Sarah Holland - An Obsessive Love

Nothing he could have said could have frightened her more. It meant he planned to chase her, to kiss her, to whisper sweet nothings in her ears…

And that would do it, that would make her flip her tiny lid again, that would feed the obsession she already knew could develop for a man as gorgeous and unattainable as Dominic Thorne.

‘Well, you can’t!’ she said icily, and wrenched open the front door, her face a white mask of scorn and contempt. ‘Kindly keep your hands off me from now on, Mr Thorne. I am not interested!’

Turning, she strode away down the path, her face rigid with determination, but she was both shocked and hurt when he didn’t try to follow her, because of course she thought he was wonderful, gorgeous, dazzlingly attractive, and she wanted him.

Her hand shook as she unlocked her little blue sports car, slid behind the wheel of it, and drove away without looking back.

God help me, she thought, her heart still pounding with excitement and fear. I feel more attracted to him than to any man I’ve ever met—and that includes Tony the Swine Kerr.

Look how she had flipped her lid over Tony, and she had barely found him attractive at all in the beginning. He had just been so attentive, so charming, and so unattainable, that in the end she had fallen hook line and sinker for him.

Unattainable was the key word, of course. She had worshipped him like a teenage fan with her idol, and the fact that he had never made love to her had made her obsession worse.

But Dominic Thorne was even more unattainable…

He was everything she had yearned to meet in a man, and far too eligible to take notice of a boring little secretary like her.

Tall, strong, intelligent, sexy, dynamic, sensitive, charming, gorgeous—and with a romantic Russian background, just like hers. He could have been handmade for her by fate.

Yes, she thought grimly, handmade for me to fall for, because that’s what’ll happen if I don’t fight him. And before I know it, I’ll be feeding an obsessive love for him, just like I did for Tony.

Feeding it.

Like a secret plant, kept in the darkness of a hothouse, pouring water on it every hour, talking in hushhush whispers to it, words of love and desire making it grow and grow until it became a monster…

I must not let myself fall for Dominic Thorne, Natasha told herself fiercely.

I must not let that obsessive streak out, ever again.

I mustn’t even kiss him again.

Not ever.

He came to her flat ten days later.

She thought she was ready for him, because he had telephoned earlier to let her know he was on his way, and his terse, cold tone of voice hurt something inside her, even while she reciprocated, equally cold and impersonal.

But nothing she did could prepare her for Dominic, because she already secretly wanted him, already secretly found herself daydreaming about him, about his kiss, his smile, his ready wit, his powerful body, and his strong, handsome, Russian face.

Determined to look attractive herself, she changed quickly into a formal trouser suit in dark green, scraped her long hair back into its cool chignon, and put a little make-up on, her hand unsteady as she applied mascara to her dark red lashes.

Then she went into the living-room, pacing like a restless, fiery gazelle, trembling inside with excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

‘What are you up to?’ Dolly, her flatmate, asked curiously.

‘Mr Thorne is coming round,’ Natasha told her non-committally, ‘to give me my visa and the details of my flight to St Petersburg.’

‘So why get all togged up to see him?’ Dolly eyed her formal suit with a frown. ‘It’s just a brief, casual visit, isn’t it?’

‘I imagine so.’

Dolly laughed at her formal words. ‘You imagine so! Honestly, you are a hoot!’

Dolly Day was exactly like her name: a beautiful blonde bombshell. She was one of those warm, naturally glamorous, naturally exciting women with tremendous personality. She had never been deeply hurt by life, and hopefully never would be.

Natasha frequently envied her as she breezed her way through life, surrounded by friends, swamped by admiring men, throwing parties and getting drunk and laughing at herself when anything went wrong, and never having a cross word for anyone.

She was the perfect friend for Natasha, who had been so bitterly hurt that she often wondered if she would ever recover, and was afraid that the answer was very probably—never.

At least while Dolly Day was with her, Natasha would feel the sunshine.

The doorbell rang.

Natasha jumped, nervous eyes flicking round as she froze in the centre of the living-room.

‘Want me to get it?’ Dolly asked with a smile.

‘No, I…’ She ran a slim hand over her smooth chignon. ‘I’ll go.’

By the time she reached the front door, her palms were sweating. She smoothed them on the legs of her trousers, took a deep breath, told herself she had nothing at all to be afraid of, and opened the front door.

His face was so powerful to her now that her heart beat with sickening speed just at the sight of him, and it was difficult to keep her cool. She wanted to kiss him. Her eyes darted with secret passion to his mouth.

‘Hi,’ he drawled coldly. ‘May I come in?’

‘Of course.’ She stepped back, cold and expressionless.

Dominic walked inside, irresistibly sexy in black jeans and black V-necked sweater, the sleeves pushed up a touch to show tanned, hair-roughened forearms, the V-neck showing his powerful chest.

Natasha’s eyes raced over his body with hot, secret longing. She closed the front door behind him, pushed her hands into the pockets of her elegant trousers, and looked up at him through dark lashes, wondering if she was in as much danger from him as she thought she was.

‘Do you have the entry visa for me?’

He towered over her, eyes hard. ‘Yes. Are we to discuss everything here in the hallway?’

‘No, please follow me.’ She led him to the dining-room along the hall, preferring to be alone with him under formal conditions. ‘May I offer you some tea or coffee?’

‘I’d rather have a shot of whisky,’ he drawled, tossing the file in his hand on to the mahogany table.

Natasha’s lashes flickered. ‘I’ll have to ask Dolly.’

‘Dolly?’ His hard mouth twisted in a sardonic smile.

‘My flatmate. If you’d like to wait here, I’ll——’

‘Can’t I meet Dolly?’ he drawled, following her out of the room. ‘I love dollies!’

Jealousy immediately struck at her vulnerable heart, and as she pushed it away she felt it come thundering back, because she suddenly realised how completely different from her Dolly was, and how much Dominic might prefer her vibrant, open warmth to Natasha’s hurt, damaged personality.

‘Of course,’ she heard her icy voice say, and walked elegantly ahead of him to the living-room, opening the door and saying tightly, ‘Dolly, Mr Thorne wanted to know if we had any whisky here?’

‘Whisky?’ Dolly turned from the bookshelf, blonde hair a lion’s mane around her pretty face. She was sexily dressed in black miniskirt and blue silk blouse. Pale pink lipstick shimmered on her luscious, smiling lips. ‘I think Bobby left a bottle here the other night.’

‘Your boyfriend?’ drawled Dominic Thorne, smiling at her with a glitter in his steel-blue eyes.

Natasha watched grimly, jealousy searing her blood.

‘Oh, hi!’ Dolly gave him a warm smile. ‘You must be Mr Thornec. I’ve heard tons about you. Come on in.’

‘Thank you.’ Dominic shot Natasha a mocking glance, as though he knew she was raging with silent jealousy, and extended a strong hand to Dolly. ‘It’s a real pleasure to meet you.’