Burning With Passion. Emma Darcy

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СКАЧАТЬ she wanted him.

      ‘You tempt me beyond endurance.’

      ‘Isn’t that what men want from the women they never marry!’ she flung back at him.

      ‘I’ve never referred to or alluded to you in any way to imply that you were my mistress.’

      ‘You just have,’ she said with infinite regret and a deadness of soul.

      ‘You goaded me into this, Caitlin,’ he responded. ‘I don’t know what the hell you think you’re playing at, but this isn’t the time for it.’

      ‘When will there be time for it?’ she fired at him, seething with frustration, crushed by his remorselessness.

      A shutter came down on the blue blaze. ‘Maybe never.’

      ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said heavily. It justified everything she had said and done. Her voice shook with the vehemence of her feeling of rejection. ‘I won’t be here tonight.’

      If he had ever liked her he would have known that already. He would have found out. The truth was that he wasn’t interested in what made her tick, what made her the person she was.

      His eyes narrowed. He plucked his hands away from her. ‘Neither will I,’ he snapped, not understanding what was happening but not bending a millimetre.

      ‘Just as you have a life I don’t share, I have a life you don’t share,’ Caitlin threw at him. Her chin tilted defiantly. ‘You can take me now or leave me now. If you leave, I don’t know when I’ll be free again.’

      His mouth took on a cynical twist. ‘Barter-time, is it?’

      Her eyes flashed contempt. ‘Sorting out priorities.’

      That gave him pause for thought. She could almost see his mind clicking over with calculations. ‘We’ll talk about this later,’ he said, and turned to go.

      ‘Don’t worry about turning on the percolator in the kitchen for me. I’ll do it myself.’

      His eyes turned back to her with a dark, turbulent glare. His trousers still bulged. It had to be causing him some physical distress to leave her like this. His head jerked away.

      Caitlin didn’t follow him out of the bedroom. She stood precisely where she was until she heard the door to her apartment click shut behind him. He still hadn’t asked her what she was doing tonight, why she wouldn’t be free for him. He didn’t care what she did when she wasn’t with him.

      She shivered.

      It spurred her to a burst of activity. She grabbed a robe from her cupboard and marched out to the kitchen, wrapping herself tightly in the all-enveloping garment. She filled the coffee-maker and switched it on, feeling furiously justified in not having done it for David this morning. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve anything from her.

      Her eye caught the calendar hanging below the kitchen clock. Today’s date was ringed. It was important. February the fourteenth. St Valentine’s Day. The day her mother and father were married thirty years ago. The day she was given Dobbin as her very own pony. The day for lovers to declare themselves. A day to concentrate on romance. A day which would be as bleak as Hades because she had danced with the devil.

      A wave of nausea cramped Caitlin’s stomach and pushed a choking lump into her throat. She tore off the offending page of February and crushed it in her hand. She didn’t need the reminder of her parents’ wedding anniversary any more, and she certainly didn’t need a reminder of what she didn’t have with David Hartley.

      She opened the lid of the kitchen tidy and threw the crumpled wad of paper into the bin. She wished she could get rid of her unrequited love for David Hartley just as easily.

      She looked up at the clock. She had an hour and forty-two minutes to don her role as his personal assistant and wear the label ‘For Office Use Only’. That was what David was going to get from her from now on until he decided differently about sex, sensuality and sharing.

      CHAPTER TWO

      CAITLIN stepped off the bus at Chatswood at five minutes to nine. Normally she would take that amount of time to arrive at the Hartley building. Today she was not eager to get to work.

      The morning was fine and sparkling. A continuation of last night’s violent thunderstorm with its torrential rain would have been more in keeping with Caitlin’s dark misery. The intense blueness of a cloudless sky appeared to mock the bleak prospect of her future.

      She had made the effort to present a meticulous appearance. David paid her a large salary. He expected her to perform well and look stylish and sophisticated.

      Pride insisted she give him no grounds for any possible criticism where her job was concerned. It also insisted that she show no sign of the deep distress he had given her. As a result she looked particularly bright and shiny, so much so that she attracted a second look from many other pedestrians as she crossed the road to her place of business.

      Her hair was freshly washed and blow-dried into a gleaming cascade of waves. It brought out the gold streaks in the darker tawny mass. It also provided a strikingly sensual frame for what was an essentially feminine face, oval in shape and set on a long Nefertiti neck. Her eyes were large, deeply lidded and emphasised with finely arched brows. Her nose was small and straight, the slight flare of her nostrils balancing a generous mouth.

      Caitlin had applied a soft and subtle make-up; only a fine touch of shadow and eyeliner to emphasise the green of her thickly lashed eyes, a barely discernible brush of colour to highlight her cheekbones, and a dusting of very expensive powder to give her skin a smooth lustre. The curves of her mouth were perfectly outlined with a tan lip-pencil and filled in with peach gloss.

      She wore an elegant long-sleeved blouse in a soft cream voile with lace inserts running down the bodice. Her long button-through crêpe skirt was of a darker cream, slim-lined and fitted snugly to her small waist. Her stockings were of fine quality, her court shoes taupe suede to match her shoulder-bag.

      She looked a picture of style, which was what David Hartley expected of her. As Caitlin walked up the steps to the main entrance of the Hartley building, the showroom manager hurried forward to open the door for her, casting an appreciative eye over her appearance and giving her a welcoming smile. ‘Good morning, Miss Ross,’ he said cheerfully.

      She dredged up a smile. ‘Good morning, Mr Jordan.’ He was a slickly handsome man in his early forties, always a bit too effusive for Caitlin’s liking, but that probably went with being a top salesman. David did not employ second-rate staff.

      He grinned. ‘May I wish you a very happy St Valentine’s Day. And lots of lovers!’

      Caitlin barely stopped herself from wincing. The greeting was undoubtedly meant as today’s variation of ‘Have a nice day.’ Paul Jordan made it sound offensive.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, and hurried past him into the foyer.

      She didn’t so much as glance at the vast showroom that took up most of the ground floor. It was packed with state-of-the-art office furniture, all designed to accord with David Hartley’s specialised standards. These were directly related to his study of СКАЧАТЬ