A Stranger's Kiss

‘I could find out, of course. Cut your rates to the bone. But I’ll be generous.’ He sat forward and suddenly his face was far too close and instead of work she was concentrating on the deep lines etched down his cheeks and the way his mouth curved at the corners. ‘You can have all my business now, Tara, and go back to your safe little world down at street level.’
    ‘Yes?’ She waited for the coup de grace.
    ‘If you cut your rates by ten per cent.’
    It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her head. He had no need to be envious of her big brown eyes. He had charm enough of his own to distract and bemuse the unwary. But this was a game and she must smile too, laugh off an offer that might well have tempted her a week ago. Before she had worked for him. He would pay for what he had put her through. Every last penny.
    She propped her chin on her hand, refusing to back away from his raking eyes. ‘Generous indeed, Adam,’ she replied, her voice loaded with irony. ‘And what are you prepared to forfeit in order to cover the reduction? Ten percent efficiency, or ten percent of the working day?’
    He sat back and laughed. ‘It’s the status quo, then? You are so confident?’
    ‘I have reason to be. And you have nothing to lose, Adam.’ But she had. Her peace of mind, a certain tranquillity that while it didn’t seem quite so attractive as it once had, had to be safer than this roller-coaster ride her body took whenever he chose to exert his charm. ‘But I think we’re going to have to put a time limit on this trial period. It certainly wouldn’t be good business to allow you to keep me working for you indefinitely as a hostage to fortune.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘Would it?’
    He returned her smile with interest. ‘Shall we fetch your handbag? You did say you were anxious to get home to pack?’
    ‘So I did.’ His change of subject didn’t worry her. She hadn’t expected an immediate answer, but she had made her point. He pulled back her chair and opened the restaurant door for her.
    ‘You’ll need an evening dress, by the way. I should have said earlier, but I imagine you’ve got some neat classic to cover every eventuality in your wardrobe?’
    This totally accurate summation of the clothes she wore to work irritated Tara. Of course she kept her clothes simple. No one wanted a secretary that flashed and jangled, but he made it sound like a failing. As if she had no imagination.
     She retrieved her bag from her office and located her key. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, Adam. Thank you for dinner.’
    ‘It’s late. I’ll walk you home.’
    ‘Do you walk Jane home?’ she asked, before she considered the wisdom of such a question.
    His brows closed in a slight frown. ‘There’s no need—’ The phone began to ring. ‘Hold on.’ He lifted the receiver. ‘Adam Blackmore.’ A warm smile creased his face. ‘Jane.’ There was genuine pleasure in his voice. ‘Did you? I went down to the wine bar with your replacement for a bite to eat.’ His eyes flickered across to Tara. ‘She has possibilities, but she wears her skirts too long.’ He laughed at whatever Jane had said, then perched on the edge of her desk and, more serious, asked, ‘What did the quack say?’
    Tara turned and walked quickly to the lift. The door slid open immediately and although she heard him call her name she didn’t look back, but stepped inside and pressed the button.
    For the second time that evening she ran the length of Victoria Road and didn’t stop until her own front door was bolted behind her.
    She knew what kind of man Adam Blackmore was. A ruthless, single-minded man who would use her and throw her away whenever it suited him. She was every kind of a fool to even think about him. But a sharp stab of pain that had jabbed like a knife into her chest when he had said, oh so casually, that Jane didn’t need to be walked home. Tara banged her fist against the wall and fought back the stupid, humiliating tears. Jane was the perfect secretary. One who never went home.
    Her phone rang. She knew it was him. No one else would ring this late. For a moment she considered leaving it to the answering machine. Then she grabbed the receiver. If he thought she hadn’t got home safely he might just come to check and she was in no mood to face him.
    ‘Tara Lambert.’ There was no answer. ‘Hello?’
    ‘That sounds marginally more friendly.’ His voice was grim. ‘I just wanted to be sure