Читать книгу Bought With His Name - Пенни Джордан, Penny Jordan - Страница 5

THE party was very obviously in full swing when Genista pushed open the door to Greg Hardiman’s flat. She had knocked on it several times, but the noise generated by the party had prevented anyone from hearing her. The living area of the flat seemed to be full of couples smooching around to the sensual strains of the music coming from the hi-fi system, and it was several seconds before Genista could find her host. When she did, he slid an arm round her slender waist, pressing her against him, smiling down into the perfect oval of her face. Her eyebrows rose mockingly and she moved slightly away. Greg had been drinking and retained his grasp of her waist.

‘Well, well, look what the wind blew in,’ he commented, eyeing her assessingly. ‘I didn’t think you were going to be able to make it, sweet. A little bird told me you were planning to work late tonight. Keeps you busy that boss of yours, doesn’t he?’

‘Someone has to earn the profits,’ Genista reminded him dryly.

It was true; she had been going to work late, but Bob’s wife Elaine had rung and asked him if he could go home earlier than planned, and finding herself at a loose end Genista had come to the party. Already she was regretting her decision. She had been away from the office on her annual holiday and had returned to find the place in an uproar.

‘C’mon, I’ll introduce you around,’ Greg told her, interrupting her chain of thought. ‘It isn’t often you grace our humble efforts at entertaining with your presence. Pity I’m leaving for the States at the end of the week. I’ve always fancied you, Gen; wondered what goes on behind those cool “keep your distance” barricades. I don’t suppose you feel like staying on when the others have gone?’

Genista had heard the same question too often before to feel shocked or angry. What was it about men that made them calmly assume that any woman who wasn’t attached and over twenty-one must automatically want to jump in and out of their beds? She had been putting men like Greg down for nearly four years, but still they had the arrogance to think all they had to do was smile and pay a few meaningless compliments for a girl to be ready to sleep with them.

She moved away, refusing Greg’s offer to introduce her around. She knew most of the people present. Like her, they worked for Computerstore, a small firm pioneering and selling advanced computer softwear to industry and commerce. Genista had been with them for four years—ever since she had come to London, in fact, and she thoroughly enjoyed her job as personal assistant to the firm’s Liaison Manager, or at least she had done up until now. A small frown furrowed her brow as she remembered the the news which had awaited her return from Greece. Computerstore had been taken over by a large organisation, and there were fears within the firm that jobs would be lost; parent company men brought in over the heads of existing staff; people made redundant. Bob Norman, her own boss had worn a perpetual frown all week. Genista bit her lip. She was very fond of Bob. She liked working for him very much. They made a good team, and although she had taught herself not to be emotional about other people she knew it would be hard for her to work as well with someone else.

Collecting a drink from the makeshift bar, she leaned against the wall, watching the antics of her fellow-guests with a certain sardonic appreciation. If she was any judge, a couple of promising affairs would result from the forced hothouse atmosphere of tonight’s party; her lip curled faintly, although she was unaware of it. She was by far the most attractive woman in the room. Tall, slenderly elegant, her dark red hair curling on to her shoulders, her features almost classically sculptured. It was several seconds before her antennae warned her that she was being watched. She didn’t make the mistake of looking straight away to see who was watching her, but instead let her eyes drift casually across the room.

He was leaning against the opposite wall, and lifted his glass to her, in a salute which was partially appreciative and wholly arrogant. With a sense of mingled distaste and anger Genista realised that he expected her to make her way across to him. He was, she recognised, a man to whom women would always run. Well, not this one. He was easily the most striking man in the room. Even slouched against the wall his body held an element of leashed power more suggestive of the jungle than a small London flat. He was dressed quite casually in black cord jeans and a black cotton shirt, his thick dark hair brushing the collar of his shirt at the back.

He must be in his thirties, Genista mused; far too much aware of his sensual impact on susceptible females. He moved, easing his weight from one leg to the other, the action tautening the powerful thigh muscles beneath the cord. He was watching her with hooded eyes. A pretty, dizzy young blonde from the typing pool walked past him, eyeing him provocatively. Silly little fool, Genista thought pityingly. Couldn’t she see he was way, way out of her league, and if she played with him, she would be badly hurt?

It did not occur to her to wonder who he was. She felt no curiosity about his identity. She felt no sense of pleasure because she had caught his eye. She could read what was in his mind as easily as if it were an open book. Had she responded to that look he would have dated her a few times, and would no doubt have expected to be repaid by sharing her bed, and then when he grew tired of her she would be quickly ditched while he moved on to the next conquest. She watched the pretty blonde typist trying desperately to catch his attention; he knew what the silly little thing was doing, and although he acknowledged her efforts with a faintly bored smile he made no attempt to spare the girl the humiliation which would undoubtedly be hers in the cold sober light of morning. He looked across at Genista once again, and in that look she read everything she most disliked about his type of man; an arrogant assurance that she was his for the taking, and all at once she was filled with a desire to show him exactly how wrong he was. As she smiled secretly and provocatively into her half empty glass, knowing he thought the smile was for him, she made up her mind that before the evening was over she would humiliate him to such an extent that he would never look at any woman in quite such an arrogantly certain way again.

She turned her back on him, walking casually towards the window, to stand and stare out across the city. She was more simply dressed than the majority of the female guests, having come straight from the office, but the black top and silky wrap-round black and white patterned skirt she was wearing emphasised the tan she had got on Ionis. She loved the Greek islands, and Ionis most of all; hardly anyone went there. The beaches were small, and very private. She knew that the other girls in the office thought she was odd because she chose to take her holidays where she was unlikely to run into any men. She was staring up at the stars when she felt the hand on her arm.

‘Full of dangerous allure, aren’t they? So tan-talisingly out of reach, drawing man to his doom, perhaps, like moths to the flame.’

She had seen his reflection in the glass as he came towards her, and now they were mirrored side by side, his height and breadth dwarfing her.

‘You’re an astronomer?’ Her amethyst eyes betrayed nothing, but she allowed a hint of amused disbelief to colour the words. How easy it was to deceive men into seeing in a woman only what they wanted to see! She could tell that he thought she was flirting with him. How little he knew!

‘Let’s just say that while I’m attracted to dangerous and alluring things, I prefer them to be a little more within reach …’

His eyes were on her when he spoke, and although Genista smiled, inwardly she was thinking cynically, ‘I’ll bet! And I’ll bet you don’t like reaching very far for what you want either. Well, this time, my friend, while your greedy hands are stretching for the apple your feet will be taking you into quicksand.’

‘Are you here on your own?’

He certainly believed in being direct, his eyes were on her ringless fingers, and Genista raised her eyebrows and smiled.

‘If I’m not?’

He smiled, and for the first time Genista realised that his mouth was faintly cruel, turning down slightly at the corners; the mouth of a man who was unlikely to feel compassion for the weak.

‘Then he’s a fool for leaving something as beautiful as you on your own. And his loss is my gain!’

Genista had to bite hard on her tongue to prevent herself from commenting sharply on that ‘something’, but of course it was typical. He was obviously that type. His attitude was no more than she had expected. Hadn’t she learned young that the male sex considered any girl attractive enough to warrant a second look fair game? Was he married? Somehow she did not think so. He didn’t look married, although she admitted wryly that that was an irrational judgement. However, it would do no harm to make sure.

‘And you?’ she asked softly. ‘Are you … alone?’

‘Alone and unencumbered,’ he confirmed, taking her arm. His fingers were hard and warm, curling round the tanned flesh of her upper arm. Despite her red hair she tanned well, and her skin had the colour and texture of a sun-ripened peach.

‘Would you like to dance?’

She was going to refuse when she saw Greg heading for them. He had been making his desire for her very plain recently. She thought she had successfuly disguised her reactions from her companion when she allowed him to draw her into the dancers, but he surprised her by commenting urbanely as his arms slid round her waist.

‘An ex-admirer?’

‘More of a nuisance, really,’ Genista, too surprised by his perception to contemplate lying, realising her mistake, when his eyebrows drew together slightly. How typical, was her annoyed reaction. No doubt he thought she had covertly encouraged Greg’s attentions, secretly enjoying them. Men seemed to find it impossible to accept that a woman might not be interested in them. Well, he would learn.

‘Relax!’

She hadn’t realised how tense she had become, until his fingers stroked lightly along her spine. The action caught her off guard and she shivered with revulsion, thick, dark lashes masking her amethyst eyes.

Her companion had obviously taken her shudder for one of delight, for he pressed her closer to him so that her breasts were crushed against the black cotton shirt. She tried to move away, but his hands were spread out against her back. She could feel the warmth through her thin top.

‘How about introducing ourselves? My name’s Luke Ferguson. And yours?’

‘Genista,’ she told him briefly. She hated telling people too much about herself. It made them curious and they started to pry. It was a legacy from her schooldays when the other children had been inquisitive about her lack of a father. There was no slur on illegitimacy these days, but the old scars still ached.

‘Genista! Pretty and unusual. Like its owner.’

‘You find me unusual?’ She was back on safer ground now—the accepted give and take of flirtation.

‘You’re right,’ her companion drawled, pulling her closer. ‘Pretty is too tepid a description. You’re an extremely beautiful woman, Genista, and I don’t want to spend the rest of the evening sharing you.’

‘What do you have in mind?’

Several people were watching them; in fact they had been the centre of a good deal of covert speculation as soon as they started to dance together. Genista could see Greg glowering at them from the kitchen door. She, personally had few doubts about what Luke had in mind; the same thing her father had had when he met her mother and Richard when…. But no, she was not going to think about Richard now. She would let her companion dig his own grave and then she would derive immense pleasure from watching him fall into it.

‘If I told you, you’d probably have me certified. I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’ The hooded eyes were gleaming with a warmth which made Genista grateful for the fact that they weren’t alone. Luke Ferguson was no callow boy, but a sophisticated male animal—and it showed.

‘And for that I should have you locked up?’ The verbal sparring was merely a prelude to the real purpose of the evening and she felt a tiny frisson of fear run down her spine when she saw the look in Luke’s eyes. The desire burning there was real enough; too real, and just for a second, before dismissing the thought as pure imagination, she wondered if she had set a match to a fire she would be unable to control.

When the music stopped he released her reluctantly, and Genista let him slide his arm around her shoulders to pull her close to him as they left the floor. She was behaving in a way which was totally out of character, but he did not know that. No doubt he was used to women acquiescing eagerly to his every suggestion. She was only surprised that he hadn’t already insisted that they went back to his flat. He was in for a rude—and very public—shock when he did, she told herself grimly. His eyes, which had seemed almost black across the width of the room were, in reality, very dark grey, ringed with a slightly paler grey, and the desire she could see smouldering in their depths seemed to be his only vulnerability.

Greg came over to them, his arm draped round the blonde typist Genista had seen watching Luke earlier. Greg’s eyes were faintly bloodshot and Genista guessed that he had had too much to drink.

‘Well, well,’ he drawled. ‘What’s all this? Has our ice maiden melted at last? You are a lucky man, Luke. Genista is one very choosy lady.’

‘You’ve had too much to drink, Greg,’ Luke told him evenly. ‘Why don’t you take him away and make him a cup of black coffee?’ he suggested to the blonde.

Quite a few people were watching them discreetly. Genista had been wondering how she would deliver the body blow which would deflate for all time Luke Ferguson’s inflated ego, and all at once she knew. He turned to her, his fingers trailing down her cheek in a caress which parodied tenderness, the desire burning in his eyes plain for all to see.

‘If you’re ready to leave?’

He really was an excellent actor, she marvelled. His voice had held just the merest suspicion of a faint tremor, as though he were having great difficulty in controlling his overwhelming desire to be alone with her; as though he actually felt more for her than merely a fleeting need to assuage a momentary desire and reaffirm his belief in his irresistibility to her sex.

‘Leave? With you?’ She arched her eyebrows and managed a cool trill of laughter. ‘My dear man, you’ve been entertaining company, but not that entertaining. I expect far more from a man than that before I allow him to take me anywhere.’ She turned her back on him, and smiled at Greg. ‘Be a darling, Greg, and get me another drink, will you?’ He was too drunk to argue. Well aware that everyone was watching them, Genista turned back to Luke, almost as though the gesture were an afterthought, her expression mockingly bland as she suggested, ‘If you’re lonely why don’t you ask Mary to go with you? You’d love Luke to take you home, wouldn’t you, Mary?’

The blonde girl glowered angrily at her, ignoring Luke, as she tossed her head disdainfully.

‘I’m not so short of a man that I need your cast-offs, thank you!’

Her departing flounce was rather spoiled by a slight wobble as she turned on excessively high heels, but otherwise her performance could not have been bettered had Genista written her script personally.

Luke was watching her with eyes that were suddenly smouldering like a volcano on the point of eruption, but Genista ignored the warning signs to say sweetly, ‘Still here? Can’t you take a hint?’

‘That’s what I thought I’d been doing ever since you walked in here,’ he snarled back at her, all the earlier traces of pseudo-tenderness gone. ‘You’ve been leading me on all evening, and now you turn me down flat. I want to know why, Genista.’

She hadn’t been expecting this. She had thought that her refusal to leave with him would have been enough to make him disappear without another word.

‘You do?’ Somehow she managed to appear calm. ‘Oh dear! I do so hate hurting people’s feelings. You’re a very attractive man, Luke,’ she added sweetly, ‘but you’re just not my type.’ She looked him up and down assessingly, a little surprised at her own ability to slip so easily into her new role. It was obviously true that there was a little of the actress in all women, although she seriously doubted her ability to give a repeat performance. Already her legs were beginning to feel distinctly shaky. There was something about the menacingly silent way in which Luke was regarding her that made her wonder if she might not have been wiser merely to have been satisfied with her initial success at putting him down, without trying to add any further gilding, but it was too late for second thoughts now. She had gone too far for those!

‘Oh?’ The solitary word was ominously quiet. ‘When did you discover that fact? When I didn’t accompany my offer to take you home with the promise of something more tangible if you spent the night with me?’

It was by a supreme effort of will that she prevented herself from hitting him. The cynical gleam in the charcoal grey eyes made the blood rush to her cheeks, but from somewhere she found the self-control to clench her hands into two small fists and say icily, ‘There isn’t enough money in the world to compensate me for having to endure a night in your bed. I can’t think of anything that would fill me with more revulsion.’

‘No?’ Luke’s voice had gone thick with rage. ‘Then you’re short of both imagination and memory. You were all but inviting me to make love to you there and then when we were dancing. If that was revulsion you felt you’ve got a damned funny way of showing it!’

When she didn’t say anything his eyes suddenly darkened suspiciously, his fingers biting into her wrist as he grasped it, hauling her against him. ‘You set me up, didn’t you?’ he demanded harshly. ‘You deliberately led me on, fully intending to humiliate me, didn’t you, you little bitch! God, you must be sick!’

Their onlookers had lost interest in them now and were drifting away. No doubt they thought Luke was still pleading with her to go with him, Genista thought wryly, nursing her aching wrist, when he turned without another word as he headed towards the door, leaving her standing alone.

‘Phew, you were taking a bit of a risk, weren’t you?’ Jilly Holmes, Greg’s secretary commented to Genista ten minutes later when Luke had gone.

Genista liked Jilly, they got on well together. She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. ‘Serves him right. He shouldn’t go round expecting females to fall at his feet with delight just because he deigns to smile at them.’

‘You weren’t exactly discouraging him, love,’ Jilly pointed out mildly. ‘In fact you were positively leading him on, and he didn’t strike me as the type of man to take very kindly to the way you humiliated him. It was a bit much, wasn’t it, Gen?’

‘What are you trying to do? Stir up my non-existent conscience? I’m telling you, Jilly, he got exactly what he was asking for, supercilious brute!’

‘Oh, come on. He was rather gorgeous. I wish he’d been looking at me the way he was looking at you. You had me convinced, you know. When the pair of you were dancing together, I thought the impossible had happened and you’d actually found a man you could like. You know, love, you were lucky he didn’t get nasty with you. You were really giving him the green light.’

‘Stop feeling sorry for him,’ shrugged Genista. ‘All I did was bruise his ego. You can’t be foolish enough to think he cared about me. We’d only just met! All he wanted to do was get me into bed.’

‘Don’t be so sure. Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?’

‘Often, but not from anyone who’s ever experienced it. Look, I think it’s time I went. I don’t know why I came really.’

‘Umm,’ mused Jilly. ‘Well, you can’t act the hermit all your life. I know you like to pretend that you’re quite happy in your solitude, but there must be times when you feel …’

‘A longing for a home and family?’ Genista interrupted briskly. ‘Never! Happy families are a myth, that’s all. Say goodbye to Greg for me, will you, Jilly. I’m going now.’

‘And you’re going to walk, I suppose, all on your own through the streets of London at this hour of the night. You must be mad!’

‘It’s only a short walk—quite safe. Don’t fuss. After all, I’m probably in far less danger walking home alone than I would have been if I’d accepted a lift from Luke.’

‘Umm, but that type of danger I could get to enjoy,’ Jilly drooled unrepentantly, but her eyes were clouded as she watched Genista go. There had been a look in Luke Ferguson’s eyes when he left the party that made her feel uneasy for her friend.

Genista, oblivious to Jilly’s concerned thoughts, collected her jacket from the bedroom where the coats had been left, adroitly fending off an amorous pass from one of the more junior members of the staff, as she reached past him to open the door. The night air felt cold, the street below the flat was deserted, and for a moment she considered going back inside and calling a taxi. The knowledge that it might be quite a while before she could get one made up her mind for her. It would only take her fifteen minutes or so to walk home. She had never felt at any risk in London before, it was silly to do so now just because of what Jilly had said.

Poor Jilly! She had obviously been quite smitten with Luke Ferguson. Genista shrugged. He deserved everything he had got. Disconcertingly she remembered the pressure of his hands on her back when they danced. He had held her close, making her feel every movement of his body as they swayed to the music, and knowing that apparent capitulation then would make her revenge seem all the sweeter, she had not objected to the way he had held her. She bit her lip, unconsciously worrying at it as she stepped outside. The street was deserted. Turning right, she walked briskly away from Greg’s flat, her mind on the possible repercussions of the takeover of Computerstore and its effect on her. She had no real need to work for a living, but she enjoyed her job and would not wish to lose it.

She had walked several yards before she became aware of the soft purr of a car engine behind her. At first it did not alarm her; all the old houses along this road had been converted into flats, and the sound of a car slowing to a halt was nothing to get frightened about. Only the car wasn’t stopping. It was crawling slowly and purposefully along behind her, keeping pace with her, the long, shiny bonnet just visible out of the corner of her eye.

Automatically she started to walk faster. Her mouth had gone terribly dry, fear tying her stomach into tight knots. Her heart was pounding, her legs trembling, as she prayed for a policeman to materialise and frighten off her pursuer. She had heard about girls being followed like this by men in cars, but it had never happened to her before.

She refused to glance at the car, or be panicked into any foolish action, and yet as the driver menacingly kept pace with her she found her eyes flickering nervously towards it, her heart coming into her mouth as she recognised the hardly handsome profile of the driver. Luke Ferguson! He must have waited outside the flat until she left. Instead of reassuring her the knowledge of his identity increased her fear. She had never doubted that her behaviour had made him furious—that had been more than evident, and in view of his own arrogant attitude she had considered her actions completely justified, but now she was beginning to wonder how much she had underestimated him. He was following her to punish her; probably hoping to panic her into an ignominious flight which would be brought to an abrupt halt when it was outstripped by the powerful car he was driving. Up ahead of her an alleyway loomed, and with a feeling of relief she remembered that it led to a small square from which she could quite easily walk to her own apartment block. The alleyway was only a footpath; Luke could not follow her up it, and she hurried into it with a feeling of thankfulness, almost welcoming the darkness which swallowed her up as she stepped off the main road.

At first she was too relieved to have escaped to be aware of the soft footsteps shadowing the tapping of her high heels, and it was only some sixth sense that made her hesitate, nerves stretched like taut wire as her ears and eyes searched the darkness—no longer protective, but terrifyingly alien, masking all manner of danger. Nothing moved. She must have been imagining those faint sounds, Genista told herself. She turned, her sharp cry of protest cut off as strong fingers circled her throat.

‘So you thought you’d eluded me, and now instead you find you’ve run straight into a trap’ Luke jeered in a whisper. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to harm you—much as I’d like to squeeze this soft throat of yours until you’re begging me for mercy. Surely you didn’t think I’d let you get away with humiliating me so easily?’

His grip of her throat prevented Genista from replying. Terror had given way to anger, and she struggled wildly, trying to free herself from the steel-like arm he had flung round her waist, pulling her back against him.

‘When I walked in that room tonight and saw you, I thought I was seeing a dream. Your beauty caught me by the throat; there seemed to be an instant rapport between us, or so I thought. But I was wrong, wasn’t I, Genista? All you saw was another man to build up and then let down. I’ve heard about women like you who get their kicks from that sort of thing.’

His grip on her throat had relaxed sufficiently for her to speak, her eyes mirroring her contempt as she stared up at him.

‘Instant rapport?’ Scorn laced the words. ‘Oh, come on. You can’t expect me to believe that? I wasn’t born yesterday, Luke. I know what men like you are looking for when they look at a woman. Someone who’s accommodating in bed; someone who won’t make a fuss when she’s tossed aside to make room for the next in line. A little divertissement; a means of passing the time. You looked at me like a man who was trying to work out how long it would take you to get me into bed. Your vanity is so enormous that it never even occurred to you that I might not want to be there. You wanted me and that was enough. You deserved everything you got from me, Luke, so don’t expect me to apologise. After all, I wasn’t doing anything to you that you haven’t probably already done to many, many women.’

‘Is that a fact?’ She could feel his body tighten with tension. ‘I never argue with a lady.’ He emphasised the last word, and Genista could feel the tightly leashed anger emanating from him—anger which he had no right to feel, she reminded herself. ‘And contrary to what you seem to think, I’ve never gone in for physically humiliating them—until tonight.’

Before she could unravel the meaning hidden in the words he had spun her round, his arms locking tightly round her so that the palms of her hands were pressed against the hard warmth of his chest. He wasn’t wearing a jacket and she could feel the crispness of his body hair beneath the thin cotton. Her mouth was dry with apprehension, perspiration breaking out over her body in a heated wave, despite the coolness of the evening.

‘Let me go!’ The words were betrayingly unsteady, and she knew from the satirical gleam of the cold grey eyes that she had not been able to hide her fear from him.

‘This is for my own satisfaction,’ Luke told her, as his head descended with slow deliberation. ‘It’s a pity no one else can witness it, but until I can find a way of getting public satisfaction for what you did to me tonight, it will have to do.’

What followed was like something out of a nightmare. His lips were cool; deceptively gentle at first, moving lightly against the numbed flesh of her own. Luke’s weight bore her backwards, until she was leaning over his arm, her body vulnerably exposed to his eyes and hands—a situation of which he took full advantage as his free hand moved leisurely over her body, stopping nerve-rackingly just below the full curve of her breast, where her heart was beating like a trapped bird. It was a long time since a man had touched her so intimately. Richard had been the only one to do so—fumbled, uneasy caresses, nothing like the assured, knowledgeable touch of this man, who seemed to know instinctively the moment when her cool control would give way to deep shudders, which he mercilessly exploited, his hand sliding under the thin stuff of her top, pushing aside her bra to stroke her nipple roughly with his thumb.

When her mouth parted in shocked protest, his hardened over it, his kiss callously enforcing his superior strength. Bitter resentment filled Genista. What he was doing was tantamount to assault, and there was nothing she could do about it. The harsh pressure of his mouth was bruising the tender flesh of her lips, forcing them back against her teeth, with relentless, grinding pressure, his hand on her breast eliciting a response that shocked and humiliated. Since Richard no man had ever aroused her sexually; Richard she had loved and even with him she had been shy and reserved, and yet here was this contemptuous stranger, teaching her that her body was capable of a treachery she had never dreamed existed, because, despite her own horror and abhorrence, physically she had responded to him, and they both knew it.

When he released her, satisfaction gleamed in the steel-grey depths of his eyes, and childishly Genista rubbed the back of her hand against her mouth as though by doing so she could obliterate the memory of his touch. Where his hand had touched her breast it seemed to throb with an aroused awareness which awakened some deeply primitive core she had not known she possessed.

‘My place or yours?’

The crude question brought her abruptly back to reality.

‘Neither,’ she said coldly. ‘I meant what I said, Luke. I don’t want you.’

‘But I want you,’ he said silkily, ‘and you seem to have forgotton that this time I have the upper hand. You aren’t surrounded by your friends this time, Genista. We’re all alone here and there’s no one to stop me forcing you into my car and taking you back to my apartment—and I will do if I have to, make no mistake about that.’

‘You’d force me, merely to appease your masculine pride?’ A little of her disgust must have showed in her voice, because for a second she saw something flicker in his eyes, and then they hardened.

‘Why not? It might be quite an experience.’

‘Meaning you don’t normally have to use force, I suppose?’ she said bitterly. She was feeling badly frightened, but she wasn’t going to let it show.

‘Not normally,’ Luke agreed urbanely, but there was a tightening of his mouth that warned her that he was annoyed. ‘As I say, it might be quite an experience—for me. I doubt if you would enjoy it very much. Not even an experienced woman enjoys being raped.’

Raped? Genista stared at him.

‘I’ll report you to the police,’ she said unsteadily. ‘Rape is a criminal offence. You’ll be thrown into prison …’

‘No way,’ Luke told her cruelly, shaking his head. ‘Do you think after the way you were behaving at the party that any jury would believe you weren’t willing?—and I’d make sure they knew all about it. You were leading me on. How old are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-three? Old enough to have had several previous lovers. That never goes down well in court.’

It was a nightmare, Genista thought unsteadily. This simple could not be happening, but it was, and if she didn’t go with Luke willingly now she was quite sure that he would put his threats to good effect. Rape! The word shivered horrifyingly through her. Several previous lovers, Luke had said. She bit back a hysterical laugh. She hadn’t even had one—Richard had seen to that! She took a deep breath, her mind working overtime as she tried to find a means of escape. She could always run, but Luke would soon overtake her. Her brief contact with his body had shown her that he was lean and well muscled, more than a match for her!

‘Well?’

‘I’ll come with you.’ She took a deep breath and tried to relax her tensed muscles. ‘But it must be my flat.’

She could feel him looking at her, trying to read her mind. She held her breath, hoping he could not guess what she had in mind.

‘Very well,’ he agreed slowly. ‘Give me your doorkey. As a sign of good faith,’ he mocked. ‘I’m not having any doors slammed in my face this time, Genista, either metaphorically or actually.’

With shaking hands she opened her bag and removed her key. He took it in silence, his fingers biting painfully into her arm as he led the way back to his car.

It was a sleek dark red Maserati. Luke was obviously not short of money, Genista reflected as he opened the passenger door and waited until she was seated before closing it.

‘Don’t bother trying to open the door. I’ve locked it,’ he told her sardonically, before walking round the car and sliding in beside her.

The confining interior of the car heightened her feeling of alarm. The upholstery was cream hide, the smell mingling with the sharply masculine fragrance of Luke’s cologne. It was a masculine car, driven by a very masculine man, she thought, watching him change gear smoothly. The lights changed and they moved off with a smooth roar.

‘Where do you live?’

She gave him directions automatically. If she hesitated and he took her to his own flat she dared not think of the consequences. What had started out as a simple exercise to show him that he simply could not have whatever he wanted, just because he wanted it, had turned into a nightmare of alarming proportions. The revenge Luke wanted to mete out in payment for the way she had humiliated him was something she could not endure, and would not have to endure if she was lucky. The hands resting lightly in her lap tensed, and she crossed her fingers childishly, uttering a silent prayer that the commissionaire of her apartment block would be in the foyer when they drove up.

She felt rather than saw the way Luke’s eyebrows rose when she indicated that he should stop. The apartments had their own underground car park, but she wasn’t going to direct him into that. Instead she let him pull up outside the discreetly expensive block, waiting passively for him to help her out of the car.

‘You live here?’

The sharp enquiry heightened her fear.

‘Yes.’ She had bought her apartment when she first came to London. In many ways it had been a mistake, because the other occupants were mainly middle-aged couples, and apart from the occasional ‘Good morning’ or comments about the weather they had not exchanged any conversation.

The foyer was brightly lit from within, George sitting solidly behind his desk, and Genista felt a little of the tension drain out of her. He recognised her straight away, and started to smile as she walked in. Taking her courage in both hands, Genista turned to Luke, a false smile pinned to her lips.

‘Thank you so much for a wonderful evening,’ she told him, hoping that her voice did not sound as artificial to George as it did to her. ‘I’ll say goodnight now.’

For a moment she thought he was going to force a showdown. She could feel George watching them, and wondered feverishly if she should have pretended that he was accosting her in some way, and then just when she felt sure that her gamble had not paid off, she heard him say smoothly,

‘Goodnight, Genista.’ His hand slid from her arm to her wrist, lifting her fingers to his lips and touching them with a panache that was making George goggle. ‘You must think of our parting not as an end, but as a beginning.’

Genista could tell that George thought he was witnessing the tender beginning of a love affair, but beneath the lightly drawled words and the soft look she sensed an implied threat. Luke was warning her that he still intended to have his revenge!

Only when she was quite sure that the Maserati had pulled away did she turn towards the commissionaire, her voice shaky with released tension.

‘George, I seem to have misplaced my key,’ she told him. ‘Would you be an angel and let me in? I think I’d better have the lock changed as well. You can’t be too careful these days.’

‘I’ll see to it myself tomorrow, miss, if you like,’ George offered. ‘I’ll just lock the main doors and then I’ll come up with you and open your door for you.’

He’d always had a soft spot for her, right from the first day she moved into Mallory Court, he told his wife later. There was something about her. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. She made him feel all protective-like somehow. High time she got herself a boy-friend, he added, and by the looks of it the one she’d now found herself was doing alright for himself. Fast, powerful sports car …

Unware that she was the main topic of conversation in the commissionaire’s flat, Genista prepared for bed. There were faint bruises on her throat, and she touched them lightly, shuddering. Jilly had warned her that Luke could be dangerous and she had laughed at her. She wasn’t laughing now, and she was only thankful that it was extremely unlikely that she would ever see Luke Ferguson again. First thing tomorrow she must remind George about changing her lock. When his anger cooled she doubted that Luke would pursue her any further, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep in her bed at night knowing he had a key to her apartment. Her hand crept towards her breast. The flesh still tingled from his touch, emotions she had not experienced for years rushed through her, and she was remembering Richard. Luke … Richard … her father … they were all the same. All men were the same; she turned her face into her pillow and allowed the frightened tears she had been bottling up from the moment Luke kissed her with such merciless contempt to flow freely at last.