Emma Darcy - Burning With Passion

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 the engineering aspects of the relationship between workers and their environment. When it came to ergonomics, no one knew more about it, or had cornered the market more effectively.

Caitlin headed straight for the elevator that would take her to the administrative offices on the first floor. Jenny Ashton, the telephonist and receptionist, looked up from her desk. She was two years younger than Caitlin, a pretty blonde with an infectious smile. The smile broadened to full beam as though she was bursting with good news.

‘Hi, Jenny!’ Caitlin greeted her briefly and quickened her step. She didn’t have the time or the inclination for chat this morning.

‘Great day!’ Jenny returned, her brown eyes sparkling.

‘Sure,’ Caitlin agreed. She forced another smile. ‘Did your boyfriend give you something special?’ she asked in passing, trying to look pleased for her.

Jenny rolled her eyes expressively. ‘I’d certainly call it special.’

‘Good for you!’ Caitlin called back to her as she pressed the elevator button.

The door opened immediately. It was a relief to relax her facial muscles as she stepped into the compartment. Common sense argued that she should break with David right now. He was never going to give her what she wanted. To stay on as his assistant could only be a torment to her. She told herself he had dazzled her into a love-affair. Her eyes were now well and truly open, and she knew where it was all leading to. Nowhere!

The problem was, she was addicted to him. The thought of never again experiencing the wild passion they shared together sent a wave of empty desolation through her body. Nor were there jobs of this quality lurking around every corner. Would she ever get another that would match this one?

David emitted a charge of electricity that made even the most mundane work appear exciting and fulfilling. She felt his intensity and responded to it. Would she ever meet another man to match him?

Was she prepared to end the addiction...cold turkey?

The thought was depressing.

Feeling emotionally torn by the prospect, Caitlin stepped out of the elevator and walked to her office on automatic pilot. She checked her watch as she opened the door. It was precisely nine o’clock.

Her timing was perfect, not a minute early, not a minute late.

She sniffed in puzzlement. A sweet, rich scent seemed to permeate the room. She looked up, then stared in astonishment at the magnificent arrangement of red roses sitting on her desk. There had to be dozens of dark velvety buds beginning to unfurl into full bloom. Incredibly beautiful, marvellous, heart-kicking extravagance!

Warmth flooded through her veins. Red roses were for love. Red roses were for eternity.

David must have relented. He had seen the errors of his ways. He didn’t want to lose her. Maybe he did love her.

Or perhaps he had ordered the roses yesterday. Which was why he wouldn’t consider any change in his schedule today. He knew what was to be delivered this morning. He wanted her to be surprised by his gift of love.

Caitlin moved forward like a sleepwalker. Her mind was abuzz with exciting possibilities. Attached to the decorative basket from which the roses sprayed in luxurious splendour was a large and fabulously elaborate St Valentine’s Day card.

A red satin heart was outlined in lace and seed pearls. The card itself had a mother-of-pearl sheen and above the heart was a fat little cupid set in gold, shooting an arrow at a heart. Her heart!

Caitlin’s fingers trembled as she opened it. Her pulse raced with the hope that David had written something personal and meaningful, something that might indicate his real commitment to her.

The hope was somewhat deflated. Within a wreath of roses was printed ‘Be My Valentine’. No address to her. No signature. Only the single message of the card.

But that was something. It was an advance on what had gone before. A lilt of happiness dispelled the disappointment. It was certainly more than she had ever expected from David. He was not given to sentimentality. He did not celebrate anniversaries.

She grinned as the realisation struck her that Jenny and Mr Jordan had both seen the roses arrive. Jenny had probably shown the delivery person to her office. Did they realise that David would not put his name on the card? Did they even suspect what was going on between them?

He certainly wouldn’t hand-write anything on such a public gift. Other employees would see he was flagrantly breaking his own rules. That would not be good for morale. But she knew, and she was the only one who was meant to know. Their love-affair was a private thing. She would make certain it was kept that way.

Caitlin breathed in the wonderfully intoxicating scent, then with a happy sigh set about preparing for work. She hung her shoulder-bag on the coat-stand, grabbed her shorthand pad and pen from the top desk drawer, and headed for the door that led into David’s office.

It was amazing. Five minutes ago she would have approached this door with every muscle in her body twanging and twitching with tension. Now she was eager to face David again, delighted he had unbent so far for her sake. He understood. He had given her a pleasure that he wouldn’t care about for himself. It was a turning point, a concession, a gesture that proved he cared about her feelings.

She opened the door and breezed in, bubbling with new confidence. David’s eyes snapped up from the papers on his desk. There was a fractional tightening of his jaw. He had the gritty look of a man who had been placed in the front line of battle, determined not to be seen shirking his duty, but hating the position of vulnerability. His eyes bored into Caitlin; angry, distrustful, broodingly belligerent.