Lynne Graham - Dangerous Passions

Jaime was relieved that Felix appeared to have abandoned his inquisition, and, applying herself to the job in hand, she put all thoughts of Ben Russell out of her mind. She had no doubt she would have plenty of time to think about him, and what he intended, in her free time. But, for the moment, she had better things to do.

And, in spite of her misgivings, it was amazing how swiftly the morning passed, when she stopped anticipating the worst. She had always enjoyed her work as Felix’s assistant, and the intricacies of tax consultancy were a never-ending source of interest. She was always amazed at the lengths to which people would go to avoid paying their taxes—and she used the term ‘avoid’ advisedly. Tax evasion was illegal. Nevertheless, some of Felix’s clients were prepared to spend a small fortune in consultancy fees just to save what Jaime considered a paltry sum. Still, it kept Haines and Partners solvent, and she wasn’t grumbling.

She drank her morning coffee with the girls who worked in the main office. They were a friendly group, and Jaime knew them well. One or two of the older women had been there longer than she had, though most of them were married, with families of their own. Happily, Felix was engaged with a client, and wasn’t around to ask any more awkward questions. Jaime was not naïve enough to think he had said all he intended to say about Ben but, for the present, he too had other things to do.

The offices of Haines and Partners were situated near the town centre. At lunchtime Jaime often walked along to the High Street and did some shopping. She seldom ate much in the middle of the day, usually making do with a sandwich to see her through. Her mother was always saying she ought to make herself a salad to take to work, but Jaime replied that she didn’t have the time. Which probably accounted for the extra inches she had such difficulty in shedding, Jaime reflected drily. It was all right Tom saying that Angie thought she looked good—if it was true. Italians liked their women shapely. Unfortunately, the current trend was towards the emaciated look, something Jaime knew she would never achieve.

Felix generally went home for lunch, but today Jaime didn’t wait to see what he was doing. At half-past twelve, she picked up her handbag and left her office, eager to escape another tête-à-tête. Besides, it was Monday, and she did have some shopping to do. If Felix needed her for anything, it would have to wait until she got back.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and for once Jaime was not wearing a coat. But she considered her oatmeal linen, with its button-through style and cream silk camisole, sufficiently businesslike, and at least her arms were covered. Felix was old-fashioned about some things, and he preferred his secretary to dress conservatively.

She came out of the building, blinking in the bright sunshine, and for a moment she didn’t recognise the man propped against the wall across the street. He was concealed by the shadows, and it wasn’t until he straightened up and came towards her that she realised who it was.

Her immediate instincts were to flee, but she knew that wouldn’t be very sensible. Besides, hadn’t she been expecting this ever since he’d left the house on Saturday evening? She ought to be grateful he had chosen to speak to her while she was on her own. He could just as easily have made his accusation in front of Tom. And then…

But she refused to contemplate the alternative. She was a long way from giving this man anything that he could hold over her. He knew nothing. He was only guessing. But she must convince him that Philip need not be involved.

Ben looked less pale today, though the ravages that the past fifteen years had wrought were still harshly evident. Nevertheless, in an open-necked denim shirt, faded jeans, and the same scuffed leather boots he had worn on Saturday night, he was still worth a second glance. His hair needed cutting, she thought peevishly, wanting to find something about him that she could disparage. But the fact remained that he had always had the ability to stir her senses, and in spite of everything that hadn’t changed.

‘Hi,’ he said neutrally, and she wondered if he thought he had a God-given right to come here and disrupt her day. ‘Where shall we go?’

Jaime stared at him indignantly, and then, realising that if Felix chose to look out of his window he would see them, she started off along the street. Hopefully, if her employer did notice that she had a companion, he would not immediately assume it was Ben.

‘Hold it!’ Ben’s fingers looped about her upper arm, effectively preventing her from going any further. ‘My car’s over here.’

‘And why would that interest me?’ asked Jaime crisply. ‘I don’t use a car at lunchtime. I can walk to the shops.’

‘Later.’ Ben’s eyes were dark and impassive. ‘We have to talk.’

Jaime breathed quickly. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what they had to talk about, but the fear that Felix might come upon them was greater than her desire to be needlessly obstructive.

‘All right,’ she said, with what she thought was admirable restraint. Jerking her arm out of Ben’s grasp, she swung about. ‘If you insist.’

Ben gave her a twisted sideways glance. ‘Did you really think I wouldn’t?’ he enquired cynically. ‘Believe me, if I hadn’t thought it might hurt Tom, you wouldn’t have had more than twenty-four hours to prepare your defence.’

‘ My defence?’

Jaime felt the injustice of that remark sear through every fibre of her being. She didn’t have to defend herself. Particularly not to him. Not after what he had done…

‘I suggest you save your arguments until we’re some place less public,’ he countered, taking her arm above the elbow and guiding her across the road.

Jaime could see the Mercedes now, the same huge Mercedes that had been parked across the road from her house on Saturday night, and which she had thought belonged to someone else. It was parked some distance further along—on double yellow lines, she noticed irritably. If she’d parked there, her car would have been sporting a parking ticket by now, but Ben’s vehicle exhibited no such proof of violation.

Still holding her arm—as if there was still some doubt that she might try to make a dash for it—Ben took out his keys, and pressed some sort of remote-control device that automatically unlocked all the doors. Then, with controlled politeness, he opened the front passenger door, and compelled Jaime to get inside.

‘Do you mind?’ she protested, to hide the awareness she had felt of those strong fingers. Although his grasp had been impersonal, her response to it was not, and the knowledge of her vulnerability was frightening.

He slammed the door behind her, as she struggled to jerk her skirt down over her knees, and walked around the car. At least the car was pointing in the opposite direction to the offices, she thought tensely. In spite of anything else, a car like this was inclined to attract attention. Not that it was particularly clean, she added, seizing on any topic to divert her from why she was here. The paintwork needed washing, and the inside of the car was littered with empty cartons, and scraps of paper. What was the old joke? she pondered nervously. Something about buying a new car, when the ashtrays in the old one were full. Yes. That was it. Well, that was probably Ben’s attitude, too. She couldn’t imagine him…

The engine fired, and she realised that while she had been concentrating on distracting herself Ben had taken his place beside her. The big car accommodated his long legs comfortably, and her averted gaze skittered over taut thighs and bony knees. Was all his skin as brown as the muscled forearms that jutted from the turned-back sleeves of his shirt? she wondered idly, before common sense suppressed such recklessness. It could be of no interest to her how he might look beneath the civilising influence of his clothes, and, although she had once found an intense pleasure in helping him shed them, that was before she had discovered the kind of man he was.