Conditional Surrender Read online

  Then he moved on to her. Brought into full electrifying awareness of his throbbing need, Kate began to shake—violently, from fear, desire, she knew not which. She only knew, with fatalistic certainty, that he was right. She was not ready, never would be ready, for this all-consuming passion he evoked.

  Taken by surprise, Greg drew back sharply, and swore violently as her panic-filled face came into focus. Even in her befuddled state, Kate could see the immense effort it cost him to draw back in the taut lines of his body, as he sucked in breaths to control his desire.

  His shirt was unbuttoned, half hanging out of his trousers,

  and Kate groaned aloud as the memory hit her of running her hands over that muscled chest, her fingertips tangling in the crisp dark hairs.

  Dragging her eyes from his tense immobile figure, she jumped up, intent on putting as much distance as possible between them, and ran for the bathroom. Shakily, half afraid of what she would see, she peered into the mirror, wincing at the sight reflected back.

  Her hair was in total disarray, her make-up non-existent, her mouth slightly swollen from Greg's passionate onslaught. But her eyes told the full story, still holding all the erotic pleasure he had evoked from a body she had actually once considered frigid!

  Nothing in Kate's life had prepared her for the tumultuous sensations Greg had forced from her. She, who had always prided herself on her level-headedness, unable to understand the friends who had confided the ease with which they had been carried away on a storm of feeling.

  But oh, how well she understood now! Had he been a man of lesser integrity, he could have taken her with humiliating ease, ignoring her fears. She could only feel tremendous gratitude that he had not forced the issue. It would be difficult enough to face him as it was.

  Preparing herself for the confrontation, she splashed cold water on her overheated face and tried desperately to bring some sort of order to what was supposed to be her crowning glory.

  Greg was pacing the floor like a caged tiger when Kate had finally summoned up the courage to face him. His look of concern warmed her, though, prompting her to voice her thanks.

  Tor what?' Greg's husky voice was incredulous, though it still retained a measure of the memory of holding her trembling body in his arms. 'Frightening you half to death?' His mouth twisted in self-disgust, and Kate's soft heart contracted painfully.

  `No, Greg, I'm thanking you for stopping when you did. You must know . . .' She hung her head, unable to complete

  her confession. Greg shook his head slowly in disbelief at her soft gratitude.

  `I never meant to let things get out of hand like that, Kate . . .' He held up a hand to stay her interruption. 'No, hear me out.' The brows were at last beginning their ascent. 'It may be your one and only opportunity to ever hear me apologise, so you'd better make the most of it.' He indicated that she should be seated but, try as she might, she could not completely relax. So she sat opposite him, not trusting herself to be any closer to him.

  The wry glance he shot her told her he had received the message Lazing back in his chair, he made a quick, thorough survey of her.

  She had not recovered yet, by any means, he thought, cursing himself for losing control at such a critical time, and wondering for the thousandth time just what this girl-woman possessed that affected him so powerfully. Her hands were still trembling, he noted with satisfaction. And that lower lip was quivering so very slightly, causing his body to tauten once more with remembered passion of the sweetness of those lips.

  No, there was no time for patient wooing, even if such games appealed to him. Now that he had been allowed a glimpse of the smouldering hunger she could ignite, he wanted all of it. Soon. And on his own terms.

  `I'm afraid I forgot to take into account just how very much I want you, Kate. Once you gave me your mouth I was lost.' His voice was soft and deep, deceptively sincere, a warm light entering those habitually cold eyes as they ranged over her, reading every nuance of her still, straight figure, her luminous bewildered eyes, the unnatural pallor of her soft skin. `Your—urn—response came as something of a surprise.'

  Her head snapped up, colour surging back into her face with indignation—just as he had intended.

  `Is that the best you can do?' she spluttered, forgetting for the moment that he spoke no less than the truth. Surprise was a mild word to use. Greg merely shrugged, his expression deadpan.

  `I've had so very little practice at apologising.'

  Kate had to laugh despite the fraught state of her nervous

  system. Why had she never noticed that dry, understated humour before?

  `Oh, Greg!' she moaned. 'This isn't a laughing matter, you know. I feel dreadful!'

  `Oh, Kate!' he mimicked her. 'Is it so unbelievable that I might want you?' Pinned by that compelling gaze, Kate could only nod, then she tried to lighten the atmosphere again.

  `Would it be very crass of me to say, "But this is so sudden, Mr Courtney"?'

  `We've known each other for over two years, Kate!' he rasped impatiently, refusing to respond to her lighter tone, and allowing the electric tension to return.

  `Yes. But not like this!' She took a deep, wavering breath to still her agitation.

  `What is it you're afraid of, Kate?'

  `I'm not sure. I am serious about this being sudden, Greg, even if it does sound cliched. The way you make me feel, it—Oh, glory!' She exhaled in exasperation, too wound up to even think straight, let alone verbalise her fears. She turned eventually to face him, grateful that he had given her time to compose herself. Despite her emotional vulnerability, she was determined not to let him ride roughshod over her raw feelings. If, as she suspected, he conducted his private life on the same basis as his business life, she could expect him to go for the jugular at any moment.

  `What exactly do you want from me, Greg? A one-night stand? A casual fling? A deep and meaningful relationship? What?'

  Greg watched her attempt at dignity with brooding intensity, a glimmer of anger showing in his eyes, as if that was the last question he wanted to answer.

  'I haven't quite worked that out for myself, yet, but . . . Hell, Kate, don't look at me like that!'

  Kate did not know what he was talking about. 'I don't . . `There's one thing I'm sure about, Kate. I don't want you to confuse this—desire for anything more than it is.'

  Kate's face burned. Just what had he seen written on her unguarded features? She was not used to hiding her feelings. She drew herself up.

  `It almost sounds as if you're warning me against you.' `Only against you imagining yourself in love with me, Kate.'

  Her head lifted proudly in the face of his hard words. `Surely that could only be to your benefit!'

  He shook his head firmly. 'Oh, no, Kate. I've seen what so-called love can do to people like you. I don't want to put you through the same hell my f . . .' He broke off, raking his fingers through his dark hair. 'Quite surprisingly, I've discovered I have a few scruples where you're concerned, Kate. I won't lie to you. I want you very badly, but I'm simply not capable of any more than that. It wouldn't be a brief fling,' his eyes dropped the length of her body, 'and neither would it be casual. Personally I don't give a damn what name you put to it.'

  Kate could only applaud his frankness, while flinching inwardly at the sterile sort of relationship he proposed. She supposed she should feel flattered that he liked her enough to be honest. She had a feeling that that was not quite written into the script for this evening. For the very first time in her life she wished she had some experience to fall back on.

  She had played at love quite light-heartedly before her duties at Courtney's had become so demanding that she had needed all her spare time to recoup her energies for the next set of contractual negotiations, making her such lousy company for anyone unfortunate enough to date her at that, time she had more often than not declined invitations out.

  Not one of her dates had ever prepared her for the likes of Gregory Courtney. None had elicited m
ore than a lukewarm response at best. And never had she regretted turning down their more insistent demands, assuming she was simply not the stuff of which great passions were made.

  Greg had shattered that myth once and for all, in the space of one short evening, giving her sight of a side of her nature she had never known existed. She could see now, with hindsight, that it was not her own fastidious nature which had caused her to refuse all strong advances, but a simple lack of temptation. Oh, she had been curious enough about the subject which dominated most of her friends' conversations since schooldays, but never enough to experiment for the sake

  of it.

  But she was tempted now—oh, so tempted to nod her head, knowing that was all it would take for Greg to gather her back into his arms to again work that potent magic on her still roused senses.

  But, even in her sexual naïveté, she knew this would be no simple sharing of bodies. Even as he gave her pleasure, he would take it back one hundredfold, using her passion against her, rather than to fulfil them both. He would totally dominate any relationship he embarked upon, and when he was finished with her he would have no compunction about leaving her to face a life without him. Kate shuddered at the picture. She must be mad to even think of such a course of action—to give herself to him with no thoughts of all the tomorrows he refused to even consider.

  `No!' The word left her lips without volition. But she meant it! 'Greg, I'm not cut out for this kind of relationship. You must see that!'

  `What's stopping you? Your parents?' he bit out, a sarcastic edge creeping into his voice. 'Don't you think you're old enough to cut the apron strings, Kate?'

  `Yes. But I would still hesitate to hurt them in such a way. Besides, that's only part of it.' She held his gaze, silently entreating his understanding of her reservations. What else could she say? 'I'm frightened I might fall in love with you—when you refuse to consider the word even relevant?' If he had registered her plea he gave no sign of it. His expression was fixed along grim, implacable lines.

  `There's our working relationship to consider . .

  `That wouldn't change—unless you wanted to leave. I'd be quite happy to set you up in a flat, Kate . .

  `You just stop right there!' His head shot up at her vehement attack. 'I'm no man's plaything, Gregory Courtney! And I never will be. If you think you can buy me . .

  `That isn't what I was suggesting at all!' Kate did not hear him, intent as she was on keeping hold of her wayward temper. 'Kate, if you're worried whether or not I'll still respect you in the morning . . .' He bit off an explicit epithet as he caught the glimmer of tears on her thick lashes, and went to

  kneel before her, grasping her chin to force her to look directly at him, frustratingly aware that she was at the end of her emotional tether.

  `Listen to me, Kate! I happen to have a great respect for you. That's the reason I refuse to entice you into my bed with lies and empty promises. I enjoy your company. You're a very stimulating person to be around. I also happen to like you, which is a damn sight more than I feel for most people. But I can't change who or what I am. I can't promise you happy ever-after in an ivy-covered country cottage with the expected two point five children, however much you deserve it.

  `Anything else that is in my power to give you, I will. Anything short of love and marriage and all that hogwash. I can promise that for as long as our relationship lasts I'll be faithful to you. I'm no more keen on casual sex than you are.' His voice lowered to a more intimate intensity. 'And I can certainly promise you that we'd be dynamite together, Kate. You felt that as well as I.' He rose, bringing her to her feet, but retaining his hold on her shoulder. 'I'm taking you home now. I should be back from Scotland on Wednesday—Thursday at the latest. We'll talk then.'

  `Greg, there's really no point . .

  `We'll talk when I get back, Kate.'

  And, as usual, he had the last word.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE NEXT few days proved rather anticlimactic. Kate had always vaguely missed Greg's presence on the other occasions he had been called away. Impersonal as he was, he brought a spirit of dynamism into the office, a sense of anticipation, of excitement even. Now she was counting the hours until his return, anxious to bring this period of insanity to a close.

  For that, surely, was all it could be? Some sort of aberration? A very compelling one, to be sure, but madness, none the less. That was what the logical part of her brain told her. Her logic slipped, however, when she thought back over the two years she had known Greg.

  For some reason, their first meeting was indelibly printed upon her mind. Even now she could feel the laughter freezing in her throat as she had looked up one day to the sight of those steely grey eyes fixed upon her. He had absorbed her at a single glance. Her co-workers, whose laughter she had been sharing, had all fallen silent when he asked for her by name.

  `I've wanted you since the first moment I set eyes on you!'

  Yes, Kate could believe it now. Could see the hidden sexual assessment in the glance she had previously been too innocent, too overwhelmed, to decipher.

  She had badly needed the job he offered. Her father had already been out of work for twelve months and their savings had dwindled to a dangerously low level. And, though Greg had been very patient in those first weeks, Kate had felt it necessary to prove herself indispensable. Which she had, if his mood on her returns from vacations were anything to go by! Her family's need for the commensurate increase in her salary had allowed nothing to interfere with her concentration on the job in hand.

  They worked well together. Between them, they had developed a mental shorthand, Kate more often than not

  knowing his decisions the moment he made them. The flicker of an eyelash, the arching of a brow, the way he held himself—she became attuned to his body language.

  So why had she failed to pick up the sexual signals before now? Or had she subconsciously known they would be too dangerous to interpret, and ignored them as she had the occasional frisson of excitement she had experienced when she looked at him? And those dissecting surveys of his, had she deliberately decided to view them as punishment rather than the test she now knew them to be?

  So many little things were now falling into place that she felt she must have been wearing blinkers for the past two years.

  `You weren't ready then, Kate,' he had said. And so he proceeded to put her to the test—just occasionally—until the first moment her composure slipped. And then he had pounced so swiftly she had not been allowed time to think

  `This breathing space is exactly what you need,' she told herself a thousand times. Why then the impatience to see him—to tell him of her decision?

  Unfortunately, Kate was only too well aware of the answer. She was still tempted.

  The pictures still flashed through her mind's eye, in vivid Technicolor, of how she had instinctively arched into him the moment he touched her, of the instantaneous, intolerable excitement which left her aching when he drew back. She even began to wish that he had ignored her fears, so that she would have a true concept of what she was turning down.

  She would have thought long and hard about entering a physical relationship with anyone. That was her nature. She liked—needed—to think things through, to weigh up the pros and cons. Which was why she supposed she should have felt grateful for Greg's devastating honesty. It should have made her decision so much easier. It didn't. And that frightened her.

  In the idle imaginings most girls indulged in from time to time about their ideal man, Kate had always thought more along the lines of kinship of spirit than sexual compatibility. She had blithely assumed that the physical expression of love would grow from the seeds of friendship, shared interests, mutual respect and affection—as in her parents' marriage. The

  security of knowing that one's happiness was in safe keeping, anchored to such sturdy foundations. An insurance policy really. The McNaughts had always been great believers in insurance.

  And, as appallingly e
asy as it had become to see Greg as her lover, she could in no way imagine him as her friend. Her protector—yes. He had said he was being honest to protect her from the misery that falling in love with him could bring her. But her friend, equal partners in every way—never.

  It seemed so ironic that all her previous friendships with men had been just that—friendship, sex being totally absent from her feelings towards them. But, with Greg, sex would be the only ingredient in an otherwise sterile relationship. If she could only find a combination of the two, she would not hesitate for a moment. Was she destined to go on searching for something that did not exist?

  Kate did not know the answer. She was very aware that, in rejecting Greg, she might well be losing her one and only opportunity to fully explore the dormant sensuality he had only just begun to disturb. They were physically compatible to a degree she found earth-shattering. But sex for its own sake was simply not enough for Kate.

  Had she been in love with Greg, she honestly believed she would have followed him anywhere, with or without a ring to bind them. The question of marriage would not have affected her answer to any great extent. Nor would her parents' disapproval, contrary to Greg's views on the subject. Although she would have been reluctant to hurt them by indulging in a sexual relationship outside marriage, she was independent—and stubborn—enough to follow her own convictions, rather than her parents' conventions. She was also certain that they would respect any such decision she made enough to accept it. But she did need a commitment of sorts. A commitment of caring—on both sides.

  And, whatever it was she felt for Greg, she was positive it could not be love. There was a certain physical infatuation—it would be useless to deny it. He was an extremely attractive man, outwardly.

  But mere looks had never weighed much with Kate. Being