Farrah walked quickly to her desk, her head downbent as she gathered up her black velvet jacket and her denim shoulder bag. This was proving to be more embarrassing than she had imagined and she could hear a few whispers from her workmates now. Well, this was no good, she couldn't creep about like this all the time, and so flinging back her head almost defiantly she faced the girls in the office with pride and dignity. Fiona was looking at her with puzzled eyes and somehow Farrah managed to summon up a smile.
Fiona came over to her. ‘What's going on?’ she asked curiously.
‘I—er—I—It's rather awkward to explain—–’ She spotted Joel Falcone out of the corner of her eye as he made his way across the office to her side.
He smiled straight into her eyes and Farrah felt her heart lurch. It was a warm possessive smile and she couldn't help but respond to it. She didn't think this pretence was going to prove too difficult if he smiled at her like that too often, in fact it could prove too easy, much too easy, and it could end with her being very hurt by this man.
‘Ready to leave, honey?’ Again his arm slipped about her shoulders.
Farrah ignored the audible gasps coming from around the room. She nodded. ‘Ready,’ she agreed. ‘I'll talk to you tomorrow, Fiona.'
Complete silence followed their progress out of the room, but as soon as the door closed behind them Farrah could hear the sudden murmur of conversation. Joel Falcone gave a satisfied smile. ‘By five o'clock this evening the whole building should know about our little affair.'
Farrah pressed the lift button for the ground floor. ‘I don't see what good that's going to do, except embarrass me, of course. Miss Bennett is a famous actress, she doesn't go about gossiping with the staff.'
‘From little acorns …’ he quoted softly. ‘The more people who know about it the better. This way it will be more believable.'
‘If I don't believe it I don't see why anyone else should.'
‘They will.’ He studied her intently for several seconds. ‘Of course you don't look kissed as you ought to do,’ he took a step towards her, ‘but that can soon be remedied.'
‘No!’ Farrah backed away from him, more frightened that he might get a response than of the actual man himself. ‘I—I don't want to be kissed!'
He watched her through mocking eyes. ‘Why not?’ he asked softly.
‘Because—well, because I—I don't find you attractive.'
‘But you've already told me that you do find me attractive,’ he reminded.
‘I find a tiger attractive in the same way,’ she retorted hotly. ‘All right to look at from afar but too dangerous to touch.'
‘Dangerous?’ he repeated curiously. ‘What a strange word to use!'
‘But fitting, don't you agree?'
‘Maybe.’ He opened the lift doors with the touch of a button. ‘Try to look as if you aren't terrified of me—or I could just give you that kiss here in reception.'
‘You wouldn't!’ Her green eyes widened.
‘I wouldn't count on it,’ he said lazily, retaining a tight hold on her arm as they walked unhurriedly out of the building. A black Ferrari stood parked on the forecourt and Joel Falcone nodded dismissal of the commissionaire as he moved to open the doors for them. Joel himself saw Farrah seated in the passenger seat before climbing in beside her. ‘Comfortable?'
Farrah shifted about in the confines of the car, all too much aware of the man at her side. She could smell his aftershave and the clean male smell of him and her senses stirred unbidden. It was a fantastic car and completely suited to its sleek, confident owner. ‘Fine, thanks,’ she answered shortly.
‘Good.’ He put the car into gear.
‘Where are you taking me?’ Farrah asked with more confidence than she felt.
‘Home,’ Joel Falcone drawled. ‘Your home.'
‘Oh, but I thought—–'
‘I'm well aware of what you thought. I'm taking you home now and calling for you later. We're going to a nightclub I know.'
Farrah was completely fascinated by the harsh face of Joel Falcone, harsh and cynical and yet completely riveting. Deep lines of experience were etched from nose to mouth and his mouth had a cynical twist to it. He left her breathless and it took all her strength to answer him. ‘Tonight?’ she squeaked, swallowing convulsively at the thought of spending the evening with him.
‘Sure, tonight.’ Those deep blue eyes raked over her pale face, eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes that should have looked effeminate but didn't. ‘You weren't going anywhere else, were you?'
Farrah gave a wan smile. ‘If I were I'm sure you would tell me to break it.'
To her surprise he smiled too, a warm natural smile that reached his eyes. ‘You learn fast, young Farrah Halliday. Were you going out?'
‘No,’ she admitted reluctantly.
‘Then you won't need to break it, will you. Are you going to tell your father about me? Oh, not of our agreement, but that we'll be going out together.'
‘Not until I have to.’ She blushed as she realised how bad that sounded.
Joel Falcone frowned heavily. ‘Do you think that's wise? It could come as quite a shock to him to learn from someone else that his little girl is having a full-scale affair with someone like me. If he's as ill as you say he is then the knowledge can't be going to help him.'
‘Exactly,’ Farrah said dryly.
‘And it will be even worse coming from a stranger, or worse still, a newspaper. And how will your mother feel about it?'
It was a perfectly natural question in the circumstances, and yet Farrah felt a sharp pain at his casually spoken words. ‘My mother is dead,’ she said quietly. ‘And I hope you'll leave it to me to tell my father.'
‘I have no intention of seeing your father, when and how you tell him is up to you.’ He stopped the car before the block of flats where she lived with her father. ‘Can you be ready by eight-thirty?'
‘I should think so,’ she laughed lightly. ‘It's only four o'clock, it doesn't take me four and a half hours to get ready. What—what do you want me to wear?’ His steady gaze unnerving her and she fidgeted unnecessarily.
‘We'll be going to a nightclub, quite an exclusive one. Do you have anything suitable?'
‘Yes,’ she snapped, stung by his condescension. ‘Don't worry, I won't disgrace you.'
‘I've arranged for you to go to a salon tomorrow and choose a new wardrobe. That's the reason I told Angie you would be late in the morning.'
‘I don't want anything like that from you,’ she told him angrily. ‘I can buy my own clothes, thank you.'
‘I'm sure you
