she had been an object of curiosity and pity. Other children knew her story and repeated it to her with various embellishments; her progress at school had been compared with that of her father’s legitimate children at the same age. Her mother’s death and the consequent muddle when the overworked social worker had mistakenly given her surname as that of her mother’s current lover had brought a welcome release from all the publicity.
By that time she had craved anonymity with such intensity that her foster parents had a long struggle to even converse with her in the initial stages. They had been a kind couple and with them she had found a sort of peace, but all the time she had been tense and wary, waiting for the knowing smile, the mocking words.
They had never come and she had been free to pursue her own life as her own person. Deep inside her had grown an intense need to know this man who had fathered her; a feeling that until she did so the past would continue to trap her. She had had her life all mapped out. She intended to enter the legal arena—to enter it and conquer it, she admitted. None of her father’s legitimate children had followed him into the law and not even to herself was she really prepared to admit that her fierce thirst for success owed its being to a deep-rooted need to show her father and the rest of the world what she could do.
The information that her father was looking for a new PA had been a gift from fate she could not refuse, giving her as it did the opportunity she had craved for since childhood; that of observing first-hand the man who had given her life. Did he ever think of her, she wondered bitterly; when he looked at the photograph of his wife and family, did his mind stray to her? Or did he simply consider that the money he had paid her mother had absolved him from all responsibility?
She knew quite well that it was a common fantasy of illegitimate children to crave their absent father’s approval and attention just as she had done, but now, confronted for the first time with the reality of that father she was surprised at how little emotion she felt. No, she amended mentally, it wasn’t that she didn’t feel, it was simply that as yet she was too frozen and tense to be able to analyse her feelings. He was the same as she had imagined and yet different…a human being with whom she had one of the closest blood ties that existed and yet who did not even know who she was. For one moment she was afraid she might actually break down and cry. So much for the man-friend who had once derided her as an emotional cripple. At the time she had flinched from the words, confirming as they had seemed to do the fear that had haunted her childhood; that her father had rejected her through some fault of her own; some defect in her. Now she knew enough to realise that this was a common feeling in children, but even so some of the guilt and pain still remained.
The job was hers; and from now on she would have the time and the opportunity to study him at close quarters. And when she had done so? She frowned slightly. She had not thought that far ahead. What was she expecting, she derided herself; that somehow coming to know her father would be the answer to all the deficiencies she saw in herself? Would knowing him enable her to cast aside her dread of emotional commitment in order that she could take a lover, for instance? One step at a time she told herself. One step at a time.
‘Just before you leave my dear, there’s someone I should like you to meet.’
For one dreadful moment Selina thought he must mean his wife; that was something she wasn’t ready for—not yet—but she realised almost instantly that that was hardly likely. He reached out and pressed his intercom. ‘Would you ask Mr Gresham if he could spare us a moment please, Sue?’ he instructed his secretary.
‘I’d like you to meet Piers before you leave,’ he told Selina with a smile, ‘you and he will be working quite closely together at times—as well as his own briefs, he does a great deal of work for me.’ He broke off as the door was thrust open, Selina turning automatically to witness the entrance of the man he was talking about. Tall, even taller than her father, he combined an intensely powerful sexual aura with an air of cool hauteur that Selina found instantly intimidating. It was all too easy to imagine his effect on a jury—or on a witness—and Selina shuddered finely without realising she was doing so.
Heavy eyelids lifted to reveal eyes of a startlingly deep shade of blue, which studied and dissected her with a scrutiny as powerfully honed and as icy cold as polished steel. Just the effort of holding that penetrating stare made her muscles ache with tension.
‘Piers, come in and meet my new assistant.’
Sir Gerald put a friendly hand on the younger man’s arm as he went forward to meet him. The family resemblance was slight, but there none the less, although Selina suspected that even in his youth her father could never have possessed the cold demeanour that was so evident in his nephew.
‘Miss Thorn.’ His voice was cool too, cool and deep, and just hearing it brought a rash of goosebumps up under her skin. He obviously knew about her already since he knew her name, and Selina was annoyed to find herself almost reluctant to accept the hand he held out towards her. The touch of his fingers was warm, the sensation of his skin against her own so acute that she badly wanted to pull away. He emanated a raw sexuality that made Selina feel uncomfortable. She had come across it before, but had always shied away from such men fearing them instinctively, although she had learned to disguise her fear as contempt. She did so now, without realising what she was doing. Her eyes and mouth cold, her chin tilted at a defiant angle. The swing of her blonde hair revealed the slender length of her throat, her formal business suit emphasising the slender seductiveness of her body.
‘Have we met somewhere before?’
His question over-balanced her, her eyes unknowingly widening and turning a dark smouldering grey as she was forced to look back at him.
‘No…no I don’t think so.’ They had never met before, and he must know it so why…
Sir Gerald’s laughter interrupted her worried thoughts. ‘Not a very original line, Piers, although I must say I don’t blame you for trying.’
Selina was pretty sure that nothing had been further from Piers Gresham’s mind than making a pass at her. She didn’t normally appeal to men of his type and she had always taken care that she should not do so. It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest that what her cousin saw in her was a family likeness, but to do so would be the utmost folly. That she should consider the risk almost worthwhile simply to see the expression on his face warned her that she was reacting far too much to him.
After a few minutes brief conversation Piers Gresham left them, and once he had gone Selina found it a good deal easier to relax. Before her interview her sole worry had been that her father might somehow recognise her and she had not really thought beyond that. Now she had been made uncomfortably aware of the fact that her emotional response to her father was not going to be her only problem. Would she be able to work with Piers Gresham without allowing her sexual fear of him to surface? Men like Piers Gresham possessed a masculinity they couldn’t resist reinforcing, just as her father hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of her mother. It would have been easier to bear if her mother had been merely a victim in the whole shabby affair rather than a participant, but her mother herself had admitted to her that she had been determined that her lover should marry her; and that he should desert his children and divorce his wife in order to do so.
‘Why not?’ she had demanded of Selina, sensing her distaste. ‘It’s no more than many other men have done.’
Her mother had been a very selfish woman, Selina acknowledged inwardly, attractive enough to use her looks to get what she wanted from life, but on that occasion she had gambled too high and lost, and she had never let Selina forget that had she known her lover would abandon her, his child would never have been conceived. Once that had hurt, but like all the other pains she had learned to bury it; to deny it life, just as her mother would have denied her life.
She
