Conditional Surrender Page 4

  Complications after Kate's birth had made Alissa believe it was impossible for her to conceive again. When what she had thought was an early menopause had turned out to be pregnancy, her joy was unconfined. She so enjoyed the ensuing months of pregnancy that Andy had made an appearance only eighteen months after Ian.

  Kate had been awestruck the first time she had been allowed to pick up her squalling baby brother and soothe him to sleep. Even now she sometimes felt more like the boys' mother than a mere older sister. There was a very genuine affectionate bond between them, even when Kate was forced to act as referee.

  Callum McNaught had aged considerably in the last twelve months. His hair was now iron-grey, his skin toughened to leather from the long days of driving open chassis in all weathers. But his brown eyes were still clear enough to recognise a man he could respect. Though Gregory Courtney's elevated position in life did not protect him from the ten-minute lecture Kate had warned him about. Entitled `the thoughtlessness of people buying foreign cars, exporting jobs, etc, etc.', Kate had heard it a million times.

  But Gregory Courtney took it all in his stride, had even had the courage to point out certain flaws in the argument, which Kate wished she could have thought of.

  Alissa was captivated. Terry was impressed. Callum actually listened, and Kate? Kate was confused.

  In three short hours, Gregory Courtney had disposed of a month of sheer misery and endless worry. He knew of a haulage firm which was entering receivership. He had been thinking, he said, of putting in a bid as he was dissatisfied with the present arrangements he had. But this, he felt, was better.

  It would be an equal partnership for the three of them. He was willing for Terry and Callum to buy him out later if they were in a position to do so. Meanwhile, they were free to call upon his financial expertise at any time. He was also in a position to put lucrative contracts their way, but only, he stressed, if he was assured Callum and Terry could literally deliver the goods on time.

  Terry was to put in his cash, Gregory Courtney would furnish Callum's loan at competitive interest rates, using the house deeds as collateral, and he would make up any shortfall himself

  Callum, contrary to the last, had, at first, demurred at taking Gregory Courtney's money, until Kate was summoned to pass judgement.

  `Perhaps you can convince your father that my motives are rarely altruistic?' His voice held a sardonic inflection as he watched Kate swallow her excitement and to think of a diplomatic answer.

  Tad, if Mr Courtney thinks it a sound investment, then believe me, it is,' she managed finally.

  `And if it isn't, I'm sure I can persuade the taxman to be kind to me. However,' he added, his face falling into sterner lines, 'I don't want either of you worrying about repayments until the business is paying. And before you mention the word "charity", Callum, this is pure selfishness on my part. I don't want Kate distracted from her duties as my assistant by money worries.'

  `He believes in getting value for money,' Kate put in drily, speaking before she could think, then colouring faintly under the subject's mocking scrutiny.

  `What else?' he agreed, his grey eyes warmer than Kate had ever seen them.

  `But you don't even know us, Mr Courtney,' Alissa exclaimed suddenly, bewildered at the turn of events.

  `I know your daughter, Mrs McNaught. Believe me, she is the only reference you need.'

  And her mother, bristling with pride, had surprised Kate by becoming speechless, possibly for the very first time in her life!

  And then it was left to Kate to see the family's benefactor to the door, all her gratitude suddenly submerged under a strange shyness.

  `Have a good rest over the weekend, Kate,' he advised softly, seeing the signs of strain still evident in her tired eyes.

  `Er—yes. Oh, Mr Courtney, I really don't know what to say . . .

  `As I believe you mentioned, Kate, had it not been a sound investment, I would not have become involved. As for the thanks I can see trembling on those delicious lips,' the timbre of his voice changed subtly, becoming lowly intimate, 'perhaps I may be permitted to receive them this way.'

  And his head lowered.

  It was nothing at all like the last time. Then, there had been a tentative quality to his kiss, as if he needed to test her reaction. Last time he had asked for a response. This time, he demanded nothing less. And when he had drained her lips dry, he turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him as Kate stood where he had left her, bemused, shaken—and not a little scared!

  For so long she had looked upon him as a man apart from everyday feelings and emotions. He was not a man to give away much about himself. From the very little he had let drop, Kate received the impression that he did not think very much of the female gender at all. He was what her father would call `a man's man'. But his kiss had told her he was no celibate.

  And just why was he behaving so differently towards her? She could not believe he was after a brief office fling. That simply was not his style. And it certainly wasn't hers, as he must surely realise. Neither could it be that he had only just noticed that she was a more than passably attractive female Her inner radar had homed in long ago on the fact that he found her easy on the eye. But why wait over two years to do anything about it?

  Unless—unless he had been occupied elsewhere for all that

  time?

  At that thought, an alien pang of what she could only assume was jealousy shot straight through her. 'Oh, Kate, this has to stop right now before you make a complete idiot of yourself!' she muttered.

  It would be the height of folly to fall for such a man, she told herself sternly. 'Two kisses and you're ready to turn it into the romance of the century!' She would revert to her normal cool brisk efficiency first thing Monday morning, she decided. Just as you've been trying to do all week since that first kiss, a little demon in the back of her mind whispered back. And Kate, as ever totally , incapable of lying, especially to herself, had to allow that, unless she was very careful, she was in danger of succumbing to that favourite cliché of romance authors, the boss/secretary syndrome.

  Fortunately for her peace of mind, Kate had been raised with more than a fair share of good common sense, which served to tame her wilder flights of fancy—of which Gregory Courtney had to be the paramount example!

  He might have shown her the way to stretch her talents at work, but on a more intimate level—never! lust look at you now, Kate,' she castigated herself. 'Two kisses, a few leers and you're floundering! What if he decided to increase the pressure?' A cold nervous shudder traced the length of her spine at the thought. Then, her impish sense of humour coming to her aid, she chuckled at the sheer vanity of the idea of having a man such as Gregory Courtney chasing after her. The man was as much out of reach as Robert Redford!

  Gratitude, she decided. That was why she felt so differently towards him. Gratitude, and perhaps a few errant hormones playing up! She had not had a date in months owing to pressure of work. She was probably a little hungry for male companionship—perfectly natural. She was only twenty-three, even if the burden of shouldering her family's monetary problems had matured her beyond her years. She would accept the very next date she was offered, she decided—so long as Toby Marchant was not the man involved! She did not count Terry's offer to take her for a drink later on. He was in the same category as her

  brothers.

  Her mother was beginning preparations for tea when Kate was hailed by an urgent whisper from the garden.

  `Kate! Quick!' Kate rushed out, expecting one of her brothers to have broken a leg at the very least. But it seemed the problem was easier to solve than that.

  `Kate! It's my very best football! I didn't do it on purpose—honest!' Andy.

  `Kate! You know Mom said she'd skin us alive if she found us climbing that tree!' Ian.

  As younger brothers went, Kate had to admit that these two weren't bad. But there were times she could bang their heads together! Ian at fourteen and Andy at thirteen bot
h had the rugged good looks of their father, although they had both passed him on the height charts. Kate resembled none of her family. She was believed to be a throwback to a great—great-grandmother.

  `Aw, go on, Kate! I've never seen anyone climb a tree like you.' Andy.

  `Forget it, Andy. I reckon she's getting too old for this lark.' Ian.

  They walked away, whistling nonchalantly, knowing full well it simply was not in Kate to pass up such a challenge. She looked down at herself with resignation. Well, her shorts had certainly seen better days—mostly when she was a little thinner! And her halter top was not that special either. The years fell away from her as she took a careful survey around the garden. She wasn't too old to be skinned alive, either!

  She was happily lost among the foliage when a sixth sense alerted her to danger. She peeped between the leaves, prepared to see her mother, then sank back in horror as the imperturbable Gregory Courtney came into view!

  CHAPTER THREE

  `I REFUSE to come down in front of an audience,' Kate announced stoically, thankful she had lectured herself so thoroughly earlier. As it was, her pulses were tripping over each other.

  `Oh, come on, Kate, don't be shy. Your brothers have given you such a great build-up—I was looking forward to a demonstration on the definitive art of tree-climbing.' Kate could very easily learn to hate that amused drawl.

  `I have no doubts of my abilities in this direction, Mr Courtney. But there do happen to be other considerations.' Namely these indecently skimpy shorts, she thought, but did not say. She did not have to.

  `Well, to be honest, it was those other considerations I was most looking forward to. I have been privileged to look upon a lady's legs before now, you know,' he added softly.

  I just bet you have! For one horrified moment Kate thought she had actually said the words out loud, she was so surprised at the vehemence of her thoughts.

  `Though I must say, from this angle yours appear to be rather special . .

  `All right!' Kate closed her eyes in resignation, trying valiantly to ignore the fluttery pleasure his flattery provoked. Gregory Courtney in a playful mood? It really didn't bear thinking about! 'I'm coming!'

  She did very well until she was halfway down, living up to all her brothers' boasts, despite the sure knowledge that Gregory Courtney's gaze was riveted on her long limbs. The shiver travelling up her spine told her he was not missing an inch of exposed flesh, roaming over her neatly rounded bottom, and the gap left by the halter top which was riding up to a dangerously indecent level. And of course, she thought half hysterically, I would decide to discard my bra today of all days!

  Her mother's shriek brought her down a lot faster than she had intended, and she landed in a flurry of tangled limbs, squarely into Gregory Courtney's waiting arms! Waves of mortification spread over her as he began to shake with silent laughter.

  `I suppose it was too much to hope that you'd turn your back, Mr Courtney!' she muttered as haughtily as possible in such unedifying circumstances.

  `And miss this gift from the gods, Miss McNaught?' he drawled, his voice a deep velvet brown. 'And don't you think we've passed the formality of surnames, Kate?'

  `I don't think . .

  `The name is Greg. Try it—it's quite easy.' Her mouth refused to form the word as she met his compelling gaze. The steely grey eyes pierced through her and she was far too

  conscious of his hand splayed across the bare skin of her back,

  and the fingers of his right hand moving seductively around

  the sensitive skin at the back of her knee. 'Say it, Kate!'

  `G-Greg,' she murmured weakly.

  He allowed her to stand on her own two feet then, though it was a moot point whether or not she would have been able to stand without his supporting hand at her waist. She was all too conscious of her dishevelled appearance, from her tumbling waves of hair to the skimpy clothes, and her face so shiningly free of make-up. She was not a vain person by any means, but to appear like this to the man one had only just been weaving romantic fantasies about was, to say the least—awful!

  But her humiliation was not quite yet complete.

  `Really, Katherine! I thought you possessed more sense than to go climbing trees at your age! You're as bad as the boys! ' Have you thought what an example you're setting them? You know very well I've forbidden them to climb that tree. Whatever will Mr Courtney think of us?'

  Kate closed her eyes in despair. 'If you don't mind,' she said haughtily, casting a baleful glance at her two unbelievably innocent-looking brothers, one of whom was gleefully clutching his football, `I'm going to find a hole to crawl into!'

  She made to go into the house, her chin high, although she could feel the back of her neck burning at the thought of the

  sight she was now presenting to that mocking devil!

  `Oh no, you don't, young lady!' Kate groaned. Only her mother could reduce her from a geriatric to a schoolgirl without drawing breath! 'You will go and entertain Mr Courtney, while I see to some cold drinks. Boys, go and fetch your father from the allotments!' The boys ran. One look at Kate's expressionless face was enough to advise them to stay out of sight for some time to come. Unlike Toby Marchant, they had seen that look before!

  `This way, Mr . . . Greg,' she said stiffly, after his checking glance. She restrained the urge to smooth down her hair as she dredged her mind for small talk and came up empty. Fortunately, Greg started the conversation.

  `I'm sorry to interrupt your—umm—activities, but I have to go to Scotland tomorrow. I'll be away for three or four days, so there are a few things we have to discuss.'

  `Yes, of course.' This was better. Kate felt safe talking of business matters. She could pretend they were in the office. He was dressed formally in a dark business suit, not in black suede trousers and claret silk shirt, unbuttoned low enough to allow her a glimpse of hair-roughened chest. And she was not really sitting here in a lime green halter top which clung lovingly to her clearly outlined curves, and a pair of shorts which were to be consigned to the dustbin as soon as she could get rid of . . .

  `Kate?'

  `Oh, I'm sorry. Did you say something?' She risked a glance through the veil of her lashes, but his mask was back in place. The eyebrows were fairly high, though!

  `I was asking about these sketches,' Greg repeated patiently, gesturing to the wall above the fireplace. 'I noticed yesterday that one seemed to be missing.'

  Kate looked up at the four sketches fondly. Her parents and brothers.

  `Yes, there isn't one of me.'

  `Why not?'

  `Because I drew them.'

  Greg stared at her in surprise. 'I wonder what other talents you're hiding. These are good. They have some indefinable

  quality . .

  Kate kept her eyes on the sketches. Greg was right, most people remarked on the pencil drawings. She had managed to capture the chief characteristics of each of her family—her father's gruff belligerence, tempered by a heart as soft as melted butter, her mother gently scolding with that irrepressible smile. And her brothers—mischief incorporated!

  `It's love,' she stated without expression, a little embarrassed at explaining. 'I can only do portraits of people I love. The others I've tried simply don't work out. It's the eyes, I think.'

  He stared at her intently for a moment. 'So you're a romantic,' he said flatly, as if he was disappointed in her.

  She bristled a little but retorted mildly, 'What's romantic about loving your family? Actually, I'm probably the most practical of the bunch, but I do firmly believe that love is the only sound basis for any relationship.'

  `So you wouldn't marry for money?'

  `Never ' she shuddered. 'I can't imagine anything more sterile. Lack of money has never altered my parents' love for each other—sometimes love was all they had to hold them together. There's no security in a relationship otherwise.'

  His head tilted to one side. 'I can see that temper of yours beginning to make an appearance.
I wonder why I never noticed it before.'

  `Because only things which touch me personally can affect me enough,' she could have said, but he was looking at her in such a devastating way, she decided to play safe and change the subject.

  `You said we had things to—er—discuss, Mr—er—Greg.'

  Fortunately he allowed her to get away with it. 'Yes, I've brought some proposals for your father and Walsh to look at. We can finalise things when I come back from Scotland then.'

  Kate was not surprised at the speed with which he had things organised. Once Greg made up his mind, he acted immediately. She thought happily that it was quite possible her father would be in business before another week had passed.

  `I thought we might have dinner together. You haven't eaten yet?'

  Caught unawares, she very nearly gaped at him. Was he really asking her for a date?

  `No, but . .

  `You have other plans, perhaps?' His mouth hardened to a thin line.

  `Well, not exactly . .

  `Washing your hair?' he persisted. Kate had a feeling he was forcing the teasing smile on to his lips. But she could not help but smile back.

  `No, I washed it this morning. That's why it's so . . .' she gestured graphically.

  `I like it,' he murmured, allowing his glance to linger on the unrestrained waves.

  `No—it's just that Terry mentioned something about taking me for a drink, but he won't mind if I put him off ' It had only been a tentative arrangement. She knew Terry well enough to realise that if another girl crossed his path during the day—preferably blonde, bosomy, with an IQ to match her bra size!—he too would have called off the outing.