saw his face was preoccupied and distant, the ice-blue eyes cold and hooded as they met hers. ‘I’d like you to sit in on this one, Lydia, and take notes, OK?’ She nodded quietly as a rush of relief made her light-headed. He didn’t know, and she would have to make darn sure he never suspected even for a second if she wanted to keep her job. Thank goodness she had said she was married; it would probably never even cross his mind that she was attracted to him in a physical sense. ‘Record anything Mike Wilson says, incidentally.’ He paused, and the handsome, cruel face hardened into stone. ‘No matter how obtuse. OK?’ He was watching her very closely and she felt a little shiver flicker down her spine.
‘Why?’ she asked carefully.
He shrugged slowly. ‘You’ll know soon enough, if my suspicions are right.’ He lowered his head in dismissal.
At exactly eleven o’clock her office filled as though by magic, and as she ushered the group of men through she reflected, with wry uncomfortable humour, that Wolf had certainly got them well-trained. As the meeting progressed she didn’t understand half of what she took down, but dutifully recorded everything in case she missed something vital.
It was a long day and an arduous one and, as she put the minutes of the meeting on Wolf’s desk at just after six, she was conscious of an illogical, and quite unreasonable, sense of injustice that he should still appear cool and razor-sharp whereas she was visibly wilting.
‘Your friend has been on the take.’ It took a second for the words to register, spoken as they were in such a casual tone.
‘Mike? No.’ She raised shocked eyes to his. ‘What are you going to do?’ She somehow knew instantly it was true.
‘It has already been done.’ She looked away, her mouth unconsciously tightening at the flinty hardness in his face. ‘You refuse any requests for references and refer any queries concerning him directly to me.’
‘You’ve sacked him?’ she asked with a horrified gasp.
‘Too damn true.’ He was flicking through the work she had just given him as he spoke, his head lowered. ‘He’ll be lucky if he gets a job sweeping the roads after I’ve finished with him.’
‘But surely——?’ She stopped abruptly as the ice-blue gaze switched to her face. This was awful, awful—poor Anna.
‘Yes?’ His tone was not encouraging.
‘If it wasn’t actually illegal…?’ Her voice trailed away at the darkness in his face. ‘I mean——’
‘I know what you mean.’ He shook his head tightly as he settled back in his chair, the razor-sharp eyes hard on her face. ‘And, no, it wasn’t “actually” illegal, not at this stage, but it would have been.’ He eyed her grimly. ‘You think I ought to have let the thing progress until I could throw a court case at him?’
‘Of course not.’ She flushed slightly at the hard scrutiny. ‘But have you asked him why he did it?’
‘I’m not interested in why,’ he said coldly. ‘He lied to me, that was his first big mistake, and then he thought an abject apology and a great deal of grovelling could extricate him from his foolishness. That was his second error of judgement.’ He moved forward in the chair and lowered his gaze to the papers again. ‘I won’t tolerate being lied to, Lydia. I never have.’
‘Oh.’ She was glad he was looking downwards and missed the sudden surge of hot, guilty colour into her cheeks. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll say goodnight.’
‘Wait a moment and I’ll give you a lift home,’ he said casually, still with his eyes on the papers in front of him. ‘I’m dog-tired and enough is enough. The rest of this will wait’
‘There’s no need.’ She spoke so hastily that the words came out in a breathless rush. ‘I don’t want to take you out of your way and——’
‘Get your coat.’ It was as though she hadn’t spoken.
‘I…’ She thought frantically for a cast-iron excuse to refuse the lift, but nothing came to mind, and as she stood hesitating in front of him he swept the papers into a neat pile and raised his head, his eyes blank.
‘Well, go on,’ he said irritably as he moved from the desk towards the coat-stand in the corner of the room. ‘I haven’t got all night.’
She hesitated for one more moment and then turned quickly and sped into the outer office, her thoughts in turmoil. She didn’t want a lift with him, she didn’t, she thought, panic-stricken as she slipped into her coat and checked the word processor was switched off. How was she going to make conversation with this iceberg of a man on the way home, and what if he expected to be asked in? He wouldn’t, though, of course he wouldn’t— would he…? She shut her eyes for a moment and prayed for calm. But if he did, she could say her husband was at work, or away, or something. Her eyes snapped open as he appeared in the doorway, his big black overcoat and heavy, dark briefcase adding to the image of formidable imperiousness.
Why had she started this? she asked herself desperately. Why had she lied? A tremor raced through her as she remembered his face when he had spoken of Mike Wilson’s deceit. She should have come out in the open, made her position as a widow clear, and then the ball would have been in his court. And she hadn’t explained properly about Mike either.
‘Ready?’ He waved a dismissive hand towards the door and followed her out into the corridor, his face remote and withdrawn and his body straight. She glanced at him carefully as the lift took them swiftly downwards. She knew why she had lied. It was there in the almost tangible signals of dissociation his body was sending to hers, the total repudiation of any involvement, however slight, on a personal level. He wanted an efficient machine in his office. That was all. If she had said she was in effect single again…She nodded to herself mentally. She had done the only thing possible in the circum-stances. And of course he wouldn’t want to come in for coffee—one didn’t fraternise with machines, after all.
‘You seem to be settling in very well.’
It was as she opened her mouth to reply to the obviously forced cool pleasantry that the lift shuddered to a halt between floors, the momentary imbalance of the big box shaking her off her feet and throwing her against the solid bulk of his chest. His arms opened automatically to receive her as he in turn stumbled against the wall of the lift, and for a breath-stopping moment she was aware of being held in his arms, her face lifted up to his, for all the world like two lovers about to kiss as the lights flickered and dimmed.
‘Are you all right?’ Afterwards she realised he hadn’t reacted as she would have imagined by pushing her impatiently, or even distastefully, away. In fact his arms tightened fractionally as he looked down into her frightened upturned face, in which the darkness of her eyes stood out like two velvet pools. ‘Don’t worry, lifts have a habit of playing silly devils,’ he reassured her softly.
‘Do they?’ She tried to smile but the combination of her fear of plunging to her death trapped in this little metal box and, more especially, his closeness was making her feel as helpless as a child. Although certainly her body was reacting in a way that was definitely not child-like, she countered wryly as she carefully eased herself away from him. He was holding her loosely now, his hands under her elbows, but the smell and feel of him were all around her and they were…unsettling. And thrilling. Undeniably thrilling.
‘You haven’t hurt yourself?’ For a split second she considered
