Gentle Pirate (10 page)

"Let's say because I'm learning to appreciate subtlety, Kirsten," he said softly.

The middle ground, Kirsten reminded herself determinedly.

"All right, Roger."

Kirsten received the call from Simon's secretary about an hour after her coffee break with Roger Townsend. Emotionally she prepared herself to handle a lecture on the subject of dating Townsend, a subject she knew from experience could easily have found it's way all over the company by now, office gossip being what it was. She had to make a drastic readjustment when it became obvious that Simon had summoned her to his office on business.

"Sit down, Kirsten," he instructed with an absent gesture toward one of the plush seats. His tone was so cool, she decided he must be one of those people who turns on an "office personality" immediately upon arriving at work. He seemed the same aloof stranger she had faced last Friday. If he intended to go through the same intimidation routine, she decided she would walk out and leave instructions with his secretary to call her when he was ready to talk. But to her surprise, he got right down to business.

"I've had a chance to go over the report you left with me and I'm impressed," he stated simply.

Kirsten was startled. This was praise indeed coming from a manager like Simon! His approach made the situation easy for her. She stepped automatically into her "professional personality," too.

"I'll be happy to elaborate on any of those figures. The report was only a summary, of course. I knew you'd be too busy to go into much detail at first."

He nodded. "You're right. I've been swamped this week. It was a pleasure to read something concise and to the point after wading through all this garbage!" he added with a look of exasperation as he glanced at the piles of paper littering his desk. "You have a flair for business writing," he added admiringly.

"I imagine people want to impress you with the necessity of maintaining or expanding their present budget levels," Kirsten suggested dryly.

"It could be deliberate," Simon said thoughfully. "Or it could be that most engineers don't ever learn to write very well!"

Kirsten tried to stifle a grin and failed. "Harsh words from a fellow engineer," she pointed out. A now familiar gleam appeared in the hazel eyes, which regarded her blandly across the desk. Simon's left arm moved slightly, drawing her attention briefly to the fact that he no longer seemed to worry about keeping the hook out of sight when she was around.

"I make an effort to be truthful," he noted, watching her with more concentration than the comment warranted. "I appreciate the same effort on the part of others."

"Are you frequently disappointed?" she inquired politely, fighting down a certain nervousness. Why should she be worried? She hadn't lied to this man!

"Rarely. I said I appreciate the effort. I don't necessarily expect it from everyone." Simon paused significantly, one heavy brow quirking upward. "There are some people, of course, who couldn't lie successfully no matter how hard they tried. Such people are better off sticking to the truth. So much less embarrassing for them in the long run. Getting back to your report," he continued smoothly, handing it to her across the desk, "I'd like a bit more information on the cost benefits of the microfilm part of the collection. Can you give me a breakdown on what it would cost to meet our needs with hard copy?" When Kirsten nodded, her mind still on his remark about lying, he added, "Good. I'm convinced, by the way, of the value of having a research expert on the staff, so the library will be assured a place in the new budget. All I want now is to decide whether or not it's necessary to renew those expensive microfilm subscriptions."

"I'll pull the information together this afternoon," Kirsten stated matter-of-factly, starting to rise. Her job seemed secure now, for what it was worth.

"One more thing, Kirsten," Simon announced abruptly, motioning her back into the chair. "I understand you had coffee with Townsend this morning?"

So this was where the comments on the futility of certain people attempting to lie had really been leading, she thought grimly, sinking slowly back into the red chair.

"So?" She hated the defensive sound of the single word, but couldn't control it.

"So I consider it my responsibility to warn you not to encourage the man. He's slick and potentially dangerous." Simon's voice carried no hint that he cared personally about her relationship with Townsend. His attitude was one of a worldly male giving advice to a too-sheltered female. Kirsten was instantly infuriated.

"I'm old enough to make those kinds of decisions for myself," she said aloofly. "In fact, you've already remarked on my advancing years, if you'll recall," she added rather nastily.

"No one, unfortunately, is ever too old to take stupid risks when trying to prove something to another person," he replied wryly, settling back in his oversized chair and thrusting his muscular legs straight out under the desk. The knowing gaze observed her rising color and he shook his head sadly.

"I am not trying to prove anything, especially not to you! Why should I bother?" Kirsten demanded, launching instantly into her own defense. But his words had bitten deep. Was that what she was doing by accepting Roger's invitation? Trying to show Simon Kendrick he couldn't order her life? If she was honest with herself, she admitted, dismayed, she had to admit she had been fairly certain the gossip would eventually reach Simon. True, she hadn't expected it to happen so fast, but it was inevitable. What about her fine decision to try the "middle ground" this morning? Surely that was her real reason? But even as the thoughts flew about in her head, she knew she would ultimately have to face the truth. She certainly wouldn't have to acknowledge it to this man, however!

"Kirsten," he began, almost gently, for him.

"I don't wish to hear any more. I'm glad you're pleased with my report and I will get the other details for you as soon as possible. Now, if that's all you wanted…" She stood gracefully to her feet, head high, eyes tauntingly cool. She would not let him intimidate her, she vowed.

"Kirsten!" This time he snapped her name out in such a tone of command that she hesitated in spite of herself. She turned reluctantly to face him, one hand on the doorknob. He was no longer lounging, but sitting forward, his whole body alert and ready to pounce. Kirsten had to remind herself she was safely in an office where her screams would bring hundreds of people within seconds. He hadn't even gotten out of the chair and she felt incredibly menaced! He was like a huge jungle cat sitting there poised.

"I don't want you going out with Townsend, is that clear?"

"You forget yourself,
Captain
Kendrick," she got out in a voice tight with fury. Fury at herself for feeling so threatened. "Silco may remind you of the military world, but there are distinct differences. The chief one being that I'm free to walk out the door any time I choose! Yes, your words are quite clear, but I have no intention of obeying them!" she challenged with a boldness born out of desperation. "What do you intend to do? Court-martial me?"

It was good to know, a part of her whispered, that even when facing such a very large and dominating male she could still give as good as she got. Talbot hadn't completely destroyed her spirit! But he had made her aware of the merit of being cautious, a small, honest voice noted. Her frantic grip on the doorknob testified to that! Had she gone too far?

Simon studied the rigid stance of her slender figure and the storms swirling in the wide gray eyes a moment before saying very softly, "Kirsten, I never give orders I'm not prepared to back up. You may get away with dating Townsend once, but you'll never get a second opportunity. You may not like my method of handling the situation, so think twice before you risk it. I never bluff. Why don't you just relax and give our relationship a chance before pushing too hard?" The gentle eyes appeared too calm as he looked at her, but Kirsten told herself it was only her imagination that made them seem softer. "I'm trying my best to give you time, Kirsten," Simon went on coaxingly. "Don't force me to surrender all my good intentions."

"Good intentions! What good intentions?" she blazed wildly and then fled with as much dignity as she could summon, her emotions in a state of confusion such as she had never known. How dare he presume so much? She would not be dictated to, she swore silently. And she would go out with Roger! It would be a pleasure to spend an evening with a
gentleman.

That evening around seven o'clock she heard Simon's peremptory knock on her door. She knew it was him. It had the ring of metal and she realized he'd used the hook. Disgusted because she was up to her elbows in aquarium water and debris, convinced she was a mess, she stalked across the room and flung open the door. Why did it always seem easier to fight one's battles when one felt presentable?

"What is it, Simon?" she asked with a polite formality that didn't come off properly at all. She could tell it didn't by the way his lazily amused look took in her rolled-up shirt sleeves, water-drenched jeans, and the braids pinned to the top of her head.

"I see I've caught you at an awkward moment, but may I come in?" he inquired, shoving one large foot over the threshold.

Kirsten glanced pointedly down at the offending foot and knew she'd never be able to push it back onto the step. Then she deliberately studied his expression with a critical gaze.

"Are you here to yell at me again?" she demanded.

"Will you let me in if I promise not to raise my voice tonight?" he countered good-humoredly.

"Suit yourself," she finally said with resignation. At least he didn't appear to be in a violent mood. "I'm in the middle of a small project, but you can help," she added, a rather nasty notion occurring to her. After his words earlier in the afternoon, she thought, she should have been much too nervous to have him in the house. But somehow she felt able to cope. Perhaps because it was still light outside, the long Northwest days of spring and summer having gotten underway. A false sense of security, undoubtedly. Still, there were plenty of her neighbors outside taking advantage of the remaining daylight to wash cars and carry out trash. If necessary, a good scream would bring several, she told herself almost cheerfully. Determining to get even for his threats about dating Townsend, she led the way into her kitchen, where several pounds of aquarium gravel were waiting to be washed clean under the faucet.

"All you have to do is pour gravel into that container sitting in the sink and run water over the stuff until it's clean."

Simon eyed the task, taking in the bowl that was serving as temporary quarters for several agitated fish, the stack of aquarium plants waiting to be rinsed and the empty tank sitting on the drainboard. Then, with a decisive nod, he stripped off his rather nice, if somewhat severe, coat, tossed it on the small kitchen table, and extended his right hand toward Kirsten.

"It will be faster if you roll up my sleeve," he told her calmly, waiting interestedly for her reaction.

Without a word she stepped forward, unbuttoned the cuff, and neatly rolled it above his elbow, very aware of him studying her bent head as she attended to the task. The hard, muscled arm surprised her a little.

"You don't look as though you make your living pushing paper," she remarked without thinking and then flushed. Of course, being one-handed, it stood to reason that his right arm would have become quite strong.

"I don't do it full time," he told her, taking advantage of her closeness to slide his fingers deftly under her chin and force her to look up at him.

"Yes, well, the fish are waiting," she reminded him, feeling distinctly flustered, and took a quick step back out of reach. Somehow, she didn't want to hear the rest of his explanation.

When she had decided to put Simon to work, it hadn't occurred to Kirsten to wonder if having only one hand would hamper him, but now when she did think about it she realized there was nothing to worry about. The situation was well under control. As it always seemed to be around Simon Kendrick, she thought ruefully. She watched admiringly as he swished gravel clean in quick efficient moves.

"I always knew engineers must be good for something," she couldn't help saying rashly as he caught her eye. "I'll have to invite you over the next time I clean the aquarium!"

"I have other talents, too, you know," he told her conversationally.

"Oh? Do you do windows also?" she asked, thinking how he filled her little kitchen until there was barely room to move. As she made the flippant reply Kirsten concentrated on lifting the cleaned aquarium tank, preparing to carry it back into the living room.

"Umm. In a pinch. But I really excel at things like mind-reading."

She hesitated in the doorway, the bulky, damp tank clutched in front of her. "How useful that must be in your profession," she finally said brightly and hurried on into the living room.

"I seldom have to use the talent in my professional world. Most people are obvious enough!" He came to the doorway and watched her set the tank carefully on its stand. When she glanced at him he was wiping his hand dry on a towel. "It comes in handy occasionally around recalcitrant females, however."

"Do I hear another warning coming?" Kirsten asked, pretending to study the way the tank sat on its stand. She made an unnecessary adjustment while waiting tensely for his reply.

"Will you have dinner with me Friday, Kirsten?"

She looked up cautiously. She'd been expecting a lecture, not an invitation. Then Kirsten took a firm grip on herself. This was the moment he had been waiting for. "I'm sorry, Simon, I'm busy Friday night." There, it was out. Now would she get the lecture? The atmosphere tautened between them.

"I had a feeling you would be," Simon smiled mockingly. He started forward, relegating the towel to the counter behind him.

"Simon…" She lifted a hand to ward him off as he advanced.

"Saturday night?" he tried pleasantly, still coming toward her. Kirsten could see the glitter in the shifting color of his eyes and she gulped. Her chin lifted determinedly as she told herself she would not be intimidated.

"I'm planning on being busy Sat-Saturday night, too," she lied breathlessly.