office. No wonder she had lost her temper, with a mane of hair like that, she reflected half enviously. Her own hair was a soft mousy brown, and in her fantasy daydreams she had often imagined herself as a passionate redhead.
Lissa was still shaking when she reached her own office. Simon was there already, checking through the post. He smiled warmly at her, checking when he saw her expression. ‘Heavens, what’s happened?’ he questioned her, guiding her into a chair and perching on the edge of his desk. ‘You look as if you’re about to explode.’
‘So would you if you’d just been told that you aren’t a fit person to have charge of your nieces because you aren’t rich enough to sway the opinion of the Judge.’
She was so overwrought that she was barely aware what she was saying, and unacknowledged, but at the bottom of her, agony was the memory of past hurts and humiliations and of one in particular so painful to call to mind even now that the thought of it seared her mind, making her shiver convulsively and grip her hands together.
Gradually Simon got the full story out of her, and then eventually said lightly, ‘Well it seems to me that there’s only one solution, and that’s for you to get engaged to me.’ He saw her face; and before she could utter her denial said coaxingly, ‘Lissa, you know how much I want you … how I feel about you. Just give us a chance … If we were engaged I’m sure the court would be bound to view you in a more favourable light. Solid, respectable background for the kids and all that.’
He was offering her an engagement ring in exchange for the use of her body, Lissa thought sadly, and who was she to blame him for that? She had made it more than clear that she would never willingly give herself to him physically.
‘No, Simon it wouldn’t work out.’
Just for a second the mingled anger and frustration in his eyes frightened her. It showed her a Simon she had never seen before. She ought to have remembered that the powerful sexual drive that was in men to possess and dominate her sex could change even the mildest of them into a frightening stranger. She of all people ought to have known that.
‘Because you damn well won’t give it a chance to work out,’ he swore at her. ‘Christ Lissa, what is it with you? Anyone would think you were still a timid little virgin.’ He saw her face and his expression changed, frightening her again as she saw the male satisfaction and victory in it, Exultation crept into his voice as he said softly. ‘That’s it isn’t it? You are still a virgin? Oh darling …’ He was smiling at her now, coming towards her. Any moment now he would be touching her. Lissa stood up shakily and edged away from him. ‘No, don’t run away …’ He was practically crooning with delight and she felt sickness stab through her. She couldn’t move … couldn’t do anything to stop his arms coming round her, pulling her against his body. She went rigid at the intimacy of it, loathing him and loathing herself because she felt the way she did.
‘Don’t be frightened … there’s nothing to be frightened of … I’ll make it good for you, wait and see … it will be so good … so …’
He wasn’t really talking to her, Lissa thought with frigid distaste; he was thinking of his own pleasure; his own satisfaction. Held fast in his arms she felt as though she were two people; the frightened, terrified creature who couldn’t break free of his hold; and then another, immeasurably older person who stood outside of her body and watched; censorious and cold, reminding her that she had no one but herself to blame for feeling the way she did. She shuddered with revulsion as she felt his hot mouth pressing against her throat. The outer office door opened and she was dimly aware of someone coming in, and then behind her a familiar and loathed voice drawled softly, ‘Well, well … so this is how you spend your time these days is it Lissa … Nothing’s changed then.’
Simon released her immediately, pushing his fingers through his hair in a way he had when he was caught at a disadvantage. Tall though he was, the newcomer towered over him. Few men could compete with Joel Hargreaves when it came to sheer masculinity, Lissa thought bitterly, turning round to face her tormentor.
‘Joel?’ She smiled thinly at him, grateful for the fact that she had somehow recovered her poise. ‘As you say nothing’s changed … You, I see still have the habit of bursting in on people unannounced. What were you hoping to find this time? Evidence to prove that I’m not a fit person to have charge of the girls?’
The wide male mouth slashed into an open curl of contempt. ‘I don’t need to go looking for that Lissa. It’s all there, documented and collated and I don’t even need to look for a witness do I? I saw the whole thing for myself.’
She wanted to cry out a denial, to hide away from the merciless scrutiny of his hard gold eyes, but she wasn’t fifteen anymore and so she tilted her chin and said coldly, ‘Your own personal life wouldn’t bear too much close scrutiny Joel. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones should they?’
He had a trick of looking at someone beneath those heavy lidded eyes that had always made her heart pound with a mixture of fear and apprehension. He did it now, making her feel as though he could see through her forehead and into the farther-most recesses of her brain.
‘I want to talk to you,’ he said calmly. ‘I’ve got a busy morning but I could see you at lunch time.’
‘And deny yourself the opportunity of lunching with your latest ladyfriend whoever she might be?’ Lissa snapped. ‘Don’t bother. I’ve only one thing to say to you Joel and that is that I’m not giving up my rights to the girls, no matter what you say or do. Amanda appointed me as their guardian …’
‘Silly, loyal Amanda,’ Joel derided her sister. ‘I’ll bet when she did it, she never thought you might actually have to have charge of them. Your mother wouldn’t have approved.’
It hurt because it was the truth, but Lissa refused to give in to the pain. She had enough experience of Joel’s methods of waging warfare to know that he always aimed for his opponents’ most vounerable spots, and he knew hers to a nicety.
‘I’m not giving them up Joel,’ she repeated coolly, ‘And this is a private office. If you want to communicate with me, please do so through my solicitor.’ As she finished speaking she walked past him and into her own office, firmly closing the door behind her. Two minutes later she heard the outer door slam and then Simon walked into her office.
‘Phew,’ he commented theatrically, raising his eyebrows. ‘So that’s the fabled Joel Hargreaves.’
Joel was constantly appearing in the gossip press. He had fingers in many financial pies and was known as much for being a highly successful entrepreneur as he was for his womanising. ‘Quite a man,’ Simon murmured.
‘If you like the type.’ Lissa managed a thin smile. ‘Personally I don’t.’
‘No, I could see that.’
Lissa had a small smile at the smug satisfaction in Simon’s tone. Physically, they couldn’t be more dissimilar. Simon although tall was slim and boyish with his shock of sunbleached fair hair and his easy smile. Joel in contrast, was taller, broader, the epitome of everything that was intensely male. His skin was olive coloured, his eyes a glinting rich gold, his hair dark and thick. Once, rather fancifully before she had really known him Lissa had imagined that he might have posed for a statue of Achilles. She had always had an overromantic imagination she thought wryly. Joel was no story-book hero. Far from it. Women fell for him like ninepins and he made full use of the power he seemed to have over her sex. Lissa had watched a procession of women come and go through his life, and if he had ever felt anything more than sexual desire for any of them,
