Читать книгу The Determined Husband - Lee Wilkinson, Lee Wilkinson - Страница 7

IT WAS almost eleven o’clock when they reached the Brownstone and climbed the stairs. Sensing that he was about to leave her at her door and not wanting this magic day to end, Sera asked quickly, ‘Won’t you come in for a coffee?’

Looking into eyes unconsciously pleading, he agreed, ‘So long as it’s a quick one. I’ll need an early start in the morning to make up for today.’

She made two mugs of instant and they drank them sitting side by side on the couch that, with its brightly patterned duvet, was also a bed.

As soon as the mugs were empty he rose to go and Sera accompanied him to the door.

Until today, he had, intentionally it seemed, kept things very casual, a handclasp, a brotherly hug, a peck on the cheek.

Now, when he bent his dark head, with innocent boldness, she lifted her lips for his kiss. After the briefest of hesitations, his mouth brushed hers.

The lightest touch, but it proved to be as explosive as dropping a lighted match into a keg of gunpowder.

Without conscious volition, her lips parted beneath that light pressure and, making a sound almost like a groan, he gathered her into his arms and began to kiss her deeply.

Head whirling, she clung to him, while his hands started to move over her body, tracing her slim waist and the curve of her hip and buttock, before moving up to find the soft swell of her breast.

When those skilful fingers began to tease the sensitive nipple, she was shaken by shudders of delight and the kind of fierce desire she had never dreamt existed.

Knowing all about sex in theory, if not in fact, she had naively supposed that love and sex would go hand in hand to produce a mutual manageable pleasure. She had never visualized being swept away by such extremes of passion.

When, with a sudden urgency, he began to undo the buttons of her dress and the front fastening of her bra, she would have helped him, but her hands were shaking too much.

Tossing the garments aside, he stooped to nuzzle his face against her breasts, taking first one nipple into his mouth and then the other.

The pleasure was so pure, so exquisite, that she thought she could stand no more when, kneeling at her feet, he began to ease off her dainty briefs, kissing his way down her flat belly until he reached the tangle of black silky curls.

A kind of sensual overload made her give a little gasping cry.

Getting to his feet, he said thickly, ‘It’s all right, my love. It’s all right.’

Suddenly desperately afraid he was going to walk away and leave her, she threw her arms around his neck and, her mouth finding his and clinging to it, pressed herself against him.

For a split second he seemed to hold back. Then, to her utmost relief, he began to kiss her again. After a moment he stooped and, lifting her effortlessly in his arms, carried her back to the couch and laid her down on top of the duvet.

Her heart pounding, her mouth dry, she watched him strip off his own clothes and, when he came to her, she welcomed him with open arms.

In spite of his own urgency, he was a gentle, considerate lover, skilful and generous. He made her first experience of physical love a beautiful experience, one she knew she would always remember with wonder and delight.

When his dark head lay heavy on her breast, stroking his curly hair, she was filled with such love and tenderness, such joy, that, unable to contain so much emotion, her heart found an outlet in tears.

Her mood of ecstasy was so all-embracing that it had never occurred to her that Keir might not feel the same.

It took her completely by surprise when, lifting himself away, he said in a queer, shaken voice, ‘I’m sorry. I never meant this to happen, believe me…’ Then sharply, ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘No, of course not.’ She smiled at him tremulously.

‘Then, why are you crying?’

‘I’m just so happy. Please tell me you are. I couldn’t bear it if you were disappointed.’

‘Of course I’m happy.’ He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the palm, before saying soberly, ‘I just hope to goodness I can keep things that way.’

At that moment, still euphoric, she could think of no reason why they shouldn’t both be happy for the rest of their lives.

Swinging his feet to the floor, he sat on the edge of the couch, his dark head bent as though in thought.

She was admiring the elegant line of his spine, the clear, healthy skin, the width of his shoulders, when something about the tenseness of his neck muscles made her ask. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘I’m a damned fool.’ Swinging round to face her, he added with sudden violence, ‘You were a virgin…’

‘That’s true.’ Her lovely, humorous, self-derisive smile flashed out. ‘But being a virgin isn’t a crime. And I didn’t want to stay a virgin for ever.’

Heavily, without hope, he queried, ‘I take it you’re not protected?’

‘As a matter of fact, I am.’ Smiling a little at his astonished face, she said, ‘My doctor suggested I went on the pill for a minor hormone imbalance.’

She heard his sigh of unutterable relief.

Gently, she asked, ‘Would it have mattered so very much if I hadn’t been?’

‘Yes, it would,’ he answered shortly.

Sera was dismayed. ‘Then, you don’t like children?’

‘Of course I like children. But this is no time to be getting you pregnant.’

Perhaps not, as they weren’t married yet. But as they loved each other, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world.

Rising to his feet, he eased the light duvet free and pulled it over her. But instead of getting back into bed, as she’d hoped, he began to put on his clothes.

As he shrugged into his shirt, she asked, ‘Do you have to go?’

Keir heard the sudden desolation and, coming back to sit on the edge of the bed, he stroked her cheek with a gentle finger. ‘I’m afraid so.’

‘But why?’

‘Because I shouldn’t have let this happen. The time isn’t right. If it was just a casual affair, with no commitment on either side, it wouldn’t be a problem. But it isn’t. And it’s too soon.

‘At the moment I need every single minute, and every scrap of energy and concentration I can muster.’ Then, with a sigh he added, ‘I can only ask you to be patient.’

Sera nodded wordlessly. She could, and would, do anything Keir wanted her to do.

‘That’s my girl.’ He kissed the tip of her nose, switched off the light and, a second later, she heard the door close quietly behind him.

Lying staring blindly into the darkness, she thought long and deeply about Keir’s reaction to their lovemaking, while any remaining euphoria faded slowly away.

She couldn’t regret what had happened, it had been so beautiful, so right…

Only Keir hadn’t thought so; he hadn’t really wanted it to happen. And, with hindsight, she could see that he’d been a reluctant lover. She had sensed his attempt to hold back.

Afterwards he’d said he was happy, but his words had lacked conviction. Perhaps he’d only said it because she’d pressed him…

But he had wanted her. Inexperienced though she was, there had been no mistaking his hunger and need. And he did love her. She felt for the ring he’d placed on her finger, and was reassured.

All it amounted to, she told herself firmly, was that, with the amount of work he was trying to get done, there was no time at the present for a wife and a family.

As he himself had said, it was too soon.

But for a man who was as much of a workaholic as he was, would there ever be time?

No, she mustn’t think like that. If she was patient as he’d asked, surely everything would come right?

Sunday was a long, lonely day, and by ten-thirty that evening Sera had given up all hope of Keir coming. She had cleaned her teeth and put on a thin cotton nightdress, when there was the lightest of taps at the door.

Hurrying over, she threw it open.

‘Hi.’ He smiled at her. ‘I wondered if you might be asleep.’

Her relief and pleasure at seeing him was so great that, for a moment, she was speechless.

Then, because she couldn’t say all the things she felt, she asked mundanely, ‘Are you coming in for a coffee?’

He shook his head. ‘I just wanted to make sure you were all right.’

Anxious not to pressure him, she said brightly, ‘I’m fine.’

Her reward was a light kiss on the cheek. ‘Then, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at six-thirty. We’ll have a walk in the park, weather permitting. If it’s raining—’

Afraid of what he was going to say, she broke in hurriedly, ‘If it’s raining, I’ll cook you some breakfast.’

Grinning, he said, ‘When I say my prayers, I’ll pray for rain.’

Back on their former footing, snatching whatever time together he could manage, the next couple of weeks were happy ones for Sera.

Though Keir never made any attempt to make love to her, and kept the relationship light, there was a warmth about him, a caring that spoke volumes.

At odd times, when he looked at her, she saw desire flare in those long, heavy-lidded eyes.

Desire that lit an answering flame.

Had he made the slightest move, she would have gone to him willingly, eagerly. But, always with a will-power she could only marvel at, he beat it down.

The fact that he refused to take what she would happily have given, served only to deepen her feelings for him.

Love, as a poet once said, is hard to hide, and there was a glow about her that lit up the office.

Returning from a business trip, Cheryl Rothwell noticed that radiance, and remarked to her PA, ‘You look as if life’s giving you a treat.’ Then, shrewdly she added, ‘Which means a man. What’s his name?’

Taken by surprise, Sera found herself admitting, ‘Keir Sutherlands.’

‘Keir Sutherlands?’ Cheryl sounded startled, and none too pleased. ‘Some man!’

Though she smiled, Sera could sense the unspoken envy.

Her expression interested, Cheryl observed, ‘I met him a couple of weeks ago when Martin and he had some business to discuss…’

All at once she paused, her attention caught by the silver ring Sera wore. But after a moment’s scrutiny, clearly dismissing it as of no importance, she went on, ‘Though I wouldn’t call him film-star handsome, he’s an attractive devil, and his sex appeal hits you like a sock on the jaw.’

Then, sharply, she asked, ‘Where did you meet him? Was it here?’

‘No. He has an apartment next door to mine.’

Cheryl frowned. ‘What’s a man who owns Sutherlands doing living in some run-down apartment building?’

Sera, who had never considered the question, shook her head.

‘Do you know how long he’s lived there?’ Cheryl pursued.

‘Only for a short time, I gather.’

‘Odd… Perhaps I’ll ask him about it when he comes to the party on Thursday night…’

Anglo American did a great deal of corporate entertaining. Like Keir, Martin Rothwell considered that more opportunities presented themselves and more real business was done in a relaxed, social atmosphere than over an office desk.

Her light blue eyes on her PA’s face, Cheryl added casually, ‘I suppose you’ll be coming?’

Well aware that it wasn’t the answer the other woman was hoping for, Sera said steadily, ‘Yes, Keir said he’d take me.’

But, sounding more like herself, Cheryl exclaimed, ‘Lucky you! I can’t say I’m not jealous.’

When Keir finally knocked at Sera’s door on Thursday evening he was well over an hour late, and she had practically given him up.

Brushing his apology aside, she assured him, ‘It doesn’t matter. Honestly. Posh parties really aren’t my thing.’

‘How many have you been to?’

‘None,’ she admitted.

‘Then I’ll do my best to see you enjoy this one.’

He was looking devastatingly attractive in well-cut evening clothes and, knowing this gathering was certain to be a lavish affair, she asked a shade hesitantly, ‘Will I do?’

She had splashed out on a new dress, and with only a limited amount to spend had gone for simplicity, choosing a slim-fitting ankle-length sheath in muted shades of green and dull silver.

‘Not everyone can wear this kind of thing,’ the sales girl had remarked, ‘but you sure have the figure for it.’

Sera’s only reservation had been the scooped neckline, which revealed the soft swell of her breasts and more than a glimpse of cleavage.

She was wearing her only piece of jewellery, a long, thin, silver chain that looped twice. It had been her mother’s, and she had worn it ever since her grandmother had given it to her for her eighteenth birthday.

Keir’s glance travelling slowly over her, from her elegant knot of hair to her matching sandals. He raised her hand to his lips. ‘My love, you look enchanting,’ he said huskily.

Thrilled by the endearment, she asked, ‘You don’t think the neckline’s too daring?’

‘No…’ His eyes on the longest loop of the chain, which disappeared into her cleavage, he added ruefully, ‘Though it’s daring enough to raise my blood pressure several notches.’

Seeing the lick of flame in his dark blue eyes, she waited, hoping he would suggest staying at home. When he didn’t, she said prosaically, ‘If we’re going on the subway, I’d better get a coat.’

He shook his head. ‘You won’t need one. It’s a hot night, and all this finery calls for a taxi.’

When they reached the Plaza Hotel, off Fifth Avenue, the party was in full swing. People were standing in groups sipping champagne while they laughed and talked, and the air was filled with the scent of French perfume and the sweet smell of success.

Glancing around the large, handsome room at the assembled company, Sera saw that nearly all the women were dressed in top designer clothes and displaying enough precious stones to fill Aladdin’s cave. While the men, along with their immaculate evening clothes, wore that unmistakable air of confidence and authority that wealth brings.

Though knowing herself to be underdressed, with her off-the-peg sheath and simple chain, Sera held her head high. While Keir was by her side, she was well content.

She might be out of place in this glittering throng, but he certainly wasn’t.

He was a man who could, without effort, establish moral ascendancy over his peers, easily holding his own amongst the rich and powerful, and several covert glances told her that a lot of the women there envied her of her escort.

She found herself wishing that she could have fitted in better for his sake; she didn’t want him to feel ashamed of her.

As though guessing her feelings, he tucked her hand through his arm and, with calm assurance, led her over to their host and hostess.

Cheryl, her red-gold hair like a shining helmet, was wearing a dramatic dress of shimmering jade green. She had all the striking gauntness of a model, and there were diamonds around her neck and in her ears.

Her brother, looking relaxed and debonair, was impressive in immaculate evening clothes.

Though she had worked in the same set of offices for some weeks now, Sera had never actually met Martin Rothwell, only catching a distant glimpse of him from time to time.

She knew he was in his early thirties, a year younger than Cheryl, who had once playfully described him as ‘my baby brother’.

At close quarters he looked even younger and, seeing brother and sister standing together, Sera realized for the first time how very alike they were.

Both were tall and well-built, with the kind of red-gold hair that was often called ginger—though Cheryl’s was several shades darker than her brother’s. They both had pale blue eyes, the kind of skin that freckles easily, a short nose, and a long upper lip.

There, the resemblance ended.

Martin Rothwell had a rather heavy face with flat cheeks and a squarish jaw, while Cheryl’s face was a smooth oval with prominent cheekbones.

They were very good-looking in their own way, and Martin had the reputation of being a charmer where women were concerned.

‘Sutherlands, glad you could make it,’ he said expansively, and held out his hand.

Watching them together, Sera noticed that, though Keir was a good six feet and broad-shouldered, Martin was equally tall and considerably heavier.

The two men shook hands. Neither smiled.

‘You’ve met my sister, of course?’

‘Miss Rothwell,’ Keir murmured politely, taking the proffered hand.

‘Oh, Cheryl, please.’

Turning to her brother, whose light eyes were fixed on Sera’s exquisite face, Cheryl said, ‘I don’t think you’ve actually met Sera Reynolds, my new PA? Sera’s only been here a few weeks. She’s from the London branch.’

‘I can see I’ve been missing out.’ Taking her hand, Martin smiled at her and, all at once, Sera could see why he had that reputation for charm.

His clasp was cool and firm and he held her hand rather longer than was strictly necessary before releasing it.

By her side, she sensed rather than felt, Keir stiffen slightly, and saw by the gleam in Martin’s eye that he had noticed and was pleased by that instinctive reaction.

The men might do business together, she realized, but they were far from liking one another.

Smiling a little, Martin asked blandly, ‘So, how are you settling in, Sera?’

‘Quite well, I think.’

‘And you like New York?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Have you had a chance to see much of it?’

Before Sera could answer, Cheryl gave her brother a swift, conspiratorial glance and, stepping forward, slid her hand through Keir’s arm.

‘If you can spare a few minutes, there’s someone I think you should meet. His name is Roberto Canelli. Though I only met him myself a few days ago, I happen to know he’s been looking for a suitable site to relocate his business.’

Turning to Sera, Keir asked, ‘I hope you don’t mind?’

Well aware that business was the be all and the end all of the evening, she answered valiantly, ‘No, of course not.’

He gave her a swift, grateful smile and promised, ‘I’ll try not to be too long.’

‘Canelli’s about to complete a deal with Bensons,’ Cheryl warned, ‘so if you have anything that might interest him, you’ll have to move fast…’

A moment later, feeling rather lost, Sera watched as they walked away and disappeared into the throng.

Cheryl was very tall for a woman, almost six feet in her high heels, and with their two heads close together, one so smooth and bright, the other so dark and curly, they made a handsome couple.

‘As you’ve just arrived, you won’t have eaten yet?’ Martin’s voice broke into Sera’s thoughts.

‘No,’ she admitted.

‘Then, while we get to know each other, shall we go and see what the buffet has to offer?’ A hand at her waist, he led her through to the adjoining room.

As she might have expected, the tables held an excellent and varied selection of food, while above the hum of conversation glasses clinked and champagne corks popped.

With a gallantry she found slightly embarrassing, Martin insisted on helping her to a selection of hors d’oeuvres before serving himself.

A lot of the top men from the world of finance were gathered by the buffet, standing in little groups of twos and threes, making new contacts and cementing old ones over smoked salmon canapés and glasses of vintage champagne.

While they ate, Martin pointed out several whose names were synonymous with wealth and power, and told her amusing anecdotes about each.

Sera was laughing at one of them when Keir appeared at her side. She turned to him eagerly.

His expression curiously tight, he told her, ‘Signor Canelli is interested in a site near SoHo that’s just recently come on the market. He’d like to take a look at it straight away, so Cheryl has kindly offered to drive us down there. Will you be all right?’

Her heart dropping like a lead weight, Sera said, ‘I’ll be fine.’ Then trying not to sound anxious, ‘Have you any idea how long you’ll be?’

‘It’ll depend on the traffic, I’m afraid.’ Giving her hand a squeeze, he assured her, ‘But I’ll be as quick as I can.’

‘If you don’t happen to make it back,’ Martin said smoothly, ‘I’ll see Sera gets home safely.’

‘Thank you, but I expect to be back.’ Keir’s voice was only just civil.

It was obvious that he wasn’t happy about leaving her with Martin Rothwell. But business came first.

His face set, he turned and walked away.

Treating the other man’s reappearance as an unwanted intrusion, Martin asked cheerfully, ‘Now then, where were we?’

For the next twenty minutes or so, while they stood by the buffet, he plied her with delicacies and, though he himself drank little, made sure her glass was kept topped up.

Giving her his undivided attention, he asked her a string of questions. Where did she live…? What did she like most about New York…? How did she think life in the States compared with life in England?

He seemed genuinely interested in her answers, and she found him surprisingly easy to talk to.

One of his comments made her ask, ‘Do you know England well?’

‘Fairly well. We have English ancestry and both Cheryl and I have spent some time over there. After leaving college I lived in London for almost three years…’

Despite his charm, he was known to be a hard-headed businessman, and Sera expected him to excuse himself as soon as the meal was over, rather than waste any more time on one of his own employees.

But, even when they’d finished eating and their coffee cups were empty, he remained by her side.

Aware that he would need to mingle with his guests, she put down her cup and said politely, ‘Thank you, Mr Rothwell, that was most enjoyable,’ and made to leave him.

‘Don’t go…’ he put a restraining hand on her arm ‘…and out of the office please call me Martin.’ Seeing the look on her face, he said teasingly, ‘Go on, try it. It’s not that difficult. Martin.’

‘Martin,’ she echoed uncertainly.

‘Not bad. All you need is a little more practice.’

His hand lingered on her arm as he queried, ‘As you’ve been in New York such a short time you can’t know many people here?’

‘No.’

‘Then let me introduce you to a few.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not really dressed for it.’

His pale blue eyes on her face, he said, ‘As far as I’m concerned, you’re quite perfect.’

Disconcerted, she stammered, ‘Th-thank you, but Keir might be back soon, and I—’

‘If he does turn up, I’ll reluctantly hand you over. Until then, let’s circulate.’

He offered her his arm and, feeling she had no option, she took it.

Uncomfortable at first, after a while and rather to her surprise, Sera began to relax and enjoy a novel experience.

On the arm of the big boss, she found herself being regarded with a kind of deference and respect that made her smile inwardly.

As they moved from group to group, pausing to talk to what Martin termed the ‘more interesting’ of his guests, he introduced her simply as ‘Miss Reynolds, an English colleague.’

When the conversation invariably turned to the current financial scene, with a flattering certainty that she knew what she was talking about, he drew her into each discussion, inviting her opinion and treating her as an equal.

It was heady stuff.

An evening she’d only looked forward to because Keir was taking her became stimulating and enjoyable, despite his continued absence.

Towards eleven, people began to drift away, and she found herself saying goodnight to Martin’s guests as though she was his hostess.

The party was coming to an end, with still no sign of either Cheryl or Keir. Oh, what on earth was keeping them? she wondered.

Apparently interpreting her anxious expression, Martin said, ‘It doesn’t look as if they’re going to get back.’

‘No.’ The monosyllable sounded forlorn, when she’d meant it to sound matter-of-fact.

‘In that case, I’ll be happy to see you home.’

Knowing he and his sister shared an apartment on Fifth Avenue, she refused hastily. ‘Thank you, but there’s really no need for you to go out of your way.’

As though she hadn’t spoken, he asked, ‘Where do you live?’

She told him, adding firmly, ‘I can easily get a taxi.’

‘I won’t hear of it. A promise is a promise. And you’ve been neglected enough for one night.’

Not by him, she hadn’t. Though she was a mere employee and he the host of a party thrown solely for business reasons, Martin had contrived to put her interests before business.

Whereas Keir…

Though she immediately snapped off the disloyal thought, a faint feeling of resentment was born.

A hand beneath her elbow, Martin queried, ‘Have you a wrap?’

She shook her head.

‘Then, let’s go.’

When she had been handed into his silver-grey, chauffeur-driven limousine, Martin climbed in beside her and asked, ‘Have you discovered New York by night?’

‘Not really.’ She had spent most evenings sitting in her room, waiting in case Keir might call.

‘Then you must see Times Square and the lights on Broadway.’

Sliding aside the glass panel, Martin gave the chauffeur her address, adding, ‘Drive down Broadway, will you, Carlson?’

To Sera, he explained, ‘Broadway follows an old Indian trail, so it’s the one street that mars Midtown Manhattan’s perfect grid system…’

During the journey he pointed out things of interest and talked easily, entertainingly, about the New York scene and the current musicals.

‘I take it you haven’t been to a Broadway production yet?’ he queried.

‘No, but I’m certainly hoping to. Is it difficult to get tickets?’

‘That depends on what you’d like to see.’

She named one of the latest shows, and was totally disconcerted when he said, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Oh, but I—I didn’t mean—’

Leaning over, he put a finger to her lips. ‘I know you didn’t. But it will be my pleasure.’

When they reached the Brownstone on Quarles Street, Martin got out with her.

A quick glance at the top floor showed that Keir’s window was still dark. So he wasn’t home yet.

Remembering Cheryl’s obvious interest in him, Sera felt slightly uneasy. She had discovered almost at once that, where men were concerned, the redhead was unashamedly predatory…

She became aware that Martin was standing waiting and held out her hand, saying formally, ‘Thank you for everything. You’ve been more than kind.’

He took her hand and tucked it under his arm. ‘I’ll see you up.’

‘But I live on the top floor and there’s no lift.’

‘Do I look that decrepit?’ he asked quizzically.

‘Of course not, but there really isn’t any need.’

‘Let me be the judge of that.’

He accompanied her up the steps and, when she’d let herself in, followed her across the brown-linoleum-covered hall and up the five flights of stairs, where traces of the evening’s cooking smells—greens, onions, garlic, pastrami—still lingered on the hot, stale air.

Turning to glance at him, she saw his nose wrinkle. ‘How on earth do you manage in a place like this?’ he asked with distaste.

‘It’s not really so bad,’ she defended the Brownstone. ‘In fact, I’m quite enjoying living here.’

She refrained from adding that, when Keir was with her, it was as close to heaven as she was every likely to get.

‘Didn’t personnel give you any help?’ Martin questioned.

‘Yes. They went to a great deal of trouble.’

‘It doesn’t look like it to me. I’ll have to see if they can’t come up with something better.’

‘Prices in New York are high,’ she pointed out quietly. ‘I couldn’t afford anything better.’

For a moment he looked angry and she realized that, when he’d set his mind on something, he wasn’t used to being thwarted.

Then he shrugged and suggested with a smile, ‘In that case, you’ll have to try asking Cheryl for an increase in salary.’

When they reached her door, Sera thanked him again. ‘I really am very grateful for everything.’

His pale blue eyes on her face, he suggested, ‘In that case, there’s something you can do for me.’

Watching her freeze, he told her crisply, ‘No, it’s not what you’re thinking. When I do take you to bed, the last thing I’ll be looking for is gratitude, believe me.’

‘I—I’m sorry,’ she stammered, feeling foolish. ‘What is it you want me to do?’

‘Tomorrow I’m having lunch with Ralph Kessler and his wife. It’s part social and part business. Cheryl, who usually joins me on these occasions, is tied up.

‘I need someone with me who’s intelligent enough to cope with the business side if they both want to talk business, and pleasant enough to carry off the social side if Mrs Kessler just wants to talk. In other words, I’d like you to act as my hostess.’

‘I’d be happy to,’ she agreed, still kicking herself for her previous blunder. Then hesitantly she said, ‘But I really haven’t anything suitable to wear.’

He brushed that off as an excuse. ‘Don’t worry, wear anything. Oh, and don’t bother to go into the office in the morning. I’ll pick you up here at about eleven.’ Then coolly he said, ‘Goodnight, Sera.’

‘Goodnight,’ she answered and, in something of a daze, watched him turn and descend the stairs two at a time.

She had been subconsciously on her guard, half expecting him to try to kiss her, her instincts telling her that, despite knowing about Keir, he had more than a boss/employee relationship in mind.

But perhaps, lacking experience in such matters, she’d totally misread things?

Then recalling his, ‘When I do take you to bed…’ she knew her instincts had been right.

Well, it was only a business lunch she’d committed herself to and, from now on, she’d be doubly careful.

While she took off her make-up and cleaned her teeth in the tiny cramped bathroom, she listened for any sounds of Keir returning, but heard nothing.

When she finally donned her nightie and got into bed she left her light on, hoping that when he did come he would know she was awake, and knock.