Wild and Wanton (13 page)

‘Yes.'

‘Did I mention the name of it, and if I did . . .'

‘I've read the Hot Sauce column, and I know what you're getting at. Yes, you did, and no, I didn't. For a very good reason—I didn't think of it, else I might have.'

‘Thanks for your honesty,' Lindsay said. ‘I'm sorry for having to ask you.' She believed that Cathy hadn't leaked anything, if only for the reason she had just given.

Lindsay wished she'd been straight with Nick Farraday at the beginning about her relationship to Phil. She had a niggling suspicion that Ami knew what she was talking about, and that Nick would start digging to find a likely culprit to pin the leak on. It would be better if she told him that Phil was her brother rather than left him to find out for himself.

The second phone call she made was even less enjoyable than the first. As it was during working hours, the best place to catch Nick was at his office. When Lindsay got through the cool composed voice of Barbara Bates did nothing for her confidence; on the contrary, it gave her a sinking feeling. How could she think, Lindsay further pondered, that someone as busy as Nick Farraday would drop everything to speak to her?

Lindsay wondered if it was a deliberate attempt on Ms. Bates's part to undermine her
confidence
still more when she was allowed to listen in and hear the secretary say, ‘I'm sorry to disturb you, Nick. I know it's inconvenient to break in now, but Miss Cooper is on the line. Do you want to speak to her?' Even as Lindsay fumed at the disparaging tone that implied what a nuisance this was, a click cut off Nick's reply.

She was kept waiting so long that Nick's peremptory bark came as something of a surprise. ‘Well, Lindsay, what is it?'

‘Could I see you, please? There's something I have to tell you.'

‘Has it anything to do with the little gem dropped in the Hot Sauce gossip column?'

‘Oh, you've read it as well,' Lindsay said foolishly.

‘Obviously,' he drawled in an exasperated this-is-wasting-time intonation. ‘Well, has it?'

‘Indirectly. I'd like to see you this evening, if it's at all possible. I can come round to your suite. Or you could come to my apartment, if you prefer.'

‘And wait avidly for tomorrow's column to find out what Ms. Pellman makes of that?'

‘Mmmmm . . .yes. That would be indiscreet, I suppose. What do you suggest?'

‘Do you know a restaurant called—' He broke off abruptly. ‘To hell with it!' In her mind's eye she saw the black brows meeting in a hard frown. ‘Neither Maisie Pellman nor any other inquisitive gossip-monger is going to
make
me resort to clandestine meetings. I'll collect you. About eight.'

He didn't wait to find out if that was all right with her, just rang off, leaving her quivering with indignation at the terse way he had ended the conversation.

Maisie Pellman's item had aroused Nick's fury. Lindsay wasn't sure, but she suspected that he intended to take her somewhere where they were sure to be seen—as an act of defiance. In his shoes, she would have done the same thing.

If she was going to be shown off, she had to be a credit to him. What on earth was she going to wear? She really had to consider doing some serious shopping, a thought that struck her as being funny. She was planning to do serious shopping for the frivolities that were missing from her wardrobe!

She did have one absolutely exquisite dress, too dressy for an ordinary occasion. But this occasion warranted it. Luisa's good-luck dress. On doing up the incredible number of tiny buttons that extended the length of the closefitting bodice to the level of her hip bones, she realized that, irrespective of whether the charm Luisa said was sewn into the dress worked or not, she looked charming in it. The demureness of the long lacy sleeves and the gentle ruffles encircling her throat suited her. Her limbs seemed to have acquired an added fluidity, and she moved with more poise and
self-assurance
than usual. When she had bought the dress, Luisa must have been exactly her size, because the fit was perfect.

Lindsay didn't know whether to wait for Nick at the entrance of her apartment block or let him climb Mont Blanc, as he had jokingly called the seven flights of stairs to her door. She decided on the former, but he forestalled her by arriving fifteen minutes early.

Smoothing her hands over the luxurious texture of her dress for luck, she went to answer his knock. There wasn't the slightest doubt in her mind that the impatient rap of knuckles was his summons. At the same time she knew that she was going to have to take herself in hand; there was neither rhyme nor reason in her feeling guilty. If you felt guilty you looked guilty, Lindsay said to herself, and if she carried on like this, Nick Farraday wasn't going to believe her when she stated her innocence.

His large frame filled the doorway.

‘Good evening, Nick. Won't you come in?' she invited graciously.

‘As we can hardly talk here, the answer has got to be yes.'

She had been hoping the talk could be deferred until after they'd eaten, when, she hoped, he would be in a more amenable mood. ‘I was only doing the social bit,' she said, turning to lead the way and giving him a sharp look over her shoulder. ‘There's no need to
be
sarcastic.'

‘You're right. I'm sorry,' he said without contrition. ‘Do you want coffee, Nick? No thanks, I had a cup before setting out. So can we get straight down to the nitty-gritty? Yes, I'd like that fine, Lindsay. There . . . all the preliminaries swept out of the way for you.'

‘Not quite. I haven't asked you to sit down. Sit down, please, Nick.'

For a moment she thought that he wasn't going to do as she asked, that he intended to remain standing. Telling him the truth would be bad enough without his intimidating bulk over her. Unfortunately, the confidence that Luisa's dress had given her seemed to have vanished, though that didn't stop the adrenaline from pumping madly through her system at the sight of him. His short temper and the tightness straining his features didn't detract from his sheer magnetism.

He sat down heavily, and she waited for the protesting creak of the chair's springs to subside before she began. ‘I would rather climb into a tankful of rattlesnakes than say what I have to, knowing what you're going to make of it. It's a confession. Phil Cooper, who used to work for you and whom you fired, was my brother.'

‘Cooper! Of course! All the time I've been beating my brains out to know what was bugging you, the connection never occurred to me. How stupid can one get! So that's it.'

‘That
is
not
it. It has no link with the piece in Hot Sauce.'

‘You didn't have to sink to such means. If you didn't want a part in the deal, why didn't you say so?'

‘I did say so, time and time again. You wouldn't listen.'

‘I see now that I should have taken you seriously. I thought you were saying one thing and meaning another. It's a feminine characteristic.'

‘I meant it at the time. I felt as if I was being plunged into something without being given a chance to decide whether I wanted it or not. But the leak didn't come from me. I remember your saying that if anything got out, it would allow your competitors to steal a march. I couldn't do a thing like that to you.'

‘Are you telling me that you haven't harbored a single thought of revenge in that sweet head of yours?'

‘No . . . that is, I might have.'

‘Might have?'

‘All right, I have! But it was the merest seed of a thought, which I didn't allow to germinate. It was all to do with the gold-and-white image of sweetness and purity the girl was supposed to portray. I seemed powerless to stop the tide of events, and I thought it would serve you right if I turned up at some important promotional function wearing the black dress.'

‘The black dress?'

‘You
know the one,' she said huskily.

‘Yes, I do. And let me tell you here and now that if you'd attempted such a thing, I would have been severely tempted to take it off you, and would have taken immense pleasure in doing it.'

Lindsay vowed that she had to stop getting mental pictures such as the one that now flashed across her mind of Nick disrobing her. The image was most disconcerting. She didn't see him ripping the dress from her in anger as outrageous punishment for an equally outrageous deed, but taking it off her with the slow, sensuous caressing fingers of a lover. No man had ever undressed her before, not even in her mind, and the shame of it made her lower her dusky gold lashes to her burning cheeks.

‘I can understand your anger, Nick. I can understand how you feel, even if it saddens me.'

‘Whom do you think I'm angry with?'

‘Why . . . Maisie Pellman, for writing the item. Me, because you think I tipped her off.'

‘I'm angry with myself.'

‘Yourself? What for?'

‘You're a smart girl. If you put your mind to it, you'll figure it out.'

Puzzled by that, she said doggedly, ‘I didn't have anything to do with the information in Hot Sauce.'

He leaped out of his chair and was by her
side
with amazing speed for one so big. She remembered the things Luisa Delmar had said about him and wondered at her surprise. He had been trained to move quickly.

His index finger came up to poke one flame-red cheek. ‘Ummm.' To her anxious ears he didn't sound convinced. ‘I'm claiming the right to reserve judgment about that. Are you ready?'

Her fine eyebrows arched in query. ‘Ready?'

‘I was under the impression that we were going out for a meal.' His eyes swept appreciatively over her. ‘You've gone to a lot of trouble to look good. Don't tell me you've already eaten.'

‘No; I anticipated being fed. I wasn't going to tell you that Phil was my brother until afterward. I've always believed that it's more difficult to be angry on a full stomach. Now that I've told you, I imagined things would have changed and that you would withdraw the invitation.'

‘Why? Doesn't Phil Cooper's sister eat? I don't hold you responsible for what your brother did. I've no hard feelings against him. Regret, maybe, that his foolhardiness ultimately cost him his life, but there's no ill will. And your confession has opened up a whole new can of beans. As well as my stomach, my curiosity needs feeding. My mind is buzzing with unanswered questions. High on the list is your resentment of me on your late
brother's
behalf.'

She was completely confused. Things weren't adding up. According to Cathy, Phil had been unfairly dismissed; but if that were the case, wouldn't Nick Farraday's face have shown at least some trace of guilt? Even he wasn't in such command of himself that he could remove all traces of such a powerful emotion. Not to say that his eyes weren't brimming over with emotion; the seeming intensity of it dried her mouth.

‘You don't happen to have two steaks in the fridge and a bottle of wine tucked away somewhere, by any chance?' he inquired.

‘Might have.' She found it difficult to unlock her gaze from his. ‘You're a strange man. I expected you to be livid with me for not being straight with you.'

‘I'm burning up with something, but it isn't anger. If you want it spelled out, I'm wondering how I could be dumb enough to be taken in. How everyone could be right except me.'

‘Right about what?'

‘You got it right in knowing you aren't the girl for the promotion. Luisa got it right for the same reason. And that barb-tongued columnist got it right. I'm annoyed with myself for not knowing my own feelings. The last laugh's on me. I've fallen under the spell of your allure. You can tear up the contract, because I don't want you to allure millions, only me. I don't
want
to share you; I want you all to myself. Now, lead me to those steaks. I'll cook the dinner while you go and change your dress.'

‘Why should I change my dress? Don't you like it? You should. It belongs, or I should say belonged, to Luisa. It's the one you picked out for me to wear when we first met. I went to see Luisa, and she insisted on giving it to me.'

‘It's very attractive, but . . .'

‘You still want me to change? What into, as if I didn't know! The black dress?'

‘What else? The sweet and pure Lindsay in the white dress is for the world. The Lindsay in the black dress is a wild and wanton creature for just one man's delectation—and I'm that man.'

Delectation. How delightfully wicked that sounded. She wanted to be delectable for his pleasure. Her fingers went to her throat and began dealing with the many buttons as she turned with the intention of walking into her bedroom, surprising herself at her own meekness in wanting to obey him, even as she understood why. Her emotions had been on ice for too long, ever since that glorious awakening the night when they went out on the town. Feeling as she did, she certainly wasn't going to argue. And on top of everything else, she was weak with relief that what she'd had to tell him about being Phil's sister hadn't sent him storming off in a temper.

‘That's what I like,' he growled softly. ‘A
submissive
woman.'

It was one thing to be submissive, another for it to be gloated over. Even if his arms hadn't suddenly shot out to contain her before she had a chance to get very far, his words would have halted her step.

‘Submissive?' she said, frowning.

‘Mmmmm.' He snuggled her closer. ‘Gives a guy a sense of power.' Large hands stroked over her midriff. He nuzzled her hair aside with his mouth and kissed the nape of her neck, the burning sweetness of it causing her to wriggle. Groaning, he turned her round to face him, his hands now encircling her hips. Held so close, she could feel his tension. His eyes burned into hers as he said rawly, ‘I want you so much, I hurt.'