Книга - In Bed With The Boss

In Bed With The Boss
Susan Napier


For three years, Kalera has been a model secretary to Duncan Royal, with only one hiccup in their otherwise perfect relationship: a one-night stand that should never have happened, and which both have tried to forget.Or so Kalera thought. But Duncan is haunted by their one night of unbelievable passion, and secretly longs for their relationship to develop after office hours. As a rule, he can have any woman he wants–so he's furious when Kalera announces her engagement to another man!Whatever it takes, Duncan intends to entice her into his bed once more–and this time it will be forever.









In Bed With The Boss

Susan Napier











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN




CHAPTER ONE


‘WHAT in the hell is this?’

In spite of the fact that she had been conducting a mental countdown, Kalera Martin still jumped as the door to the adjoining office crashed back against the wall, sending a concussive shock vibrating around the room.

She sat straight in her swivel chair, her hands involuntarily pressing down on the stack of folders which she was in the process of sorting into neat piles on her orderly desk.

The man standing in the doorway waving a sheet of paper in his clenched fist looked anything but orderly. The expensive, custom-made clothes could not subdue the sheer physicality of his adrenaline-charged personality. Even in an uncharacteristically conservative pinpoint oxford shirt, navy trousers, dark blue silk tie and navy braces, Duncan Royal managed to look more like a menacing street thug than the owner of a multi-million-dollar high-tech company. He was intimidatingly tall and broad and, when the brilliance of his argument failed to get him his own way, was not above shamelessly using his impressive size as an added negotiating tool, browbeating stubborn opponents into changing their minds in order to stay on his good side.

Right now his good side was nowhere in evidence. The killer good looks were marred by a fierce scowl, the jet-black hair which was usually raked sleekly back behind his ears tumbled across his thunderous brow, outrage pouring off him in aggressive waves as he glared across the room at the slender, dainty woman behind the desk.

On the off chance that he hadn’t yet reached the bottom of his morning mail Kalera raised her finely arched eyebrows in cautious enquiry.

‘I don’t know—what is it?’ she asked in the deep, husky voice that always surprised people, coming as it did from such a small frame.

‘You tell me!’ he snarled, storming over to throw the offending paper down in front of her with a furious flick of his powerful wrist.

Kalera caught the page before it wafted to the floor and smoothed it out with fingers that she was relieved to note didn’t tremble at all.

‘Well?’ He loomed over her accusingly.

She cleared her throat and looked up, her cool grey eyes clashing with his incendiary gaze.

‘It’s my letter of resignation—’

He made a harsh, growling sound in the back of his throat. ‘I know what it is—’

‘Well, then, why did you ask?’ she dared to ask mildly. ‘I would have thought it was self-explanatory.’

She held the letter out to him but he ignored it, bending abruptly to plant his lean, manicured hands flat on the edge of her desk, thrusting his face towards her, giving her a close-up view of the shock, rage and disbelief seething in the midnight-blue eyes.

‘Then you thought wrong!’

Kalera watched, fascinated, as the small nerve which fluttered at the corner of his narrow mouth was compressed by the clenching of muscles along his rigid jaw. She felt pummelled by the force of his concentrated psychic energy.

This was a first.

In the three years that she had worked at Labyrinth Technology as his secretary Kalera had frequently witnessed Duncan Royal explode, but she had never been the direct target of one of his infamous fiery tantrums.

Perhaps it was because her delicate build made him overtly aware of his own vastly superior size and strength, or perhaps it was the dampening effect of her cool serenity in the face of emotional scenes, but on the rare occasions that Kalera had slipped up and given him just cause to display his volatile temperament he had chosen to vent his spleen on the inanimate objects around him rather than on her remorseful blonde head.

To her certain knowledge this transference of his hostility had so far cost the company a pot plant, a cell-phone, two coffee cups, a pen-holder and a terse lecture from a fire safety officer after Duncan had dramatically set fire to one of Kalera’s memos, causing a minor conflagration in his waste-paper basket which set off the smoke alarms and led to the evacuation of the entire building.

‘Well?’

He lunged closer, his eyes snapping with impatience, and Kalera leaned back in her chair in a vain attempt to distance herself from his angry aura. ‘Uh…which part don’t you understand?’ she murmured, wincing inwardly at the lame response. It bore no resemblance to the crisp, assertive statements which she had rehearsed in front of her mirror that morning. She hated scenes and had been hoping that her carefully worded letter would soothe rather than inflame, diplomatically preparing the way for her more daunting confession.

Alas, her temperamental boss thrived on confrontations. Full and forceful frankness was his preferred operating style and a civilised conversation was clearly not on this morning’s agenda.

‘Every damned part! The whole thing is incomprehensible!’ Duncan Royal was used to understanding instantly complex equations, concepts and problems, both real and abstract. The brilliance of his intellect usually put him in control of his environment. He didn’t like being reduced to common human bewilderment.

Kalera screwed up her courage. ‘Well, I—’

‘Two paragraphs!’ he interrupted, his deep, rasping voice fierce with indignation as his big shoulders shifted and he stabbed at the offending letter with a vicious forefinger. ‘Damn you, Kalera, after all this time is that all you consider I deserve? Two measly paragraphs to tell me that one of my most trusted employees is walking out on me!’

Kalera nervously tucked a stray strand of sun-streaked blonde hair back into the smooth sweep of the elegant French roll she wore to work. Her narrow oval face, which Harry had been fond of telling her reminded him of that of a Madonna in a medieval painting—smooth, serene, mysterious—revealed nothing of her clammy apprehension.

She knew how much personal loyalty meant to Duncan Royal; it was the rock on which he had founded his enormous success. The computer industry was a cut-throat business in which paranoia ran rife. Duncan had made a fortune out of developing software products that caught larger competitors napping and an essential part of his strategy was to personally hand-pick his employees—right down to the office cleaners! Nothing was contracted out, except to other branches of his business. As a result he had gathered around him a group of extremely dedicated and ambitious men and women who were richly rewarded for their total commitment to their brilliant but eccentric leader.

Prepared as she had been for an objection to her decision to resign, Kalera was taken aback by the violence of Duncan’s reaction. She knew that she was good at her job because he was as quick to praise as he was to anger, but she was hardly irreplaceable. It wasn’t as if she was one of his resident computer geniuses, or in any way unique in her organisational skills; she was simply a useful cog in his administrative machine.

Surely he couldn’t already know…?

‘You make it sound as if I’m quitting without notice,’ she protested. ‘But I’m not leaving you in the lurch—I did say I’m quite happy to work out the four weeks stated in my contract—’

‘Damn your contract; you know that’s not what I’m talking about!’ he thundered.

She stiffened. Just because she disliked scenes, that didn’t mean she was afraid to stand up for herself. ‘There’s no need to shout, Duncan,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m not deaf—’

‘No, just dumb!’ He slammed a frustrated fist on the desk with a force that rattled her computer keyboard.

‘If I’m that stupid then you should be pleased to see me go,’ she snapped, guiltily aware that her offer to work her notice was merely a token gesture. Once he found out the truth, Duncan wouldn’t want her within a mile of his hallowed domain.

‘Not that sort of dumb!’ He started to pace. ‘You couldn’t talk this over with me first? What…am I so inaccessible…so impossible to talk to that you couldn’t even bring yourself to mention that you were thinking of leaving?’

He stopped in front of her desk again, his arms shooting out wide as his incredulous tone denounced the sheer ridiculousness of the notion. He had an open-door policy towards his staff and most of them took full advantage of the opportunity to express their opinions and ideas freely.

Kalera’s thick lashes swept down to conceal the expression in her soft grey eyes as she concentrated on folding and re-folding the edge of the letter. ‘I’m sorry…but, after all, it was my decision to make. It had nothing to do with you—’

She realised as soon as the words were out of her mouth that she had made a tactical error.

‘Are you trying to tell me that it’s none of my business when an employee quits out of the blue, without even bothering to give a reason?’ Duncan exploded afresh. ‘No, dammit, not just an employee—a friend, Kalera…’

A wave of fresh guilt swept over her as a dark-complexioned face framed by a profusion of short Rasta braids and beads suddenly popped around the open door that was the main entrance to Kalera’s office.

‘Hey, girl, what’s all this racket—? Oh, hi, Chief, I should have known it would be you…From the sound of it, I thought Kalera had a pack of Rottweilers loose in here!’

Duncan glared at his young assistant’s irreverent grin. ‘Do you mind, Anna? You’re interrupting a private conversation.’

‘Oh, really?’ Anna Ihaka advanced into the doorway, her coffee-coloured eyes darting eagerly from one to the other. ‘What about?’

‘I’ll tell you later,’ said Kalera hurriedly, hearing Duncan’s breath rattle ominously in his throat.

‘Oh, OK—give me a buzz when he’s finished his rant and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee.’ Anna was incurably cheerful and totally unsquashable, the perfect assistant for a man who, in a bad mood, was the Sultan of Squash.

‘I’ll just close this door for you on my way out, then, shall I, Chief?’ she added sweetly. ‘Only, we can hear the punctuation marks in your private conversation all over the floor, you see, and it’s a bit off-putting for poor Bryan who’s trying to give a demo and impress some very snooty clients with our discretion.’ She snicked the door smartly shut before he could get in the last word.

‘I’m going to wring that girl’s neck one of these days,’ growled Duncan, and saw the expression on Kalera’s face. ‘What have you got to smirk about?’

Kalera hastily straightened the wayward corners of her mouth. She had obviously handled this all wrong, but perhaps it wasn’t too late to amend her error. ‘Look, there’s a very good reason for my wanting to leave—’ she began huskily.

‘Really? Did I miss something?’ He leaned over and plucked the letter out of her fidgeting fingers, unravelling the folds and reading from it with a deadly sarcasm which mocked the stark formality of the words:

“‘I have enjoyed my term of employment with Labyrinth Technology—” Huh!’ His snort was eloquent with contempt for her flattering opening. “‘But due to a change in my personal circumstances I regret to inform you that I wish to tender my resignation with such notice as required under the terms of my contract.” Change in personal circumstances?’ he lowered the page to repeat furiously. ‘What in the hell is that supposed to mean?’

Kalera moistened her suddenly dry lips with a little flick of her tongue. Was it better to blurt it out, or lead up to it gently? She was no longer certain.

While she hesitated, Duncan was already darting ahead with his customary impatience.

‘You can’t have got a better job,’ he decided with arrogant confidence. ‘This one is tailor-made for your talents—after all, you virtually designed it yourself when you came to work for me. You’re much more than just a secretary; you manage the whole office. You’ve always seemed to enjoy working with me. Is it the money? Have you decided I don’t pay you enough?’

The question was absurd. Duncan might be possessive about his ideas, but he was notoriously over-generous with money. He drove his accountants mad with his insistence on sharing his profits with his employees via bonuses, gifts and royalty percentages on software which they had helped to develop. So well did he treat his workers that no competitor had yet succeeded in bribing or head-hunting away a Labyrinth employee.

‘Yes, of course you do. But I—’

‘Aren’t you happy here?’

If he stopped peppering her with questions she might be able to get out a satisfactory answer. ‘I’ve been very happy here, but—’

‘But! But what?’ he cut in roughly. ‘But you’re not now? Why? Is there some problem you haven’t been telling me about? Your working conditions and environment haven’t changed, so what else could it be?’ His lightning-fast brain sorted through the possible options and his eyes suddenly narrowed threateningly. ‘Has someone been harassing you?’

She was bewildered by his sudden change in tack. ‘Harassing me?’

‘Sexually. Making suggestive remarks, brushing up against you, touching you, that kind of thing—making you feel unsafe at work?’

Her mouth opened and closed and she flushed with mortification.

He pounced. ‘My God, that’s it, isn’t it?’ He rounded the desk and swivelled her chair to face him, ignoring her squeak of surprise as he crouched in front of her and picked her limp left hand out of her lap.

‘Who is it?’ He sandwiched her hand between his smooth, warm palms and lowered his voice coaxingly. ‘Did he threaten you in some way? Tell me, Kalera, and no matter who it turns out to be I’ll sort the bastard out. I’ll fire him so fast his feet won’t touch the ground!’

His dark blue eyes roved down over her figure, inspecting the soft draping of her lemon silk blouse and narrow green linen skirt as if he somehow expected to see the culprit’s fingerprints emblazoned on the fabric. There was something almost possessive about the protective survey and a wave of unwelcome warmth swept over Kalera’s skin as his frowning gaze skimmed over the firm thrust of her small breasts. She sternly smothered a little thrill of illicit awareness with the ease of long practice and took a huffing breath.

‘For goodness’ sake, Duncan, will you shut up and let me explain? I’m not being harassed!’ She tried to tug her hand from his but he wouldn’t let her go.

‘Then why are you blushing?’

‘Because I’m embarrassed that you could think I wouldn’t know how to handle a simple case of sexual harassment by myself.’

He scowled, his thumb absently rubbing over her captured fingers. ‘You shouldn’t have to handle it on your own; that’s the point.’

‘Well, it’s a moot point because, as I said, no one’s harassing me—’ She stopped, disconcerted, as his expression froze into shocked stillness.

Did he think she was lying? Goodness, surely he didn’t really believe that Kalera was so irresistibly alluring that she must inevitably be the target of sexual predators! Although she was passably attractive she wasn’t the type of woman to drive men to extremes. When she refused to respond to their overtures they typically backed off with a shrug. And at work, taking the lead from their boss, the males had always treated her with a friendliness tempered by respect.

She frowned as she reached the only logical reason for him to jump to such a ridiculous conclusion. ‘Why are you asking me this—have you received a complaint about someone in the office?’

Duncan wasn’t listening. His head had snapped down and he was staring at the bare fingers of her left hand.

‘You’ve taken off your wedding and engagement rings!’ His voice was hoarse with disbelief as his thumb probed the smooth, slightly shiny white band of flesh which contrasted with the light tan of the rest of her hand. His normally mobile and expressive features retained their frozen blankness as he demanded, ‘Why aren’t you wearing Harry’s rings?’

Kalera’s newly exposed skin was proving to be uncomfortably sensitive and the light rasping of the pad of Duncan’s thumb against the tiny indentations in her finger sent a feathery tingle shooting up her arm.

‘They’re in my drawer at home…I thought—it was time to put them away,’ she stumbled, her fingers curling into her palm, forming a small fist that silently rejected the disturbing nature of his touch.

He withdrew it instantly, but instead of rising to his feet he rocked slightly back on the balls of his feet, his bent knees brushing the sides of her calves as he steadied himself by placing his hands on the arms of her chair. His rigid expression thawed, a dark emotion flaring in the navy eyes as he looked up into her flushed face.

‘Past time,’ he agreed, and the hint of satisfaction in his tone made her stiffen defensively, twisting her hands in her lap.

‘I’ll never forget Harry—’

‘Of course you won’t. But he died two years ago…you didn’t,’ he said with his usual devastating bluntness. ‘You have nothing to feel uneasy about, Kalera. You honoured his memory with a decent period of mourning…’ His voice softened. ‘You honoured both of them. Now you’re obviously ready to move on—to start looking at all the opportunities life has to offer a woman of today.’

His mouth curved into an approving smile. It was the perfect opening and she eagerly snatched it.

‘I’m glad you think so, because that’s exactly what’s happened,’ she said, taking a deep breath before she announced, ‘I got engaged last night.’

‘You what?’ He was still smiling—that faint, whimsical, sexy crook of his lips that had women toppling for him like ninepins—and Kalera could see him thinking that he had obviously misheard.

‘Last night…someone I’ve been seeing…I—he asked me to marry him…’

She faltered to a stop as she was witness to a sight unique in her experience: Duncan Royal stunned speechless. He looked like a man who had been hit over the head with a mallet. His quizzical smile vanished and his jaw sagged. His mouth opened and closed but the only sound that came out was a breathy wheeze. His olive complexion paled, accentuating the twin crescents of darker skin curving below the inner corners of his eyes and making him look as haggard as he was handsome. If it hadn’t been for his anchoring grip on her chair Kalera got the distinct impression that he would have toppled on his backside on the carpet.

He was, quite literally, floored!

In any other circumstances Kalera would have been highly amused. Duncan enjoyed jolting people out of their complacency and dropping verbal bombshells was one of his favourite methods of hijacking conversations. To turn the tables on him so effectively was quite a considerable feat. But she knew the peaceful state of suspended animation would not last very long.

‘We went out to dinner and he asked me to marry him and I said yes,’ she expanded hastily, hoping to stave off the barrage of questions she could see forming in his eyes. ‘So when I got home I took my old rings off. I can’t very well wear them when I’m engaged to someone else…although maybe I’ll wear the solitaire as a dress ring later, when—after we’re married…’

Duncan’s unblinking gaze moved down to her slender right hand, curled protectively at her waist, and she realised that he was seeking concrete proof of her claim.

‘I haven’t got a new engagement ring yet because we’re going to choose it together—tonight after work, as a matter of fact…’

Duncan shook his head once, violently, like a seasoned fighter emerging from a standing count. For once his intellect was lagging far behind the pace as he said slowly, ‘You’ve been seeing someone else?’

Kalera’s shoulders twitched in an awkward shrug. ‘As you just pointed out, Harry’s been gone two years now—’

‘You’ve been seeing another man?’

And to think Kalera had always felt inferior to his towering intellect! She couldn’t stop a bubble of nervous laughter escaping her throat. ‘Well, I certainly haven’t been dating other women. Besides, same-sex marriages are illegal, so there wouldn’t be much point in my becoming engaged to—’

Her feeble joke didn’t even bring a glimmer of humour to his expression. If anything it seemed to stoke his outrage.

‘You’ve been dating?’ He shoved her chair so it skidded back on its casters and stood up, fists planted on his lean hips. ‘Just how long has this been going on?’

‘A few months,’ she confessed, although in practical terms it had actually been much less than that.

His dark brows snapped together. ‘A few months! You’ve been seeing other men for months without even mentioning it?’

He made it sound as if she had been living a secret life of rampant promiscuity. One minute he was urging her to get over losing Harry, the next he was making her feel guilty for pre-empting his advice.

‘Not men,’ she protested, flushed with a mixture of guilt and indignance. ‘A man. Singular. And, well, it all started so casually there wasn’t really anything to mention…and, anyway, why should I? You don’t talk to me about the women that you date!’

‘That’s because—’ He broke off, and his eyes narrowed on her pink face. ‘No, I don’t, but that doesn’t prevent you knowing about them, does it? You field my calls, open my mail and have access to my diary and hard drive, and what you don’t know I’m sure the grapevine provides—this place is a hotbed of internal gossip and the network bulletin board seems to keep well up to date with jokes about my social life. I bet you end up knowing the women in my life better than I do!’

‘I doubt it,’ murmured Kalera sardonically, thinking of the progression of Body Beautifuls who had been photographed hanging on his arm, although, given Duncan’s legendary restlessness and the average tenure of his girlfriends, the idea wasn’t entirely far-fetched.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean in the carnal sense,’ he said, his gravelly voice outrageousness in its blandness as he segued smoothly into his interrogation. ‘So, who is he, then? This wonderful man who so casually infiltrated your life that he wasn’t worth mentioning to your friends?’ His expression hardened. ‘Or am I just the last to find out?’

Kalera shook her head. Unable to bear the inactivity, she pretended to straighten things on her desk. ‘No, I haven’t talked about him to anyone. It’s—rather awkward…’

He perched his hip on the edge of her desk, propping an elbow on the top of her VDU, the dark, pin-striped fabric of his trousers pulling taut across his long, muscular thigh as he absently hitched his polished heel onto the handle of her file drawer.

‘Why? Is he already married?’

She almost choked on her appalled gasp. ‘No!’

‘Divorced? Children kicking up a stink about Dad’s new girlfriend? No? Maybe you’re ashamed of him,’ he speculated, seeming to relish the idea. ‘Is he some kind of sleazy low-life you’re embarrassed to be seen with in public?’

Kalera knocked over the pen-holder she was needlessly repositioning. ‘No! Of course not,’ she denied, concentrating fiercely on rearranging the pens. ‘He’s very well-educated and successful. He has his own company…’

She waited for him to ask what line of business her new fiancé was in, but Duncan proved infuriatingly uncooperative.

‘So…he’s rich, then?’ he drawled, with the hint of a sneer.

He was purposely being provoking and Kalera was determined not to be provoked. ‘Yes.’

‘Good-looking?’

‘Very.’

‘Intelligent?’

‘Extremely.’

‘Good in bed?’

She didn’t miss a beat. ‘Scintillating.’

He opened his mouth and her patience deserted her as she added tartly, ‘He’s also kind, generous, fond of young children and animals and good to his mother.’

He pursed his lips and looked patronisingly sceptical. ‘Not cut the apron-springs yet? Is he much younger than you?’

‘Since I’m only twenty-seven, how much younger could he be?’ she snapped, bristling at the idea that she was the victim of a feminine mid-life crisis. ‘He’s not some smooth-talking gigolo or toy-boy if that’s what you’re implying. He happens to be in the prime of his life!’

‘What an interesting euphemism,’ he needled slyly, enjoying her small flare of temper. ‘I guess that means he’s more the sugar-daddy type.’

She sucked in her breath. ‘As a matter of fact, he’s exactly your age.’

His eyelids flickered. ‘He sounds exactly like me in every respect so far. Is this your coyly euphemistic way of telling me you’re panting with unrequited love for me?’

Her grey eyes flashed silver and she forgot she was supposed to be placating him. ‘You’re the last man on earth I’d want to fall in love with,’ she cried, her hands bunching into fists on top of her desk as she struggled with an uncharacteristic desire to break things. ‘My God, you are so arrogant!’

He shrugged, acknowledging the accusation with an insufferable grin of bone-deep confidence. The annoying thing was that his arrogance was largely justified; he seemed destined to excel at whatever he did. He joked about being a computer nerd but he was a far cry from the introverted, pasty-faced, pigeon-chested, techno-freak of popular misconception. At thirty-four Duncan kept himself at a peak of physical fitness in the company gym, and played cut-throat games of squash at a city club, smashing stronger opposition with his erratic brilliance and aggressive will to win.

‘Comes with the territory,’ he murmured. ‘You know—mid-thirties, good-looking, clever, stinking rich, kind to children and animals…’ His voice dropped an octave to a sexy purr that ruffled the nerves all the way up and down her spine. ‘Not to mention sizzling in bed. Tell me, Kalera, what has your mystery man got that I haven’t?’

She had said scintillating, not sizzling, but he had substituted the word deliberately. Sizzling had an altogether different connotation. Oh, yes, she could well believe that Duncan Royal could burn up the sheets when he was in the mood.

‘Humility!’ Kalera’s face glowed with a very un-Madonna-like spite as he winced.

‘Ouch!’ He tried to look humble and failed miserably. ‘Whoever he is he sounds far too good to be true.’

‘Well, he isn’t.’

The ring of sincerity in her voice made the teasing malice die out of his expression and he regarded her over the top of her computer, his dark brows lowered, overshadowing his brooding eyes, his square jaw tense.

‘He does exist, then? He’s not just a figment of your wishful imagination?’

‘Of course he exists!’ she said firmly. ‘I wouldn’t be resigning from my job if he didn’t!’

His chin clipped up as if she had hit him. ‘Wait a minute; is that the only reason you’re resigning—because you’re getting married?’

‘Staying on isn’t really an option…’ she began carefully.

He slid off the desk. ‘What?’ He was genuinely outraged. ‘You’re giving up a job you love because this paragon of yours doesn’t want his wife to work? What is this—the Dark Ages? Why didn’t you tell the Neanderthal where to get off?’

‘Because it’s not like that—’

‘What is it like, then? Are you planning to move away, is that it? Doesn’t he live in Auckland?’

‘Yes, he does, but—’

His brain was already fast-forwarding to other possibilities. He was piecing together her unease, her embarrassment and unaccustomed reluctance to get to the point. He blanched. ‘Are you pregnant?’

His eyes bored into her flat stomach with an intensity that suggested he had X-ray vision. Kalera felt a tightening in her womb as she was swamped by a sense of intimate invasion. Instinctively she flattened a protective hand over her abdomen and something dark and dangerous smouldered to life in the piercing navy eyes.

‘Did you and your lover get careless? Is that the reason for this indecent rush to the altar? You know, illegitimacy doesn’t carry the stigma it used to—’

That was going too far, even for Duncan. Kalera leapt to her feet, her slight body vibrating like a tuning fork as she matched his outrage. ‘For goodness’ sake, what rush? We haven’t even discussed a wedding date yet!’ she yelled. ‘We’ve only just got engaged. Of course I’m not pregnant. Do you know how insulting you are? Believe it or not Stephen wants to marry me; he’s not doing it out of duty or necessity or because he’s been trapped into retrieving my soiled honour. If you’d stop trying to cram words into my mouth you might have time to listen to what I have to say!’

He fell back a pace, colour streaking back into his startled expression. Just as Duncan was famous for his temper, Kalera was renowned for her serene composure. She rarely raised her voice but when she did she used her diaphragm properly, as she had been taught during singing lessons as a child, and her normally warm, husky tones could project a shout of booming authority.

Still, it wasn’t in Duncan’s nature to be confounded for long. ‘So…at last the mystery man has a name,’ he shot back. ‘What’s the rest of it? Is he anyone I’d know?’

Kalera put her hands behind her back, squaring her shoulders proudly. ‘Actually, yes. And knowing who it is you’ll understand why I have to resign. The man I’m marrying is Stephen Prior,’ she announced.

And ducked as Duncan Royal went ballistic.




CHAPTER TWO


‘So…HOW did he take it?’

‘Not very well,’ said Kalera wryly, watching as her fiancé neatly cracked another crayfish leg between his strong fingers and extracted the meat with minimal fuss. She envied the combination of easy self-confidence and natural fastidiousness that allowed him to make it look so simple.

If Kalera had ordered the crayfish in butter sauce she would have been in grease up to her elbows by now, with all sorts of debris clinging to her face. She loved seafood but had never quite got the hang of tangling politely with crustaceans at the dinner table and in the interests of romance, not to mention her white silk dress and unbound hair, had decided to forgo the restaurant’s specialty in favour of discreetly de-boned duckling.

Stephen dabbled his fingers in the lemon-scented bowl of water beside his plate and dried them on his starched white napkin. His gold signet-ring gleamed dully in the candlelight, the only embellishment to his elegant, understated style. His dark, custom-tailored jacket and white shirt were as plain as they were expensive and provided the perfect setting for his lean frame and boyish good looks.

‘I take it that’s one of your masterly understatements,’ he said, picking up his champagne glass and toasting her silently before sipping the contents. Not for the first time Kalera basked in his wonderful manners. Whenever she was with Stephen she was made to feel like a lady, as well as a woman. Harry had been a lovely man and a good husband, but he had been a bit short on social graces. Romantic gestures were simply not his style.

She looked around the plush restaurant, enjoying the novelty of dining in sumptuous surroundings with an escort who provoked envious glances from other women. So far all their meetings and dates had, from necessity, been conducted in discreet, out-of-the-way places where neither of them rated a second glance but now they had finally gone public and Stephen said that he wanted to show her off in style. Now there was no longer a need for secrecy he intended to introduce her to the social whirl. He was proud of his future bride and wanted the world and all his friends to approve his good fortune.

He was already planning for them to host a lavish engagement party and Kalera hoped that she wouldn’t disgrace him with her inexperience. She and Harry had lived a very quiet life. Going out to the movies or a neighbourhood café or having a few couples around for a casual barbecue had been typical highlights of their social week whereas Stephen was used to a very different scene. She knew that his divorced first wife had a Fine Arts degree and a social pedigree a mile long, and had been renowned for her parties, and, although he had assured Kalera that he would never make comparisons, others in his circle were bound to judge her by Terri’s standards.

‘I suppose any man would become upset at the news that his secretary has become engaged to his bitterest rival,’ Stephen continued, the intent look in his brown eyes belying the casualness of his tone. ‘So how did he react?’

Thinking that he had been more than tolerant of her disinclination to talk about her traumatic day, Kalera sighed and put down her fork. At least she had managed to get through most of her meal before Stephen’s curiosity burst the bonds of his restraint.

‘You want chapter and verse?’

‘The highlights will do if anything more is going to compromise your honour,’ Stephen said with a rueful smile.

He was clearly dying to know every detail of the encounter, but was equally intent on sticking to the pact that they had made when they first met—no discussions about their work. Stephen’s ownership of InfoTech Systems put him in direct competition with Labyrinth and he had been labelled Private Enemy No.1 by Duncan Royal. Although Labyrinth currently held the edge, the fierce battle for a bigger slice of the booming New Zealand market in computerised office systems continued to rage between the two companies, fuelled by the owners’ personal animosity.

Initially wary of becoming involved with any man, let alone one who presented a potential conflict of interest, and seriously doubting that Stephen’s suggestion of mutual self-censorship would work, Kalera’s fears had soon been allayed. He was scrupulous about observing the unwritten rules of their relationship and they found plenty to talk about that didn’t involve projects or personnel at Labyrinth and InfoTech.

‘It was awful, wasn’t it?’ he groaned as Kalera hesitated, searching for a tactful way to describe the scene. ‘I know I should have insisted on being there when you told him—’

She shuddered at the thought. ‘That would only have made things worse. Anyway, you’re so much persona non grata at Labryinth that you wouldn’t have got through the front door. The security guards have your photo.’

‘Really? I didn’t know that.’

Kalera bit her lip at the slip and he quirked an understanding eyebrow. ‘Don’t worry, the same kind of precautionary measures apply at InfoTech, except we have Royal’s face pasted to our games-room dartboard. You can tell him if you like.’

She could just imagine how that tidbit of information would be received. It would merely prove to Duncan that she had lied when she said that she and Stephen never discussed any aspect of their work, let alone anything that would compromise professional ethics on either side. She felt a small spurt of annoyance at the amusement on her fiancé’s face. There was nothing funny about departing a job she loved with a cloud over her honour.

‘No, thanks, I’m in enough trouble as it is.’

He caught the edge in her voice and smoothly adjusted his expression to one of remorseful concern. ‘I’m sorry, darling; I know how difficult this has been for you.’ He frowned. ‘Are you saying he threatened you?’

He sounded so incredulous that Kalera’s bruised sense of humour was warmed back to life by his effort to soothe her wounded sensibilities.

‘We are talking about Duncan Royal,’ she pointed out with a dry chuckle. ‘Of course he threatened me.’

Stephen didn’t share the joke. ‘I mean physically. I know how terrifying he can be in one of his rages. When we were at school he used to have the most frightful fits—that was one reason he was never made a prefect in spite of his brilliant academic record—he was simply considered too unstable. And then at university—well, he had a reputation for creating mayhem wherever he went…’

‘I knew you were briefly in partnership with him a few years ago, but I didn’t realise that your acquaintanceship went right back to your childhood,’ said Kalera slowly, aware of a slight sense of unease as it suddenly occurred to her that in spite of the illusion of intimacy created by their secret courtship she still had an awful lot to learn about the man she had promised to marry—and vice versa.

‘We both had parents who were fixated on their sons attending the “right school” and since our fathers were Old Boys who had boarded together it was fairly inevitable that we ended up in the same college.’ Stephen shrugged dismissively. ‘He was an arrogant bastard right from the third form—probably would have been expelled several times over if his father hadn’t been a leading QC and a heavy donator to school funds. As a senior his temper even terrorised the teachers.’

‘I suppose I must have become desensitised to him over the years,’ Kalera murmured, thinking that her own family background had been the perfect training ground for coping with Duncan Royal’s lightning-bursts of emotion. ‘Even when he’s yelling blue murder and throwing furniture—like he was this morning—I’ve never actually been scared of him….’

Stephen leaned forward, his wheat-blond hair burnishing his frowning forehead. ‘What exactly was he yelling at you?’

Kalera’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘You mean before or after he fired me?’

He looked suitably grave, but unsurprised. ‘I’m sorry, darling—I did warn you that was probably what would happen. But at least you don’t have to worry about being out of work. Even if he gets nasty and refuses you a reference, you know you can walk into a job at InfoTech tomorrow if you like—all you have to do is say the word…’

However fondly couched, ‘I told you so’ was still the most aggravating phrase in the English language, decided Kalera, her irritation tempered by the knowledge that Stephen wouldn’t be feeling quite so smug by the time she finished her story.

‘I did try to lead up to it delicately, but as soon as I mentioned your name he fired me on the spot,’ she admitted. ‘Then he called up Security and got two beefy guards to escort me out of the building. He wouldn’t even let me go back to my desk to get my things—’

Her mortification at her treatment was evident in her face as she remembered how it had felt to be marched off the premises like a common criminal.

Stephen’s eyes blazed with sympathy. ‘The bastard! But you’d already formally handed in your written resignation, right? You’re not going to let him get away with putting it around that you were fired—’

‘He won’t,’ she said, flattered by the unexpected heat of his anger. Sometimes she had worried that Stephen was a little too cool and self-restrained, even though it was those qualities about him which she had initially found so appealing. ‘Because he changed his mind before I even got out of the building. He rescinded the firing and demanded I work my notice after all.’

‘He what?’ Stephen collapsed back in his seat, looking thunderstruck.

Kalera didn’t blame him. The swift volte-face had been totally out of character. One of the strengths of Duncan’s charismatic leadership was his ability to make instant decisions based on pure gut instinct, and so rarely did his instincts fail him that he had established a reputation for never failing to act on a snap decision.

‘The guards had taken me as far as the front door and were about to fling me out into the snow when Duncan came racing across the foyer and ripped me out of their hands. He told them he’d made a mistake and then he dragged me back up to his office and locked me in.’

‘He did what?’ Stephen’s smooth baritone rose sharply and Kalera regretted her flippancy when she noticed the covert glances they were receiving from the surrounding tables.

Stephen noticed too and abruptly lowered his voice. ‘My God, he actually locked you in the office with him?’

He looked appalled but there was a tiny thread of speculation in his voice that for no reason at all made Kalera’s whole body flush with heat. She felt the colour rise in her face and suddenly wished her hair weren’t so long and straight that it flowed like water down the middle of her back instead of drifting in handy thickets around her face. Her wispy blonde fringe provided little concealment for her pink cheeks.

‘Not him. Just me,’ she hastened to explain. ‘He pushed me in and locked the door, and then he took off somewhere—to cool down, so he said…’

‘He kept you prisoner!’ Stephen’s raw shock made it sound as if she had been chained to a dungeon wall and flogged. ‘For how long?’

Kalera adopted a soothingly vague expression as she accepted a dessert menu from the waiter whose desire to linger suggested an unprofessional interest in their intriguing conversation.

‘Not long—about an hour or so, I suppose,’ she said, deliberately playing down the drama. She knew exactly how long it had been. She had been left to stew for precisely one hour and fifty-one minutes before Duncan had returned to deliver his pithy lecture on the pitfalls awaiting gullible young widows who fell prey to smooth-talking villains.

She looked over the menu, forcing herself to choose something even though her sweet tooth had been soured by the subject of their conversation. Stephen’s frustration with the interruption was evident as he selected the cheeseboard and sent the flapping-eared waiter briskly on his way before leaning forward again.

‘And then what happened?’

Kalera was reluctant to go into too much detail. Duncan’s comments had not been flattering, either to herself or to Stephen. In fact they had been flagrantly insulting. She had known that the two men harboured an intense dislike of each other but until today she hadn’t recognised the true depth of their mutual hostility.

Her efforts to gloss over the worst bits in the retelling were in vain. For once Stephen seemed insensitive to her distress, insisting that she describe the abrasive encounter word for word, and wanting to know not only what Duncan had said, but how he had looked and sounded when he had realised she would not be cowed into calling off her engagement.

‘And that’s all he said about me?’ he probed, after she had informed him that he had been called a low-down, underhanded, cheating rat; a poor loser who had to compensate for his personal and business inadequacies by blaming others for his own mistakes; a vain, jealous, egocentric man who pursued his selfish goals without caring who he hurt in the process.

‘All! Isn’t that enough?’ asked Kalera, who had been humiliated by Duncan’s assumption that the only possible reason an attractive man could be interested in her was because of him. And he had the nerve to call Stephen egocentric! He had even had the gall to hint that Stephen had tried to cosy up to other female employees of Labyrinth in the past, but that Kalera was the only one naive and stupid enough to fall into his honey-trap.

‘It’s the oldest trick in the industrial espionage book!’ Duncan had declared in disgust. ‘Find a lonely, love-starved female in a sensitive job and seduce her into a secret affair so that her judgment is so clouded by infatuation she doesn’t even notice that her handsome new lover is pumping her for information…and refuses to believe it even when she’s confronted with cast-iron proof!’

Smarting from the image of herself as a pathetic emotional accident waiting to happen, Kalera had icily pointed out that he had produced no proof of anything other than his own paranoia and, given the fact that his own judgment was clouded by unreasonable prejudice against her fiancé, she would thank him to stop making slanderous remarks unless he was prepared to defend them in court!

‘So, he believes that I only asked you to marry me in order to worm his secrets out of you and to deprive him of your valuable services?’ Stephen’s aristocratic mouth curled into a contemptuous sneer. ‘Did his fertile imagination also suggest a motive for my madness?’

‘I thought you asked me here for dinner, not a postmortem,’ Kalera pleaded, his persistence beginning to grate on her nerves. ‘Do we have to talk about it any more? I’m just glad it’s over and done with, and you must admit it turned out better than we expected. Duncan even apologised for the way he overreacted—said it was just the shock—’

‘I’ll bet it was a shock!’ Stephen laughed grimly. ‘Royal doesn’t like it when the tables are turned. He likes to be the one to do the shafting. You should have told him where he could stuff his apology and walked out anyway.’

His unaccustomed crudity made her eyes widen. ‘Stephen!’

‘Well…I don’t trust him,’ he said, a moody look pushing out his lower lip. ‘I just can’t believe he wants you to stay on as his secretary when he knows you and I are engaged. I wouldn’t if our positions were reversed. I wonder what he has up his sleeve? He’s a devious swine—I doubt he’s doing you any favour by letting you work your notice. He probably intends to make your life hell for the next few weeks. Whatever he pays you it won’t be enough…’

It wasn’t a matter of money, but of principle and pride, thought Kalera. In the midst of a disarmingly eloquent apology Duncan had somehow extracted a promise from her that she would stay on until the end of the month to help train her successor. She couldn’t break her word when Duncan’s willingness to keep her on was an act of faith in her integrity; nor did she want to forfeit the respect and liking of her friends at Labyrinth by slinking away from her job as if she were guilty of some wrongdoing.

‘I’m sure I can handle it,’ she said, hoping that he was wrong. ‘I’m tougher than I look, you know.’ She straightened her narrow shoulders, laid partially bare by the classic cut of her simple, sleeveless silk sheath. Her slender, breakable body often led people to overlook her inner strength and mistake her serenity for lack of assertiveness.

‘I know.’ Stephen cupped his hand over hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘I just don’t like the idea of you being hurt because of me. I never wanted to put you through this…’

She felt a familiar tightening in her chest followed by a blossoming of sweet contentment, and turned her hand palm up in his grasp, twining her fingers with his. He lifted their clasped hands to his mouth and gallantly saluted her knuckles with a soft kiss.

She loved the way that he could make her feel cherished and special with simple statements of caring rather than extravagant compliments. She recognised the same emotional reserve in him that existed in herself. After Harry was killed so tragically and so young, she hadn’t wanted to fall in love again. She hadn’t thought that she would ever find another man so perfectly suited to her needs. But then fate had thrown Stephen across her path and his gentle persistence had won her wary heart.

His gaze shifted and suddenly he stiffened, the tender light in his melting brown eyes instantly extinguished. ‘Did you tell Royal that we were coming here this evening?’

Kalera raised her finely arched brows at his curtness. Surely Stephen wasn’t going to turn paranoid on her too! ‘No…at least—I might have mentioned that we were going out to dinner after we shopped for the ring, I suppose, but I don’t think I said where. Why?’

‘Because he’s here—in the restaurant—and he’s coming over,’ said Stephen through his teeth. ‘And you can bet it’s not to offer his best wishes.’

Kalera’s head snapped around, her fine hair spraying over her silk-clad shoulders as Duncan Royal came to a halt beside her chair. It was only long experience of his eccentric taste in clothes that prevented her mouth from falling open at the sight of his attire. He was dressed from head to toe in black, his sculpted silk velvet jacket cropped like a matador’s, the wide lapels and cuffs stiff with flamboyant gold embroidery. Everything about him, from his clothes to the expression on his darkly amused face, reeked of challenge.

‘Well, well, well…if it isn’t the happy couple,’ he drawled, looking down at them with a tigerish smile. ‘What an extraordinary coincidence.’

His gaze shifted to their entwined fingers and before Kalera could curb the impulse she had guiltily snatched her hand from Stephen’s loosened grasp. She immediately picked up her glass and pretended to be drinking from it, but the glint in Duncan’s eye told her that he wasn’t fooled.

‘Mind if I join you for a while?’

Kalera was rendered speechless by his audacity.

‘Yes!’

Ignoring Stephen’s violent rejection, Duncan hooked a soft black ankle-boot around the leg of a chair at the next table, abandoned by a foursome for the dance-floor, and dragged it over, not taking his eyes off Kalera’s flushed face. He smiled as he positioned the chair too close to hers and sat down, his thigh brushing hers under the round table. She crossed her legs to avoid a repetition and found that it was now her bare arm at risk of being caressed by the plush velvet of his sleeve. His black shirt was figured silk, with covered buttons, she noticed unwillingly. And, dear God…!

‘You’re wearing an earring!’ she gasped, sufficiently distracted to forget that she had been about to edge her chair away from his.

‘Yes, do you like it?’ He turned so that the elongated jet and chased gold teardrop swung against the tanned column of his neck, almost brushing the collar of his jacket. A stud or ring was a fairly commonplace declaration of modern macho cool, but the wickedly frivolous elegance of that dangling earring made an entirely different statement. It was the sort of exquisite piece of jewellery that a languid Elizabethan fop might have worn…or a modern rock-and-shock star!

‘I didn’t even know you had your ear pierced,’ murmured Kalera faintly.

‘I didn’t—until this afternoon,’ he said, turning the back of his head towards Stephen and lowering his voice to effectively cut him out of the conversation. ‘For some reason I had this sudden, compelling urge to go out and do something just for the sheer hell of it, something satisfyingly primitive, and preferably masochistic…What prompted me to feel like that, do you think, Kalera?’

‘I have no idea,’ she said, refusing to look into those mocking blue eyes, or acknowledge the gravelly insinuation that she was somehow responsible for his ritual act of self-mutilation. In her experience Duncan needed no outside prompting to encourage his hell-raising impulses. She glanced nervously across the table at Stephen’s stony face, and gave him a secret smile in the hope that it might take the sting out of being ignored.

‘I know I shouldn’t be wearing anything but a stud in it yet,’ Duncan went on in his confiding tone, ‘but you know me, Kalera, I like to experiment. If you stick to the rules all your life you end up never doing any real living.’

His taunt fell on arid ground. Kalera had grown up in a society where there were too few rules rather than too many, and she knew which system she preferred. Duncan, the maverick, was the product of a conventional upper-middle-class upbringing which provided him with the lifelong security of having something to rebel against.

He tapped the lobe of his ear, making the earring sway, the polished jet gleaming as it performed its hypnotic little dance in the candlelight.

‘So what do you think? Does it suit me?’

Surprisingly it did. The feminine delicacy of the piece presented an exotic contrast to the hard planes of his face and the square jaw shadowed by masculine stubble. But Kalera would die before she admitted it. He was here to cause trouble and she was not going to co-operate by being drawn into his game.

‘I think it looks freakish,’ said Stephen tightly, the words spilling out from behind his rigid control. ‘But then it’s typical of you, isn’t it, Duncan? Always some outlandish stunt to draw attention to yourself. You’d better be careful: one day people are going to figure out that you’re more show than substance.’

‘Ever the flatterer, Steve.’ Duncan was indifferent to the savage thrust, his interest still squarely centred on Kalera. ‘I suppose he’s told you how ravishing you look this evening,’ he said. His eyes ran over the soft sheen of white silk in a smouldering male appraisal that was completely different from the way he had looked at her that morning. This time his gaze was meant to disturb and arouse and Kalera was grateful for the slight stiffness of the heavy Thai silk which shielded her helpless feminine response to his honeyed blanishment.

It didn’t seem to matter that she knew he was mocking her. She could feel her breasts prickling against the cups of her soft lace bra and a dangerous electricity zigzagged through her veins and pooled at the base of her stomach. She unconsciously pressed her thighs together as she kept her expression serene. He didn’t have X-ray vision, for goodness’ sake; he couldn’t possibly know what she was feeling. But the knowing smile kindling in the navy eyes suggested that he could make a far too well educated guess!

‘And how very appropriate that you should be wearing the colour of purity and honour,’ he drawled, making her pulses spike with renewed apprehension. ‘Very bridal…especially with that radiant veil of hair.’ He lifted a pale gold lock which had slipped forward to coil on the tablecloth next to her tense elbow and began to curl the silky skein around his finger idly. ‘I had no idea it had grown so long. The last time you let your hair down so for me in such glorious abandon it was only halfway down your back, but now it’s past your waist…’

Kalera froze, her eyes darting furtively to Stephen, but he appeared so incensed by the sight of Duncan toying with her hair that he failed to notice any hint of collusion in his words.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.

Duncan surveyed the living band of gold that thickly spanned his finger. ‘Just admiring your future bride.’

Stephen looked every bit as jumpy as Kalera felt. ‘You can do that without pawing at her!’

Duncan’s eyes widened insincerely. ‘I’m sorry, is that what I was doing, Kalera?’

He slowly unwound the curl and replaced the long tress against the white satin of her bodice, smoothing it back into its former position, seemingly unaware of her sharply indrawn breath as his knuckles skimmed the outer curve of her breast.

‘I said, take your hands off her!’ hissed Stephen, his face stiff with suppressed anger.

Duncan smiled, all innocence. ‘No need to get uptight, Steve. Kalera’s not complaining. She’s been with me for three years, after all. She’s used to me touching her. She knows I’m a very tactile person…’

Stephen disliked the shortened version of his name and Kalera guessed that Duncan knew it and was aiming for maximum provocation with minimum effort. She watched Stephen seethe behind his sophisticated air of self-possession, the closest she had ever seen him to losing his cool.

Duncan had half risen in his seat as he spoke and Kalera let out an inward sigh of relief at the prospect of his departure, but instead of leaving he bent over to heft the bottle from the silver ice-bucket standing on the other side of the table. His mouth kicked up as he read the French label.

‘As usual, only the best will do, huh, Steve? Shall I get the waiter to bring another champagne glass so that I can toast your good luck? Better still, let me buy you another bottle to show there’s no hard feelings. Give those gossipy old trouts out there a disappointment!’

He sat down again and made a small flourish with his fingers which must have been a pre-arranged signal, for a wine steward immediately came trotting up with a chilled bottle of the same vintage and a third crystal flute.

If his final comment was meant to be a threat, then it worked beautifully to his advantage. Stephen’s quick glance around the room told Kalera that, much as he would have liked to reject the offer coldly, he was a hostage to his own good manners. He wasn’t going to allow the rest of her evening to be spoiled by allowing them to become embroiled in an unpleasant scene.

They watched as the last of the champagne from the old bottle was poured into Duncan’s glass and the new one deftly opened.

‘To Kalera…’ said the brazen interloper, singing his glass softly against hers and looking deep into the mysterious grey depths of her eyes. ‘May you get everything you desire in this world. And to Steve—’ He turned, and this time the clash of crystal sounded out like the ring of swords. ‘May you get everything you so richly deserve.’

Stephen suddenly seemed impervious to insult, his smile redolent with triumph as he inclined his head.

‘Thank you, Duncan. With Kalera as my wife I’m sure I will,’ he said smoothly. ‘I won’t apologise for stealing her away from you because I don’t think you appreciated what a quiet gem you had in your possession until she told you she was leaving Labyrinth…for me. You took it for granted that working for the great Duncan Royal must be the most important thing in her life. Well, now you know that it’s not—so don’t think you can buy her back with a bottle of champagne and a few glib compliments because you can’t. She isn’t for sale!’

Kalera’s hands fluttered in silent protest, aghast at Stephen’s unnecessary defence of her integrity. If he was trying to avoid a scene he was definitely going the wrong way about it. Didn’t he realise that telling Duncan he couldn’t do something was the equivalent of throwing down a gauntlet?

But, instead of responding to the irresistible challenge, Duncan’s eyes flickered down, concealing his expression under a thick screen of sable lashes.

‘Speaking of gems, I see you’re wearing your brand-new engagement ring, Kalera,’ was his meek reply. ‘May I see?’

She lifted her hand, surprised to find it was clenched into an involuntary fist, and he mimed a silent whistle at the sight of the large diamond solitaire.

‘That’s quite a rock. A lot bigger than the one Harry gave you, but since love’s not measured by the carat I guess that doesn’t mean much, does it?’

Stephen was incensed. ‘That’s an incredibly tasteless and vulgar remark!’

Duncan appeared so remorseful that Kalera knew it was a sham and was horrified by a brief and wholly inappropriate urge to giggle. ‘I’m sorry, I know comparisons are odious. It’s just that—well, until today Kalera was still wearing Harry’s ring and I have difficulty imagining her with another man.’ He shook his head reminiscently. ‘They were so well matched. I really liked Harry. You never met him, Steve, but he was an all-round nice guy. An incredibly tough act to follow.’ He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up.

At last!

‘Forgive me, Kalera,’ he said, his politeness forcing her to look up into his unconvincingly humble face. ‘I’m compounding my sins, aren’t I? I didn’t mean to upset you by summoning up memories of your first husband, tonight of all nights…’

Liar! He meant to do whatever it took to wreck the romantic mood of their evening. But his plan had backfired as far as Kalera was concerned, because she knew that Harry would have wanted her to be happy.

So she smiled serenely and murmured that of course she wasn’t upset, only to have Duncan give her another lesson in the subtle art of brinkmanship.

‘As usual you shame me with your graciousness. But I won’t accept that I’m forgiven until you honour me with at least one dance before I go.’ He indicated the small, intimate dance-floor occupied by several couples barely moving to the smoochy blues of a small jazz band. ‘I doubt that I’ll be invited to your wedding so this might be my only chance to dance with the blushing bride. You don’t mind, do you, old boy?’

Stephen patently did mind, but Duncan was already stooping to cup Kalera’s elbow, applying a secret pressure of his fingertips that made her jump to her feet with apparent alacrity, the nerves in her paralysed arm going crazy and tiny pinpoints of white light dancing dizzily in front of her eyes.

Before she could recover from the momentary disorientation, Duncan’s cunning grip shifted and she found herself propelled into irresistible motion with every appearance of eagerness, leaving Stephen floundering in startled disapproval.

As they moved away from the table Duncan turned his head and asked conversationally, ‘Have you told him yet?’

Aware that they weren’t fully out of earshot, Kalera stiffened her spine and voluntarily quickened her pace, missing the smirk that Duncan threw over his shoulder.

‘Told him what?’

‘About us.’

She could feel Stephen’s suspicious gaze boring into her back.

‘There’s nothing to tell!’ she denied vehemently.

‘No?’

‘No!’

They reached the edge of the dance-floor and Duncan swung her lightly into his arms.

‘You must lead an astonishingly eventful life if you think that crawling naked into a man’s bed and begging him to make love to you is “nothing”. Somehow I don’t think that Stephen would take the same liberal view. Don’t you think he has a right to know that, far from being unappreciative, I’m fully aware of each and every intimate facet of his quiet little gem?’




CHAPTER THREE


THE strength in Kalera’s legs melted away and if Duncan hadn’t had his arm anchored around her waist she would have sunk ignominiously to the ground. Her long fingernails dug into the soft velvet of his jacket, scrabbling for purchase as she stumbled along, knocking her slender knees against his long legs.

Anyone watching would think that she had never learned to dance, she thought feverishly. But she and Stephen had often danced together and if he was still watching them he would be wondering what on earth was going on. When she went back to the table he would ask what they had been talking about and if she didn’t want to create a terrible turmoil in their relationship she would have to lie…

‘Oh, God!’ She moaned, her head wilting towards a gold-embroidered lapel, her temples tightening at the mere thought of the complications that could ensue. An exotic scent teased her nostrils and she dimly recognised the cologne that the staff had given their boss the previous Christmas, and which she had been despatched to select and buy. She had thought the sharp, spicy fragrance with its lingering, sensual undertones might have been designed with Duncan in mind, and now it seemed even more potent, uniquely personalised by the natural musk of his skin.

Duncan’s hard palm pressed against her back, bracing the centre of her limp body against his hips as he guided her around the floor in a semblance of grace. His thighs pushed insistently against hers, nudging them into sluggish action, his leading hand tucked close to his shoulder, keeping her torso nestled against his chest. At six feet four he towered over her, but he was nevertheless surprisingly light on his feet.

‘Keep moving. You’re doing fine,’ he murmured encouragingly, his breath stirring the hair above her ear. ‘I won’t let you go…’

That was what she was afraid of!

‘Why are you doing this?’ Her whispery groan trickled out from between pale lips.

‘What—dancing?’ said Duncan, deliberately misunderstanding her as he deftly side-stepped them past an elderly couple. ‘We danced together once before…three years ago, at that party you and Harry gave that first Christmas you worked for me, remember? You and Harry had just moved into a new flat and you invited all your new colleagues from Labyrinth to a housewarming. You didn’t expect the boss to turn up too, but I did, and when Harry was dancing with someone else I danced with you—out on the tiny balcony, under the stars, because it was so crowded inside…’

She recognised his technique, having witnessed it often enough in the office. Her head jerked up, away from the illusory comfort of his broad shoulder. ‘You’re trying to distract me,’ she accused, before she realised that perhaps she should be thanking him.

He grinned unrepentantly. ‘Is it working?’

‘No.’ But her feet were beginning to glide more smoothly as she reluctantly recalled the party in question.

She had felt flustered when Duncan had suddenly appeared at the party, alone, when everyone else had brought partners or dates, and she had felt even more uncomfortable during their dance when he had resisted her polite efforts at normal conversation. Having only worked for him for a few weeks, she had attributed his silent abstraction to boredom but now that she knew him well she recognised that he had probably been brooding over a bug in one of his programs, shutting down the rest of his faculties to concentrate his higher-brain function on the problem.

He had held her close that night, too, but so lightly that she hadn’t felt trapped or overly aware of the intense masculinity that nowadays she found almost impossible to ignore…

At the time she had also been astonished that Duncan and Harry had hit it off so instantly and so well. They were so radically different from each other…Harry placid and content—some people called him dull—grounded in his strong family values and blessedly ordinary in his dreams and ambitions; and Duncan, the emotional whirlwind, eternally restless and unsatisfied, living life with a greedy enthusiasm that verged on defiance and seemingly incapable of committing himself to any lasting relationship with a woman.

Although Harry had been eight years younger than Duncan, to Kalera he had seemed decades ahead of her boss in maturity. Yet the two men had seemed to connect in some way that she had never quite understood and even though they hadn’t seen each other very often they had maintained an easy friendship from which she was excluded, since it largely consisted of Harry trying to teach Duncan how to play golf, a game to which Kalera privately considered her boss was temperamentally unsuited, although as usual he had refused to admit defeat and the intermittent lessons had continued right up until Harry’s death.

‘That party was the first time I held you in my arms,’ Duncan continued, and Kalera suddenly became ultra-conscious of the physical intimacy of their conversation, the way his thigh was sliding between hers as he pivoted their swaying bodies, his solid hips rocking rhythmically against her pelvis. ‘And it was all very chaste and innocent, thanks to the fact you were a very married woman, but the last time…’ He looked down at her, his eyes sultry with secrets, his voice dropping to a throaty purr. ‘Eighteen months ago…now, that wasn’t innocent at all…’

‘And we both agreed that neither of us would ever mention it again!’ she choked, hating the flush that swept across her skin as she averted her face from his. How dared he seek to taunt her with something she had tried so desperately to forget? ‘You promised that we’d pretend it had never happened—’

‘But that’s all it ever was, Kalera—a pretence. You and I both know it did happen. You can’t wipe out the truth simply by ignoring its existence. At the time, I’ll admit, it seemed to be the wisest course, but circumstances change…’

‘What circumstances?’ she asked, trying to pull together her shattered thoughts, furious with herself for letting him catch her off guard.

‘Well, now you’re no longer a vulnerable, grieving widow, wallowing in guilt over the fact that your sexuality survived your husband’s death. If sleeping with Stephen doesn’t make you feel like the adulteress, then I guess that lets me off the hook, too—’

Familiar as she was with his love of shock tactics, Kalera still gasped as her eyes whipped up to meet his, her husky voice as icy as her face was hot. ‘How dare you?’

Her veil of hair flared out as he spun her around in a flamboyant turn, drawing their clasped hands down against his chest to avoid bumping elbows with other dancers. ‘As a former lover who was made to feel as if I had scarred you for life, I feel I have a right to a certain interest,’ he said piously.

‘You and I were not lovers,’ she corrected him fiercely, her pupils shrinking into tiny pinpoints on ghostly grey backgrounds.

‘You’re arguing over semantics, Kalera.’ He smiled into her angry face. ‘We came as close as two people possibly can to making love…the only thing missing was the final act of penetration, which was somewhat superfluous in any case, since we’d both already had the supreme satisfaction of—’

‘Duncan!’ Kalera’s spluttered protest was accompanied by a frantic squeeze of his fingers and a furtive check of the faces in the immediate vicinity, but luckily no one appeared to have overheard his scandalous words.

‘I suppose if you hadn’t had an orgasm you wouldn’t have felt so guilty afterwards,’ he continued, in defiance of her quietly agonised attempts to hush him. ‘You could have persuaded yourself that you endured rather than enjoyed, that I had abused your trust and taken advantage of you, whereas it turned out that I was the one being used and abused.’

Somehow she had to stop him from saying those awful, awful things out loud. ‘I wasn’t using you—’

‘Not consciously, I’ll allow you that, but it seems highly convenient that you didn’t decide that what we were doing was wrong until after you had everything that you wanted from me. I wonder, would your new lover have been as gracious in the same circumstances?’

‘He’s not my—’ She snapped her teeth shut, appalled at what had almost slipped out.

Navy eyes gleamed like polished silk. ‘Good God!’ he exclaimed, his voice soft with an infuriating lilt of amused triumph. ‘You’ve agreed to marry the man and you don’t even know what he’s like in bed? I would have thought Golden Boy would have been anxious to dazzle you with his prowess—’

‘Unlike you, Stephen doesn’t happen to think that sex is all there is to a relationship!’ Kalera tried to quell him with a haughty glare and instead found herself captive to a lambent fire smouldering in his gaze.

‘Not all—but certainly a large part. You can have lust without love but I don’t think a healthy love can exist without a spark of elemental lust and you two don’t exactly light up the room with each other,’ he murmured. ‘Although I suppose if you’re marrying for practical reasons rather than love…’

He was fishing and she knew it, but she couldn’t help snapping, ‘Of course Stephen and I love each other!’

‘Do you?’ Duncan’s scepticism was like sandpaper on her nerves.

‘I have been in love before,’ she said sarcastically. ‘I do know what it’s like!’

His face seemed to go taut, his eyes narrowing. ‘Are you saying that Prior makes you feel the way that Harry did?’

His incredulity gave Kalera the uneasy feeling that she was being backed into a corner she couldn’t see. ‘Yes—no—’ She sounded wishy-washy even to her own ears. ‘It’s totally different—you wouldn’t understand.’

He was not to be so easily dismissed. ‘Try me.’

The harshly pitched invitation seemed redolent with deeper meaning. ‘I have no intention of discussing it with you—’

‘Why? Because Golden Boy wouldn’t like it?’ he jeered. ‘Does he have you so thoroughly under his thumb already, Kalera?’

‘No—because I value my privacy,’ she corrected him. ‘You have no right, whatever was—or was not—between us in the past, to try and manipulate me into confiding in you. I’ve had enough of that kind of thing in my life.’ The last tumbled out as something of an afterthought as she looked for their table, trying to catch a reassuring glimpse of Stephen waiting there for her, but even on tiptoe she wasn’t tall enough to see over the other dancers blocking her view.

‘What do you mean—what confidences has Prior been trying to weasel out of you?’ Duncan’s dark brows steepened in suspicion, his hand tightening on her lower back. ‘I told you that he was operating a hidden agenda.’

Kalera’s reference had had nothing to do with Stephen but she was tired of having to defend herself.

‘If this is another lecture like this morning’s, about my being such an infatuated idiot that I wouldn’t notice the bug over the bed for the louse who was in it—you can stop right there!’

He didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Well, how was I to know that you’d refused to sleep with him? You implied that Boy Wonder had swept you off your feet—and into bed was the obvious assumption!’

‘Obvious to you, maybe, but thankfully Stephen is more refined. And anyway, I haven’t refused,’ she was unable to resist flinging at him. ‘It’s just that neither of us wants to rush things. We both happen to be enjoying the process of courtship…’

‘I guess sleeping with the enemy while you were still working for me would have been too much like another act of pseudo-adultery,’ he said slyly.

Kalera flicked her chin up. ‘That had absolutely nothing to do with it!’ she declared, wondering how he managed to home in on her doubts with such unerring skill.

‘Absolutely, huh?’ He tilted his head and the outrageous earring danced provocatively in her sight, reminding her how much Duncan loved to flout the conventions, and how successful he was at goading others to forget their polite inhibitions.

‘So you don’t even feel a teensy-weensy bit unfaithful to me whenever you kiss him?’

She gave him her serene, Mona Lisa smile, while inside she was reeling with shock.

‘I don’t feel guilty for loving him, if that’s what you mean,’ she said mildly, and felt proud of her restraint when the mocking light in his eyes abruptly snuffed out. ‘I think Harry would have liked him,’ she added, intending to put a final period to the conversation.

This time it was Duncan who stumbled as he looked down at her in amazement, responding with instinctual speed, ‘Are you crazy? Harry would have hated him.’

‘Harry never hated anyone in his life,’ she scoffed. His tolerant kindness had been one of the things that she had most loved about her husband.

‘Whereas Steve has elevated it to an art form,’ said Duncan, recovering his equilibrium and executing a couple of head-spinning turns to prove it. Breathlessly trying to keep up with him, Kalera could feel the frustration that had him almost jumping out of his skin. ‘You saw what he was like just now. He was really getting off on the idea of having snatched you out from under my nose—’

As if she were a disputed toy rather than an independent woman with a mind and will of her own!

‘You were deliberately trying to provoke him into reacting like that,’ she pointed out. ‘I’m not going to listen to you run him down just because you don’t like him. You’re totally unreasonable on the subject of Stephen—’

‘I’m unreasonable—what about him?’

He sounded like a petulant child and her superior look told him so. ‘I suppose the next thing you’re going to say is that it isn’t fair and it’s all his fault,’ she said tartly.

He scowled, injecting a note of pathos into his tone that was utterly unconvincing. ‘Aren’t I even allowed to express a friendly concern for your welfare? I think it’s great that you want to get married again, but anyone with half an eye can see that Prior’s all wrong for you. You haven’t known him very long—I have. Up until a few years ago we were best friends—since our schooldays, in fact—that’s how we got into business together…’





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