find any man shorter than her own five feet; also that James’s height of over six feet had been one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place. He had no right being here at all now, height or no height!

She glared up at him, at the man she had once loved, intended to marry—and knew that whatever she had once felt for him was completely dead. He was just a tall, attractive man, his blond hair slightly longer than she remembered, a few more lines beside the dark blue eyes; but just a tall, attractive man, after all. Silke certainly felt no residual love for him.

‘What do you want, James?’ she asked him coldly. ‘As you can see—’ she looked down pointedly at her dress ‘—I’m getting ready to go out.’

James looked down at her dress too, at the way the straight style emphasised the fullness of her breasts, the narrowness of her waist, the curve of her hips—and his expression warmed as it returned to the flushed loveliness of her make-up-less face. ‘You look lovely, Silke,’ he told her huskily.

She gave him a derisive look, her sigh impatient. ‘I’m sure you didn’t contact me again after all this time to tell me that!’ she snapped.

‘My marriage to Cheryl is over—’

‘So?’ Silke frowned up at him. ‘What does that have to do with me?’

‘I—’ He broke off whatever he had been about to say as the telephone began to ring shrilly in the flat behind Silke.

Her mother! It had to be. ‘I’m sorry, James.’ She was becoming flustered again now. ‘But, as you can see, this is hardly the right time for us to be talking—for whatever reason,’ she added pointedly as he seemed about to protest. ‘I have to go and take that call,’ she told him agitatedly; the last thing she wanted was for her mother to ring off and then call back again when Lyon had arrived!

She didn’t wait, hurrying back into her flat to hastily snatch up the receiver. ‘Mummy?’ she enquired anxiously—praying that it was!

‘You sound out of breath, Silke,’ her mother answered lightly. ‘I didn’t disturb you, did I?’

She had been disturbed since Lyon Buchanan had arrived at the agency this afternoon with the news that her mother was secretly about to marry his uncle! ‘No, you aren’t disturbing me,’ she assured her mother, not even glancing round to see if James had left as she had asked him to. It was sad, really, that she had nothing to say to the man she had once intended marrying, but she really did have much more urgent things on her mind at the moment; namely Lyon’s imminent arrival. ‘Now what—?’

‘One of us is here on the wrong evening,’ remarked a smoothly arrogant voice across the room behind her. ‘And I can assure you it isn’t me!’

Silke closed her eyes, inwardly groaning, knowing exactly what she was going to see when she turned and looked across the room.

And she wasn’t disappointed! James hadn’t left at all, had moved inside the doorway of the flat, and standing beside him, looking arrogantly down his nose at the other man—he was several inches taller than James, Silke noticed inconsequentially—was Lyon Buchanan!

This was even worse than the nightmare at the agency this afternoon!