Conditional Surrender Read online

  `I think he'll play fair,' she said finally.

  `You don't think he's out to draw blood? This is his first set of negotiations.'

  `No, he's no hothead. Nor is he out to make a name for himself at any cost. He's—steady. He won't give anything

  away, mind . . .' Despite the track her thoughts were taking, she permitted a small smile to show. 'He's been too well trained for that. My father was his first teacher,' she added at his interrogative look.

  `So that's where you get your understanding of union matters?' He nodded as if he had spent time pondering the question.

  `I was brought up on it.' Kate's smile was more genuine this time as fond memories flooded back of hours spent debating with her father. They had put the world to rights so many times. If only .. .

  `Your father is a shop steward, I gather?' He returned to the subject after they had been served.

  Not now,' her eyes clouded. 'He was a long-distance lorry driver. He was made redundant nearly three years ago.'

  Still not working?' The question was casually put, but despite her distraction, Kate sensed that her answer was in some way important to him. She shook her head warily, stilling the sudden crazy impulse to confide fully in him. Kate was always more than happy to share her joys, but problems were a different matter. Her natural reticence negated the impulse immediately and kept her replies short and to the point.

  `What about your mother?'

  Kate shrugged. 'She does a few hours a week cleaning offices.'

  He grimaced. 'I imagine your father isn't too keen on that.'

  `He hates it!' Kate answered vehemently and truthfully. Her father's natural pride at providing for his family had been severely undermined, as he was one of the older breed which firmly believed in the man's dominant role in life.

  `And you have two young brothers, I believe?' Kate nodded, somewhat surprised. She could not recall mentioning Ian and Andy to him, and he was hardly the type to pore over family photographs! 'So, am I right in assuming it was money worries causing that little tantrum earlier, rather than something personal between you and Marchant?' His mouth twisted on the name. Kate gasped and pushed away her half-eaten lunch.

  `You know perfectly well I don't go in for office relationships!' Her voice was a little huffy with indignation.

  But how on earth . . .?'

  He grinned, her fluster obviously amusing him. `Elementary, my dear Miss McNaught.' He took a sip of his wine. 'You've brushed off enough people with such cool disdain if they so much as hint at our—alleged relationship.'

  Kate felt a painful flush spread over her face. She was all too conscious that her normal cool-headedness when dealing with her boss had totally deserted her. And, she suspected, he had only just started to take advantage of the fact.

  `I didn't realise you'd heard the rumours.'

  He shrugged off the matter. 'There are always rumours about a boss and his secretary.' He met her eyes, and added in a deliberately goading tone, 'Especially when the secretary in question is as young and beddable as you undoubtedly are!'

  `Oh!' Kate's blush deepened as she gaped at him open mouthed, shocked to the core by his offhand comment.

  `Did you really imagine I hadn't noticed?' he asked gently, his deep voice slightly husky as his gaze dwelt on the swift rise and fall of her breasts. 'You rather intrigue me, you know, Kate.' Yet another surprise! Her eyes widened at his use of her Christian name. She really didn't think she could take any more today, but he continued, regardless. 'Today is the first time you've allowed that cool facade to slip. I was beginning to think it was a permanent fixture.'

  `I could say the same about you!' she snapped, the heightened colour lending a sparkle to her cat's eyes.

  `Action and reaction,' he shrugged. 'Now, about your problem . .

  `I really don't think . .

  `Greg, old chap! I was hoping to run into you here!'

  Kate heaved a sigh of relief at the advent of Ron Millerchip, a bluff hearty man in his mid-fifties. He had been trying for months to get Courtney to speak at the local Chamber of Commerce.

  Kate almost succumbed to a fit of the giggles as she noticed her employer's eyes glaze over. She had discovered very early on that Gregory Courtney hated the social side of business politics with a passion, delegating them whenever possible to his second-in-command Sam Goodis, an older man in his early

  fifties, whose plump gregarious wife, Marie, loved nothing more than entertaining. Kate had only met her on a couple of fleeting occasions, but had been struck immediately by her lively, outgoing personality. Sam, of course, she knew rather better.

  Ron Millerchip had been unflagging in his efforts to contact Gregory Courtney. Kate had diverted him to Sam many times, but she now felt a perverse satisfaction from remaining adamantly silent in the face of her boss's narrow-eyed demand for rescue. It took a none too gentle kick on the shin from under the table to remind her that it was, after all, part of her duties to save her boss from such time-consuming irritations—even if he did deserve Ron Millerchip after that crack about her beddability. The nerve of him! She found it even more irritating to discover that the idea of him thinking of her in such a way was not altogether displeasing!

  `I'm so sorry to interrupt, Mr Courtney . . .' Her voice poured honey in direct contrast to the message her eyes were delivering, 'I'm afraid you have a two-fifteen appointment . .

  'Ali, yes. Thank you, Miss McNaught.' He stood up, obviously anxious to be on his way. 'Perhaps you could arrange something with Mr Millerchip,' he added absently, and heartlessly left her to it. Punishment, no doubt, Kate thought cynically, watching his retreating back.

  `Now, Mr Millerchip . .

  Kate returned to her office in a very fraught state of nerves, stuck out her tongue childishly at Gregory Courtney's door, and sank tiredly into her chair. She stared broodingly at the telephone for what seemed like hours, wondering whether or not to ring her mother. She felt too apathetic to concentrate on the usual pile of problems in her in-tray. She could never remember a time when she could not lose herself in her work. Then, startled, she almost jumped out of her skin when the phone rang, the discordant noise reverberating through the silence.

  `Mr Courtney's office. May I help you?' she uttered automatically.

  `Katherine? Is that you?'

  `Yes, of course it's me, Mom.' There was only one person in the world who persisted in addressing her by her full name. 'I was just thinking about calling you. How is he?'

  `Depressed, ashamed, guilty—and still as stubborn as a mule! You know your father, Katherine.' Alissa McNaught sounded very near to tears.

  `I'm sorry, Mom. I know this is hard on you,' Kate sighed. `I just wish I'd managed to keep my mouth shut.'

  `You're no more capable of that than flying to the moon, once your temper is roused. Your father knows that, love.' Her mother's tone became dry. 'And you know he only gets so belligerent when he feels guilty. This row's been brewing for some time.'

  `He's still set on it, then?' Kate asked without much hope.

  `Oh, yes. More than ever.' Her mother sounded as tired as Kate felt. Their normally easy-going family life had been plunged into turmoil in the past few weeks, one argument following another with increasing regularity. It was taking a heavy toll on all of them. And Kate was stuck firmly in the middle. This morning's little episode had been magnified out of all proportion, but had forced Kate to understand that changing her father's mind was now probably next to impossible.

  `Oh, Mom, I just don't know what to say any more.'

  `I dare say we'll come through. I'll have to go, Kate—he'll be home in a minute. See you later, love.'

  `Bye, Mom.'

  Kate replaced the receiver and slumped tiredly on her desk, her head cradled in her arms. How could she have spoken to her father as she had? Losing her temper was no excuse, the thoughts must have been in her mind for her to have thrown them at him so carelessly. She could still see her mother's puzzled frown as she stared a
t the red print on the electricity bill. Her father's pale face told its own story. It had all come out then—how he had taken the money she had given him to pay the bill and blown the lot on a racing certainty. The fact that his horse had lost by only a short head was no consolation to Kate. The bill was for nearly sixty pounds and she simply had no reserves to call on.

  Every month since her father had been made redundant,

  Kate had quite cheerfully handed over her pay cheque, taking only enough for bus fares and sundry items like tights. She had felt no resentment. Her family had always pulled together in times of trouble. Even Ian had managed to get a paper round. But the upkeep of a four-bedroomed house, plus two permanently hungry and growing teenage brothers, had swallowed every penny. Her father's unemployment benefit barely covered the housekeeping without even touching the mortgage, rates, gas, electricity, phone and all the other seemingly hundreds of bills that had been pouring through the letterbox lately.

  Kate's elderly Mini had been sold very early on, as had Callum McNaught's Maxi. Every month the boys needed some new item of clothing, they were growing so fast. And every week her father returned from the Job Centre, his shoulders slumped in defeat, his pride as head of the household diminishing slowly but surely, and Kate's thoughtless words this morning, instead of completing the process altogether, had instilled in him a determination to go ahead with the plans that were causing so much dissent.

  And all morning the thought of that sixty pounds had weighed heavily on Kate's mind. She had to find the money from somewhere, but their savings were long gone. Thus far, they had avoided going into debt, but she suddenly felt they might now be at the start of that very slippery slope.

  Her agitation increased a hundredfold when she finally raised her head to find herself staring blindly into Gregory Courtney's impassive features.

  Tm—I'm sorry . . .' she stammered, horrified at being found in such a mortifying situation.

  `Come into my office, Kate.' Said the spider to the fly, Kate added silently, rolling her eyes at his retreating figure.

  She followed him listlessly, knowing she would have to proffer some sort of explanation for her unprecedented behaviour, but inwardly rebelling at the thought of betraying her father. It had, after all, taken his uncharacteristic action to make her realise just how desperate he was becoming to raise some money. He had known full well, without Kate's heated words, that this was not the way.

  Courtney strode directly to the drinks cabinet concealed in the corner of the office and poured a measure of brandy into a glass.

  `Drink this,' he ordered curtly.

  `But I don't like . .

  `Drink it!' The thread of impatience in his voice brooked no argument, and she tossed the amber fluid back with scant regard for its quality, wincing as it burnt the back of her throat.

  He was perched on the end of his desk looking down at her by the time Kate's eyes cleared of their brandy-induced tears. She resolutely kept her gaze on his discreet silk tie as he began to question her in his clipped voice.

  Was I right in assuming it's money causing this—upset?'

  `I . . .' Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.

  `Don't prevaricate—just answer me. I don't need all the details, just a simple yes or no will suffice,' he rasped. She stole a glance at him through the veil of her lashes, but his granite-hard features gave nothing away—except that the left eyebrow seemed a little higher than the right. Perhaps she was in with a chance after all! He had discarded his suit jacket since lunch, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, showing the fine dark hairs on his muscular arms.

  `Kate!'

  `I—Yes.' She gave in resentfully. 'Well, partly anyway,' she added truthfully.

  He expelled his breath on a long sigh 'How much?' He strode to his jacket and removed his cheque book, his intentions plain. Kate's mouth went dry, but she managed to hold her head high and proud as she glared defiantly at his stony profile.

  `Fifty-eight pounds, sixty-five pence.'

  Unforgivably, he began to laugh. It really was the last straw on this most disastrous of days! Kate jumped instantly to her feet and stared wildly around her. There was a vague idea of a blunt instrument in the back of her mind! He strolled over and pushed her unceremoniously back into her chair, still with that hatefully amused quirk hovering around his mouth.

  `Kate, I do apologise. But to think of you working

  yourself up into such a state for a mere fifty-eight pounds . .

  `It may be a mere fifty-eight pounds to you, Mr Courtney,' she bit out with pathetic dignity, 'but you do not have to count every penny coming into the house.'

  The amusement left his features abruptly. 'No, I don't. Not any more.' His head tilted to one side as he surveyed her stormy expression. 'Have you considered that I may have been laughing in relief?' She regarded him suspiciously until he expanded, 'I was under the impression that I'd have to shell out a few hundred at the very least to restore you to your usual efficient state.'

  Kate rubbed a hand over her face in a weary gesture which was becoming far too frequent these days. Her anger left her as suddenly as it had arrived. Gregory Courtney was only trying to help, after all.

  `I can't take money from you, Mr Courtney.'

  `You take money from me every month, and earn every penny,' he pointed out kindly, and with irrefutable logic. `Consider it a bonus for keeping Millerchip off my back.' He extracted six ten-pound notes from his wallet and handed them to her. Kate stared at the notes blindly, a mist of tears clouding her vision. How she hated the necessity of taking them!

  `Then thank you. I'll pay you back as soon as . .

  `Don't be so ridiculous, Kate,' he snarled, his brows lowering to danger point. 'As you so rightly pointed out, it's a paltry sum to me these days.'

  But . .

  He sighed heavily. He leaned over her chair, his hand sliding under her chin as he forced her to meet his searching scrutiny. Her uncertain eyes wavered and fell in the face of his piercing gaze. The tip of her pink tongue appeared to moisten her suddenly dry lips. Gregory Courtney did not miss the movement. His head lowered and his probing lips nibbled at the contours of hers, deepening the kiss as her lips parted on a gasp of surprise. He kissed her until her mouth quivered in involuntary response to his practised seduction. Then he drew back, straightening away from her.

  `Consider your debt paid in full,' he said dismissively,

  obviously unmoved by what, to Kate, had been a mind-blowing experience. 'Don't look so shattered, Kate. Worse things happen at office parties!'

  She belatedly took her cue from him. 'Then thank you, Mr Courtney.' He smiled derisively at her polite little voice, causing her to add rashly, But it does make you think, doesn't it?'

  `Mmm?' He looked up from the report he had just picked up to study, a puzzled frown drawing his brows together.

  `Well, if I can get sixty pounds for a mere kiss . . .' She blushed painfully at the shout of laughter which greeted her words, and she rushed headlong out of his office before her runaway tongue ran her clean over the edge.

  Gregory Courtney's laughter died the moment his office door clicked shut. Her taste had been even more intoxicating than he had imagined, he thought, resenting the fact, even as he acknowledged it.

  It seemed the time had finally arrived . . .!

  CHAPTER TWO

  KATE had to forcibly stifle the yawn which was urging her to stretch out like a kitten, and turn her mind back to concentrating on the notes she was supposed to be taking. She had been sitting in the same position for over two hours now, and the conference room was growing stuffier by the minute. Normally she found Gregory Courtney's meetings interesting, if not fascinating. It was quite an education to witness at first hand his computer-like brain in operation.

  The current round of wage negotiations had started the previous day. Sam Goodis was doing most of the talking, but the direction was being discreetly orchestrated by Gregory Courtney's infrequent co
ntributions. Toby Marchant was sitting in for the first time as part of his management training.

  He had been very subdued the past couple of days. Kate had wondered vaguely if her boss hadn't had a few strong words in private with him. Certainly the younger man had kept his distance from her. He had also very obviously been warned to keep his mouth firmly shut during this meeting. Kate had caught him biting his lip on many occasions, but he did not trouble to hide his condescension from the union team. A bad mistake.

  He'll learn, though, Kate thought, as she recognised her father's training coming out so well in Tom Nichols.

  `Could you just clarify that?' the youngish, stocky man was saying for the umpteenth time, causing Toby Marchant to roll his eyes in disgust as he totally misread Tom Nichols as a simpleton.

  `You have to make them talk your own language, Kate,' her father had told her so many times. 'Keep things simple, basic. Don't ever be afraid to ask for explanations again and again for fear of appearing stupid. Don't let them blind you with figures. You want an agreement in plain, simple English with

  no room for loopholes—unless the loopholes are to your advantage, of course!'

  And, by the time negotiations were completed, the unsuspecting employer was tied up in black and white, complete with signatures, having totally underestimated his opponent all the way along the line.

  Sam, though, was showing no sign of impatience. Neither was Gregory Courtney. He was sitting, as poker-faced as ever, at the head of the conference table. From her position at his side, Kate was afforded a view of his uncompromising profile, and she wondered for the thousandth time just what made him tick.