One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (117 page)

She felt completely and utterly helpless as he marched her up the stairs, and inserted the key to their room, opening the door and pushing her inside in front of him.

‘Mmm,' he said appreciatively. ‘This looks cosy enough, don't you think?' He glanced across at the large double bed, then looked down at her quizzically. ‘Which side do you prefer?'

He was laughing at her now—teasing her—that was obvious. His black eyes were dancing with merriment, and that just served to make her give him a piece of her mind.

‘If you think—for one
second
—that I'm going to spend the night here, with you…I mean…it's unthinkable!' she began.

He raised one dark eyebrow. ‘So? What are you going to do? Spend it outside on the landing? That would be most uncomfortable, not to say ungrateful, and bewildering to the management. They'll think this room isn't good enough for madam.'

She looked at him witheringly, but before she could speak again he said more tersely, ‘Don't be a foolish girl, Cryssie. You're tired and you need some rest, and this is obviously the best—the only—way out of this.' He looked down at her steadily. ‘Don't get so uptight. It'll all look different in the morning.'

‘Let's hope you're right,' she said flatly. ‘You might think that this is all part of a jolly evening,
Jeremy,
' she said furiously, then stopped short as she heard herself utter his name. Because it was the first time she had called him anything at all.

‘Please—do call me Jed,' he said amiably, as he began to loosen his bow tie. ‘All my friends do. And after tonight I think we really will be like…old friends—don't you?'

She hoped she wasn't reading more into that than he meant! But if he
did
have any big ideas he was going to be disappointed! She realised that this incredible evening had proved one thing—she didn't care if she had a job next week or not. It no longer seemed that important. And if it meant she'd be told to find something else—well, it was just too bad. She would not be manipulated by this man. He seemed able to manipulate everyone else, but she wouldn't let him get away with it this time!

‘Let's get one thing straight,' she said tartly. ‘I am not your darling, thank you very much, and I take exception to your use of the word.'

‘Okay,' he said evenly. ‘I only called you that to save us both unnecessary embarrassment. It would have looked far worse to give the impression that we were comparative strangers about to share a room than to make it look as if we were—well, happily acquainted, shall we say?'

Cryssie had to admit that he had a point. Suddenly her shoulders drooped, and for an awful moment she thought she was going to burst into tears. But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. She wasn't finished yet! Instead, she marched over to the two-seater settee under the window and threw her bag down on to it.

‘It will give me great pleasure to allow you to have the use of the bed yourself,
Jed
,' she said defiantly, ‘because I won't be sleeping on either side.' She glanced down. ‘This will suit me just great, as long as I can have a blanket and a pillow.' She glared up at him. ‘I'll be fine,' she added, realising that although in one way she felt absolutely shattered, she was now wide awake and in charge of her emotions, and it filled her with a sense of superiority.

He shook his head gently from side to side as she spoke, as he might at a difficult child. ‘We could put something down the middle of the bed, you know—to keep us well apart…' he began, then stopped as she turned to give him another mouthful. ‘Okay, okay, Cryssie—anything you say,' he said quickly. He took off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, and Cryssie swallowed. Was the man going to start undressing in front of her? she thought. ‘Why don't you use the facilities first?' he added, in a conciliatory tone. ‘Take your time. Don't mind me.'

Thankful for the chance to escape before he took off anything else, Cryssie went immediately into the adjoining bathroom and shut and locked the door. Sitting on the edge of the bath for a moment, with her head in her hands, she wondered how on earth she'd landed in this predicament. The stuff of silly dreams! Whatever would Polly say if she ever dared tell her—or anyone else, for that matter—how, where and with whom she'd been forced to spend the night?

Standing up slowly, she looked around her. Hung up against the door were two white towelling robes—great! She would sleep very comfortably in one of those, she thought. She slipped out of her dress and underwear, thinking that it was a bit late to have a bath, but a warm shower suddenly seemed irresistible. She switched it on, grateful for all the complementary toiletries there on the shelf, and she soaped and shampooed luxuriously, suddenly feeling up-beat for a brief second or two. After all, she'd never stayed in a place like this, nor spent a night in any hotel in her life. This was luxury, and she should try and enjoy it, she told herself.

Then she thought of what—or who—was on the other side of the door, and her mood plummeted again instantly. She'd better hurry and take up her position on that sofa—and pray that morning and a rapid thaw would come quickly! And that this whole episode could be over with and forgotten—if that were possible!

Using one of the several huge white fluffy towels, she dried herself, and her hair, as best she could…there didn't seem to be a hairdryer—completing the exercise with the liberal use of the powder and fragrances so thoughtfully supplied. Then, taking a deep breath, she opened the door softly, peeping out, hoping that Jed would be already fast asleep, and that no more words need be said that night.

No such luck. As she emerged he was there, totally undressed apart from a pair of boxers, stretched out casually on the bed, with his hands clasped behind his head. Cryssie caught her breath, for even with the quickest of glances that she'd shot him she was breathtakingly aware of the mat of dark hair under his armpits and across his sun-tanned chest, of his long legs and taut, muscular thighs, all encompassing a finely toned and athletic, vigorous body.

She averted her eyes quickly, before there was time to admire anything else! And he watched her as she padded across the room in her bare feet. He smiled inwardly. She was certainly nature unadorned, he thought, with her long, damp hair curling around her shoulders, her body completely concealed amongst the folds of the over-sized robe. Yet, oddly, the healthily natural picture she presented was as acutely desirable as any of the women he'd ever met.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and made for the bathroom. ‘You smell wonderful,' he said, glancing across at her.

‘Thanks to the management,' Cryssie said coolly. ‘I've left plenty for you.'

He turned as if to say something, then thought better of it and went into the bathroom. Cryssie noted with a stab of appreciation that he'd made her up a bed on the sofa. He had taken the duvet and made a sort of nest, complete with two pillows, leaving himself just one, plus a cover. She hoped he'd be warm enough—then she shrugged. Jed Hunter was well able to take care of himself—and so was she! She snuggled down, thinking that ever since she and Mr Jeremy Hunter had met her life seemed to have been running away with her! And she was having difficulty keeping up!

It was surprisingly comfortable on the sofa, she thought—though it was a good thing she wasn't any taller, since her toes just reached the bottom edge. All in all, things could be worse, she thought sleepily, and whatever she thought of the man, one thing was certain—he was not likely to ravish her, to overpower her. Enveloped in her cosy cocoon, she smiled to herself.
What
a shame for poor Jeremy Hunter that he'd picked the wrong woman to help him celebrate the start of the new year! Because he could get lost if he'd ever thought of her as a one-night stand!

In the bathroom, Jed dried himself briskly, drawing the huge towel back and forth across his broad shoulders, his glistening muscles flexing and hardening with the effort. Leaning forward, he rubbed at the mirror on the wall with his fist, to allow his reflection to appear through the misty glass. He paused for a second, and the hint of a smile crossed his elegant features. The evening was obviously not to have the passionate conclusion he might have wished for under other circumstances…Not that
that
had been his intention tonight. Far from it! Yet it was funny how things might work out, he thought. Profit and loss were no strangers to
him
. They were part of the balance sheet of life. It was the final account that was important.

Reaching for the remaining robe on the back of the door, he shrugged himself into it and paused, his eyes narrowing for a second. His first instincts about the woman had been pretty sound, he thought—as all his instincts usually were. She could prove to be very, very useful to him in the future—if he could get her on his side. It was obvious there was going to be strong opposition to his plans in some quarters, but he'd get his own way in the end. As long as he didn't throw the baby out with the bathwater! He smiled darkly to himself. He knew how to please women, knew their sensitive points, both physical and emotional. But this particular woman was different. He'd known that from the moment he'd set eyes on her. When he'd arrived so unexpectedly at the office that morning she'd seemed totally indifferent, although he was sure she must remember their conversation in his own shop, and the remarks she'd made—not all of them complimentary!

Silently, he went into the bedroom and stared down at the inert figure on the sofa. She was fast asleep, breathing deeply, dead to the world. He paused, his fertile mind in overdrive, as usual. Then, bending, he picked her up effortlessly in his arms and carried her across to the bed.

A
COLD
white light filtering in through a crack in the curtains met Cryssie's sleepy gaze as she struggled to rouse herself from deep slumber. For several seconds she lay there, totally unable to get a grip on herself. This wasn't her own bed…this was a large, deliciously comfortable double bed, the luxurious duvet wrapping itself around her extravagantly. Stretching, she curled her toes in warm and blissful comfort, before suddenly memory—and her true situation—hit her like something hurtling from outer space.

Easing herself into a half-sitting position, she rested on one elbow and looked around her cautiously. There was no sign of Jed, or any of his clothes, and on the sofa lay the one pillow and the cover, which had been neatly folded.

Aware that her heart had gone into racing mode, Cryssie flopped back and stared up at the ceiling. What had gone on last night? And why was she here, and not on that sofa? Swallowing nervously, she loosened the belt of her bathrobe and smoothed her hand over the flat plane of her stomach, testing her muscles and reflexes for a sign—any sign—that anything of an intimate nature might have taken place. Though it beggared belief that she wouldn't have known about it!

She knew immediately that absolutely nothing had happened to her while she'd slept—the fleeting thought of that possibility discounted in a split second. She knew that Jed Hunter would not have taken advantage of her in that way, and anyway…He would have expected a co-operative lover who would enjoy and participate in his physical attentions, not an unconscious and passive partner!

She paused, letting her thoughts run on for a few moments. But she had not
walked
across to this bed—he must have carried her here. The realisation that she'd been so exhausted and out of it as not to have been aware of that, was deeply disturbing. Quite simply she'd been totally at his mercy, and her vulnerability came as delayed shock, so that her heart raced again and she trembled slightly, sitting up now, and running her hand through her tousled hair. Her mouth felt dry and unpleasant from the alcohol she'd drunk last night, and what she really longed for most was a large mug of hot tea.

As if in answer to her thoughts, the door opened and Jed came in, carrying a tray holding a glass of orange juice, a small pot of tea and a rack of warm toast. In spite of everything Cryssie couldn't help smiling as he came across to the side of the bed and, glancing down at her, said smoothly, ‘Ah—glad to see you've surfaced at last.'

He placed the tray on the bedside table and looked down at her in a way that made her heart beat even faster! He certainly had the advantage over her—again—because he had obviously shaved and showered, and looked fantastic—as always.

Seeing her amused expression, he raised one eyebrow in that maddeningly special way that made Cryssie's toes curl. ‘What's funny?' he enquired mildly.

‘You,' Cryssie said, trying not to giggle. ‘You look like the head waiter!'—for obviously he was in his evening dress. ‘Thank you, my good man. I hope you don't expect a tip!'

The minute she'd said that she regretted it, because it gave him the perfect opportunity to say that he did—and what
sort
of tip! But he merely grinned at her and walked across to the window, drawing the curtains aside.

‘What time is it?' she asked, in a still sleepy voice, reaching for the glass of orange juice and drinking thirstily.

‘Ten-thirty,' he replied. ‘With a bit of luck I can get you home by late afternoon. The thaw has arrived as suddenly as the storm, but slush is now the problem, so it'll take a while. But the ploughs have been busy since daylight.' He turned to look across at her. ‘Do you feel better this morning? You've had a very restful night, considering everything.'

‘Yes, thanks,' Cryssie said, pouring herself some tea. ‘And thank you for letting me have the bed…. Did you manage to get any rest on that thing?'

‘Not a lot,' he admitted, ‘but that doesn't matter. I can go without sleep for hours. As you'd informed me earlier that you need yours, it was only sensible for us to swap.' He paused, noting the pretty blush which coloured her cheeks as she sipped the warm tea. Why did he
feel
this way, so
protective
of this unprepossessing female? he asked himself. ‘I must say, you look very…refreshed this morning.'

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, marvelling privately at how fate had managed to bring her to this position in her usually uneventful existence. ‘Have you had breakfast?' she asked suddenly. And what did it matter to her whether he had or not? she thought fleetingly. Yet somehow it did…He had been—was being—very considerate. A pang of something she couldn't explain seared her heart for a moment. Under other circumstances, and happening to someone other than herself, this would be a wonderful situation, she thought. To be sitting up in bed being brought breakfast by a handsome member of the opposite sex would surely be the stuff of romance. Romance! That dangerous word was nothing to do with her!

‘I've had coffee,' he replied, turning to look out of the window again. ‘We might have some lunch here later, if you feel like it, and then try the roads.' He paused, and then without looking at her went on quietly, ‘There's no need for anyone at Hydebound to know what happened, by the way…that we couldn't get home last night,' he said. ‘Or indeed that we were here at all. I never discuss my private life and arrangements with anyone anyway—certainly no one in business—and I'd advise you to do likewise. It saves a lot of gossip and chit-chat. If by some chance word gets around, all anyone needs to know is that I needed to talk to you about work—which I did—and that we were holed up here because of the snow but spent the night apart—which we also did.' He turned and looked across at her. ‘The management here are discretion itself, so nothing will come from this direction. It is, after all, our business. And it should remain that way.'

Cryssie had started to butter a piece of toast while he'd been speaking, but now his words made her put down her knife and push the plate aside, any appetite completely gone. ‘I will say nothing to anyone,' she said coldly. ‘I left a message for my sister last night, so she knows why I couldn't get home. But other than that my lips are sealed!'

He needn't worry himself about his mighty reputation being damaged in any way by
her
, she thought angrily. Last night had been
his
idea, not hers, and if he wanted it all kept secret that was fine by her! In any case, she would not have dreamed of mentioning it at work. Rose could be spiteful at times, and it wouldn't be wise for
her
to know anything!

Jed smiled at her darkly, but somehow Cryssie couldn't even begin to smile back. She was honest enough to realise that she had warmed to Jeremy Hunter—a no doubt essential person in their lives, hers and Polly's and Milo's—had even begun to like him. A lot. But his calculating statement just now had wiped that from her mind. He was only interested in himself and his standing in the community, she thought.

She drank the last of her tea and threw off the duvet. ‘I'd better get dressed,' she said coolly. ‘Because the minute the roads are open I want to get home.'

‘Of course—we both do,' he replied. ‘As for tomorrow I'll be interviewing all the staff individually, so perhaps you'd see that all the personal files are available?'

‘That's the secretary's responsibility,' Cryssie said. ‘Rose Jacobs. She's perfectly capable of carrying out your every wish.' She walked across to the bathroom and glanced back at him over her shoulder. ‘Thank you for dinner last night,' she said. ‘I had never tasted anything like that before, and it was…special.'

He stared across at her, his black eyes boring into her gentle green ones. She needn't have confessed to her ignorance of the finer things in life, he thought. Could have pretended that dining in a place like the Laurels was not a new experience. Her simplicity of nature touched him again. No other woman he'd ever been with had had this effect on him. She was undemanding and unpretentious, yet no shrinking violet either, and some of her comments last night had made him laugh out loud. His usual women-friends weren't generally known for their sense of humour…

By mid afternoon they were on their way back to town, and when he drew up outside her front gate he turned briefly to look at her, wondering what was going through her head. She had been very quiet today, he thought, all the easy familiarity of last night completely gone, her quick-witted remarks non-existent.

‘Are you okay, Cryssie?' he asked casually.

‘I'm perfectly okay, thank you—Jeremy,' she replied. ‘And don't worry—I'll remember to call you Mr. Hunter from now on.'

A sudden look of realisation crossed his features for a second, and he gripped her wrist roughly. ‘If you're referring to my suggestion that we should be discreet about last night,' he said curtly, ‘I can assure you that it was for your sake, not mine!'

‘Of course it was, Jeremy,' she said sweetly.

And with that she opened her door and got out before he could help her, or say another word.

The following day it was business as usual, and as soon as Cryssie got to work she saw that Jed had already arrived. Parking her car a long way away from the silver Porsche, she ran up the stairs to the office, where Rose was booting up the computers.

‘Hi, Rose,' she said breathlessly, taking off her coat. ‘Did you have a good New Year's Eve?'

‘Oh—so-so,' the woman replied. ‘You?'

‘Oh…yes, as usual,' Cryssie replied vaguely, crossing her fingers as she did so. She couldn't describe
her
New Year's Eve as so-so! ‘Have you seen Mr Hunter yet? His car's here.'

‘Yes,' Rose replied. ‘He put his head around the door a few minutes ago. Wants to see us all one by one. He's instructed me to bring him the relevant files,' she added importantly.

As they got on with their work, Rose said, ‘What do you think of our new boss, then, Cryssie? Do you think our jobs really are safe—for the time being at least? Or will he start making changes that'll force us to resign? Or maybe we'll be chucked out!'

Cryssie kept her eyes on her computer. ‘Why ask me, Rose?'

‘Oh…only that you have met him before, haven't you? I just thought you might have some inside knowledge, that's all.'

‘Our acquaintance was just a passing encounter in Latimer's,' Cryssie said. ‘I was a customer—and I sort of complained about something—and he just happened to be around at the time.'

‘Well, you have to agree that he's a looker,' Rose said, sighing briefly. ‘I don't think any of us would throw him out of bed, do you?'

‘Probably not,' Cryssie replied, turning her face away, aware that it was burning.

‘I wonder whether sir likes coffee at eleven o'clock,' Rose said as she took another batch of files from the cabinet. ‘And whether he likes milk, and one lump or two?'

‘Oh, he—' Cryssie almost said that he liked it black with no sugar, but stopped herself just in time! ‘Just put everything on the tray and let him help himself,' she said quickly.

Presently Rose left the room with the things that Jed wanted, and Cryssie sat back for a moment. She hadn't dropped any bricks so far, she thought, but it was hard to try and eradicate her recent experiences from her mind. To say the whole business was unreal, not to say surreal, was an understatement! And the mental picture of her employer lying on the bed, naked apart from his boxers, still made her senses rush. She admitted to herself for the first time, and reluctantly, how close she might have come to lying beside him, to allowing those long, sensitive fingers to caress her body. And now she was expected to forget everything and pretend it had never happened. It was simply an impossibility. Nothing about Jeremy Hunter was unforgettable!

Swallowing hard, she reached for the bottle of water she kept by her side and sipped. She must keep reminding herself that so far as the man was concerned the evening had been inconsequential, unimportant. It must be obvious to him that she could never compete with all the women he had bedded in his lifetime, and from a sexual point of view she had nothing that would satisfy him. She knew that. And she cringed again as she remembered his almost curt directive that their evening and night together must remain a closely guarded secret. The thought of her name being linked with his in any other way than business would hardly add to his professional or personal standing!
However
much he'd tried to excuse his directive! Well, as she had assured him, her lips were sealed.

Almost at the end of the day, the internal buzzer sounded and Cryssie was summoned to enter the office so recently vacated by the Lewis brothers. She couldn't help feeling a tinge of sadness to see their place taken by someone else—even if it was by the rich and gorgeous Mr J. Hunter!

He stood up as she came in, indicating the chair at the other side of the desk where he was sitting. In spite of herself Cryssie felt her mouth dry up as she looked at him squarely. Even someone like Rose—well on in years and happily married—had made it clear that she would find a night alone with the man appealing! And today, in this dusty office, he was certainly that. He was well turned out, as always, but his dark hair seemed to fall more carelessly over his forehead than usual, and it made Cryssie want to put out her hand and smooth it gently. Stop! she told herself. That night is history! Any such familiar thoughts were out of order! And, as well as that, these teenage feelings were not part of her agenda—they had been buried long ago. But she realised with growing concern that he was filling more of her thoughts than was good for her—for either of them. She must keep her eye firmly fixed on the goal ahead—which was to constantly improve her prospects so that she need never feel afraid for Milo and his future.