Craving Her Boss's Touch Read online

  He had pulled on his robe, his face oddly pale in the soft light. He disappeared and came back with her clothes, which he handed to her in grim silence.

  ’I don’t rape virgins,’ he told her derisively. ‘Get dressed, I’m taking you home. My God,’ he burst out when she didn’t move, ‘you crazy little fool! Have you any idea…’ He shook his head slowly, as though it pained him, and stared broodingly down at her. ‘Of course you damned well don’t,’ he said bitterly at last. ‘Well, I’m not David, Storm, I can’t take you to my bed and act the heroic lily-white knight. For two pins I could damn you and your precious virginity to eternal hell. Have you any idea…’ He stopped himself with visible effort, his muscles rigid beneath the thin silk robe as he scooped up the quilt and flung it over her. ‘Get dressed,’ he commanded again, and turned on his heel.

  Just for a moment she had an insane desire to beg him to come back to her; to tell him there was no one she would rather have initiate her into becoming a woman, but the set of his shoulders killed the impulse as it was born, her voice shaky as she whispered, ‘But you said…’

  ‘I don’t give a damn what I said, Storm,’ he told her savagely. ‘Get dressed—unless you’re sure you can take the inevitable.’

  His expression left her in no doubt that he meant what he said. When he had gone, she pulled on her clothes with hands that trembled, and ten minutes later she was sitting silently at his side as he drove her home.

  ‘I’m not going to apologise for what happened,’ he told her harshly as he pulled up in front of the house. ‘So for God’s sake stop looking at me like that. No—no tears, please,’ he swore as he saw the betraying glisten on her cheeks. ‘You’ve still got your precious virginity—now get out before I take you back with me and really give you something to cry about!’

  It seemed that she had spent the whole night getting dressed and undressed, Storm thought miserably as she crept into her own cold bed.

  Of course she couldn’t sleep; all she could think about was how she had felt in Jago’s arms and the unappeased ache deep down inside the pit of her stomach. If only he hadn’t made that impossible demand, she thought wretchedly she might now have been sleeping in his arms. The thought caused fresh tears.

  She drifted off to sleep towards dawn, and woke up to the rattle of tea cups. At first she thought she must still be at Jago’s, but when she opened her eyes, she gave a gasp of startled surprise. ‘Ian!’

  ‘And where were you last night, you dirty stop-out?’ her brother teased with a grin, dropping down beside her when her smile crumbled and tears filled her eyes. ‘Hey, come on! This isn’t my tough, battling sister…’

  ‘Is that how you see me?’ she asked forlornly, taking the handkerchief he proffered. ‘Am I really so unfeminine?’

  ‘Want to tell me about it?’ he invited. ‘And don’t say there’s nothing to tell. When my kid sister comes home in the early hours of the morning and bursts into tears the moment I speak to her, it doesn’t take a genius to work out what’s happened. Who is he?’ he teased. ‘Anyone I know? Lord, it’s not old David, is it?’

  Storm shook her head.

  ‘No, it’s not David, but don’t ask me any more, Ian. It’s hopeless anyway. He doesn’t give a damn about me. Tell me about you. Did you know that John’s getting married?’

  They caught up on each other’s news over breakfast, which Ian insisted on preparing, his pyjama-clad body fit and muscular, his skin tanned from long exposure to the sun.

  ‘I wanted to get back in time for your birthday,’ he told her over a second cup of coffee, ‘but owing to a holdup at Heathrow I didn’t quite make it. Just as well really, I never stopped to think that you might be out.’

  ‘It was only a party down the road,’ Storm told him expressionlessly, ‘you could have come with me. I’d better go and have a shower and get dressed.’

  ‘Don’t use all the hot water!’ Ian called after her with a brotherly grin, reminiscent of their adolescence. ‘And put on your best gear, I’m taking you out for lunch.’

  It was a grey, miserable day, in keeping with her mood, and Storm lingered under the stinging spray of the shower, hoping that somehow the pain would drive out the agony inflicted by Jago.

  ‘Bathroom’s free, Ian,’ she called downstairs as she padded into her bedroom. She didn’t really feel like going out, but Ian would be disappointed if she refused.

  As she walked into the kitchen the back door opened and Jago’s broad shoulders were framed in the doorway.

  ‘Storm, I’ve come to…’ He broke off, staring at Ian who, dressed only in pyjama trousers, was reading the paper.

  ‘Bathroom’s free,’ Storm reminded her brother. He glanced from her to Jago and whistled tunelessly between his teeth, smacking Storm lightly on the rump with the folded paper as he shuffled past her.

  ‘Don’t forget our lunch date,’ he told her lightly, and Storm’s heart sank as she read the questions in his eyes. No doubt once Jago had gone and they were alone he would drag the truth out of her.

  Jago’s face was bone-white, temper blazing out of his eyes as he advanced on her.

  ‘My God, you little bitch!’ he said softly when Ian had gone. ‘You damned near sent me crazy last night with that pitiful little tale about being a virgin, and I fell for it!’ His hands bruised her shoulders as his fingers bit into the tender flesh. ‘I spent the rest of the night telling myself I was a heel for doing what I did to you, and I came round this morning to make sure you were all right. All right! God, I don’t need to use much imagination to know what you were doing! No wonder you were so anxious to come home. Do your parents know about their lodger?’ The violence of his accusations caught Storm off guard.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she began, gasping when he shook her roughly.

  ‘God, what do you take me for? Of course I understand. I’ll bet he’s something Winters didn’t know about. Who is he? Some local Romeo who flits from bed to bed as the fancy takes him?’

  A slow burning anger rose inside her like a floodtide, drowning out everything but its bitter strength.

  ‘Yes, he spent the night here,’ she cried defiantly. ‘I’m sorry if it offends your pride to think I’ve given someone else what I wouldn’t give you, but he gives me something you never could. He loves me,’ she said fiercely, watching his eyes darken ominously, his anger only urging her recklessly on. ‘You wanted to use me, Jago,’ she accused, ‘so you can hardly complain if I used you. Now will you please leave?’ She turned her back on him, but he grabbed hold of her, swinging her back against him, crushing her mouth with the angry pressure of his kiss, forcing the soft tender flesh back against her lips until it felt swollen and bruised. His hands hurt as he forced her against him, grasping her neck and holding it bruisingly while his mouth continued its bitter punishment. When he released her his eyes glittered like jet, his breathing harsh as his eyes swept her contemptuously.

  ‘You really had me fooled, but you’re just like all the rest, aren’t you?’

  When the door finally slammed behind him Storm stumbled to a chair, her mind and body blessedly numb.

  It was better like this, she told herself over and over again; this way at least she retained a little of her pride, and he would never know that while he tore her to shreds with his angry words, inside she was slowly dying for love of him.

  She heard Ian whistling as he came downstairs and quickly tried to force a smile. But when he looked at her she knew she hadn’t deceived him.

  ‘Storm! My God, what’s he done to you?’ His eyes went to the door. Storm restrained him instinctively, flushing at the blaze of anger in his face as he looked at her swollen mouth.

  ‘He thought that you… he thought we were lovers,’ she said helplessly. ‘Last night…’

  ‘He made love to you and thought you’d gone straight from his eyes to mine, is that it?’ Ian asked incredulously.

  Storm shook her head, moistening her lips. ‘He didn’t make love to me in
the sense that you mean, Ian. That’s just it. But he thought that you and I…’

  ‘Poor sod,’ Ian said softly, his expression lightening as he looked into her shocked face. ‘You really are an innocent, aren’t you? By some miracle he manages to keep his hands off you, and what does he find when he turns up on your doorstep full of apologies and remorse? A strange male obviously very much at home and in a state of partial nudity.’ Ian started to laugh, sobering abruptly when he saw Storm’s face. ‘I’m sorry. He’s important to you, isn’t he? Let me tell him…’

  ‘No!’ Storm clutched at his sleeve, her face paper-white. ‘It wouldn’t do any good, Ian, and besides, it’s better like this.’

  ‘I’m not having him think what he does about my sister,’ Ian retorted stubbornly. ‘And besides, he has a right to know the truth, Storm. What he thinks he saw will be eating into his guts like acid. Let me…’

  ‘It’s too late. He’s just driven past,’ Storm told him as she saw the familiar green car sweep past the end of the drive. ‘Just leave it, Ian. It’s over.’

  She didn’t really feel like going out for lunch, but she went for her brother’s sake. He took her to a small country pub where they ate their meal in relaxed surroundings, and afterwards Ian went up to the bar to get them both a drink.

  ‘Hello there!’

  Storm turned at the familiar voice, smiling at Greg Harmer. When Ian returned she introduced them as Greg explained that he was with his father, who as a widower preferred to lunch out.

  ‘He still misses my mother very badly,’ Greg told them, ‘and I’ve often wished he would remarry. If you’ve finished eating why don’t you join us for a drink? I know he’d like to see you again, Storm.’

  ‘After all that’s happened with his advertising.’ Storm asked a little bitterly, quickly explaining to Ian.

  He raised his eyebrows and frowned. ‘Typical of David Winters,’ he said angrily. ‘I never did like him.’

  Ian and Greg seemed to have hit it off quite well, and knowing that her brother sometimes found his long leaves hanging heavily on his hands now that his old friends had left the Cotswolds, Storm welcomed the chance meeting.

  Mr Harmer couldn’t have been more charming, keeping her well entertained while Greg and Ian exchanged university reminiscences. There was only a year between them, and Greg questioned Ian eagerly about his experiences abroad.

  Listening to her brother, Storm felt a small glow of pride. The responsibilities his job entailed had given him an air of authority, and trying to observe him through a stranger’s eyes she could see that he was a man who commanded respect and attention.

  ‘Look,’ Greg said a little awkwardly as they got up to leave, ‘don’t think I’m being pushy, but how about making up a foursome one evening? My sister Julia is a schoolteacher, but she’s between jobs at the moment. She’s got the wanderlust bug like you,’ he said to Ian with a grin. ‘She was working in Spain for a while teaching English, and now she’s been offered a job in Saudi Arabia doing some private tuition. She would have been with us today, but she only got back late last night, so we left her in bed.’

  ‘I’m sure Ian doesn’t want to have Julia foisted off on him,’ Mr Harmer started to protest, but Ian laughed, and accepted the invitation, after a querying smile at Storm.

  It was arranged that David would pick them up the following evening, and as they drove home Ian told Storm that he was quite looking forward to it.

  ‘Greg Harmer quite fancies you,’ he told her with a sideways glance, and Storm responded with a brief smile. She knew quite well that with the slightest encouragement Greg would step into the empty space left by David, but she had learned her lesson now, and knew that it was pointless to get involved in another tepid relationship—pointless and unfair to Greg.

  Storm had several days’ holiday due to her, and when Ian said that he had a month’s leave she decided that she might as well take them and spend as much time with him as she could.

  There was no sign of Jago when she went to work on Monday morning. Ian drove her so that he could have the use of Mr Templeton’s car during the day, and after reminding her of their date that evening, told her that he intended to have a lazy day getting accustomed to the cold English climate.

  ‘I thought your parents were away,’ Pete commented when Storm walked into the reception office. His sharp eyes didn’t miss much, she reflected, shrugging off her coat.

  ‘Ian’s home,’ she told him. ‘He brought me to work. Any progress with the foster-parent appeal?’

  Accepting the change of subject, Pete gestured enthusiastically to the large pile of mail on the desk.

  ‘An even better response than I’d expected. I’m going over to the home this morning to chat to some of the kids, see how they’ll come over on interview. Want to come with me?’

  Mary Simmonds greeted them enthusiastically, offering them coffee and biscuits as they sat down in her shabby study.

  ‘I can’t tell you how delighted we are with what you’re doing. We’ve already placed several of the smaller children,’ she explained to Storm. ‘Not on a permanent basis, of course. These things can’t be rushed. But several couples have come forward offering to act as “aunts and uncles”. Most of them have grown-up children of their own and are aware of the hazards and pitfalls.’

  ‘And the children?’ Storm asked.

  ‘Oh, they’re loving it. We’re being very careful not to let them get too excited before anything actually happens, but it’s going to make such a difference in their lives, even if it’s only the odd outing and visit. To children like these just to have someone pay them individual attention means so very, very much.’

  ‘The older kids are going to be more of a problem,’ Pete said frankly. ‘Teenagers are difficult at the best of times.’

  ‘You’re quite right,’ Mary Simmonds sighed. ‘And these children more than most are suffering from such a sense of rejection that it makes them automatically withdraw into themselves; sometimes even deliberately scorning the thing they want most. You see, they’ve been without individual love and attention for so long that they’ve convinced themselves that they don’t really want it. I was wondering if Mr Marsh might come and talk to some of them,’ she said quietly to Storm. ‘His success might encourage them and provide the spur we need.’

  Not sure if Pete was aware of Jago’s background, Storm said hurriedly that she was having a few days’ holiday but that Pete would mention the matter to him.

  When the cups had been cleared away, several gangly teenagers were brought into the room, and introduced to them. They were awkward, and inclined to eye them warily, and Storm’s heart went out to them. Pete had exactly the right touch, she acknowledged, listening to him drawing them out as he asked about their interests. ‘How about coming on my show?’ he asked when they had eventually relaxed.

  ‘So that everyone can feel sorry for us?’ one tall, thin boy muttered suspiciously. He was about fifteen with a shock of brown hair and wary, defensive eyes, and Storm found herself holding her breath as she waited to see how Pete would handle him.

  ‘Do you think they ought to?’ Pete asked casually. ‘I reckon most teenagers would envy you, eh, Storm? No parents moaning about loud music and untidy bedrooms.’ When the laughter had died down Pete said seriously, ‘Look, no one wants to force any of you into something you don’t want. How you feel about becoming a member of a family is something personal and very private—no one denies that. But wanting to be part of a family is nothing to be ashamed of, you know. And it isn’t all one-sided. There’s lots of folk out there whose kids have left home, or perhaps who never had any, who would give their right arm for the chance of fostering…’

  ‘Yeah, as long as it’s a kid under five,’ another of the boys jeered resentfully. ‘When it comes to us, no one wants to know.’

  ‘That’s where I think you’re wrong,’ Pete said quietly. ‘But the choice is yours and I don’t want you to make it right now. Think about i
t, and then next week I’ll be along to talk to you again. Even if you don’t want to be on my show, you can still come and have a look round the studios. The invitation doesn’t come from me, it’s from Mr Marsh,’ he told them as he stood up. ‘So think about it, okay?’

  ‘I think you managed to get through to them,’ Mary Simmonds announced when the children had gone.

  Pete looked embarrassed. ‘Oh, Jago suggested that might be the best way to approach them. He seems to have a pretty good idea how their minds work.’

  ‘Yes, he does,’ Mary Simmonds agreed, smiling at Storm. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing you next week, then.’

  It was no good letting pity for the boy Jago had been overwhelm her, Storm decided on the way back to the studios. He wasn’t that boy any longer. He was a man, hardened by his experiences, and any attempt on her part to breach his cynical exterior would only result in more pain—for her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IT was obvious that no matter what her feelings might be, Ian was enjoying himself, Storm admitted as she looked at her brother’s animated face.

  To her dismay Greg Harmer had booked them a table at the Country Club, and Storm had found it virtually impossible to touch her food, remembering the lunch she had had here with Jago and its aftermath.

  Julia Harmer had turned out to be a vivacious redhead, with a warm smile and sparkling blue eyes, and Storm suspected that under his quizzical teasing Ian was completely bowled over. He was certainly being far more attentive than mere politeness demanded, and Storm suspected that he was already regretting their foursome. A simple twosome would be much more to his taste, judging by the looks he was giving Julia.

  ‘Something worrying you?’ Greg asked when she had neglected to answer him for the third time. ‘You seem a bit preoccupied.’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Storm assured him. ‘I’m sorry, I’m spoiling your evening.’

  ‘Forget it,’ he told her gallantly. ‘Shall we dance?’

  Julia and Ian were already on the floor, unashamedly making the most of the slow seductive music. Storm was glad when Greg made no attempt to hold her intimately, and her breath came in a shocked gasp as she felt someone looking at her and turned her head to see Jago and Madeleine Rivers sitting at a table next to the dance floor.