A Stranger's Kiss

then swiftly stuffed the envelopes with the mail, stamped it and put on her coat.
    ‘Still here?’ She had just summoned the lift and swung round to find Adam Blackmore, wrapped only in a short towelling robe, his dark hair damp and dishevelled from the shower, standing behind her. A matching pair of doors opposite his office, stood half open to reveal a glimpse of the accommodation beyond.
    The significance of “private apartments” suddenly struck her.
    ‘You live here?’ she asked. But she already knew the answer. It was little wonder he had thought she was pursuing him.
    ‘Very good, Tara,’ he said, his mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. ‘Did you ever consider a career on the stage?’ He didn’t give her an opportunity to protest. ‘I’ll show you round when there’s more time. We might even try that ‘coffee’ you were so keen on. Now we know exactly where we stand.’ He leaned against the wall. ‘I told you to leave half an hour ago. Why are you still here?’ There was no denying the steely insistence underlying the velvet softness of his voice.
    She swallowed hard. ‘I had to change my own arrangements for this evening.’
    His jaw tightened imperceptibly. ‘I’m sure he’ll wait. You are worth waiting for, aren’t you, Tara?’
    ‘You’ll never know.’
    There was a disquieting confidence about his smile. ‘You can use the private lift. It will take you to the side entrance on the ground floor.’ He opened the door for her. ‘I prefer to keep it locked. Otherwise all sorts of odd people can wander up.’ He took her hand in his, pressed the key into her palm and wrapped her fingers around it. ‘Keep it safe.’ He turned her and propelled her towards the small private lift. ‘Six-thirty. Not a minute later.’
    * * *
    Tara was still fuming as she stood under a hot shower. Who on earth did he think he was? How could anyone work for such a man? Yet the neat stack of dated shorthand notebooks she had found in the cupboards suggested that the secretary she was standing in for had been with him for a long time.
    The water was relaxing, taking the tension out of her neck muscles. He was just testing her. Making sure she was what she claimed to be, but if he thought that she was prepared to use her body in the furtherance of business, she would disabuse him very quickly if he ever tried to put it to the test.
    A little smile of satisfaction lifted the corners of her mouth. She had survived the first day. She had taken the worst he had been able to throw at her and come through more-or-less unscathed. Feeling decidedly more confident she grabbed a towel and began to dry herself vigorously.
    She decided to wear a simple black jersey dress with long sleeves and a scooped neckline, elegant enough for the evening, but sufficiently understated for a secretary at a business meeting. She fastened the little gold brooch near her shoulder, tracing the simple shape with the tip of her finger; the outline of her name in shorthand. A reminder, a talisman against the aggressive charm of Adam Blackmore.
    A peremptory ring at the bell summoned her to the door and she glanced at her watch. Precisely six-thirty. She hadn’t doubted it for a moment. She picked up her coat and bag and opened the door.
    He ran an assessing glance over her appearance and raised a sardonic brow. ‘How appropriate. Come along.’
    Tara made no comment. She dressed for the job she did. She knew that in many offices the staff were much more casual these days, even wore jeans, but she had her own very good reasons for preferring to keep her dress formal.
    He led the way down the steps and ushered her into a sleek black Jaguar and she allowed her herself a smile as she fastened her seat belt. The car so exactly suited her idea of the sort of car a twenty-first century knight might drive. A black knight. The analogy was so apt that she was forced to smother a giggle.
    ‘What’s so amusing?’ he demanded.
    She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
    He stared for a moment as if she was quite mad, then shrugged and started the car. The conversation on the way into London was a one-way affair in which he briefed her on the meeting, who was to be there and what notes he wanted her to take.
    The journey home was accomplished in silence, with Adam deep in thought and apparently forgetting that he had Tara with him, he drove straight into the car park beneath Victoria House.
    He caught her glance. ‘I need those notes tonight, Tara.