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The following morning, when she dashed out to purchase all the daily newspapers, the story was pretty much as Matt had predicted, the more popular dailies referring to her as the 'Tycoon's Lady'.

Matt telephoned in the afternoon to say he was driving down to London very early the next morning. He was in good spirits and delighted with the amount of coverage the engagement had received in the Press.

'When we start our main publicity campaign with you and Tom, your name and face will immediately ring a bell with the magazine readers. I've read so much about our engagement, I'm beginning to believe my own publicity!' He chuckled, but when she did not echo it he immediately changed the subject. 'I've arranged for one of our vans to pick your things up at seven-thirty tomorrow morning. Is that all right for you?'

'Why so early?'

'Because I have to be in the office at nine, and I want to be at the flat to introduce you to the staff. Then you'll have the rest of the day to settle in.' He hesitated.

'We'll only be together for a few days, I'm afraid, I have to go to the Continent for a fortnight.'

'What a shame!' She forced disappointment into her voice, while breathing a sigh of relief.

'I'd take you with me,' he went on, 'but I've a hectic schedule. I'll make it up to you when I get back.'

Not if I have anything to do with it, Caroline thought, delighted that she only had to think ahead to the next few days. Then she would have a respite before resuming battle tactics again.

How many different ways could she find of keeping him at arm's length without letting him know she was doing it deliberately? The pretence was made easier for her because Matt believed she wanted him as much as he wanted her. If only he had not tried to get her in such an unscrupulous manner! As it was, he had behaved with such cunning that he deserved nothing from her.

And nothing was what he was going to get.

Promptly to time next morning the van arrived to collect her luggage. Tom—who had installed himself in the flat last night—roused himself in time to see her off. He was very subdued and did not say anything, looking as mournful as if he were seeing her off to her own funeral! As she followed the van down Avenue Road and into Regent's Park, she began to feel as if it were. It was all very well to despise Matt in her mind, but the difficult task was to despise him with her body. However hard she tried, it was impossible not to be attracted to him when they were together, and she prayed she would be able to hold her emotions in check.

Leaving her car in the parking bay outside Matt's duplex flat, she went up the. steps of the converted Nash terrace house. Even as she raised her hand to press the bell, he opened the door.

'I nearly offered to pick you up,' he said, 'but I knew you wanted to bring your car down.'

'Don't look as if I've crossed Siberia,' she said pertly.

'For you it was far worse. Please don't think I'm not aware of what it means to you.'

'I'm sure you're aware of it,' she said, and longed to tell him that she knew he had paid ten thousand pounds for the privilege. 'Where's my room?' she asked, changing the subject.

'Our room,' he corrected huskily. 'I hope you don't want to sleep alone?'

'Don't you?' she. asked. 'As long as we're together when '

'Togetherness is more than just making love,' he cut in. 'I want to hold you in my arms during the night, to wake up and see your face on the pillow beside me.'

'You'll soon be saying you want to cuddle me when I've got a cold.'

'That's exactly what I'd want to do.'

'You'd better be careful, Matt, or you'll start sounding like a loving husband,' she warned.

He looked taken aback, but quickly recovered. 'As long as I don't start thinking like one, I'm safe!'

He turned quickly and led her up to the bedroom, introducing her on the way to the butler Pedro, and his wife Consuelo, who did the cooking, as well as the Filippino maid. There was no shortage of staff here, Caroline thought, and again wondered how she was going to occupy her time.

'We're a good combination, you and I,' she said to Matt. 'I supply the background and you supply the money.'

'I don't want you for your background.' His eyes were intent on her, and she kept her own devoid of expression.

'Am I now expected to say I don't want you for your money?'

'Say the truth, Caroline.'

'You wouldn't believe me.'

She swung into the bedroom, feeling ridiculously nervous. If she did not succeed in foiling Matt night after night, she'd find herself hoist by her own nightdress. Carefully she kept her eyes away from the double bed and concentrated on the three cases Pedro had brought up.

'All my clothes are in the dressing-room,' said Matt, pointing to the door opposite. 'So you can have all the cupboards here.'

'My clothes will never fill them.'

'Then buy more. You won't be short of money.' He saw her face flame. 'You really aren't avaricious for yourself, are you?'

'No. Whenever I've needed money,' she said deliberately, 'it's because I needed it for Tom.'

She bent over one of her cases, praying Matt would take this opportunity to tell her of his deceit. If he did, she would even remain here and try' to make this relationship work.

'I've got to get to the office,' he said behind her. 'I'll see you later.'

Depression engulfed her, and with a nod she watched him go. Alone in the suite, she looked round carefully. The bed was king-sized and covered with blue velvet that matched the drapes at the long windows overlooking the park, and the sofa that stood alongside the handsome mahogany dressing table was in deep oyster. There was no television, which did not surprise her, for she thought Matt would have better things to do with his time in bed when he was not sleeping. But she amended her opinion when she looked around and saw a slim white portable in the corner.

The dressing-room was wholly masculine, and a quick glance through the cupboards showed her rows of suits and drawer upon drawer of shirts, sweaters and underwear. Even his shoes were treed, and she wondered whether his girl-friends were as neatly disposed of as his clothes. Where would she be hung away when she was no longer needed?

She looked around for photographs, but only found one of Matt's parents, faded and sad, and looking the more so by virtue of the smart silver frame surrounding them. Hastily she turned away from it, not wishing to see Matt as a loving son. For as long as he did not tell her the truth about the way he had forced her to accept him, she wanted to think of him only as a ruthless man.

She wandered downstairs and through the other rooms. They all bore a decorator's stamp, and though she admired the antiques and Persian and Chinese carpets, she only felt at home in the sitting-room, which was much more of a hodge-podge.

She browsed through the books. There was everything from the latest best-seller to thrillers and political biographies, the latter being particularly well-thumbed.

Pedro came in to ask if she wished to have lunch in the study or the dining-room, but as her appetite was at an even lower ebb than on the previous evening, she just asked for coffee. .

Afterwards she went for a stroll round the garden— this belonged to Matt as his duplex was on the ground and first floor. She admired the large terrace with its white wrought iron furniture and the velvet lawns which incorporated a small pond with a cherub in the centre, and goldfish swimming below.

It was too cool to remain on the terrace, and she crossed the road and wandered into Regent's Park. Some nannies were wheeling prams, and the sight of them brought tears to her eyes. There would be no children for her and Matt, and this knowledge, more than anything else, seemed to indicate the way he regarded her.

When she finally returned to the flat there was just enough time left to change, and she chose a long hostess gown in pale turquoise jersey. She did not do up the tiny round buttons on the bodice, and as she moved the curves of her breasts were provocatively visible.

Matt knocked on the door and came in as she was about to go downstairs. 'You look stunning,' he said. 'Settled in?'

'I feel quite at home,' she lied.

'Good. I'll just shower and change. Stay with me?' Seeing her colour, he chuckled. 'I always thought models were used to seeing people in different states of undress.'

'Only other women,' Caroline said hastily.

She fled before he could make any further comment, and was sipping a glass of champagne when he came into the study.

'I love the flat,' she said, racking her brains for something suitable to say. 'Particularly this room.'

Matt's face glowed with pleasure. 'This is the only one I had a hand in furnishing. I left the rest to Helen and an interior decorator. If you want to change the other rooms, go ahead. I told you I want you to feel at home here.'

'There
are
a few alterations I'd like to make.' She decided to alter everything. That would put Helen's nose out of joint. 'It would be one way of occupying my time.'

'Still worried you'll miss work?' Matt chided. 'I thought it was every woman's ambition to lead a life of leisure.'

'Total leisure would bore me.'

'So what would you like to do? I can give you money to start a business.'

The thought of taking more money from him almost made her choke on her champagne.

'I'm not clever enough for that,' she said.

'Of course you are. Think it over, darling. If you need any cash, let me know. We may have some problems between us, but money won't be one of them.'

At dinner, Caroline could barely do justice to Consuelo's cooking—which was excellent—though she drank several glasses of champagne.

'You've drunk nearly half a bottle,' Matt remonstrated as she tried to stifle a hiccup over her black coffee, 'but you've hardly eaten a thing.'

'I'm nervous,' she replied coyly, and took his hand.

With an effort she kissed each finger lingeringly. The ormolu clock on the mantelpiece struck ten, and Matt checked his watch.

'Shall we go up now?' he asked.

Longing to kick him, Caroline smiled tenderly and nodded, and with his arm encircling her waist, they mounted the staircase.

The bedroom was only lit by the lamps on either side of the bed, and the cover had been turned down to reveal blue silk sheets. On a small glass table stood a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket. Caroline had asked Pedro to place one in the room, but he had informed her that Mr Bishop had already made the same request.

'I'll get undressed and have a quick bath,' Caroline said.

Matt looked dismayed. 'You only had one a couple of hours ago!'

Her gaze was reproachful enough to make him feel like a plebeian hog, and biting back a desire to laugh in his face, she left the room.

Alone in the bathroom, she immediately swallowed two sleeping pills, then sat on the edge of the bath and let the water pour into it and out of it again, while she just dipped in her toes. But inevitably she had to put on her nightgown, a gossamer affair of satin and lace, that left little to the imagination. She eyed herself in the long mirror, then liberally splashed herself with Madame Rochas. This should make Matt's temperature rise. She only hoped she had the strength of mind to douse it before it went sky-high!

Perspiration dampened her brow, and she pushed her hair away from her face. It shone like palest gold and tumbled freely over her shoulders. Totally without conceit, she knew she had never looked more beautiful and desirable. Her slight tan enhanced the pure white of her nightgown, and the champagne had heightened the colour in her cheeks, giving them a rosy glow.

Matt was opening the champagne when she entered the room. He wore cream silk pyjamas and a Sulka dressing gown, in black and cream. He looked so vital that she longed to rush straight into his arms, but instead she glided towards him, swaying provocatively, and ensuring that every part of her body was outlined as she moved.

Matt stared at her, transfixed, and she heard the catch of his breath. His eyes glazed with desire, but he said nothing—as if not wanting to break the spell she had cast over him. Silently he handed her a glass of champagne, and without waiting for him to pour his own, she gulped it down.

Plan one was beginning.

Skirting the bed, she seated herself on the velvet day-bed and held out her empty glass.

'More, please.'

'There's no need to be nervous, darling,' he said.

'I'm not drinking because I'm nervous,' she smiled. 'Just thirsty.'

She rattled the glass at him again, and reluctantly he filled it. Once more she drank it at a gulp, and hoped desperately she was not going to make herself sick.

'These are very small glasses,' she hiccupped, 'or else you're very mean with the champagne.'

Put on his mettle. Matt replenished her glass, then came to sit beside her. He was trembling, and as she saw it, Caroline's heart began to pound. If only the sleeping pills would begin to work!

'Don't you think you've had enough to drink?' Matt asked huskily.

'Don't be impatient, darling. Good things are always worth waiting for.'

He smiled and leaned behind her to press a button on the wall. Immediately the velvet tones of Frank Sinatra singing 'The Nearness of You' wafted faintly through a speaker hidden behind the curtains.

Matt pulled her up and slowly they swayed in time to the music, barely moving, only clinging together, their arms entwined around each other. Caroline pressed her hands on the back of his head and ran her fingers through the thick hair. Her heart was racing and her breasts swelled with desire as she felt the weight of his body brushing lightly to and fro against her. She was aware of his response as his body hardened, then he bent his head and kissed her on the mouth, not forcing her any further, but content to rest upon her. She trembled, and his reaction was immediate. He rubbed the tip of his tongue gently over her lips and then parted them. As always when he made love to her, her desire was overwhelming and she gave way to the emotion that flooded through her. The warmth of him seeped into her bones as he willed them to become one, and she opened her mouth willingly beneath his.