Carole Mortimer - First Love, Last Love

Lauri got in beside him, suddenly nervous for all of her bravado. She looked appealingly at her uncle. ‘You won’t really laugh at me, will you?’

‘No,’ he smiled. ‘But be careful. I know she looks a wreck, but she can travel.’

‘Gertie’ was a low sports car, bright red in colour where it hadn’t rusted away, with humorous stickers on the doors and windows. At twelve years old Gertie did indeed travel, and it took all Lauri’s concentration to keep from going too fast.

‘Mm, not bad,’ Steve murmured as she turned into the firm’s car park. ‘You only made one old lady drop her shopping and knocked some kid off his bike. Not bad at all.’

‘Ooh, I didn’t!’ She gave him a furious look.

That break in her concentration was her undoing. She had slowed right down to enter the car park, but when she returned her attention to the front of her it was to find a two-tone brown and gold Rolls-Royce reversing into a space in front of her. Her foot slammed down on the brake—and nothing happened! Gertie kept right on moving, hitting the side of the Rolls with a thud.

‘Why the hell didn’t you brake?’ Steve turned on her angrily.

‘I did,’ she said indignantly. ‘I did!’ she repeated at his sceptical look. ‘Nothing happened.’

‘That’s damned obvious,’ he snapped. ‘Well, you’ve done it now,’ he nodded towards the other car as the furious driver climbed out from behind the wheel. ‘He isn’t going to very pleased about you denting his Rolls,’ he groaned.

‘ He isn’t going to be very pleased?’ Lauri exploded. ‘He had no right reversing up until I’d passed, he could see me driving down this way. Anyway, I should think we’ve done more damage to Gertie than to his car.’

‘I doubt it will cost as much to repair,’ Steve muttered with a groan.

‘Well, we’re certainly not paying for it,’ her green eyes sparkled as she thrust open the car door. ‘It’s all his fault,’ she glared at the back of the other driver as he inspected where the two cars had made contact.

‘Lauri!’ Steve made a grab for her arm as she climbed out of the car. ‘Lauri, for God’s sake!’ he cried after her.

She took no notice of him, marching purposefully over to where the other driver was still bent over inspecting the damage caused by the crash. Lauri brimmed over with resentment. She supposed this man thought he owned the place just because he had that flashy monster of a car. Well, his obvious wealth didn’t impress her!

‘It was all your fault,’ she verbally attacked the broad back and wide shoulders turned towards her. ‘You had no right to be backing up like that when I could clearly be seen driving in this direction.’

Those forceful shoulders had stiffened at her first words of rebuke, and now the dark head rose as the man slowly turned to face her. Lauri was shocked into silence by startling blue eyes, sumptuously fringed with thick dark lashes, a straight nose, a firm uncompromising mouth set in a disapproving line as the man made no effort to hide his haughty disdain for her. His hair was jet black in colour, and styled away from his face to fall just below his collar, inclined to curl but obviously kept firmly in check.

The expensive cut of his suit spoke of extreme wealth, and his arrogant manner indicated that he was a man accustomed to authority. In his early thirties, Lauri would guess, with a wealth of experience to go with those years.

‘So it was my fault, was it?’ the icy contempt in his voice made Lauri cringe. ‘Then how do you account for the fact that your car is smashed into the side of mine?’

Her face was bright red with temper, her freckles more noticeable. ‘I’ve already told you. You—–’

‘Lauri, will you be quiet!’ Steve swung her round, his dark eyes flashing a warning. ‘Behave yourself,’ he hissed.

‘I was only—–’

‘Lauri!’ he repeated tautly. He turned to the other man. ‘I’m very sorry about this—–’

‘Sorry!’ his niece cut in. ‘We’re not sorry at all. And we aren’t paying for it either. He was—–’

‘Lauri!’ Steve’s fingers bit painfully into her arm as he pulled her roughly against his side. ‘Just shut up!’

‘But he—–Ouch!’ she cried out as he increased the pressure of his fingers. ‘That hurt!’ she complained.

‘It was meant to. Just behave yourself.’ Again he turned to the other man. ‘I hope there isn’t too much damage to your car, sir.’

‘Sir …?’ Lauri’s mouth fell open as she stared at the owner of the Rolls. ‘Steve, is he …?’

‘Yes!’ he hissed down at her.

‘Oh, my God!’ she gulped, gazing fearfully at the man she now knew to be Alexander Blair. No wonder he looked as if he owned the place—he did! And she had just accused him of negligent driving, had been thoroughly rude to him in fact. And he didn’t look as if he had a very forgiving nature.

Alexander Blair looked at Steve with steady blue eyes. ‘You know who I am?’

‘Yes, Mr Blair. I—er—I work for you,’ he admitted reluctantly.

‘Really?’ Dark eyebrows rose. ‘And your girl-friend?’

‘I’m not—–’

‘Lauri works for you too,’ Steve cut in on her indignant denial. ‘I really am sorry about your car, Mr Blair. If you send me the bill—Steve Prescott, Sales Department—I’ll gladly pay it.’

‘Very well,’ their employer nodded abruptly. ‘And in future I would refrain from letting your girl-friend get behind the wheel of your car. I’ve invariably found that women don’t have the concentration for it. I’m sure—Lauri, was it?—I’m sure she had her mind on other things, possibly the clothes she’d be wearing for your date tonight,’ he derided.

She gasped. ‘Why you—–’

‘And hot-headed female drivers are the worst of the lot,’ he added dryly.

Steve grinned. ‘I only let her drive me in today so that she could prove what a good driver she is.’

The first glimmer of humour lightened those harsh features as Alexander Blair looked pointedly at the touching vehicles. ‘I would say she has proved the opposite,’ he drawled mockingly.

Lauri’s temper rose at the condescending look in those startling blue eyes. ‘I didn’t prove anything—–’

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he cut in scathingly.

‘I was going to say anything of the sort,’ she snapped, her mouth tight, caution thrown to the winds. ‘I still maintain that it was your fault. You—–’

‘Get in the car,’ Steve gave her a threatening glare. ‘Go on, get in,’ he ordered. ‘The passenger side. I’ll just sort matters out with Mr Blair.’

‘But, Steve—–’

‘For once in your unruly life will you do as you’re told!’

Lauri flinched at the fury in her uncle’s voice, his anger unusual and so all the more effective. ‘Yes, Steve,’ she bowed her head, studiously avoiding the taunting humour Alexander Blair made no effort to hide. She threw her head back challengingly, walking slowly round to the side of the car that had recently held Steve. She clambered over the low side, not willing to go back round to the door that actually opened.

She glowered at the two men as they talked together, her arms folded mutinously across her chest. Arrogant, condescending, mocking …! How on earth could he be thought the sexiest thing on two legs! She thought he was hateful, very handsome, but hateful nonetheless.

Steve grinned at her as he got back into the sports car, nodding to the other man as he completed the task of reversing the Rolls back into his reserved parking space. The car had a personalised number plate, AB 1, and maybe if Lauri had been given the chance to see this she might have made the connection between her employer and the man who had so haughtily told her the accident was her fault. Her fault indeed! He just hadn’t been looking where he—–