him to ask her to dance. Yet when he’d finally come over, he hadn’t asked her to dance. He’d asked her to go outside with him.
She’d known what he wanted. She’d heard the recent rumours about him, how he only took girls outside from school dances for one thing.
Yet she’d gone with him. Not only gone with him, but let him. Let him kiss her, touch her. Let him do what she had never let Chris do, never let any boy do before.
Not for one moment had she even thought of stopping him. Her body had had a mind of its own. Had been burning for him. Reaching for him. Begging for him. It was only afterwards that she’d realised it hadn’t hurt. No pain at all. Only the wildest, sweetest pleasure. Her flesh had opened and closed around his as though it had had a secret agenda, as though this had been what it had been waiting for all its life.
The hurt had come later—when he withdrew, when he spat his appalling contempt at her, when she understood that he’d done what he’d done out of some kind of sick revenge for all those times she’d looked at him with seeming contempt
Naturally she’d had to protect herself from the blinding emotional pain which had threatened to overwhelm her. Dear God, she’d just given her virginity to him. And there he was, calling her a cheap slut!
Spitting back a counter-attack in words would have been not only inadequate but impossible at that moment. So she’d retreated behind her usual hard-nosed shell. She’d managed somehow to return to the dance, to find Chris and pretend she’d just been outside for some fresh air. He hadn’t found out the truth till later, when her female classmates had been kind enough to tell him. She’d steeled herself when Ben had walked back inside. She’d even managed to laugh at something Chris had said, and, when she’d looked over Chris’s shoulder at him one last time, Ben’s face had been filled with even more contempt than before.
‘The only person you have ever loved, Amber Hollingsworth,’ her stepmother sniped, snapping Amber back to the present, ‘is yourself!’
‘You’re entitled to your opinion, Beverly,’ Amber said coolly. ‘But you’re wrong. I love my father very much. And he loves me very much.’
‘Oh, I know that. Your father is a fool when it comes to his precious darling daughter. He gave you the business to run in the same way he let you trot along to work with him every day. Just to keep you happy. To make up to you for your supposedly miserable marriage and divorce.
‘As if you ever loved that Chad person in the first place!’ she raved on. ‘All he was to you was another sugar-daddy who indulged you as shamelessly as Edward did. But when his money started running out, you left him. If you cared for your father at all,’ Beverly scoffed, ‘you’d stop playing at being a tycoon and give him what he really wants. A grandchild.’
Amber was taken aback. ‘A grandchild!’
‘Yes, of course. Men like Edward like to see their line continued. Unfortunately I was too old when we married to give your father more children.’
‘Dad has never said anything to me about wanting a grandchild,’ Amber said stiffly.
‘Neither would he. But I know he would like nothing better than to see you happily married and pregnant. But you and I know that isn’t going to come about, don’t we, Amber? You were married six years and never had a baby. But there again, having a family wasn’t the aim of that marriage, was it? It was money. Too bad there wasn’t much left for a decent divorce settlement. And now...now you’ve got your sights set on other goals. You’re into power these days. Power and position.’
Amber could only stand so much. She stood up, her hand tightening around her glass to stop it from shaking. ‘Now you look here, Beverly. I’ll have you know that—’
The telephone ringing interrupted her counter-attack. Amber knew June, the housekeeper, was busy cooking the dinner, and Bill was giving her father his evening massage, so she strode across the room and out into the hallway, sweeping up the receiver.
‘Amber Hollingsworth,’ she said, her businesslike tone a reflection of the control she was trying to muster. But her temper was fairly bubbling at Beverly’s unjust accusations.
‘Hello, Amber,’ a cool male voice drawled down the line. ‘I’m so glad to find you home.’
‘Ben,’ she croaked, then swallowed to clear the instant thickening in her throat.
‘Right in one. I’m surprised you recognised my voice. Or were you expecting my call?’
‘Er...’
He laughed. It was not a warm sound. ‘You seem at a loss for words. How unlike you, Amber. I recall you were always very good with your tongue.’
At that moment, Amber’s tongue lay uselessly in her mouth. Not so that awful night, she recalled. It had danced with Ben’s in an erotic tango during kisses which hadn’t been kisses but a total seduction of her senses—and her conscience.
But of course he wasn’t referring to that.
‘The silent treatment might have worked for you in the past, Amber,’ Ben went on coldly, ‘but not this time. I’ve been trying to ring Gran, but she’s taken the phone off the hook. Why would that be, I wonder? I can only imagine she’s getting calls she doesn’t like.
‘Whatever, I’ll be leaving here first thing in the morning and should be in Sunrise by mid-afternoon. I just thought I’d let you know that if you have any ideas of threatening Gran, or doing anything at all that might be construed as harassment, then I’ll have you in court so fast it will make your head spin.’
Amber found her voice at last. ‘But I would never do anything like that!’
‘Now, why is it I have no confidence in that sweet assurance? Have you spoken to Gran since the paper came out?’
‘No.’ She’d been going to drive out today, but in the end had decided not to. She’d spent the day going over the plans for the complex and seeing if there was any alternative to putting the car park on Sinclair land. There was. But it was far too expensive. Still, it was a solution of a kind, if her back ended up against the wall. Sunrise was going to get its complex, even if Hollingsworths had to take a loss!
‘I’m surprised,’ came Ben’s droll remark. ‘I thought you’d be out there, rolling out some more honey-tongued arguments to change Gran’s mind.’
‘Believe it or not, Ben Sinclair,’ Amber snapped, ‘but when I spoke to your grandmother the other day she seemed very agreeable to the idea of selling. And my offer was very generous—triple what that land is worth on the open market. I have no idea what changed her mind, or gave her the attitude she expressed in the paper. Unless it was you,’ she added tartly.
His momentary silence surprised Amber.
‘I haven’t spoken to Gran since last Sunday night,’ he said curtly at last. ‘Might I ask when you made this very generous offer?’
‘Monday.’
‘Well, as you can see, I had nothing to do with Gran’s supposed change of attitude. Maybe you mistook her agreement in the first place. I would imagine you’re pretty used to assuming most people would do what you want, Amber. The Sinclairs must be proving a bit of a thorn in your side.’
Amber
