he muttered, and she was pulled against the hardness of his body, immobilised by one firm hand behind her back and another behind her head. His lips unerringly found hers.
Abby was taken so much by surprise that for the first few seconds she was frozen, simply standing there and allowing the kiss, insane though it was. When finally she came back to life and began to fight, pummelling her fists against a rock-hard body, demanding that he let her go, she was perturbed to see tiny flames of desire in the blackness of his eyes.
Also, more frightening still was her own sizzling response to his compelling sensuality. It could not be stemmed, nor could she ignore it. It was by far the most scary thing that had ever happened to her.
It seemed an age before he finally released her—a whole lifetime of drumming, throbbing heartbeats and racing pulses, of a pagan rhythm that threatened to take over her whole body.
‘Well, well, well, Sommers,’ he said, his full lips curled in confident amusement, his eyes mocking. ‘You did not let me down.’
She threw him a swift, savage glance, though in truth it was herself, her own unaccountable behaviour that she was more angry with. ‘You’re despicable!’
‘And you’re incredibly beautiful when you’re angry—and also completely predictable.’
Abby’s body shook with anger; she was furious with both him and herself. ‘You’re deeply mistaken, Mr Lane. You have no idea at all what I am like. And do you know what? I feel sorry for Greg having a father like you; you’re the one who has no morals.’
He smiled—a highly dangerous smile—appearing not in the least perturbed by her harsh words. ‘Just remember,’ he warned, a steely glint now in his eyes, ‘I want no sentence passed against my son.’
She looked at him coolly and disdainfully. ‘It depends whether he is innocent, Mr Lane.’
‘It is up to you to prove that he is,’ he reminded her tersely.
‘Is it your good name you’re thinking of?’ Abby knew she was dicing with danger but restraint had long since flown out of the window where this man was concerned.
Black eyes glittered. ‘Just do the job you’re getting paid for.’ Then he yanked the door open and motioned his son to enter. Greg glanced from one to the other and it was obvious by his worried expression that he had heard their raised voices. ‘I’ll see you later, son,’ Hallam growled as he brushed past him and left the office.
Abby could have done with a few moments to pull herself together before talking to Greg.
‘It sounded as though my father was very angry,’ said the young man quietly.
She grimaced. ‘He was.’
‘He hasn’t changed his mind about—?’
‘Of course not,’ she assured him hastily.
‘Then what—?’
Again she interrupted. ‘It doesn’t matter, Greg.’ Her tone was soft and friendly, her eyes warm. She was in control of herself again. ‘Sit down. We have a lot of talking to do.’
ABBY hoped and prayed that she would see nothing more of Gregory Lane’s father. She was completely confused by the feelings he had aroused in her—angry with him for daring to kiss her, but even more so with herself for allowing it in the first place. The whole sequence of events had stirred her emotions to such an extent that she could not stop thinking about him.
She found Hallam Lane so undeniably attractive that it was the biggest pity in the world that he felt the way he did about career women. He was the sort of man she could have fallen for, the first one ever to make her sit up and take notice, who had sent her red blood corpuscles into a dizzying spin.
And unfortunately—for her peace of mind at any rate—he did not keep out of her life. He attended the initial court hearing and he also accompanied Greg the next time he came to see her.
When the two of them walked into her office Abby felt everything inside her flutter into chaos—every nerve-end, every pulse, each heartbeat. Determinedly, however, she stiffened her spine, hardened her tone and went straight into the attack. ‘I think you should let Greg handle his own affairs, Mr Lane.’
Today she was wearing a dusky pink skirt and matching silk blouse that should have clashed outrageously with her hair but somehow didn’t. Instead she managed to look deliciously feminine. She had taken her hair back into her nape with a big pink and gold slide, and gold hoop earrings hung from her ears.
Had she known that Greg’s father intended putting in an appearance she would most definitely have put on a plain dark suit and probably even a pair of tortoiseshell glasses! Anything to give herself a more professional image. Though, she had the uncomfortable feeling that nothing she wore would make one iota of difference where this man was concerned.
Black eyes locked into hers after they had made their now customary appraisal—during which time every single one of Abby’s senses raced into action. It was alarming the way her body reacted to him and she wished there was something she could do about it.
‘I happen to think,’ he said evenly, ‘that there is every need for me to be present’ His eyes continued to war with hers. ‘And I shall continue to attend until I’ve satisfied myself that you have sufficient experience to deal with my son’s case.’
He sounded so officious, so arrogant, so pompous that hostility prickled Abby’s spine now, all sensuous feelings flying, and she drew herself up tall, prepared to do battle. ‘Perhaps you’d like a word with one of my partners?’ she queried tartly. ‘I’m sure they’ll be more than willing to vouch for me.’
Greg stood at his father’s side, fidgeting and looking acutely uncomfortable. Abby felt sorry for him. He was caught in their crossfire and it couldn’t be good for his morale. It was such a pity that his father found it essential to interfere.
‘I don’t think that will be necessary,’ Hallam Lane answered evenly, as she had somehow expected he might. ‘But I would like Greg to leave us; I want a few words with you alone.’
Greg looked suddenly both startled and apprehensive, as she was herself, and he glanced at her hesitantly, as if asking what he should do.
Abby saw no reason why he should go out of the room, and she could not think what Hallam Lane had to say that could not be said in front of his son, but she also knew that the man would not go until he had got off his chest whatever was bothering him, so she gave Greg a slight nod and a faint smile, trying to reassure him.
When they were alone she stood tall, chin high, green eyes wary, her fingertips on the edge of the desk, and waited to hear what he had to say. Hallam Lane wore a navy suit and blue silk shirt and tie this morning, which seemed to emphasise his height and breadth. He looked every inch as dynamically attractive as before. Abby found her mouth growing dry simply by her looking at him.
‘Did Greg tell you that he has been in trouble before?’ he asked abruptly.
With an effort Abby dragged her attention
