Conditional Surrender Page 5

  Put him off what?' Terry demanded from the doorway. `You wouldn't be trying to wangle your way out of our date, would you, princess? I've been looking forward to this for weeks!'

  Kate laughed at his expression of wounded pride. 'Liar!' she scolded. 'You've just been too busy to find anyone with the right qualifications.' Her eyes sparkled as she turned confidingly to Greg. 'Namely a staple through the navel!' Terry's deplorable taste in women was a long-standing joke between them. Neither of them caught the speculative look Greg shot them before his features closed up once more.

  `I'm afraid I'm going to pull rank on you, Walsh.' The charming smile was turned on full force. Kate had never before been the focus of that charm, and the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach warned her that she had underestimated its power.

  `Ah well,' Terry sighed dramatically, turning to leave, 'I suppose I'll have to make do with the gorgeous blonde I met at lunchtime!' He winked at Kate. 'Don't wait up for me, will you?' And he left, whistling. Kate shook her head fondly. The

  man was incorrigible!

  `Walsh is staying here?'

  `Yes,' she answered, a little taken aback at the returning harshness in Greg's voice. 'Just until he finds himself a place.' The fond smile returned to light her features. `Between you and me, I think he's dragging his feet a little. Mom's cooking is second to none!'

  `I see.'

  `Well,' she smiled nervously to break the uneasy silence which had fallen, `I'd better go and change.'

  `Don't go to any trouble. We'll be eating at my apartment.' His cool statement had the effect of a lead weight dropping

  from a great height, as Kate measured all the implications. Greg's lips twisted as he read her expression.

  `Don't look so apprehensive, my dear Miss McNaught. I retain a very vivid memory of Toby Marchant's bruised jaw!' Kate relaxed in relief as she was meant to, though she could not help the faint colour spreading over her face at the reminder of that disastrous day—although perhaps it had not been as disastrous as it had first appeared. Hadn't that day been the start of this—Kate found she did not have the words to explain the changing relationship between her and Greg. She only knew she felt poised on the verge of a great adventure.

  He came towards her, towering over her to trail warm fingers over her smooth, hot cheek, his thumb dropping to trace the outline of her lips. Her mouth went dry in anticipation of his kiss, but a sound from the kitchen alerted them to imminent interruption and she jumped back, startled.

  `I—urn—I'll go and change.'

  `Oh, Kate,' he called her back softly as she turned to leave the room.

  `Yes?' she breathed.

  `Leave your hair loose.'

  Kate gave herself half an hour to get ready, limiting her promised soak in the bath to a scant five minutes. Her makeup took little time—a dab of eye-shadow and a touch of

  mascara. Her creamy complexion needed no enhancement at all. She had long ago stopped fretting about the freckles dotted over her skin. And she certainly was in no need of blusher. Nature seemed to have taken on that task whenever she was within ten feet of a certain individual!

  She did stop for one moment to try frantically to remember all the reasons she had decided to keep her distance from Greg, but all that came to mind was her intention to accept the very next date she was offered. She applied a little lip-gloss, then turned to inspect her wardrobe, which was pitifully slender regarding evening wear. She eventually chose her favourite dress—as she had known she would all along.

  She had bought the dress from her very first pay cheque from Courtney's. The sleeveless velour was perfect for the evening. From a rounded neckline the dress clung lovingly to breast and hip, and the skirt flowed to just below the knee in various muted shades of sea green. An obvious choice for a redhead, she knew, but no one could deny the dress was made for her.

  Sounds of mirth reached her as she descended the stairs, her green eyes glowing like a cat's. She hugged the sounds to herself, feeling more grateful to Greg than she could possibly say for restoring the cosy harmony which spelt home to her.

  `. . . and she used to sit on my knee waving to all the passers by, every inch the Queen of England! That's why we dubbed her "princess". Hey, Callum, do you remember that time we had the vintage cars on the trailer . . .?'

  Kate closed her eyes in fond despair as she entered the lounge in time to stop Terry's reminiscent ramblings.

  `I think we'd better leave before the family photographs are put on display,' she cut in drily. Her quick glance took in the tableau of Terry with a glass raised to his smiling lips, Greg's obvious difficulty in controlling his mirth, her mother more animated than she had been for months, and her father—looking younger by the minute. He shot Kate a mischievous glance that could have been stolen from either of her brothers, and tapped Greg on the shoulder.

  `You must remind me to show you the one of Kate in her grandmother's garden . .

  `Dad,' Kate wailed, her voice agonised. 'I swear if you ever dare show that photo to anyone . . .!'

  `Don't worry, Katherine,' her mother laughed, 'I have it hidden away safely.'

  `I think we'd better leave.' Greg eyed Kate sympathetically, and Kate agreed fervently. The sooner they left, the better. She knew her family too well in this mood. Heaven only knew what skeletons had already been dragged out of the family closet!

  `Greg,' her father started gruffly as they rose to leave, 'I can't tell you how much we appreciate this chance. We won't let you down, I promise!'

  `I have no doubts on that score, Callum,' Greg asserted as they shook hands. 'Any man who can raise a daughter like Kate . .

  `Oh, please, don't mind me!' Kate's colour rose in indignation, causing Greg to stare fixedly at her. 'I just love been spoken of as the family pet poodle!'

  `Oh, never a poodle, Kate. They yap. Besides, with that temper of yours . .

  `Oh, you've come across our Kate's temper, then, have you, lad?' chuckled Callum. Even Kate had to smile at Greg being referred to as 'lad!' Though he did not seem to mind.

  `Let's just say I've seen it in action, Callum. I've never had the full force directed at me—yet,' he added with a strange look at the subject of the conversation.

  `Then let me advise you . .

  `I think Greg can take care of himself, Dad,' Kate put in tartly. She looked up at Greg, a wry curve to her generous lips as she asked plaintively, 'Can we please go? I love my family, but . . .!'

  `Of course.' Greg turned back to the older man. 'We'll get together when I return from Scotland. Meanwhile, get in touch with Sam Goodis on Monday morning. I'll liaise with him.'

  Kate kissed her parents goodnight—very much on her dignity, as much as she was allowed in this family—then spoilt the effect by poking out her tongue at Terry.

  `Be good, children!' He gave them his blessing as Kate

  swirled past, embarrassed, infuriated and happier than she could remember being for a long time.

  Kate's uneasiness returned as they travelled in the lift up to Greg's penthouse apartment. He was far too close for comfort, his tall, lean frame lazing indolently in the corner, hooded eyes missing none of her apprehensions. Once inside the apartment, Kate was more able to relax, having put a little distance between them. Looking around her with interest, she was disappointed to find the apartment as cold and impersonal as she had once thought Greg to be.

  It was luxurious enough by any standards, certainly it had cost a small fortune to decorate and furnish the place. But it was a mere shell, totally lacking in the character Kate looked for in a home. There were no personal touches, nothing to indicate that Greg had ever lived there. Kate found she much preferred the shabbier but welcoming home her family occupied.

  `You don't like it here, do you?' Her host once more divined her thoughts.

  Kate prevaricated, 'It's not for me to like or dislike, is it?' No matter,' he shrugged. 'What can I get you to drink? Martini?'

  `Gin and tonic,' she corrected, feeling in
need of a stronger drink. His brows rose.

  `I didn't realise you were a hardened drinker, Kate.'

  `Oh, I manage to keep it under control at work,' she quipped lightly, finding him dangerously attractive in this teasing mood. She nibbled nervously at her bottom lip. 'I know you don't want my thanks for what you've done, Greg . .

  `Then don't give them!' . he told her bluntly, his tone reverting to the harsher sound she was more accustomed to.

  `But . .

  He sighed in exasperation, handing her a glass. 'Sit down.' he ordered. 'Kate, would it make you feel better if I told you I had a selfish motive for what I did?'

  `I don't understand.' She could also see he did not want to explain further. He was staring broodingly into his drink, the teasing manner he had adopted at her home having vanished

  completely.

  `Your father reminds me of someone I once knew, a man who had only his pride to live on. I had to stand and watch as that pride was chipped away, piece by piece, until he was left with nothing.' He took a long swallow of his drink. 'I wouldn't like to repeat the process with your father as the victim. He's a good man, Kate.'

  `Oh, Greg!' Kate was very moved by his words. Obviously this was a way for him to come to terms with his previous impotence to help. She wondered briefly about the man who could affect Greg strongly enough for him to take her father's predicament so much to heart. His own father, perhaps? Unfortunately, the tense set of his jaw, the downward-slanting brows, indicated his unwillingness to expand, and Kate was too sensitive to pry further.

  But what a complex man he was becoming! Not at all the cold, remote figure she had always thought. There was so much seething below the surface, so much she had yet to discover, if he would allow it.

  He shrugged off his jacket now, making Kate irritably aware of the hard muscles rippling under the claret silk shirt.

  `There's a very obliging restaurant just around the corner from here,' he said lightly, handing her a menu card.

  `Mmm, I'm impressed.' She pulled a face at him. 'I take it you prefer not to cook yourself?'

  `I can if I put my mind to it. But this saves on the washing up!'

  As good a reason as any, if one could afford it, Kate agreed silently.

  She ordered melon and grilled sole—hardly an inspired choice, but her stomach was behaving very strangely, causing her appetite to all but disappear. Greg ordered steak.

  `That was delicious!' she declared an hour later, helping him to dispose of the foil wrappers in his ultra-modern kitchen. She refused liqueurs, preferring to mop up a little of the wine she had drunk with the coffee Greg was making.

  The relaxed atmosphere between them over dinner began to dissipate the moment Greg ushered her back into the huge lounge. A little flustered, Kate sank back into the comfort of a

  large leather armchair, drawing her feet up under her. He chose to sit directly opposite her.

  `What was it you wanted to discuss, Greg? The pay talks?' she asked softly as the silence began to grate on her nerves.

  No—Sam will be handling those until I return,' he answered quietly, his gaze intent on her. 'I didn't bring you here to discuss business, Kate.'

  `Then . . .' She swallowed the nervous lump lodged in her throat, not at all sure she wanted an answer to the question she was about to put.

  `I'm sure if you search the dark recesses of your mind you could come up with something approaching the truth.'

  Kate went very still. Even without his confirming words, the blatant message flashing in the taunting brilliance of his hooded eyes needed no further explanation. Whatever she had expected this evening to bring—and if she were brutally honest with herself, she had hoped for more than business to be on the agenda—it had certainly not been this full-blown assault. Greg sat back at his ease, reading the varying emotions chasing across her features with an accuracy that would have embarrassed her had she known.

  `Don't worry, Kate!' His harsh voice dropped into the fraught silence. 'I'm not demanding payment for helping your father.'

  `Did you really think . . .?' Kate broke off, annoyed at the croak that issued from her throat.

  `Well, a man can but hope.' The laconic lift of his eyebrow hardly indicated defeat, but it did allow her to breathe a little easier, knowing he was not entirely serious. 'I suppose I should apologise, but I'm not going to. That blush of yours is so delightful, it's rather difficult to resist the temptation to tease it into full bloom.'

  `You're not exactly teasing, though, are you?' Quite why she was so certain, Kate could not say. Two years of watching him at work, perhaps? But she did silently berate herself for being so blunt without considering the deeper implications. She felt such a strong reluctance to be left in the dark about his plans for her. The need to know exactly where she stood with this remote, infinitely disturbing man was too strong to resist.

  `If by that do I mean I expect you to—bestow your favours, shall we say, in exchange for your father's loan . . .' His voice had reached that dangerously soft, calm level she knew spelt trouble.

  No, that's not what I meant, and you know it!' Kate's indignation was at too high a point to be easily dismissed. `You're perfectly well aware that I would never consider such an arrangement.

  `Yes, I suppose I was,' Greg murmured absently, almost to himself. Kate's growing irritation was temporarily soothed by his grudging admission, but all her senses went back on full alert at his next words. 'Just what would it take to get you into my bed, Kate?'

  The blush Greg found so delightful took a moment to make its inevitable appearance. Her face drained of colour before becoming suffused once more in a rosy hue. She dumped her coffee-cup with a lamentable lack of ceremony on the small table before her and surged to her feet, not quite knowing what she intended to do, but certain she could no longer remain immobile.

  `There are more normal ways to go about this, you know,' she ventured, striving for as light a tone as possible to counterbalance the growing tension swirling about them. She was not so innocent that she had never been propositioned before, but never quite so boldly. And never with such an arrogant assumption that she would agree to it!

  'Ali, you want to be wined and dined, do you, Kate? Have me send flowers and all the rest of that ridiculous rigmarole?' His manner indicated that such manoeuvres were a total waste of time and effort. Obviously his blunt business methods came into play on more intimate occasions, Kate thought, with wry amusement overshadowing the more disturbing undercurrents for the moment.

  `Oh, those old seduction techniques have their uses, believe me, Greg,' she murmured a little shakily. 'At least they provide a warning of intent!'

  His head inclined in acknowledgement of her point, a small smile playing around his lips as he registered her agitation. `But I don't want to seduce you, Kate. I want you to come to

  me with your eyes wide open. I could have put you on notice when you first came to work for me, but we would have reached this point sooner or later.'

  `You mean you've .. .?' The words refused to even form. `That long?'

  His compelling gaze refused to allow her to look away for even a moment. Again, what she saw in his eyes was confirmed by his words.

  `I've wanted you since the first moment I set eyes on you!' `Then why . . .?'

  `Why wait so long before making a move?' She nodded slowly, no longer trusting her vocal cords.

  He held her eyes by sheer force of personality, his own glittering, confident, anticipatory, hers open, bewildered—and very vulnerable.

  `You weren't ready, Kate,' he averred softly, coming slowly to his feet with such intent of purpose she forgot to breathe, her whole being poised for his touch. It came slowly, insidiously, gentle fingers threading through the tumbling waves of red hair at her nape. 'You were so very young, Kate. So very shy. So very damned innocent. You would have turned in your resignation and run as far and as fast as you were able.'

  He was right. It was possible she still would—if she could
only move!

  `And you became the perfect secretary—cool, efficient, impersonal. I can see now that you had problems at home which distracted you. But when I discovered you punching Marchant on the jaw . .

  `You decided the time was right?'

  `No,' he denied softly, his eyes darkening. 'I very simply found my patience had run out!'

  `And what makes you think I'm ready now?' Talking was difficult over the nervous lump in her throat. Her voice emerged as little more than a whisper, as every cell in her body screamed awareness of his dangerous proximity, the woodsy flavour of his aftershave teasing her nostrils.

  `I doubt if you are. Sometimes . . .' His hand smoothed down the line of her throat, thumbs absently tracing her

  ! quickening pulses, 'sometimes I doubt you'll ever be ready for me, Kate.'

  `I don't understand!'

  `Is understanding so important, Kate? Try feeling.' Slowly, inexorably, he was exerting the tiniest pressure to tilt her chin to his lowering head, until their lips were a mere breath away. `Give me your mouth, Kate!'

  `I—Oh!' Her words were smothered by his lips. Taking full advantage of her bemused vulnerability, Greg relinquished all hold on his immense self-control, and plundered the treasure beneath his lips and hands, losing himself in the beckoning warmth of her softness. Sensations she had never before experienced cascaded throughout her entire body as his lips ravaged the soft inner flesh of her mouth, his tongue meeting hers in a duel of possession, taking away all thought, leaving only sensory intoxication.

  Her fingers fluttered helplessly for long moments before instinctively finding their rightful place behind his head to cleave him to her, to become lost in the rich darkness of his hair.

  There was a momentary loss of balance, of floating through the air, then she was sinking into the sumptuous thickness of the cream carpet, the warm strands soothing against her naked back. Then suddenly, shockingly, his hand was at her breast, moulding the soft contour with exquisite hunger until her helpless whimper gave him pause, and his hands and mouth gentled, soothing her, though still arousing and still insistent upon a response Kate had no way of denying.