she continued to sit as still and blank-faced as if she were having a passport photograph taken Daniel held his breath.
If she believed only a fraction of what the gutter press had printed she still had no reason to love him and, his usual confidence deserting him at times, he had wondered uneasily what her reaction would be when they finally came face to face.
Yet it was a hurdle he had to get over, and now the moment had arrived all he could do was wait for the recriminations.
But, apparently thrown by the unexpectedness of the meeting, she remained silent.
Letting his breath out slowly, he went on, ‘As we were travelling at the same time I thought we might as well share a car to the airport…’
Charlotte, who had been struggling to gather her wits, blurted out the first thing that came into her head. ‘I had no idea you were in London… That’s why I was so surprised when you introduced yourself.’
Registering that she had a lovely voice, low and slightly husky, he remarked, ‘I got the impression that you knew who I was before I introduced myself?’
‘Yes, I knew,’ she admitted.
‘But we’ve never actually met.’
‘No,’ she agreed.
‘I presume you’ve seen me at the office?’
‘No.’
‘Out and about, socially?’
Shaking her head, she pointed out, ‘We’re hardly likely to move in the same social circles.’
‘This beats I Spy.’
Momentarily failing to understand, she said, ‘I beg your pardon?’
Straight faced, he explained, ‘As a young child I used to get bored travelling in a car. My mother tried giving me books but looking down made me sick, so we always played I Spy With My Little Eye. I was just remarking that this particular guessing game beats it.’
Annoyed that he was making fun of her, she said crisply, ‘I’ve seen pictures of you in the papers.’
But pictures hadn’t had this impact. Pictures hadn’t prepared her for the man himself.
He sighed. ‘It was just getting exciting, and now you’ve gone and spoilt it.’
‘Well, we can always play I Spy.’
As soon as the words were spoken she wished them unsaid. She was supposed to be trying to charm him, not trying to cut him down to size.
She couldn’t afford to hurt his feelings. Like most men of his ilk he probably had a fragile ego and no sense of humour.
But a split second later he proved her wrong by bursting out laughing. He had a nice laugh, quiet and infectious, not the kind of hearty guffaw she so disliked.
A gleam in his eye, he said, ‘I’m forced to admit that these days I prefer more grown up games.’
‘I’m aware of that.’ She had had tragic proof of his liking for ‘grown up games’, and all at once she wanted to fly at him, to rake her nails down his handsome face until she drew blood.
Regretting the teasing remark that had prompted such an icy response, Daniel sat quite still, watching her intently, braced for the worst.
But, already ashamed of that primitive urge to violence, and reminding herself that if she was to succeed in her campaign he mustn’t know about her connection with Tim, Charlotte reined in her anger.
Making a great effort she added lightly, ‘In every picture there’s been a different woman on your arm, and the papers have frequently referred to you as a latter-day Lothario with a string of notches on your bedpost.’
‘At times their stories have bordered on the libellous. I’ve always deplored that kind of coverage.’
‘Then it wasn’t you who said, “No publicity is bad publicity”?’
Happy to respond to what seemed to be a change of mood, he answered with a grin, ‘What do you think?’
His smile showed the gleam of white, healthy teeth, formed deep creases each side of his mouth and filled his dark face with charm.
Very conscious of his sexual magnetism and hating him for it, Charlotte made an effort to smile back.
She found it easier than she had anticipated. It seemed she was a better actress than she had given herself credit for.
Rocked by that smile, he told her, ‘I’m afraid my present relationship with the press leaves a lot to be desired. After being asked at a recent press conference what I thought of modern journalism, I stated my belief that some journalists not only embroider the truth but fabricate what they don’t know. Since then they’ve been out for blood.’
‘Are they lies?’ The question was out before she could prevent it.
‘Very often they are,’ he said steadily. ‘Though I don’t pretend to live like a monk, most of their stories are just that. Stories. But, unfortunately, when dirt’s thrown some of it’s bound to stick.’
‘But surely you were once the press’s Golden Boy?’
‘I was until I proved to be uncooperative… Which I can never accuse you of being.’ Smoothly he changed the subject. ‘I hope agreeing to make this transfer so soon didn’t cause you too many problems?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘You’re not leaving behind anyone special? A boyfriend, perhaps?’
‘No.’
Only too pleased to have Sheering’s report confirmed, Daniel queried, ‘How did you manage with regard to your flat?’
‘The flat is a rented one I share with an old school friend, so that was no problem.’
‘Most people would have balked at being parted from their families this close to Christmas.’
Her voice under control she said, ‘I have no family to share Christmas with.’
He waited.
When she failed to mention her stepbrother, Daniel wondered why. Even though he was her boss, he couldn’t believe she lacked either the will or the courage to confront him.
Ready to tell her how much he regretted what had happened, to explain his part in it, he asked a number of careful questions, skirting round the family issue, giving her every chance to bring things into the open.
When she failed to do so he was forced to conclude that, for whatever reason, she had made up her mind to say nothing.
Though he himself would have preferred to confront the issue, if she had decided to leave the past behind then, for the time being at least, he would go along with that.
Charlotte,
