desire for revenge[070-011-4.5]

By: Penny Jordan

Synopsis:

Ex-lover, new boss Sarah believed in love at first sight.  But after
meeting the man of her dreams, and spending a night of passion in his
arms, she was scared the magic couldn't possibly last.  So she left
before he awoke.

Joshua Howard had met his perfect woman, and lost her again in one
night.  Now he vowed to get his own back on her, and his revenge was
going to be slow and sweet.

It would begin as soon as he introduced himself as Sarah's new boss!


BY PENNY JORDAN

DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?

If you did, you should be aware that it is stolen property as it was
reported unsold and destroyed by a retailer.  Neither the author nor
the publisher has received any payment for this book.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the
imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names.  They are not even distantly inspired
by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents
are pure invention.

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in
part in any form.  This edition is published by arrangement with
Harlequin Enterprises II B. V. The text of this publication or any part
thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the
written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of
trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or
cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar
condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser.

MILLS & BOON and MILLS & BOON with the Rose Device are registered
trademarks of the publisher.

First published in Great Britain 1985 by Mills & Boon Limited This
edition 1998 Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise
Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

Penny Jordan 1985 ISBN 0 263 80836 X Set in Times Roman 11 on IV/i pt
by Rowland Phototypesetting Limited Bury St.  Edmunds, Suffolk Printed
and bound in Spain by Litografia Roses S. A. " Barcelona cover
illustrator for the Penny Jordan Collector's Edition Erica Just is an
artist and illustrator working in various media, including
water-colour, pen and ink, and textiles.  Her studio is in
Nottingham.

Her work is inspired by the natural forms, architecture and vibrant
colours that she has experienced on her travels, most especially in
Africa and India.

Erica has exhibited her work extensively in Great Britain and Europe
and has works in private and public collections.  As an illustrator she
works for a number of companies and also lectures on textile design
throughout the country.

Artwork copyright Erica Just 1997

CHAPTER ONE

'look David, I think this has gone far enough I. "

"I want you Sarah, and I always get what I want, especially when what I
want happens to be a green-eyed witch with red hair and a body just
made for love, even though something tells me that that body has never
actually experienced the total reality of a man's love."

She felt trapped; half mesmerised by the deliberately soft monotone of
his voice, and not even the fact that they were in her office, within
easy screaming distance of her fellow employees, had the power to make
her feel fully safe.  And besides, what sort of executive would she be
if she let one mere man sexually intimidate her to the extent where she
was panicked into reacting like a naive teenager?

Gathering herself together, Sarah took a deep breath and then said as
calmly as she could, "David we've been through all this before.  You
might be a valuable asset to the company, but I am not prepared to go
to bed with you just so that you will continue to use Leichner &
Holland as your publishers.  And I'm sure that Steven would back me up
in this."

Steven Holland was the owner of Leichner & Holland and it was he who
had been responsible for promoting Sarah a year ago from being
assistant editor to the status of fiction editor, with a special
responsibility for the new avenue of fiction aimed at women, which they
were pursuing.  Sarah did not delude herself as to her abilities;

she had been promoted as a result of something which had really been
little more than a lucky fluke.  She had been idly reading through a
manuscript which James Richards, the chief fiction editor, had thrown
on one side and had immediately been struck by the emotive way in which
the story had been written.  The name of the writer had been unknown to
her, but she still found the novel powerfully compelling.

She had been reading it one lunch hour over her coffee and sandwich
when Steven had passed her on the way to his office.  He had questioned
her about what she was reading, and after being amused by her
enthusiasm had said that since she was so enthusiastic about the work
he might as well read it for himself.

Slightly to Sarah's surprise he had been as enthusiastic as she was
herself, and the result was that she was now officially Fiction Editor
(Female) for Leichner & Holland.

Of course her promotion had not been without problems.  For one thing
James Richards had objected strenuously to it, and Sarah had heard only
the other day that he had actually now given in his notice.  There had
been a lot of talk about who might replace him, but as yet nothing
official.

"I mean it Sarah...1 want you and I mean to have you..."

"But not here I trust, David..."  she managed to quip acidly.  His
remark about her virginity rankled and worse, made her feel acutely
vulnerable.  Sarah was no fool.  She recognised very strongly in David
Randal a very basic masculine drive to possess and subjugate the female
sex.  The fact that, as he had so correctly guessed, she was still a
virgin made him all the more keen in his pursuit of her.

She watched him get up and leave her office, gnawing anxiously on her
bottom lip.  How he felt about the female sex came across very clearly
to her in his books.  Sarah did not like them at all.  He wrote under a
female pseudonym, and that in her opinion, was the only reason he
managed to get away with some passages that were in effect little more
than a lascivious description of female degradation.  She had already
expressed her doubts to Steven about David's latest manuscript, but it
was an undeniable fact that the long historical novels he wrote, sold
well.  At the last group meeting of the editors responsible for the
various types of books the firm published, James Richards had bitterly
opposed her suggestion that they ceased publishing David's work.  He
had even accused her of wanting to cut David from their lists because
she disliked him personally as a man, which had been a very difficult
accusation to refute without revealing the truth.

Sarah had few illusions about either her own ability or the security of
her position.  If she once admitted that she could not handle sexual
harassment from an author she could well soon find herself demoted.  It
was ridiculous that at the grand old age of twenty-five she should find
herself in this position, but trying to make it plain to David Randal
that she did not find him in the least attractive was like trying to
build a snowman in the Sahara desert--a complete waste of time and
effort.

She even suspected that he found her dislike of him a challenge.  It
was her virginity that attracted him the most, Sarah thought wryly, as
she sat back in her chair.  Without that she would simply be another
passably attractive woman.  How had he guessed?  Perhaps it had
something to do with the way she always recoiled from him whenever he
came anywhere near her.  She had disliked him even when she had had
little to do with him, but now.  She had heard it said that an
experienced man could always tell when a woman was unawakened.  Until
now she had never really believed it.

She picked up her pen and toyed absently with it.  The simplest answer
would be for her to leave and find another job .  but where would she
find one as congenial as this?  And one that paid as much.  With her
promotion had come a very useful pay rise.  And very timely it had
been, too, with Gran suddenly too feeble to look after herself, and
Jane worrying herself sick about how she was going to cope with
triplets under five, a husband, a rambling, half-modernised country
vicarage, an assortment of pets, and Gran as well.

Especially when the doctor had told them that because of the delusions
she sometimes experienced, Gran needed to be watched for most of the
time.

The extra money she was earning, plus the sale of Gran's small house,
plus what Jane's husband, Ralph, could provide had meant that they were
able to pay for Gran to stay in a really good residential home close
enough to the Gloucestershire village where Jane and her family lived,
for Jane to be able to visit once a week, and for Gran to join in all
the family events.  If she had to go back to working merely as a
secretary--even in a really good job--she would not be able to make her
contribution any more.

Tears blurred her eyes for a moment and she brushed them away
impatiently.  She so desperately wanted to do all she could to help
Jane and Ralph.  They had done so much for her.  Jane had been
twenty-one and newly engaged when their parents had been killed in a
road accident; Sarah had been fourteen.

Ralph had not hesitated.  Although he had just been on the point of
leaving the firm he worked for and setting up in business on his own,
he had said instantly that he and Jane would marry, and that Sarah
would make her home with them.

Right through university Ralph had supported her, and it was only in
this last year that he had realised his dream of starting up his own
computer software business.  Ralph was the complete antithesis of a man
like David Randal.  He was a devoted husband, a caring father.
hardworking, good humoured.  He had done so much for her.  helping out
now with the expense of caring for Gran was the least she could do.

So what was the answer?  Sarah didn't really know.

"You look pensive... Problems?"

She looked up and smiled at the pretty, curly haired brunette standing
in the doorway.

Rachel had taken over from her as assistant editor, having been
Steven's secretary previously, and Sarah liked her very much.

"Not really," Sarah lied.

"Does Steven want me for something?"

"Not as far as I know.  It's lunch time and we have a date..
remember?"

Lunch time already?  Sarah sighed.  How long had she been sitting there
worrying about David?

"I see you've had a visit from one of our least favourite authors this
morning," Rachel commented, when Sarah got up to join her.

"Is he giving you problems?"

"No more than usual."  She pulled a wry face.

"You know what he's like."

"Yeah!  Personally I can't stand those aggressively sexual types.  I
don't know how his poor wife puts up with him.  He's always got some
woman going on the side, although they don't normally last long."

They reached the lift and stopped talking as they got into it and
descended to the ground floor.

"Heard the news about who's going to take over from James Richards?"

Rachel asked as they stepped out into the gusty March wind.

"It's now official."

"No.  I haven't heard a thing."

"Well, it's official now," Rachel told her as they sat down in the
small wine bar they patronised every Friday lunch time.

"Our new Editor in Chief is going to be no less than the great Joshua
Howard, himself."

"Joshua Howard!"  Sarah was impressed.  There could be few people in
the journalistic or publishing world who would not be at the mention of
his name.  Although only in his early thirties he had a formidable
reputation in the media world.

From being a foreign correspondent with The Times he had gone on to
write several stunningly successful 'faction' novels based on some of
the events he had covered during his years as a reporter.

To Sarah's knowledge at least one of them had been made into a film,
and in view of all this it struck her as rather odd that such a famous
and surely wealthy man should be content to take a job as editor with
such a small, albeit prestigious, firm as Leichner & Holland.

"Of course, he isn't coming is as editor," Rachel confided.

"I know you know that the firm's been having a few financial problems
recently--the new Cartwright novel bombed for one thing, and the legal
department is still trying to get back that advance we paid to Wayne
Johnson."

Sarah did know.  The loss of the massive advance paid to Wayne Johnson
the pop singer who had begun his meteoric career in the early sixties,
had been a bitter blow to the firm.  After over twelve months when the
pop singer had still not produced a single chapter of his life story
Steven had decided to try to get their advance back.  That had been six
months ago, and he was still not having success.

Steven had explained much of this to her when he had promoted her,
telling her that he hoped a line of literature aimed specifically at
the female end of the market might improve their fortunes, but new
lines took time to develop and time, it seemed from what Rachel was
telling her now, was something the firm simply did not have.

"Theoretically Joshua is just coming in as Editor in Chief," she
confided to Sarah, 'but in reality he's investing pretty heavily in the
firm.  Steven's still the owner and major shareholder of course;

the Leichner line has pretty well died out, and neither of Steven's
daughters want to come into the business, so I suspect that he intends
grooming Joshua to take over from him when he eventually retires.  You
know that Joshua brought his first manuscript to Steven before he
became well known?  "

"Yes, I do."

There could be few publishers as morally altruistic as her boss, Sarah
reflected, recalling what he had told her, because he had recognised
the book as a winner from the very first, but he had also known that
his small publishing enterprise did not have the resources to promote
the book as it needed to be promoted to ensure the worldwide success it
deserved, and so he had recommended that Joshua try another publishing
house, and had given the manuscript his own written commendation as
well as giving Joshua an introduction to the American firm which had
eventually published his work.

It was rather heartwarming to think that his kindness and generosity
was now being repaid by Joshua Howard, and without having met him,
Sarah felt herself warm to him.

"What's he like?"  she asked Rachel curiously, "I've never seen him."

In response Rachel rolled her eyes heavenwards and sighed.

"Fantastic ... and his smile is just so sexy that it made my bones
melt."

She saw Sarah's disbelieving expression, and grinned.

"Okay, don't believe me, but just wait until you've seen him.  Tall,
dark, handsome... Believe me he's got the lot and a body that " Okay,
okay!  I think I get the picture.  But does Brian know that you She
broke off as Rachel grimaced and then grinned.  Brian was Rachel's
fiance, a pleasant, tow-haired young man with a steady placid nature
that nicely balanced Rachel's more extrovert, dizzy personality.

"Seriously, his personality seems to be just as good as his looks,"
Rachel told her.

"He's no James Richards, but I don't think he's the type to suffer
fools gladly either.  He doesn't seem to hold any sexist views, but I
don't see him as the type to make any special allowances for us
females, just because we are females if you know what I mean..."

With a sinking heart Sarah reflected that she did.  Steven, for
instance, if she told him about the problems she was having with David
Randal, would sympathise with her and try to find some way of
alleviating the problem, but to turn to Steven meant going over the
head of the Senior Editor, which simply was not done.  She had not gone
to James Richards for help or advice because she knew he would only
gloat over her dilemma, and she had been hoping that the new person,
whoever that might be, might be someone more understanding.

The trouble was that the whole problem was fraught with embarrassment
and difficulty.  To explain it in full meant explaining her own
virginal state, which was something she was extremely reluctant to do.
The easiest answer would be to get rid of her virginity, she reflected
rather wryly, but at the moment that was easier said than done, since
she had no current male friend.  There had been opportunities at
university, but she had found the work there so taxing and strenuous,
and she had been so determined to repay Jane and Ralph for the
financial support they were giving her, by getting a first-class
degree, that there had been no time for boyfriends.

Afterwards there had been the initial struggle to get work; followed by
the realisation that her degree did not really equip her for any
particular job, meaning that she had had to work at night to get her
secretarial qualifications.  All in all there had been scant time for
romantic involvements.

Despite her inexperience, Sarah was no fool.  She knew quite well that
it was the lure of her virginity as much as anything that attracted
David to her.  Without that.  She also suspected it would not be much
longer before he stopped asking and started demanding.  She half
suspected he would even go to the length of actually threatening her.

He had hinted as much once or twice already.  Even though she
personally did not like the work he produced, it did earn money--money
which the firm obviously badly needed at the present time.  Once David
started threatening to take his work elsewhere unless she gave in to
him, what was she going to do?  And Sarah knew it was only a matter of
time before he did make that threat.  She had already seriously damaged
his ego, she knew that; and he was small-minded enough to want to make
her pay for that.

"You're shivering ... are you all right?"

Rachel's anxious query brought her back to reality.

"It's this icy wind," she fibbed.

"London seems so cold at the moment."

"Mmm... Spring's just round the corner, although you'd never guess it.
Doing anything interesting this weekend?"

"I'm going down to my sister's.  We're all going to a fancy dress
ball--a local charity " do", and rather grand..."  She pulled a slight
face and Rachel laughed.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic.  What are you going as?"

"I don't know.  Jane's organising our costumes."

In point of fact she wasn't particularly looking forward to the ball,
but Jane had told her that the invitation had come from someone very
influential locally, who was also a possible client for Ralph's
business, and she had asked Sarah to support her and go with them.

"I'm scared out of my wits, that I might do the wrong thing," she had
confided over the 'phone, 'and I need my clever little sister by my
side to give me confidence.  "

In the face of that, there was little that Sarah could do other than
agree to go, but she wasn't looking forward to it.

For the rest of the afternoon she was quite busy.  Steven made his
announcement about James Richards' successor at half past four, and
Sarah was slightly surprised to learn that Joshua Howard was actually
coming into the office on Monday before he was due to begin working
there.  It seemed that James had demanded to be released from the usual
notice period.

Sarah left the office at just gone five.  Her suitcase was already
packed and all she had, to do was to get back to her small flat, shower
and change, and then take a taxi to the station.

Ralph would pick her up in Gloucester.  It was a routine which had been
perfected over the eighteen months Sarah had worked for Leichner &
Holland, and one which was now comfortably familiar.

By the time she arrived the triplets would be in bed, asleep, but they
would be the first thing in the morning to wake her up--three
boisterous and lovable four-year-olds whom Sarah secretly adored.

The three children--two boys and a girl--had been conceived by her
sister after only a few months on a fertility drug when she had reached
her early thirties with no sign of the child she and Ralph so
desperately wanted.  Jane had been over the moon, not at all fazed by
the information that her doctor suspected that she was carrying more
than one child, although up until the last moment no one had guessed
the anticipated twins would be triplets.  Her sister had a blissfully
secure and happy life but no one could deserve it more than Jane.  She
and Ralph had both been so marvelous to her when Mum and Dad had been
killed.

Her journey went smoothly.  She found Ralph waiting for her when the
train pulled in, his burly form instantly recognisable.  He looked more
like a farmer than a computer expert, Sarah reflected, returning his
warm hug with enthusiasm.

"How is everyone?"  she asked as they walked through the darkness to
his waiting Range Rover.

"Fine.  All dying to see you.  Jane's been in a bit of a tizz this last
week about the ball.  She's managed to hire costumes for all of us and
I've told her there's nothing to worry about."

"I expect she's worried because she knows how important this contract
is to you," Sarah suggested, as she fastened her seat-belt.

"Mmm ... I'm seeing Tom Merryweather tomorrow morning.  I'm hoping he
might give me a decision then.  If he does, we'll push the boat out in
style tomorrow night."

They chatted in a casual fashion as Ralph drove along the familiar
roads.  Sarah had been brought up in this part of the world and knew it
well.  She also felt a deep sense of inner peace when she returned here
and often wished it was possible for her to stay, but she had her
living to earn, and at twenty-five she was far too young, or so Jane
claimed, to settle for the stagnation of a country life.

Sarah was not deceived.  Jane clucked as anxiously over her lack of men
friends as any mother hen, and Sarah knew that her sister was longing
for the day she came home with a fiance on her arm.

Her sister didn't wait for them to go inside to greet them.  She came
runing out of the house the moment the Range Rover turned into the
Vicarage's overgrown drive.  Ralph and Jane had only recently moved
into their present house.  Renovating and furnishing it was going to be
a labour of love for both of them, and when they had finished Sarah
knew they would have a home they could be justly proud of.  At the
moment, though, all was chaos.  Ralph was doing most of the minor work
himself, and since this took time, the back garden seemed constantly to
resemble a builder's yard.

The Vicarage was early eighteenth century and had a substantial garden.
There was even a small paddock for ponies for the children later if
they required them.

"Come on inside, you must be shattered after the journey," Jane
commanded, hugging Sarah quickly as she got out of the Range Rover.

"Oh, yes indeed," Sarah grinned.

"It took all of two hours or so and at my time of life..."

"Oh, you know what I mean... Come on I've just made some fresh coffee.
It seems ages since we last saw you.  I want to hear everything that's
been going on."

"Well, if you two are going to gossip, I'm off to my study," Ralph
announced as he carried Sarah's cases into the large shabby hall.

"I'll take these up first for you, Sarah.  You're in your usual
room."

"But this time you'll have your own bathroom," Jane told her with a
grin.

"Ralph finished converting that old dressing room off your bedroom last
week.  It looks fantastic."  She raised herself on tiptoe to kiss her
husband's cheek, and watching them Sarah was conscious of a small
piercing sensation of aloneness.  What was wrong with her?

She had never envied her sister her marital happiness before, why
should she start doing so now?  "

"Come on sit down and tell me what's making you look so miserable,"
Jane commanded, when they were installed in the large, homely
kitchen.

Modernising the kitchen had been Ralph's first priority when they moved
in and he had done a marvelous job on it, Sarah reflected, studying the
smooth richness of the dark oak kitchen cupboards with their antiqued
tile work tops From the original beams, which he had uncovered and
retained, hung a various assortment of herbs and set into one wall was
Jane's pride and joy-an ancient black-leaded fireplace complete with
bread oven.  On the wall in which the fireplace was set Ralph had
exposed the original brick 3 work, and an assortment of brass pans now
decorated it--all original antiques that Jane had cleverly found in
local shops.  A large, well scrubbed and very old table took pride of
place in the centre of the room, and it was on this that Jane placed
their mugs of coffee as she pulled out chairs for them both, and passed
a plate of home-made biscuits in Sarah's direction.

"I've tried a new recipe," she commented, sugar free so they're much
better for the kids.  "

"Speaking of which..."

"Oh, no you don't!  I know when the subject's being changed.  What's
wrong, Sarah?"  she asked dropping her bantering tone and looking
seriously at her sister.

"Something is I know that much.  Come on..  give..-."

Jane was much more to her than a mere sister, Sarah reflected as she
slowly sipped her coffee.  She had virtually brought her up from the
age of fourteen, succouring her all through those difficult teenage
years.  It had been Jane who had listened to and answered all her
questions about life and sex.  Jane who had seen her through all her
teenage traumas.  She had never hidden anything from her sister, and it
was impossible to do so now.

"Problems at work," she said tersely.

"One of my writers is pushing me to have sex with him."

"And the problem is that you don't want to... or that you do?"  Jane
asked frankly.

"I don't..."  Sarah gave a tiny betraying shudder.

"But he's putting a lot of pressure on me, and I suspect it won't be
long before he actually threatens me.  I can't turn to Steven for
help--that would mean admitting that I can't handle the responsibility
that goes with my job."

"Mmm ... I don't know about that."

"The thing is this writer has guessed that I'm still a virgin, and
that's why he's so determined to get me into bed."

"Mmm ... the old story of the male ego.  Well, there is one simple
solution."

"Rid myself of said virginity," Sarah said lightly.

"That had already occurred to me but it's not quite as easy as that, is
it?  After all, I can hardly go up to the first passably attractive
male I see and say " would you mind making love to me?  ", can I?"

"No," Jane laughed, agreeing with her.

"Is he married?"  she asked.

"Very much so.  I feel dreadfully sorry forA his poor wife.  He really
is a loathsome specimen.  The sort that makes your flesh creep.  Oh,
he's attractive enough I suppose in his way ... but there's just
something about him..."

"Mmm.  I know what you mean, and I can understand your dilemma.  Want
me to look round for a suitable specimen of manhood for you?"  she
teased, bringing a lighter note to their conversation as Sarah grinned
and replied threateningly, "Just you try!"

They went on to talk about their grandmother, who Jane told her had
settled in extremely well at the home.

"I thought we might go and see her tomorrow afternoon.  I've got to go
into town to collect our costumes."  She made a wry face.

"I'm dreading this damned ball.  It's the local social event of the
year, you realise and we're extremely privileged to be invited."

"I can tell that by your excitement," Sarah responded solemnly,
amusement dancing in her eyes.

"What are we going as?"

Jane smiled at her.

"Wait until you see our costumes.  The do's being held at Merton Place,
and since it was built at the height of the Georgian era, I've gone for
very traditional Georgian outfits for all three of us.  I had to go to
Stratford to get them, I'll have you know--nowhere in Gloucester
stocked anything that would do.  They're theatrical costumes and very,
very ornate.  They're being sent by express delivery to the local
station tonight, that's why we've got to go to town to pick them up
tomorrow."

"I can't wait to see Ralph dressed up as a Georgian dandy..."  Sarah
commented.

Jane gave a wicked giggle.

"I'm going to make him powder his hair but he doesn't know it yet!  If
it wasn't for the fact that we're being invited by one of Ralph's most
important clients, I might be looking forward to it a little bit
more."

"You'll enjoy it when we're there," Sarah consoled her sister and then,
changing the subject, invited, "Now tell me about my niece and
nephews... " Come on.  Auntie Sarah, wake up.  "

Stubby fingers touched her eyelids, giggles erupting somewhere in the
direction of her left ear.  Someone was trying to tickle her ribs, and
entering into the spirit of the game, she pretended she was still
asleep, waiting until her three tormentors had given up trying to wake
her before suddenly sitting up and grasping the nearest cuddly bundle
and subjecting its ribs to the same torment so recently inflicted on
her own.

The bundle in question just happened to be her niece, her helpless
giggles and shrieks almost splitting Sarah's ears.  The two boys, of
course, had to join in the game, the three children only Subdued when
Jane marched into the bedroom carrying a mug of tea which she placed
beside Sarah, at the same time, sternly telling her trio of offspring
to take themselves off to their own rooms and get dressed.

"Little horrors, " she commented balefully when the triplets had
finally departed, but Sarah wasn't deceived.

"And don't you just love them," she agreed with a grin.

"Does it show that much?  I suppose having had to wait so long for
them...1 must admit I'd just about given up hope."  She sighed and
shook her head.

"Still there are some days when I do genuinely wonder why I ever
bothered, and Louise is worse than the two boys put together.  She can
twist them and her father round her little finger."

She sat down on the edge of Sarah's bed and said.

"What do you fancy doing this morning?  I've done all the food
shopping.  The Vicar's wife is going to take charge of the kids
tonight.  Ralph will look after them while we're out this afternoon."

"Well, since I'm feeling rather lazy this morning, how about my taking
my niece and nephews for a short walk?"

"Great idea, if you're sure you don't mind," Jane enthused.

"It will give me time to whip round with the vacuum before lunch.  But
be warned, don't let them persuade you to take them into the village,
or you'll end up in the post office buying them sweets.

"Oh, by the way, Haughton House has been sold," she added idly.

"I'm not sure who to ... but I thought you'd like to know.  You've
always had a thing about the old place, haven't you?"

It was true, Sarah reflected half an hour later as she set off with a
nephew firmly attached to either hand and her niece clinging firmly to
the hand of one of her brothers.  She had always been drawn to the
beautiful Elizabethan manor house just outside the village.

It had been empty now for several months since the death of the last
owner, and Sarah turned automatically in the direction of the footpath
that led from the river, through a small wood, and then into the
private grounds that went with the house.

At the boundary wall which separated the public footpath from the
private, Sarah paused.  The trees were not yet in full leaf and so she
was able to see the house from where she stood.  The sharp March
sunlight turned the ancient brickwork to rose-gold, glinting here and
there on mullioned windows.  Apart from a couple of what appeared to be
tradesmen's vans parked outside, there were no signs of activity.

Sighing faintly she responded to Jeremy's impatient tug on her left
hand, and knew that as she obediently turned away from the house and
back in the direction from which they had come that she had just said
goodbye to a childhood dream.

As a teenager she had often come to this spot.  There was a venerable
oak tree several yards away, conveniently growing just by the boundary
wall and in earlier years she had often hidden in its leafy branches
simply daydreaming away a lazy summer's afternoon, imagining that she
owned the house.  In those far off days she had played many roles as
chat elaine of the house;

sometimes an Elizabethan maid of honour, hidden away down here from the
Queen's wrath because she had caught the eye of one of her handsome
courtiers; sometimes a secret Jacobite supporter, recklessly hiding one
of the doomed Prince Charlie's wounded supporters; sometimes a
be-muslined Regency girl waiting in trepidation to hand over her
childhood home to the distant cousin who had inherited it from her
father-whatever the setting for her daydreams might have been, they had
always had the same conclusion; the male playing opposite her leading
role as chat elaine inevitably fell in love with her and they lived
happily ever after with the house as their home.

Sarah grimaced faintly.  How long ago those days seemed now.

"Look, Auntie Sarah!"  Paul tugged importantly on her right hand,
speaking in a hushed whisper.

"There's a rabbit."

Sure enough he was right, and all four of them paused for a second to
admire the attractive little creature before he caught their scent and
bolted for cover.

CHAPTER TWO

'okay, are we ready?  "

"As we're ever likely to be," Sarah told her sister affectionately, as
they hurried out to Jane's small Metro.

Her sister was a competent driver, and it didn't take them long to
reach the nearby market town Jane used for most of her day-to-day
shopping "We'll go to the station first to collect the outfits and then
get everything else."

She parked neatly in the small station car park and Sarah went with her
towards the tiny redbrick building.

The stationmaster greeted them with a smile, handing over the bulky
parcels.

"Them'll be for that ball everyone's going to tonight," he commented
knowingly as Sarah took charge of them.

"A fine do it'll be, by all accounts.  They say that the new owner of
Haughton House will be there as well.  A fine lot of work he's having
done up at the place..  there's a new swimming pool being put
in--indoors, too-that'll cost him a fair penny."

"Don't ever have any skeletons in your cupboard if you intend living in
the country," Jane groaned as she and Sarah stacked the boxes in the
back of her car.

"What else do you need?"  Sarah asked her as she tugged on her
seat-belt.

"Nothing much, some nice biscuits for Mrs.  Arbuckle--I daredn't buy
any before, the kids would have sneaked the lot.  Some flowers for the
house.  I always like to have fresh ones for Sunday lunch."

"Really?"  Sarah kept her face straight as she teased.

"That's odd..  I always thought Ralph was quite definitely a meat and
two veg man!"

"Oh, for goodness sake you're as bad as the kids," Jane complained but
she was grinning, too, as they drove out of the car park.

As it was Saturday a small market was in progress and although they had
some problems in parking, once they had done so, it didn't take them
long to buy the bits and pieces Jane wanted.

"Fancy a cup of coffee before we go back?"  She glanced at her watch.

"We've just about got time, and there's a rather nice new place that
specialises in traditional afternoon teas."

"Sounds good."

The cafe was situated just off the small town square and had been
attractively decorated in soft peach and grey.  The cane chairs were
painted white with peach seat covers, and despite the obvious bustle
they were lucky enough to find an empty table, in the window.

"Mmm ... this is nice," Jane murmured as she sat down.

"I daren't come in here with the brats, they'd cause too much chaos."

They gave their order to a smiling waitress, and while Jane deliberated
over a cream cake or a scone with jam and cream, complaining about the
calorie intake of both, Sarah looked out of the window on to the busy
street and the square.

A man walked across the road and into the square, his face in profile
to her, his thick, black hair ruffled by the cool breeze.  His skin
looked tanned, his body tall and lean, with just a hint of breadth
about the shoulders.  Sarah's breath caught in her throat as he turned
to check the traffic and she saw the intense sapphire blue of his eyes.
As she looked she could almost see him as her Elizabethan gallant; her
romantic Jacobite rebel; her reckless Regency rake.  She blinked and
swallowed hard and both the man and her inner visions of him were
gone.

"Sarah, are you all right?"

She forced a shaky smile and nodded her head.

"Sorry, I was miles away..."

"Daydreaming," Jane agreed wryly.

"I recognised all the signs, although to judge from the rapt expression
on your face, it was a very special daydream.  You're not holding out
on me by any chance, are you?"  she questioned severely.

"There isn't someone in your life I don't know anything about, is
there?"

"Don't be silly.  What on earth gave you that idea?"

"The look on your face," Jane told her bluntly.

"You were looking as though Robert Redford had suddenly materialised in
front of you."

In spite of herself Sarah coloured faintly.  The romantic daydreams of
her teenage years were something she had long ago put behind her, and
it was embarrassing to have them called to mind so strongly by the
chance sighting of a strange man.  She hadn't even seen him full face .
but there had been something about him .  quivers of sensation
fluttered deep inside her, quickly banished when she realised the
complete folly of the direction her thoughts were taking.  It was both
impossible and ridiculous to be so attracted to a man on mere sight.

"Come on, we'd better make a move," Jane told her, consulting her watch
again.

"I want the holy terrors bathed and in bed before Mrs.  Arbuckle
arrives.  Thank goodness Ralph has managed to install a separate
bathroom for the guest room and for the nursery now, otherwise, we'd be
queuing up for the same one from now until doomsday."

"Read me another story.  Auntie Sarah..."  Sarah was in Louise's room,
sitting beside the four- year-old's pretty Laura Ashley decorated
bed.

"You've had two already," she reminded her niece, hiding an
appreciative grin at this bid to delay the moment of going to sleep a
little further.  "Well then will you tell me another one tomorrow?"

"I tell you what, tomorrow night I'll tell you all about the ball."

Sarah offered.

Louise's eyes widened.

"Will there be princes there and princesses?"

She was very much into fairy stories and Sarah repressed a small sigh
for the vast gulf that lay between romance and reality.

She stood up and bent over the small figure of her niece to tuck the
covers more securely around her, bending down to kiss her good night.

Ralph was reading to the boys, while Jane had her bath, and Mrs.
Arbuckle, the vicar's wife, was due in half an hour.

Checking that the night light was lit, Sarah let herself out of the
room.

In her own room the dress she had unpacked and pressed on their return
from town hung on the bathroom door.  It was a gloriously rich Georgian
costume in the most beautiful eau de nil silk, which opened over an
underskirt of white satin embroidered with a complex design of silver
flowers and leaves.  At intervals the hem of the overskirt was caught
up with white silk bows to reveal the satin underdress and the low
neckline of the dress had a small pleated frill of white satin.  The
same fabric lined the sleeves from the elbows down, where they were
caught up with ribbons.  Sarah had no doubt that the dress was an exact
replica of an original Georgian ball gown and it was so supremely
lovely that she felt she hardly dared to wear it.

In addition to the shoes provided to match the outfit there was a box
containing combs and flowers attached to them for her hair, and several
small patches with a brief handwritten note explaining where each one
was to go and the precise meaning appertaining to each placement;

Sarah raised her eyes a little over this, having had no idea that these
adornments possessed their own special language.  To'complete the
outfit there was even a fan in the same eau de nil silk as her gown.

Lucidly her hair was long and naturally curly enough for her to pin it
up in a small circlet of ringlets, which she coaxed to form by using
her heated tongs.  The effect, once she had pinned the flower combs in
place, was surprisingly effective.

She took her time over her make-up, remembering that the fashion in the
Georgian era was for pale skin, and having placed a small round patch
just beneath her eye she sat back to study the whole effect.

Even without powdering her hair it was surprising how different she
looked.  She and Jane had discussed doing this but had decided against
it because of the mess involved.

She was just supping her dress on when Jane came in.  Her sister's
eyebrows lifted in silent appreciation.

"Wow," she exclaimed at last.

"You look fantastic.  Turn round, I'll help you with the zip."

"It doesn't have one," Sarah pointed out wryly.

"Just one hundred million hooks and eyes."

"An authentic touch we could well do without," Jane grumbled as she
fastened each of the tiny fastenings.

"There," she exclaimed at last, 'now turn round.  "

Sarah stared at her reflection in the mirror.  It was unbelievable what
a difference her costume made.  She could have stepped out of a
portrait of some Georgian lady.

"It's stunning," Jane told her quietly.

"Absolutely stunning..."

Smiling, Sarah dropped her a brief curtsey, and unfurled her fan,
looking demurely at her sister over the top of it.

"Merci, My Lady," she cooed dulcetly.

"You are too kind."

Jane raised her eyes heavenwards.

"Okay, you can cut that out," she instructed.

"Heavens, I'd better fly and get ready myself.  I just came in to tell
you that Mrs.  Arbuckle has arrived.  Ralph is ready and downstairs
entertaining her."

"I'll come and give you a hand with your dress then, shall I?"  Sarah
offered.

Her sister's dress was a rich cobalt blue with gold embroidery, but
slightly plainer than her own, and since her own hair was short, Jane
had elected to wear with her outfit a period wig which she had also
hired from the stage company.

Ralph's stare of amazement when they both went downstairs proved just
how much their costumes transformed them.  Mrs.  Arbuckle told them
half enviously that they looked wonderful and although Ralph complained
that the wig he was wearing was making him itch, Sarah suspected that
her brother-in-law was enjoying the opportunity to dress up as much as
they were themselves.

Because of the volume of the women's dresses Ralph had decided that
they might as well push the boat out in style and had organised a
chauffeur-driven limousine to take them to the ball.

"Much better than a coach and four," Jane exclaimed appreciatively as
she sank down into the comfortable leather seat.

"What do you think, Sarah?"

Sarah agreed that Ralph had shown good sense because between the two of
them they took up the entire length of the huge back seat leaving Ralph
to sit in front with the driver.

Their destination, the Georgian house where the ball was being held,
was only on the other side of the village--a fifteen-minute drive at
most.

For the occasion the driveway was illuminated with Japanese flares in
soft pastel colours, the front of the house ablaze with lights.

Several other cars were disgorging their passengers when they drew up,
most of them garbed in Georgian costume.

A liveried flunkey standing by the main door requested their tickets
and then ushered them inside, where another liveried attendant
indicated the direction of the cloakrooms.

"The ballroom's on the second floor," Jane hissed to her sister as they
followed several other women in the direction of the ladies'
cloakroom.

Having checked that her wig wasn't in any danger of disgracing her,
Jane suggested that they go upstairs.

Outside the doors to the ballroom Ralph was waiting for them, talking
to another couple.  His male companion was rather portly, and looked
flushed beneath his heavy wig.  He greeted Jane with a brief kiss on
the cheek as did the woman with him.

"And this is Sarah, my sister-in-law," Ralph introduced her.

"Tom and Veronica Merryweather... Veronica was partially responsible
for organising this affair tonight."

Veronica Merryweather was small and plump, wearing a gown that
displayed her pretty shoulders.  Sarah guessed shrewdly that the collar
of diamonds she was wearing round her throat was genuine, and she also
suspected from the slight tension she could feel emanating from her
sister that Jane was a little on edge in her presence.

"I'm sorry, but we're going to have to desert you," Veronica
Merryweather apologised with a smile.

"I'm on the committee organising the ball ... and I'm supposed to be on
duty downstairs greeting the new arrivals."

"See you in the bar later, eh, Ralph," her husband suggested, clapping
Ralph genially on the back, as he turned to follow his wife.

The ballroom was easily large enough to hold the five hundred guests
invited, and off it were three other reception rooms which had been
converted into supper rooms for the purpose of the ball, Jane explained
to her sister, breaking off her commentary to exclaim, "Good heavens
look over there..  isn't that Lady Fentham?  Over there in the puce
satin trimmed with some sort of fur.  No, there, Sarah."  She tugged
her sister's arm pointing her in the direction she wished her to look,
and all of a sudden Sarah froze.  She could see the woman Jane was
talking about--but she wasn't the one who held her interest.  Just
behind her, but clearly discernible to Sarah, was the man she had seen
in the town square that afternoon.  It was true that now he was wearing
a powdered queue of hair, but there was no mistaking that distinctly
masculine profile, nor the intense blue of those sapphire eyes.  He
turned his head and for a moment it seemed as though he were looking
directly at her.  For the first time in her life Sarah knew what it
meant when someone said their heart missed a beat.  Hers seemed to stop
completely, the world tilting slowly and then equally slowly righting
itself again.  She could feel the colour crawling up under her skin,
mirroring the intense heat building up inside her.  She felt both
light-headed enough to float and at the same time almost unable to make
any movement that might disengage her attention from the man she was
watching.

"Sarah, come back..."

Reluctantly she looked away and met her sister's exasperated eyes.

"For goodness sake ... stop worrying about work.  You're here tonight
to enjoy yourself remember?"

It seemed impossible to Sarah that Jane had not realised the real
reason for her inattention.  She heard herself make some absent remark
about Lady Fentham's outfit, and she listened while Jane pointed out
other local dignitaries to her.  Some of them she recognised from her
teens.  others were people Jane and Ralph had got to know since Ralph
had been in business on his own.

Several people came up to talk to them; more than one commented on the
attractiveness of her own and Jane's costumes, and Sarah had to admit
that they were vastly superior to those most of the guests were
wearing.

When she made a comment to this effect Jane pulled a slight face.

"I

know it seems trivial and petty, but now that Ralph's in business on
his own, we do have to keep up appearances.  Nothing inspires
confidence in the business world quite as much as an outward show of
success .  but our dresses are lovely, aren't they?  " She smoothed an
appreciative hand over her own skirt.

"Worth every extra penny it cost to hire them.  It was Veronica who
tipped me off about where to get them.  She's quite an old hand at
these charity dos.

"Where on earth is Ralph?"  she added frowning slightly.

"He's been gone ages.  He's probably talking business somewhere in the
bar!"

"He's coming now," Sarah told her, having spotted her brother-in-law
making his way towards them.

"Come on with me, you two," he instructed, 'we've got some celebrating
to do.  " He was standing closer to Sarah than to Jane, and slipped his
arm round Sarah's waist, hugging her to him and kissed her on the
cheek.

Without knowing why she did so Sarah looked across the room.  Her heart
started to thud with slow heavy beats as sapphire eyes engaged her own.
It was as though a message passed between them; hers saying, "His kiss
means nothing," and his replying, "No.  I know..  but mine will."

She shuddered, only half listening as Ralph enquired anxiously.

"Are you cold?  You shivered..."

Sarah shook her head, her heart beating so fast, she felt as though it
might choke her.  Ralph had his other arm round Jane now and he was
propelling them both towards the door to one of the supper rooms.

Sarah felt as though she didn't want to move; as though she would give
anything not to break that contact so recently and so powerfully
established.

The sensation she was experiencing was like nothing she had known
before; a sexual magnetism so strong that it seemed almost
otherworldly.  It was as though a rapport had been established that was
so strong and direct that no words were necessary.

Unwillingly she let Ralph urge her away, amazed that neither he nor
Jane seemed to be aware of what was happening to her.  She had felt the
power of that concentrated sapphire gaze so intensely that she couldn't
believe that no one else was aware of it.

"This way," Ralph directed once they were in the supper room, guiding
them in the direction of a table at which the Merryweathers sat.

Tom Merryweather stood up as they approached, pulling out chairs first
for Jane and then for Sarah.

A bottle of champagne in an ice bucket stood beside the table, five
tulip-shaped glasses waiting to receive the bubbly liquid.

"Well, Ralph?"  Tom queried jovially.

"Have you told them the good news yet?"

"I thought I'd better get Jane sitting down first," Ralph grinned.

"Tom's just told me that we've got the contract for the software
program for his new computer."

After the buzz of excitement had died down, Tom Merryweather signalled
to a hovering waiter to pour the champagne, getting to his feet to
toast the success of Ralph's business.

Sarah was thrilled for her sister and brother-inlaw, knowing from what
they had told her, what a difference this important contract would make
to their lives, and Ralph had also confided that where Tom Menyweather
led, others were likely to follow.

The bottle of champagne Tom ordered was a magnum, and by the time Ralph
was pressing her third glass of champagne on her, Sarah was feeling
decidedly light-headed.  She had little head for alcohol at the best of
times and the euphoria of hearing about Ralph's success, combined with
the dizzying sense of instantaneous recognition that had flashed
between her and the man she had seen in the town square that afternoon
seemed to have completely removed her normal reticence.  She found
herself laughing as easily as Jane at Tom Merryweather's teasing jokes,
and even flirting rather mildly with the older man when he praised her
outfit.

Veronica Merryweather was quieter man her husband; a pretty rather than
elegant woman, who Sarah suspected was a perfect foil for her more
exuberant mate.  There was no doubt that they were an extremely happily
married couple.  They had two daughters, Sarah learned, as she drank
her champagne, both married and with children of their own now, and it
had been as a direct result of one of their grandchildren desperately
needing a very difficult heart operation as a baby which had led to
Veronica's heavy involvement in charity fund raising.

Despite the muzzy sensation brought on by the unaccustomed champagne
Sarah could see that through Ralph's business connections with Tom, her
sister was also likely to become involved in working alongside Veronica
in her fund raising work.  It was a role that would ideally suit her
sister, who was already beginning to wonder what she would do with her
time once the triplets were at school.  Jane had a tremendous flair for
organisation and Sarah was pleased to see that this gift would find a
proper outlet.

They heard the small dance combo striking up a waltz, and across the
table Veronica grinned at her husband and instructed, "We're going to
dance this waltz, even if it's the only time I manage to get you on the
floor tonight--they played it for us at our reception when we were
married," she explained to everyone else.

"And I asked them to play it for us tonight," Tom told her with a
corresponding grin.

"What do you think of them?"  Jane asked Sarah when they had gone.

"I like them.  He seems very down to earth, shrewd, but completely
honest, not the sort of man it would be easy to fool, or deceive."

"No, he's got no time for what he calls " posers"," Ralph told her.

"A

few of the old brigade locally don't care for him--but I've always
found him pleasant enough.  He's apt to call a spade a spade, and he's
come on in life the hard way.  He'll have no truck with any pretence
but he's exceptionally kind-hearted--and not because he's one of these
self-made millionaires who's out to buy himself a peerage, either.  "

"You must be thrilled to bits about the contract," Sarah enthused to
Ralph.

"It will make all the difference to the business.  The pair of you
should be out celebrating alone tonight without having me tagging
along."

"Oh, we can celebrate in private later on."

Ralph grinned, laughing when Jane blushed slightly and said
reprovingly, "Ralph..."

"But if you'll excuse us, Sarah, I would like to dance with my wife."

"Dancing..  is that what you call it," Jane groaned, but nevertheless
she stood up, pausing only to say to Sarah, "Are you sure you don't
mind?"

"Don't be silly.  Off you go."

Slowly sipping what was left of her champagne Sarah sat back in her
chair and studied her surroundings.  Apart from a disconcerting
tendency to sway rather unnervingly whenever she chanced to move her
head too quickly, she could find nothing to criticise in the very
traditional Adam decor of the room she was in.  The walls had panels in
the same eau de nil as her gown, a similar colour contrasted with a
soft butter yellow used on the intricately plaster worked ceiling, with
the plaster work itself picked out in white and embellished with
gold.

At one end of the room was an Adam fireplace over which hung a gilt
wood mirror.  Several portraits ornamented the rooms, and Sarah was
studying one several yards away, a mother and daughter study very much
in the style of Leiy, wondering if it was genuine, when a voice against
her ear made her jump and clutch wildly at the stem of her champagne
glass, her eyes swivelling from the picture to those of the man bending
over her.

"She was reputed to be one of Charles II's many mistresses," he
murmured dulcetly.

"That was how the family got this land.  Leiy in his time had a
reputation for being the portraitist of the " Royal Whores"."

"So it is genuine?"

The last thing she wanted to do was to talk about their hostess's art
collection.  Her heart was thumping so loudly it seemed impossible that
she was actually able to carry on a normal conversation.  How she
managed to be so deeply engrossed in staring at the portrait that she
had not heard him approach, especially since she had had every sense
attuned for him ever since she had seen him in the ballroom, she had no
idea.

At close quarters his eyes were even more darkly blue than she had
realised, fringed with thick black lashes, his tanned skin, and
slightly mocking expression somehow making him look far more at ease in
his costume than any of the other men present.

"I shouldn't think so ... but it's a passable enough copy.  The
original was probably sold years ago.  Would you care for another
drink?."

Sarah grimaced ruefully into her empty glass.

"I don't think I'd better," she admitted frankly, "I have absolutely no
head for chamgagne and that was my third glass.  At the moment I doubt
if I could so much as walk in a straight line from here to the
ballroom!"

"Why don't we give it a try?"

Before she knew what was happening he was gently tugging her out of her
seat, sliding his hands to her waist to support her as she stood
somewhat shakily.  As he bent to steady her his jaw was on a level with
her mouth and she ached to touch her lips to its hard firmness.

A sensation of mild shock quivered through her, its intensity muted by
the champagne she had consumed, and as he guided her towards the
ballroom, it suddenly struck Sarah that here was the ideal candidate
with whom to rid herself of the tiresome burden of her virginity.

Every female sense she possessed told her that this man would be a
lover whose touch, once experienced, would never be forgotten, and
above and beyond that there was something about him that reached out to
her on the most primitive and intense level of her being.  She wanted
to make love with him, she acknowledged inwardly; and the admission
brought her no shame or shock, merely a sense of lightness.

She trembled, and although she knew he must have felt her physical
reaction, unlike Ralph he did not ask her if she was cold, merely
lifting one eyebrow and smiling down at her rather quizzically.

"Before I steal you away, I take it the gentleman I saw you with
earlier has no prior claim on you that I should know about?"

She liked that in him, Sarah thought muzzily;

that he should so clearly and yet so inoffensively make his desire for
her plain, and yet at the same time want to make sure that she was free
to reciprocate that desire.

"None at all," she assured him.

"Ralph is my brother-in-law."

"Unfortunate man."  He drawled the words softly, releasing her waist
with his right hand to hold her arm, his thumb stroking softly over the
vulnerable underside of her skin where the sleeve fell away from her
elbow.  While she was still shuddering with delicate pleasure he bent
his head and caressed the inner curve of her elbow with his mouth
before lifting her hand to his lips and slowly kissing the tip of each
finger.

A weird swooning sensation turned her blood hot and sluggish in her
veins, a pleasure so intense and all-consuming enveloping her that she
moved automatically into his arms, clinging to his shoulders as her
body trembled its age-old message against his.

"I want to make love to you."

The words fell gently against her skin as he murmured them into her
ear.

In an almost dreamlike sequence Sarah heard herself replying huskily,
"I want it too..."

It was something she had never envisaged happening to herself; this
instantaneous rapport; this surge of sheer physical desire so strong
that nothing could make itself heard above it.  Already she could
imagine herself in his arms, touching his skin, caressing him as he
caressed her in turn;

and as her body trembled beneath the erotic images her mind was
conjuring up, Sarah knew that her desire to give herself to this man
had little or nothing to do with losing her virginity, but she
dismissed that knowledge, banishing it to the furthermost recess of her
mind, knowing that to admit it was to open herself to a danger she was
not yet ready to face.

CHAPTER THREE

they danced, once.  twice .  on the surface, neither of them in a hurry
to precipitate what they both knew would be the culmination of the
evening, but beneath it.  Every time his body brushed hers in the
movement of the dance Sarah was conscious of heightening excitement .
of intense hunger, of an ache that tightened to a refined form of
torture, and she knew that he felt it, too.

She had long ago forgotten about Ralph and Jane, and when the
grandfather clock in one of the ante-rooms finally struck twelve she
looked questioningly at her partner.

"Yes," he murmured softly.

"I think it's time we left...1 have a cottage a few miles away."

The prosaic words held a question, and Sarah nodded her head and
Whispered shakily, "Take me there."

She saw the smile curl his mouth and the rather whimsical expression in
his eyes.

"Just like that?  You're very trusting.  We don't even know one
another's names..."

Without knowing why she did it, Sarah reached up and pressed her
fingers to his mouth.  It felt hot against her skin, his lips parting
to moistly caress her fingertips.  Rivulets of sensation spread through
her body, like darts of lightning.

"Tonight's a fairytale night," she told him softly.

"A gift from a fairy godmother..  let's keep it like that."

She didn't want to talk to him she didn't want him to take on a more
real form for her than the one he already had.  Already some part of
her knew that she must preserve something of herself from him for her
own safety.  It was easier like this .  easier to pretend that this was
all part of a dream, a fantasy come to life.  Instinct told her that
she could trust him, that he was no sadist, no violent psychopath who
would do her any physical harm.  The pull of her senses towards him was
so strong that she dared not let there be anything more than that
between them.

He was a lover sent to her as a gift by fate, or so her
champagne-bemused brain told her, and she didn't want to analyse the
situation any further than that.

It never even occurred to her to tell Ralph and Jane that she was
leaving.  She had no wrap with her, and it was the simplest thing in
the world to let him lead her downstairs and out into the night;

for them to stop beside a sleek Porsche sports car, which he unlocked
and then carefully tucked her into.

She felt too dreamily hazy even to fasten her seat-belt, letting him do
it for her, breathing in the male scent of his skin.  He took off the
periwig he had been wearing as part of his costume and tossed it into
the back of the car before starting the engine.  His hair, thick and
black, lay close to his skull, making her ache to touch it; to feel its
softness beneath her fingertips.  She closed her eyes as he set the car
in motion.

His cottage was a middle one in a short row of what had once been
estate workers' homes, down by the river.  The headlights from the
Porsche as he swung it to a halt picked out the stone facade with its
white-painted trellis on which a clematis was just beginning to put out
new spring tendrils of green.

As he switched off the engine silence enveloped them.  This was the
moment when she ought to be having second thoughts Sarah realised, but
instead she was wrapped in a blanket of euphoria, a feeling of such
intense happiness spreading through her that she herself could hardly
believe it was real.  She seemed to have been freed of all moral and
mental restraints; free to follow her emotions and her desires in a way
that was totally unfamiliar.

It was only as he helped her out of the car that her companion said
rawly, "Do you realise that we haven't even exchanged first names
yet?"

Sarah smiled at him.  She felt no fear; no hesitation, only an intense
sense of rightness.

"Is that a gentlemanly way of telling me that you're having second
thoughts?"

They were standing under the small porch by the front door and he
turned her towards him, his hands cupping her face so tightly that she
could feel the faint callouses on his fingers imprinting against her
face.

"No way," he told her huskily.

"I wanted you the moment I set eyes on you."

"Even without knowing my name?"

It was the first time Sarah had ever played such a teasing flirtations
game and the look that darkened his eyes was as heady to her senses as
the earlier champagne had been.

"What's in a name?"  He muttered it against her skin, caressing her
jawline with his lips, smoothing a stray ringlet behind her ear.

"I

only know that from the first moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you in
my arms .  in my bed," he told her fiercely, adding on a lighter note,
" What is your name?  "

"Sarah," she told him promptly, not vouchsafing her surname; it didn't
seem necessary.

"Mine's Joss," he responded, smothering her response with the fierce,
heated pressure of his mouth.

His kiss obliterated the last remnants of her other saner self.  She
clung to him, welcoming the taut contraction of his muscles as she slid
her hands beneath his jacket and clutched his shoulders.  Her own body
seemed to be a boneless, fluid entity incomplete without the hard
strength of his against it.  Her lips parted readily to welcome the
heat of his tongue.  His hand stroked up from her waist, moulding her
breast, caressing her convulsively, and immediately she ached to be rid
of the barriers of her clothes.  She wanted his hands on her body . his
skin, his mouth.  against her own.

When his mouth abruptly left hers, she felt bereft; almost abandoned.

Her lungs ached from the cold night air and she was shivering.

Joss was as affected as she was herself, fighting to control his own
ragged breathing.  His voice was deep and raw as he muttered, "For
God's sake, what are you doing to me?  You've got me in such a state I
could almost take you right here.  We'd better go inside while I'm
still capable of doing anything that doesn't involve having you in my
arms."

He turned away from her to unlock the door, and then preceded her
inside to switch on a light.

Sarah followed him, blinking in the light which illuminated the tiny
sitting room.  She noticed rather absently that the small room had been
attractively renovated, and that it was pleasantly furnished, but her
mind was not on the decor.  A flight of open stairs led up from the
sitting room and involuntarily her eyes followed it.

She managed to drag her attention away, feeling the colour crawl up
over her skin as she saw that Joss was watching her, the same hungry
burning need she could feel eating away at her, openly displayed in his
eyes.  She felt oddly lightheaded, and moved automatically towards
him.

He held out his hands, not to take hold of her, but to hold her off.

For a moment rejection and pain sliced through her.

"Don't look at me like that," he demanded thickly.

"If I touch you now, I'll end up making love to you here where we're
standing like a raw teenager.  Who are you, lovely Sarah?"  he
whispered huskily.

"What magic, do you possess to make me feel this way?"

Slowly Sarah reached out and touched her fingers to his lips, her body
tensing under their warmth, her senses relaying to her the knowledge
that he was as affected as she was herself by that brief contact.

"No questions.  Tonight is special," she told him softly.

"If there is any magic, it's in the fact that tonight we've found one
another.

Let's not spoil it by questioning why.  "

She saw his eyes narrow faintly, and tensed herself, unwilling to
question too deeply her desire to keep her image of him as a complete
stranger.  It was because she didn't want to be disillusioned that she
didn't want to know more about him, she told herself defensively, but
somewhere deep inside her part of her knew better.  It was fear that
urged the secrecy on her; fear that the more she knew about this man
the more she would want to know.

Joss took her hand and led her towards the stairs, pausing there to
demand rawly, "Are you sure this is what you want, Sarah?"

She liked that in him; that he was man enough to give her the chance to
back out if she wished.

"More than anything I've ever wanted in my entire life," she told him
and it was no less than the truth.

The smile he gave her was whimsical, edged with faint self-mockery.

"You might not believe this..  but this is the first time anything like
this has ever happened to me," he told her softly.

"Just for the record, I don't make a habit of making love to strange
ladies, no matter how beautiful they might be."

"I'm glad that in my case you're prepared to make an exception."

Sarah said it demurely, but there was nothing demure about the way she
looked at him, letting him lead her up the narrow flight of stairs.

Two doors opened off the small landing, and Joss turned the handle of
the first of them, flicking a switch that snapped on a bedside lamp.

The room was furnished in soft greys and blues; the walls papered in a
fabric that looked vaguely Sandersonish.  A matching bedspread covered
the bed, a soft blue-grey carpet underfoot.

Somehow, the room did not match the man;

neither had the room downstairs Sarah thought reflectively.

Intuitively she suspected that this was not his permanent home, and
then she closed her mind to such thoughts because Joss was removing the
satin coat that was part of his costume and coming towards her.

It struck her then vaguely that Ralph and Jane might be missing her,
but she dismissed the knowledge.  She was an adult, capable of making
her own decisions in life.  Perhaps after their discussion, Jane might
even guess what she was doing.  But was it purely because of David that
she was here tonight with Joss?  Sarah knew it was not; even without
David she would still be here.  Tonight was something she was embracing
for herself, because intuitively she knew that not to do so was to
deprive herself in a way she would regret for the rest of her life.

Even without the wig which had been part of his costume, standing there
with the falls of lace at his wrists startlingly white against the tan
of his skin, slowly opening the laces that fastened the front of his
shirt, he still looked very much as though he had actually come from
that bygone age.

"Sarah."  He said her name unsteadily, his voice thick and hot.  A
convulsive wave of desire clutched at her stomach, her heart pounding
at a dizzying speed.  Ridiculous to have reached the grand old age of
twenty-five and never experienced these sensations before.

He was standing completely motionless looking at her and beneath the
low, tightly cut neckline of her costume Sarah felt her breasts swell
and ache.  She looked at his hands, imagining them against her skin,
bemused by the unexpected flood of heat storming over her.  She lifted
her eyes from Joss's hands to his face.  A tiny nerve flickered
betrayingly beneath his skin, his eyes reflecting the heat she could
feel beating through her own body.

She watched, completely unable to move as he stripped off his shirt
with economical, almost savage movements that left his torso bare, his
skin gleaming warm gold in the muted light from the lamp.  His
shoulders were broad with hard muscles, his chest deep, narrowing
towards his waist.

Her attention concentrated totally upon him Sarah marvelled at the male
perfection of his body, a need to caress and explore it exploding
achingly inside her.  She took a step towards him, stumbling a little;
she heard him curse as he fumbled with the fastenings of his satin knee
breeches.  The light caught the silken play of the muscles beneath his
skin, shadowing the darker areas of his body where fine silky hair
covered his flesh.

He sat down on the bed to remove his shoes and stockings and for the
first time a quiver of apprehension touched Sarah's senses as she
realised the total masculinity of him.  He stood up, tall, much taller
than she was herself, very little of his physique concealed by the
briefs he still wore.

"Come here..."

The words, spoken softly with a husky, raw note of need, banished her
apprehension and she vent to him, smiling a little wryly at the
contrast hey must present--Joss practically nude, herself till clothed
in her voluminous skirts.  And then he remembered the multitude of tiny
fastenings hat secured it.

Turning her back to him she said lightly, "I'm if raid I'm going to
need some help getting his off."

She shuddered as she felt his fingers touch her kin, pushing aside her
hair.  And then his mouth ouched the vulnerable spot at the back of her
neck and tiny shivers of delight rippled through svery tiny nerve
ending in her body.

With a maddening lack of haste, or so it .  eemed.  Joss unfastened
each tiny hook and eye, )ausing to caress each inch of skin he revealed
with the heat of his mouth.

The sensation of the fabric gradually giving way under his fingers
alternating with the ares sing warmth of his mouth against her body was
the most erotic thing she had ever ixperienced.

When he reached her waist, the top of her dress fell away, revealing
the full curves of her breasts and, as his hands slid round her body to
cup them, ?  arah arched convulsively back against him, sighing her
pleasure in the delight the slow movement of his fingers against her
nipples was arousing within her.

"Sarah!"  She heard the urgency in his voice as he muttered her name
against her ear, her eyes opening and widening in sudden shock as she
caught sight of their reflections in a mirror on the opposite wall.

In the shadowy half light the picture they presented was one of erotic
intimacy; Joss's hands dark against her pale breasts, their unceasing
movement and her body's response to it bringing to life within her a
pagan physical desire she had never thought to know.  Her body arched
back against Joss.  His dark head bent to her shoulder, and she
shuddered beneath the pressure of his teeth against her sensitive skin,
aching to reach out and touch him, wanting to feel the heat of his
body, which was burning against her again, envelop every part of her.

His hands dropped from her breasts to her waist, his head lifting as
he, too, studied their reflections.  She looked .  wanton, Sarah
thought, searching for the right word to describe to herself the
physical sexuality of her own appearance.  Her hair was tumbling on to
her shoulders, her breasts full, her nipples hard and darkly coloured.
Even the way she was leaning back against Joss was suggestive of a
careless abandonment.  Joss made a sound deep in his throat, something
between a purr and a groan, and then he turned her into his arms,
kissing her with a fierce pressure, his fingers moving swiftly over the
remaining fastenings on her dress.  She felt it fall i Tee of her
body, and drew away from his kiss to step free of it.

The simple act of doing so seemed to unleash something wild and
elemental in Joss.  He sat iown on the bed, pulling her on to his lap,
his mouth hot on the tiny pulse that danced at the ?  ase of her
throat.

Beneath the pressure of it she reached back against his arm, stifling
the small sob of tormented pleasure that rose to her lips as she felt
the heat of Joss's mouth against her weast.  This was no tentative,
explorative lover's aress, she acknowledged mutely, opening her yes to
gaze down at the darkness of his hair ga inst her breasts as his mouth
fastened over ier swollen nipple and sucked fiercely on the ender
skin.

Wave after wave of a pleasure as fierce as sheet lightning enveloped
her body her fingers lurched wildly at Joss's shoulder as the weight ?
f his head against her breasts arched her further lack over his arm.
She could feel the maddened hud of his heartbeat against her body, the
soft noans of delight she had been subduing in her hr oat exploding
into a sharp cry as she felt the ormenting graze of his teeth against
her skin.

When he released her breast he was breathing leavily, his free hand
possessing the moist, u-oused flesh so recently deserted by his mouth,
he skilled movement of his thumb and finger ga inst the aching peak of
her breast making larah catch her breath and moan a husky plea to be
released from the torment he was inflicting upon her.

"Sarah, Sarah, feel what you do to me."  He muttered the words with
fierce half incoherency into her throat, tumbling her off his lap and
on to the bed, joining her there, to pull her into his arms and hold
her against the fierce throbbing of his body.

Instinctively Sarah reached out to touch him, tormented by the barrier
of his briefs, impeding the impatient stroke of her fingers along the
dark hair line of his body, only dimly registering his impassioned
shudder against her, until he said thickly, "No ... no..  not yet...1
want to enjoy every inch of you...1 want this to be a night neither of
us will ever forget..."

He had already achieved that, Sarah thought achingly, instinctively
pressing her body against his as he removed her fingers from his flat
stomach.

Her low moan of deprivation was entirely involuntary, stilling the
movements of his body, and eventually her own, as Sarah opened tightly
closed eyes to find him watching her with an intensity that blazed like
fox fire from his eyes.

"From the moment I set eyes on you, I wanted to see you like this," he
told her thickly.

"Your eyes wild with wanting ... your body open and aching for mine."
His mouth touched her lips, silencing the protest she was going to make
and it was impossible to resist the temptation to slide her fingers
into his hair, to mould the hard bones of "his skull and let herself be
submerged in the endless depths of pleasure he was offering her.

His mouth stroked her throat, lightly, cares singly following the path
of his hands, and as though a completely different person had taken
over her body, Sarah arched and twisted meltingly beneath the skilled
commands of his hands.  His mouth touched her breast, where her nipple
still ached from his earlier caresses.  His tongue touched the
sensitive flesh, lightly, rhythmically, tormentingly, until she cried
out his name and slid her hands to his shoulders, arching her body
upwards and shuddering in frantic pleasure as she felt his response to
her need and totally abandoned herself to the fierce tug of his mouth
against her breast.

She was so enraptured by the sensations he was arousing that it was
several seconds before she realised that his hands were still caressing
her body, stroking delicately along her inner thighs.

A warm heat built up inside her, the restless, eager movements of her
body causing him to release her breast and mutter thickly against her
ear.

"You're so damn responsive, you're making it impossible for me to hold
on to any self-control."  He moved against her as he spoke and she
could feel the truth of what he was saying in the fierce thrust of his
body against her own.

A wave of desire and need so strong that it overwhelmed everything else
surged through her.  Nipping him sharply with her teeth and feeling the
convulsive clenching of his shoulder muscles beneath her mouth Sarah
placed her lips against his ear.

Everything that she had lived by--had been before tonight was gone--as
though she had been re-born a completely new person.  With an openness
the old Sarah could never have displayed, she whispered, "I want you to
make love to me...1 want to feel you all around me..  inside me.  I
want to..."

She let the words die beneath his mouth, revelling in the fierce
masculine domination of his kiss.  She felt him move while he was still
kissing her and then sighed against his mouth her pleasure in the rough
heaviness of his thighs against her own, their weight parting hers and
making her shudder with awareness of the unfettered maleness of him
against her.

"Sarah..  lovely..  lovely Sarah."  He was moaning her name like a
litany against her skin, his hands fiercely possessive as they touched
every part of her, his mouth hot as she felt the control slip from him
as his body imposed upon them both demands as old as time.

His hand touched the moist centre of her body and she felt a leap of
pleasure and anticipation.  He touched her again, stroking and
caressing and she moaned a faint protest at this further torment, a
wild fever of urgency suddenly consuming her, her hands caressing his
body as freely as he had caressed hers, her senses revelling in the
unmistakable surge of desire that flooded through him as she touched
him intimately, her mouth registering the fierce beat of the pulse at
the base of his throat as he moaned and arched beneath her touch,
protesting at her feminine dominance and yet unable to resist
submitting to the pleasure of it.

"Sarah."  She felt the shuddering tension that racked his body as he
pulled away from her, and looked down into her face.  There was
something in his eyes that puzzled her; made her feel faintly wary and
tense.

"What is it?"  Her mouth had gone dry, tension flaring along her nerve
paths.

"Just this."  He moved and his body entered hers with piercing
sweetness.  She held her breath, her eyes widening with the
unexpectedly sweet shock of just what pleasure could be and heard him
saying thickly.

"That's what I wanted to see.  That you feel what I feel; that I'm not
alone in feeling what I do."

He moved again and she felt the slow, building thrust of his body
within her own, her body automatically making him welcome, arching into
the sensation of him moving within her, her hips lifting, her legs
locking around his body.

She heard him moan her name as his body started to shudder with fierce
pleasure, his mouth searching for and finding her own, the abrasive
pressure of his chest against her breasts heighten E ing the intense
state of rapture.  Dimly she was aware of some far-off, lancing pain,
but the need driving her was all powerful, and even as she registered
Joss's shocked recoil she was clinging fiercely to him, her body urging
his to finish that which it had begun; to appease the need for
fulfilment possessing them both and to give her the indescribable
satisfaction of those spasms of pleasure which made her wrench her
mouth from his to cry out in wonder that there could be such a
sensation and then to murmur her delight at the knowledge that he, too,
had touched those same heights.

As she gradually floated down from the clouds, a sleepiness she
couldn't fight off engulfed her.  Dimly she was aware of Joss calling
her name, urgently, even impatiently, but she was too sleepy to
respond.  It was like floating downwards on the thickest and softest of
down feathers .  far too delicious to resist.  Sarah opened her eyes
muzzily.  She was having the strangest dream.

She was a child again, sharing Jane's bed, as she had often done when
she had suffered from childish nightmares.  Jane's arm had been wrapped
comfortingly round her.  Sarah blinked and tensed as the dream became
reality.  There was an arm wrapped around her but it certainly wasn't
Jane's!

With an appalling clarity she remembered everything that had happened.
The lamp was still on and by its illumination she could see Joss's
sleeping features.

Joss!  She swallowed painfully.  What on earth had she done?  Biting
her lip she remembered the questioning sharpness in his voice just
before she had fallen asleep.  He had known that she was a virgin. Dear
heavens, she had to leave before he woke up.  How on earth had she ever
behaved in such a rash and totally alien way?

She moved experimentally and, holding her breath, managed to wriggle
safely away from her sleeping companion without waking him.  As she
shivered in the cold of the room she became conscious of aches and
sensations in her body that were wholly unfamiliar.  Dark colour crept
up under her skin as she visualised the events of the evening.

Hurriedly she pulled on her clothes, trying not to make any noise.  By
turning her dress back to front she managed to secure all the lower
fastenings, and with a struggle managed to secure enough of the upper
ones to at least make herself look decent.

She had no idea what time it was, and daredn't risk waking Joss by
looking for his watch, but it was still dark outside.  As she finished
dressing with feverish haste and then hurried to the bedroom door, she
saw Joss stir, frowning deeply in his sleep.  She held her breath until
his movements stilled again, dreading his waking.  It was best this
way, she told herself as she opened the door and hurried downstairs.
What had happened between them was already taking on a dreamlike
quality.  That it had not been a dream she was in no doubt about, but
it was something so outside her normal experience of life and it seemed
safer to hide it away completely.  Even now she could hardly bear to
think about the strength of the feelings he had aroused within her.  As
she let herself out into the darkened street, she shivered in the cold
predawn breeze.  Thank God the cottage was within walking distance of
Jane and Ralph's, although God alone knew what Jane was going to say
when she got back.

There were no lights on in her sister's house, and no one stirred as
she used her key to let herself in.

In her bedroom she undressed and then slid into bed without showering,
not wanting to disturb anyone.

Even now she could scarcely believe what had happened.  That she and a
man who was a complete stranger had been lovers in the most intimate
and passionate sense of the word.  A rather wry smile curled her mouth
as she lay in bed.  At least now she would not have any more problems
with David Randal.  She almost laughed as she remembered Jane's advice
to her to lid herself of her virginity.  Then she had never imagined
herself doing so, and certainly not in such a bizzare and out of
character manner.

CHAPTER FOUR

'come on, sleepyhead, wake up.  "

Jane's familiar voice pierced through the clouds of sleep engulfing
her, and Sarah frowned.  There was something wrong about where she was,
something missing.  She flushed brilliantly as she realised what, or
rather who it was, a fact which did not escape her sister's alert
attention.

"Well," Jane asked wryly, 'and where did you get to last night, or is
it a state secret?  "

"Only sort of."  Sarah sat up in bed, grimacing faintly as her muscles
protested She picked up me cup of tea Jane had poured for her and
wrapped her hands round it, warming their coldness.

"You could say that I took your advice, regarding my problem with David
Randal," she told Jane lightly, and then added in a shaky voice.

"Or I could say that I behaved in a way so totally out of character
that even now I can't believe what actually happened."

"Oh, what " actually did happen"?"  Jane enquired, watching her.

"Or is that a question a sister isn't allowed to ask?"

"I went home with a man I met at the dance," Sarah told her slowly.

"We made love..."  Her eyes met her sister's.

"I wanted to.  not just because of what we were saying the other day. I
wanted him Jane almost desperately."

"Well, I'm very glad to hear it," Jane said firmly.

"Who is he?  Where does he live?"

Sarah put down her cup and looked down at the bedspread before
replying.

"I only know his first name," she told Jane in a low voice, stopping
her before she could speak.

"That was all I wanted to know.

I left last night while he was still asleep.  The way he made me feel
frightened me, Jane.  I don't want to get involved.  "

"You don't want to get involved, and yet you went to bed with him?

Just how much more "involved" is there?  " Jane demanded drily.

"I'm talking about involved as in emotionally involved," Sarah told
her.  She moved restlessly in the bed, and then said tiredly, "I don't
want to talk about it, Jane ... if you don't mind."

Her sister got up and shrugged good naturedly.

"Well, you're over twenty-one and free to make your own decisions ...
but I hope you realise that your, er ... partner in this little
adventure, might not be as happy with a one-night stand and then a
complete disappearing act as you are yourself."

That thought had struck Sarah, but she was convinced that once he
realised she had gone and did not intend to come back Joss would put
her out of his mind.  After all, he was an exceptionally attractive
man, and one whose sexual experience could be in no doubt.  There would
be no shortage of women ready and willing to take her place in his bed.
Who knew, it was more than likely that in the cold light of day he
would be relieved to discover that she had gone.  She daren't question
too deeply why she should find that thought so depressing.  The same
fear she had experienced on first seeing Joss came back now to haunt
her.  it was impossible for anyone to fall irrevocably in love on so
short an acquaintance she told herself firmly, and then shivered.  In
love?  What on earth was she thinking of?  What had happened last night
had been the result of sheer physical chemistry, nothing more.

It was over .  finished.  This afternoon she would be going back to
London and her life there.

Ralph, tactful as always, made no comment about her disappearance,
simply chatting over lunch about how pleased he was to have secured the
new contract.  When Sarah eventually left half way through the
afternoon she felt as though she had restored some much-needed
normality to her life.  Indeed as she drove away from her sister's
home, it seemed almost possible to convince herself that last night had
never happened.

And that was the way it should be, she told herself firmly as her train
carried her towards London.  She had been privileged to share with
another human being what for her had been a unique experience, and one,
moreover, that would help to banish from her life David's unwanted
attentions.  Probably the main reason she had been so responsive to
Joss was quite simply that at the back of her mind had been the
knowledge that she was better off without her virginity.  But somehow
it was impossible to convince herself of this sensible explanation.

Deep down Sarah knew quite well that the practical aspects of ridding
herself of her virginity had been the last thing to motivate her, but
it was too dangerous to admit the truth, too potentially painful to
allow herself to remember the sensations Joss had helped her to
experience, the pleasure he had given her.  Determinedly she blanked
out every single thought of him that tried to get past her de fences

The best thing to do was to forget that last night had ever happened.

It was with that praiseworthy intention in mind that Sarah stepped into
her office on Monday morning.  The weekend was behind her now and so
was everything which had happened during it.  The arrival of a
manuscript from one of her favourite authors helped her in this
resolve.  Sylvia Thomton was an enchanting seventy-odd-year- old who
wrote delicate witty novels whose closest comparison must be those of
Jane Austen and Sarah settled down with enthusiasm to read through her
new manuscript.

She had barely got through the first chapter when her 'phone rang.

Frowning slightly because she had asked her secretary not to put any
calls through, Sarah picked up the receiver.

Steven Holland was on the other end of the line.

"Sarah, are you free for lunch?"

When she replied in the affirmative Steven said, "Excellent.  Come to
my office when you're ready, will you?"

Feeling rather surprised, Sarah put down the receiver, glanced at her
watch and discovered that it was close enough to one o'clock for her to
lose no time in obeying Steven's request.

A quick check in the mirror in the ladies' reassured her that her
appearance looked firmly businesslike.  The suit she was wearing was
neatly tailored, the soft peach colour a pleasant foil for her
colouring.  A tortoiseshell comb helped to keep her chignon in place,
and after an application of lip gloss she felt ready to face her
boss.

There was no one in the outer office when Sarah stepped into it,
Steven's door was slightly open and she could hear him speaking to
someone through it.  She tapped on the door and waited.  Steven opened
it himself, beaming warmly at her as he ushered her into his office.

"Sarah, my dear, I'd like you to meet Joshua Howard.  As you know he's
taking James Richards' place... Joshua, I'd like you to meet our
Women's Fiction Editor here at Leichner & Holland, Sarah French."

As though she were an observer, standing outside her own body and
watching the whole tableau, Sarah watched the tall dark man sitting in
the chair opposite Steven's desk, get easily to his feet.  The blood
drained from her face in an instant of blinding recognition which she
knew he shared, but more horrifying by far than the realisation that
Joshua Howard, her new boss, and "Joss', her lover, were one and the
same person was the knowledge that it was not shock or fear which had
been her immediate emotional reaction to the sight of him, but sheer
and very intense pleasure.  In fact it had taken an immense amount of
willpower not to give in to the mad impulse to run up to him, to...
Terrified by her own reaction Sarah looked blindly towards the window,
willing herself to wake up from what could only be the very worst kind
of nightmare, but no, it was real enough.  She could hear Steven
burbling away happily in the background, words such as " I'm sure the
two of you will hit it off.  Sarah is an excellent worker.  " impinging
distantly on her consciousness, while overwhelming and overpowering
everything else was her immediate and intense awareness of Joshua
Howard as a man.  Even without looking at him, even without going
anywhere near him, she knew him, she thought fatalistically.  Her body
seemed to have some deep and hidden means of recognising him, and of
registering that recognition to her.  All the fears she had subdued on
the fatal night of the ball now returned to crowd and oppress her and
the reality of them was far worse than her imaginings.  She closed her
eyes momentarily to block out the sight of him, and instantly realised
it was a mistake.  Instantly she saw him not as he now was, but as he
had been ... as her lover... " Sarah and I have already met.  "

The cool, confident claim made her eyes fly open and then desperately
seek his.  He was regarding her with a hard awareness that made her
skin burn as she remembered how stealthily she had crept away from him
in the darkness of the pre-dawn.  His expression told her that he had
not forgotten it and that he fully intended to demand an explanation of
it.

"Oh?"  Steven looked only faintly curious.

"Over the weekend," Joss continued evenly, despite the fact that Steven
had not asked for an explanation of his claim.

"I was in the country, checking on the work being done on the house
I've bought there.  Sarah and I met at a local event."

"Yes ... of course, I'd forgotten that your sister lives in the
Cotswolds doesn't she, Sarah?"  Steven asked her.

"How is the work coming along on your house.  Joss?"

"Better than I'd hoped.  With a bit of luck I should be able to move in
pretty soon.  The swimming pool is going to take longer to install than
I'd hoped for."

Listening to them Sarah felt her heart clench as she realised which
house it must be that Joss had bought.  Coming on top of everything
else it was almost unbearable that he should have chosen for his home
the one place she had long coveted and known to be out of reach, as her
own.

"Come back, Sarah..."  Steven teased her.

"You were miles away."

She could feel the hot tide of colour crawling up over her skin and
knew without looking at him that Joss was watching her.  Did he think
she had known who he was?

A brief, acutely painful glance at him told her that was not the reason
for the anger she could almost feel emanating from him.  She bit her
lip as Steven ushered them both from his office.  It seemed impossible
that all that bitter fury she could feel emanating from Joss and
directed towards her could be simply because she had quietly removed
herself from his life.  For both of them it had been an encounter
without any commitment; and in all honesty Sarah could not see why he
should have wanted one.  So why the deeply burning rage she could sense
burning inside him?  Another and completely contradictory thought
struck her, chilling her so much that she came to an abrupt halt in the
corridor, shivering slightly.  What if it was not because she had so
abruptly exited from his life that Joss was so bitterly furious but
because of the totally unexpected way in which she had re-entered it?

The idea made too much sense to be dismissed, and although she was
conscious of a degree of curiosity in Steven's eyes as he touched her
arm lightly and directed her towards the lift, she could not let the
idea go.  Obviously, when he had held her in his arms and whispered his
desire for her, when he had made love to her physically and verbally.
Joss had not had the slightest idea that they would be working
together.  Neither of them had, but Joss was, in effect, now her boss.
Was he thinking that she might use what had happened between them, or
was he simply angry because he felt he had revealed something of
himself to her that he would not normally have revealed to a lower
ranking colleague?

If so .  how did he think she felt?  Hot colour burned her skin as
Steven guided her into the lift.  She could feel the heat coming off
Joss's body as she stood in close proximity to him, her eyes resolutely
looking at the lift doors.  He was willing her to look at him, and with
such an intensity that she could almost feel the skin at the back of
her neck burning, but she refused to give in to it.  By the time the
lift stopped a fine film of sweat had broken out on her skin, panic
flaring wildly to life inside her.

Somehow, she managed to endure the ordeal of lunch, although afterwards
she was never sure what she had eaten or what had been said.

At one point on the way back to the office Steven commented cheerfully,
"I'm sure you two will get on.  Sarah's a very sensitive and gifted
editor.  Joss, I think you'll find her invaluable."  He glanced
obliquely at Sarah and added knowingly, "And I'm sure you'll find Joss
a great help too, Sarah, especially when it comes to dealing with
writers like David Randal."

Sarah was powerless to prevent the slow surge of heat suffusing her
skin at the mention of David's name.  She wondered if she was the only
one to be aware of the peculiar tension that seemed to hang in the air.
Unable to stop herself she glanced at Joss and saw that he was watching
her, a grimly unreadable expression in his eyes.

It was only when they stepped back into the building that she felt able
to breathe properly again.  No doubt Steven would now whisk Joss off to
his office and she would be left alone to come to terms with what had
happened, giving her a breathing space she badly needed.

The only sensible thing for her to do now would be to hand in her
notice, but how could she?  She was committed, at least for the next
few months, until money came in from Ralph's new contract, to helping
out with the expense of keeping Gran in her comfortable new
surroundings.  With the memory of how happily the old lady had settled
in there still fresh in her mind Sarah knew that it would be impossible
for her to give up her well-paid job.  She would just have to remind
herself that Joss was as unlikely to want to discuss what had happened
between them as she was herself .  but for far different reasons, she
admitted wryly as they all stepped out of the lift.  She was not so
stupid that she wasn't aware of the reason for that totally unexpected
flare of joy the sight of him had brought.  It hadn't just been a mere
sexual attraction she had felt towards him; she was forced to admit
that now .  and also to acknowledge that the reason she had been so
reticent with him had been to protect herself from the danger that any
further exposure to him was almost sure to bring.  Now it was too late
for that;

she had been brought face to face with the truth of how strongly she
was attracted to him; of how deep the emotional commitment, she had
unwittingly made to him, went.

It had been all very well to disguise the truth under the banner of the
necessity of losing her virginity when she had been safe in the
knowledge that she was never likely to set eyes upon him again, but now
that provided scant protection.

She was profoundly grateful when she reached her office door, relief
turning to shock as she heard Joss saying evenly to Steven, "If you
don't mind I'd like to spend some time with Sarah this afternoon,
discussing one or two things..."

Steven beamed his approval, obviously taking Joss's comment as an
indication of his goodwill towards her, Sarah thought numbly, wondering
how Steven could be so blind to the rage she could see so clearly
smouldering in the dark blue eyes.

There was nothing she could do.  She had to smile mechanically and open
her office door to him as Steven left them to it.

There was no sign of Katy, her secretary, and then Sarah remembered
that the other girl had a dental appointment.  Biting down hard on her
lower lip she opened the door to her own office.  Small at the best of
times, it now seemed positively claustrophobic.  She turned round and
discovered that Joss was immediately behind her, leaning indolently
against the closed door.  But there was nothing at all indolent about
the way he was looking at her, and she shivered in the grip of
primitive fear.

"Now..."  he said softly, not making even the slightest concession
towards his claim to Steven that he intended to discuss work with
her.

"Just what in hell are you playing at?"

Anger had darkened his iris almost to purple- black.  There was a
rigidity about his body that made her own tremble, and yet she forced
herself to stand up and face him rather than sink down into her chair
as her shrinking body ached to do.

She licked her dry lips nervously, her body tensing in instant shock as
he crossed the space that divided them and shook her fiercely.

"Don't do that, damn you," he told her thickly.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me ... send me out of my mind?
Why did you leave like that?  Why...?"

She must keep calm, Sarah warned herself.  Whatever else happened she
must not let him guess the truth.  She thought she knew why he was so
angry now.  It was a combination of the shock of discovering her here
.  and the blow to us pride her disappearance must have caused.

It had not occurred to her before that he might eel that her
disappearance was a rejection of him.

"Why did you leave like that?"  he demanded igain.

"Do you know what I went through when woke up?  I had no idea you were
a virgin until t was too late to ... to stop.  Did I hurt and frighten
roll so much that you felt you had to run away from me, Sarah?"  His
voice was having a mesneric effect on her.  He had already stopped ha
king her but he had not moved away and now is fingers touched her jaw,
tracing her bones.

-omething inside her flared painfully to life and he wanted nothing
more than to be in his arms-ut for how long?  --an inner voice asked
her.  'or how long would he want her?  He was an xperienced man .  she
was not the first woman he had desired .  and she was already far too
vulnerable to him to give herself in a relationship whose end she could
already forecast.  She didn't ant Joss for a brief interlude, she
acknowledged )ain fully she wanted him for ever.

"I thought I'd made it good for you, Sarah."

There was so much pain in his voice that she ;ould not stop herself
from saying huskily, You did.  "

"Then why...?  Why leave like that...?  If it wasn't for the
coincidence of our meeting today ike this, I'd never have seen you
again, would ?  Would I, Sarah?"

He was shaking her again, his words falling on her like blows.  She had
to defend herself from him somehow, Sarah thought desperately.  If he
continued like this she would admit the truth to him.  The bitterness
and anguish he seemed to be experiencing hurt her so much.

There was nothing she wanted more than to tell him how she felt, but
the vulnerability she sensed in him now was not real; he was a
powerfully sexual man only made weak by a momentary desire that would
fade far, far faster than her own acute love.

Slowly, an escape route opened up before her.  Taking a deep breath
Sarah spoke slowly, unable at first to look directly at him as she said
quietly, "No, Joss.  You wouldn't."

"Am I allowed to ask why?"

Sarah shrugged forcing herself to meet his eyes now and appear calm.

"Does there have to be a reason?  I thought it was understood by both
of us that what happened was a " A one off," he bit out cruelly.

"It was certainly a unique event in my experience..  and, of course, in
yours," he reminded her savagely.

"If you don't mind my saying so, I find it rather strange that a woman
in her mid-twenties, who's still a virgin, should suddenly take it into
her head to go to bed with a complete stranger."

"Haven't you ever heard of instant attraction?"  Sarah said flippantly
and wished she had not when she saw his eyes narrow and harden.

"Instant attraction, like love at first sight, is the corner-stone on
which a firmer relationship can be built, but you didn't want anything
other than exactly what we had between us, did you, Sarah?  You simply
wanted She couldn't bear to listen to any more.  If he said another
word.  she would disgrace herself completely by bursting into tears in
front of him.  How on earth could she have been so foolish in the first
place?

Summoning all her courage she said grittily, "I simply wanted you to
remove the burden of my virginity.  Joss."  She had to turn away from
him so that he would not see the lie for what it was;

and apart from that, the quality of his tension unnerved her.  It was
as though he had been carved from stone.  Even his breathing seemed to
have stopped.

"You see I've been having problems with one of my writers.  He seems to
have developed a fixation about my virginity."

"So why go to bed with me and not him?"  Joss demanded crudely.

She couldn't let him see how much this was costing her.  how much pain
she was being forced to inflict upon herself.

"Because for one thing I do not find him in the least attractive far
from it for another he's married ... and for yet another I dislike his
brash assumption that I should warm his bed, simply because he desires
it."

Speaking slowly as though he wanted every word to be clearly understood
Joss asked her, "Are you telling me that you went to bed with me simply
to stop another man from desiring you?"

No .  no .  never .  her heart cried, but Sarah silenced its cry.

"Perhaps that's rather over simplifying matters, but yes, in essence,
that's correct."

The silence that followed seemed to stretch for ever and then at last
Joss said curtly, "So what now?  When do you plan to flaunt your night
of debauchery in his face?"

The acid way he bit out the words burned into her with soul-shrivelling
pain.  He was making no attempt to conceal his contempt and anger.  She
badly wanted to cry, to plead with him to understand that she couldn't
tell him the truth; that she was terrified of admitting even to herself
just how much he already meant to her.  It was pride and pride alone
that kept her standing there, her voice as cool as she could make it as
she replied.

"I'm hoping that I shan't need to.  Don't they say a man can always
tell when a woman he wants has another lover?"  She spoke as derisively
to him as he had done to her.

"Do they?"  He laughed with a soft savagery that froze her muscles.

"Well, it certainly helps if there are a few clues to go by as well."

The way he hauled her into his arms made her tense in instant fear--a
fear which she had never come near to experiencing on Saturday night.

She wanted to weep for what they were doing between them to the
memories she cherished, but it was too late for tears.  too late for
explanations.  She gasped in a mingling of shock and pain as she felt
Joss's teeth bite into the soft skin of her throat, the rough movement
of his mouth against her skin arousing her despite all her attempts to
pretend it was not.

He released her as roughly as he had seized hold of her.  She saw that
he was breathing hard, as though he had been running, a dull flush of
colour running up under his tan.

"Now," he told her thickly, gripping her chin with unkind fingers.

"Now he will know at least that you have been touched by passion."

His eyes hardened as he added with a venom that made her body ache with
pain, "I hope for your sake he doesn't react the same way to this," his
fingers touched her throat, burning her skin, 'as I wanted to do when I
woke up on Sunday morning and found you gone.  "

He paused in the doorway to her office, his eyes glittering febrilely
as they refused to let her look away.

"It was all nothing more than a cheating fake from start to finish
wasn't it, Sarah?  All of it."

She desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but pride compelled her
to say huskily instead, "What did you expect?"  Her mouth twisted.

"That I'd fallen madly in love with you?"

His smile was cruel as he responded softly.

"I wish to God you had because believe me I can think of no sweeter
means of revenge right at this moment in time."

Revenge!  The cold bitterness of the world held her rigid by her desk
long after he had gone.  She must have damaged his pride more than she
had ever imagined .  surely not because she had left him?  No.  because
of the lie she had told him, Sarah told herself emptily.  How on earth
was she going to be able to work for him?  It just was not possible.

She looked at her desk, her glance falling on the manuscript she had
begun that morning with such enthusiasm.  Now all she wanted to do was
to crawl into a dark safe place and hide preferably for the rest of her
life.

CHAPTER FIVE

the realisation that Joss was to start work with them the following
Monday only served to depress Sarah further.  She must be the only
person in the entire company who had not gone down with Joshua Howard
fever, she reflected bitterly, after a particularly trying lunchtime
during which she had had to endure her colleagues' paeans of praise and
intense speculation about their new Editor in Chief.

"Having been a writer himself he'll know exactly what to look for,"
Rachel enthused to Sarah over their afternoon coffee.

"Not necessarily."  Sarah knew she sounded brusque and that Rachel was
staring curiously at her, but she couldn't help herself.  She was still
agonisingly raw inside from the verbal mauling Joss had given her on
Monday.  With each hour that passed she dreaded the coming week .  how
on earth could she work alongside him?  It was impossible .  and yet
how could she leave?

Rachel had just left her office when Katy popped her head round the
door and grimaced faintly.

"I thought I'd just warn you that David Randal's on the premises.  I
saw him come out of the lift just as I left the ladies'."

David!  That was all she needed right now.  Instinctively her hand went
to her throat and the betraying mark Joss had left there.  Today it was
discreetly covered with a silk scarf.  Colour stung her skin as she
remembered her shock on discovering just what he had done to her.

Fortunately now the bite was fading.

She forced herself to concentrate on the work on her desk, hoping that
David would leave her alone.

After Monday's shock meeting with Joss she was surprised that there was
anything left that could overset her, Sarah found herself thinking
wryly, but the sensations Joss's lovemaking had aroused inside her had
given her a new insight into David's aggressiveness.

Now that she had known for herself the full power of sexual desire she
did not find it as easy to dismiss David's threats as she had done
before.

She knew the moment he walked into her office, prickling darts of
awareness running along her skin.  She had his manuscript on the desk
in front of her, together with a list of the amendments she wanted to
discuss with him.

He strolled in carelessly, exuding an air of sexual aggression that she
could almost reach out and touch.

"Well ... and how's my beautiful Sarah?  You've thought about what I
said to you the last time I was here, I hope."

Sarah cringed beneath the gloating tone of his voice.  David was
already anticipating his own victory.  A shudder of distaste convulsed
her body at the thought of him so much as touching her-the sickness she
had known before, only intensified now that she had known Joss's
lovemaking.

She looked up in time to see David's eyes narrow and harden as he
witnessed her automatic revulsion.  A hard flush of colour stained his
skin, and with the afternoon sunlight pouring into her room he suddenly
looked exactly what he was.  A middle-aged man, well past the best part
of his life, his face pouchy, marked indelibly by the life he had led.
There was nothing kind or reassuring about him, Sarah thought tensely.
Everything about him repulsed and yes, frightened her.  She recognised
within him an ego that would never forgive her for rejecting him; and
in addition to the lure of her virginity part of his desire to possess
her was founded on that rejection.  He wanted to subdue and punish her,
Sarah recognised, and the knowledge made her suddenly and acutely aware
of how vulnerable she was.

Telling herself that she was being ridiculous and that not even David
would attempt to force himself on her in her own office, she gave him a
calm smile and picked up the manuscript.

"I've read through it again, David, and there are several points I want
to discuss with you."

She could see the flush of rage on his face, because she had ignored
his threat; and fear pierced through her, sharp and entirely female.

Gripping the notes she had made Sarah fought for self-control.  If she
let David see he had frightened her.  Her mind shied frantically away
from the danger that suddenly seemed to yawn in front of her.  Today
she could sense about him a barely leashed rage and instinctively she
knew he was only waiting for an excuse to give that rage physical
expression.  He would hurt her if he touched her now and enjoy hurting
her.  Just as he enjoyed the degradation he enforced upon his heroines,
Sarah realised, recognising now exactly what it was about the supposed
'love' scenes in his books that she always found so distasteful.

The knowledge which had come to her so swiftly made it easier for her
to confront him, her voice calm and reasonable, as she asked him to sit
down.

"I was going to write to you about your manuscript, David, but now that
you're here..."

"I haven't come here to talk about the damn manuscript and well you
know it.  I want you, Sarah ... and I want you badly enough to go ahead
and take you if you keep on playing games with me like this."

Now, thankfully, anger came to her aid, banishing her fear.  Standing
up, her face flushed with temper, Sarah faced him.

"You are the one who's playing games, David.  I've told you right from
the first that I have no sexual interest in you whatsoever.  You axe
the one who keeps on raising the matter.  I never have, and never will
have any desire to become your lover..."

She saw the dark colour mottle his skin but banked down her
apprehension.

"And we both know why that is, don't we?"  he sneered.

"You're frightened of being touched by a real man ... or at least you
like to pretend you are.  There are a hell of a lot of women like you,
Sarah, who say no--when they really mean yes."

Anger touched her nerve endings in electric currents.  She could
scarcely contain her rage at David's arrogance and bullheadedness.

"When I say " no", I mean it," she told him fiercely, 'and so do the
rest of my sex.  That's something you might do well to remember when
you're submitting your heroines to what in actual fact is enforced
rape.  It might help boost your dropping sales if nothing else," she
told him blightingly.

Immediately Sarah realised she had put herself in fresh danger.  David
had never liked having his work criticised and in the past she had
always been too unsure of her own ground, of her own judgment, to force
the issue.  Now she was beyond that.  A woman herself, she knew what
her sex wanted to read in their novels, and it was not some sick man's
fantasy of what .  of what he would like to do to her, Sarah recognised
on a wave of nausea as she recalled one particularly unpleasant passage
from his latest manuscript, which had involved the captive heroine
being tied up and forced to endure an act which Sarah now recognised
from her own experience had been entirely one-sided and completely
without pleasure for its female victim.  No wonder David's books were
no longer selling so well.  If she thought about it she could see that
gradually over the last couple of years, the sexual passages in them
had become more and more sadistic.

"You bitch."  He almost spat the word out at her, practically bellowing
with rage.

"And just what the hell do you know about it..  a frigid little virgin
who was only put in the job because--' The door to her office suddenly
swung open with controlled force.

Because she was facing the door Sarah saw Joss first, her eyes widening
with shock and--yes--relief as he strode into the room.  She hadn't
realised he was visiting them today, and immediately hated herself for
the weak feeling of relief seeing him brought.

"What the hell's going on in here?"

He spoke without inflexion, his voice controlled and quiet and yet
Sarah was immediately aware of the power behind it.  David got to his
feet, in what Sarah recognised as an instinctive attempt to dominate
the younger man.

"And just who the hell are you?"  he demanded to know:

"Joss Howard."  Joss introduced himself coolly.

"The new Editor in Chief."

A wary light crept into David's eyes, he looked from Sarah's pale face
to Joss's implacable one and then shrugged and smiled charmingly at
Joss.

"I was just saying to Sarah--' " I heard exactly what you were saying
to her," came back Joss's clipped response.  His eyes flickered
momentarily, resting briefly in Sarah's pale face.

"And for your information," his voice dropped an octave, smooth and
thick as melting honey, stirring up memories Sarah could very easily
have done without, "I can tell you she is neither frigid, nor..."  he
paused and looked at Sarah, smiling at her in a way that made her toes
curl into her shoes and heat shoot through her veins, 'any longer a
virgin.  "

Before Sarah could react Joss moved, coming to stand behind her, one
hand resting on her shoulder, in the lightest of touches, and yet one
so proprietorial that she could see the immediate reaction in David's
eyes;

Anger glittered sharply there as his eyes moved from Sarah's face to
Joss's.  Sarah had the unnerving feeling that if Joss had not been
there to protect her David would have physically assaulted her.  She
had always known of his desire to possess her, but never guessed at the
frightening intensity of it before now.

David got up.

"I've another appointment in fifteen minutes," he said curtly.

"I'll have to go."

It was Joss who escorted him out of her office, leaving Sarah feeling
as though she had just survived some terrible cataclysm.

She was still sitting staring into space ten minutes later when Joss
came back, still trying to accept that he had actually done what he
had.  that he had, despite their quarrel earlier in the week, protected
her from David.

"Here, drink this."  He pushed a carton of coffee under her nose but
until she touched it Sarah hadn't realised that she was shaking.

"Charming company you keep," he said curtly, watching her.

"He, I take it, is the would-be lover you were telling me about?"

"Yes."  There seemed little point in denying it.

"Mmm... And this?"  He gestured to the manuscript on her desk.

"His latest novel..."

Some of her distaste must have shown in her voice because Joss frowned
and picked up the manuscript.

"From now on I'll deal with him," he told her flatly.

Instantly colour surged up under her skin.  There was nothing she
wanted to do more than to thank him, but stubbornly she felt that she
must master her fear of David .  that dealing with his manuscripts was
part of her job and that if she let herself be terrorised and
brow-beaten by her authors she would not be worthy of the trust Steven
had placed in her.

"No."  She said it sharply and watched his eyebrows draw together,
repeating more softly.

"No ... he's one of my authors, I must deal with him myself."

She couldn't look at Joss.  If she did he would see how very much she
wanted him to refuse to let her.  The very thought of facing David
again made her shrink in acute fear.

"How long have you been having problems with him?"

Joss walked over to her window and stood with his back to her.  She had
no way of seeing his face, but his voice was clipped, almost angry.
Sarah sighed.  She could not blame him for his anger.  Here he was just
about to start a new challenging career, and already he was being faced
with personality clashes.  It was her job as an editor to get along
with the writers in her orbit;

to smooth out problems and avoid strife.

"Right from the start," she admitted huskily, knowing it was pointless
to lie.

"When he first came in with his latest manuscript, six months ago."

"And all this time you've said nothing to Steven?"

He was looking at her now, anger leaping across the distance that
separated them, his eyes a deeply biting blue.

"How could I?"  She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Steven gave me this job against James Richards' advice.  I wanted to
justify his faith in me.  If I had told him that I couldn't handle
David..."

His mouth curled in acid disdain as he said softly, "Hasn't it occurred
to you yet that if you had complained to Steven right at the start this
whole thing could have been nipped in the bud.  As it is now..."  He
frowned, and slid his hands into the pockets of his immaculately cut
suit.

"From now on, if you have to see him, it will only be in the company of
another member of the firm--preferably male.  I don't like the man,"
Joss added, 'but I haven't been here long enough yet to judge how
important his work is to the firm, and that must always be the prime
consideration.  "

He was looking at her as though he expected her to argue with him, but
Sarah looked back proudly.

"I quite agree," she told him coolly.

"So, how important is it?"

She was floundering now.

"James Richards thought very highly of him," she said weakly at last.

"He has had quite a degree of success."  She gnawed at her bottom lip,
wanting to give a balanced and well-judged opinion that did not involve
her own emotions.

"But..."  Joss prompted, lifting one eyebrow as she stared at him in
confusion.

"Come on, Sarah, it's obvious that there is a " but"," he drawled.

"So what is it?"

"David's work is aimed primarily at the female market.  Just lately
sales seem to have been falling off."  She bit her lip nervously.

"I'm not happy with certain aspects of his latest work...1 want to
discuss them with him."

"Discuss them with me," Joss ordered, sitting down in the chair David
had vacated and picking up both the manuscript and her notes, and
reading quickly through the latter.

"Mmm... So you don't like the way the sexual passages of the book come
across, is that it?"

Sarah nodded her head.  A strange sensation of heat seemed to be
consuming her body.  She wished Joss was not quite so close to her.
that she did not feel so weak.

She knew she had had every reason to feel tense when he drawled softly,
"Do you think you have sufficient experience to base these criticisms
on?"

She knew quite well he was not talking about her professional
experience and hot colour stained her skin, her eyes widening and
darkening, and then gathering herself together she said brittly, "Maybe
not before ... but now, yes..."

There was a long silence, and then at last Joss said, "I see..."  He
stood up and picked up the manuscript.

"I think I'll read through this for myself."

He paused by the door, and Sarah looked up at him in a daze.  What
could she say?  Thank him for his timely interruption and for his
totally unexpected lover-like attitude towards her.  She touched her
tongue to dry lips and stammered, "Thank you for what you did..
for..."

"For what?"  He shrugged carelessly.

"I only told him the truth, and after all, that he should learn it was
the whole purpose of your making love with me, wasn't it, Sarah?  It
would have been a pity to waste all that effort."

He left her feeling as though she had been physically assaulted.

Every muscle in her body ached with tension she realised numbly, and
yet he had rescued her.  He could have simply walked past her office
door.  She shuddered violently as she dwelt on what might have happened
if he had.  David's maddened face swam before her eyes, and a sudden
surge of nausea attacked her stomach.  What on earth had made her
refuse Joss's offer to take the author off her?  Pride, she admitted
wryly .  pride and the knowledge that she could not afford to be seen
to fall down on the job she needed it too much.  How did she know that
Joss was not already plotting to get rid of her?  He couldn't possibly
want to work with her .  his apparent act of kindness could have
cloaked an ulterior motive.  He might have used David against her to
prove to Steven that she wasn't professionally capable.

On Thursday evening Sarah rang Jane, as she did every week.  Her
normally calm sister sounded both flustered and excited.

"You'll never guess what," she told Sarah.

"The Menyweathers have invited us all to spend a week with them in
their villa on Menorca and that includes the brats.  It's all going to
be a bit of a rush though, we leave on Friday evening.  Apparently
there are still some details about the contract that Tom wants to sort
out with Ralph, and because they're spending the next month in Menorca
suggested that we join them there."

"Jane, that sounds lovely."  Sarah was pleased for her sister.  It had
been a long time since Jane had had a proper holiday.

"Mmm, there'll even be a maid, apparently, to teep an eye on the
kids.

Lucidly we're all well stocked up with summer things, and Tom is paying
for our flights because it's "business" " She gave a very un-Jane like
giggle.

"I just don't know whether I'm on my head or my heels.  Anyway, low are
things with you?"  Jane asked at last.

Sarah had already resolved to say nothing to her about Joss.

"Fine," she lied brightly.

"Rather lectic ... our new Editor in Chief starts next week."

She was glad that Jane had something else to occupy her mind otherwise
Sarah was sure her sister would have guessed that something was
wrong.

They chatted for several more moments, and then saying that she
realised that Jane must have loads to do, Sarah rang off.

Her small flat, normally so warm and homely, seemed to stifle her
tonight.  She prowled her siting room restlessly, consumed by a hectic
energy hat needed an outlet.  Even though it had happened two days ago
she had still not got over the shock of her interview with David and
Joss's totally unexpected interruption.  She gnawed tensely on her
bottom lip.  She was grateful to Joss of course .  but beneath that
gratitude tension still lingered.  The more she thought about it the
more she felt sure he would contrive some way of getting rid of her.
After all, he could hardly want her working with him, could he?

Friday was a busy day and Sarah was conscious of a rare sense of
desolation as she listened to her work mates discussing their plans for
the weekend.  Normally she quite enjoyed the weekends she spent in
London.  In winter she toured the art galleries; in summer the parks,
and in the past she had always relished her solitude, enjoying her role
as an observer; she got plenty of participation in life when she went
down to Jane's, but now it struck her for the first time that all her
experiences of life were coming to her secondhand.  all bar one..  She
shivered slightly in her centrally heated office, glad that there was
no one there to see the betraying surge of colour running up under her
skin when she thought of Joss.

Now it seemed impossible that they had ever been lovers; on the two
last occasions she had seen him in the office he had seemed too chilly
and remote apart from those few brief seconds when he had played the
possessive lover for David's benefit.

Her 'phone rang and she picked it up automatically, brightening when
she heard Steven's voice.

"Come down to my office for a minute would you, Sarah?"

Wondering why he had summoned her, and remembering the last occasion on
which he had done so, she took the time to renew her lipstick and comb
her hair before doing his bidding.

This time, however, he was in his office alone.  Disturbed by the
intensity of her disappointment Sarah told herself she had been
ridiculous in imagining that Joss might have been there in the first
place.  They all knew that he wasn't due to start working with them
until Monday, despite his appearances in the office this last week.

Steven was facing his window when she walked in.  He turned round and
she saw to her dismay that he was frowning slightly.  An even tempered
very fair man in general, Steven occasionally suffered from black
moods.  All of his staff had learned to tread warily when they saw the
warning signs of these rare occurrences.

"Joss has just been on the 'phone to me," he told Sarah without
preamble, still frowning, although to her relief Sarah sensed that it
was something unconnected with her personally that was disturbing
him.

"It seems he's not going to be able to join us here at the office until
next Wednesday at the earliest.  One of the contractors he's employing
on his new house is behind on the contract and Joss wants to stay in
the Cotswolds until the job's completed."

Sarah could appreciate Steven's concern, but surely it hardly involved
her to any great degree.

She soon discovered just how wrong she was.

"It seems that Joss had already scheduled a good deal of office work
for his first few days here.  He's already read his way through most of
our current list, but he hasn't touched on any of your stuff yet, and
he wanted to get that done before he decided what, if any, alterations
he wanted to make in the departments under his control.

"Have you got anything planned for this weekend, Sarah?"

Puzzled she shook her head.

"Nothing at all."

"Ah, that's good."  For a moment his frown lightened.

"Joss wants you to go down to this house of his and to take with you
your current list, plus any manuscripts you've earmarked for possible
publication.

I did point out to him that that involved asking you to work over the
weekend," Steven told her before she could speak.

"You know how I feel about asking my staff to take on extra work
without proper notice."

Sarah did.  Steven was a stickler for fairness, and believed in being
scrupulously considerate to all his employees, which was probably why
he had so few staff problems, Sarah reflected.  Although she had often
had to work late, or take work home with her, it had always been at her
own instigation.  Steven had a firm rule that said that people needed
to play as well as work.

"I did suggest to him that you might go down on Monday, but it seems
he's anxious to get on with checking through your list as quickly as
possible.  Apparently he had intended to call in here this afternoon
and collect it from you..  I must admit that a couple of days is not
really long enough for him to get through it... How do you feel about
giving up your weekend, Sarah?"

She shrugged.

"It needn't come to that.  I could rive there and back in the day,
tomorrow.  I know the area very well.  My sister--' She broke off s she
realised how uncomfortable her boss was looking, frowning slightly
herself as he studied her with pursed lips and thoughtful eyes.

"It seems that Joss needs more from you than mere carrier dudes," he
told her at last.

"As a one-time journalist and writer himself he's familiar with the
basic run of our list ... but he Feels that when it comes to the
women's fiction side of things he doesn't have the experience to make
any judgments.  He feels that if you were there to go through the list
with him, explaining to him the reason for what has previously been
chosen--backed up by the sales figures--it would give him a much
clearer idea of exactly what we look for on the women's fiction side. I
can see the sense of that, of course."

So could Sarah, but she could also see something else.  Suppose Joss
wanted to go through her lists to try and use it as ammunition against
her .  to try and prove that she wasn't fit to hold iown her job? Panic
flared inside her, which she luickly subdued.  How often had Steven
chided her before for her lack of confidence?  Their women's fiction
list might only be short, but the last quarter's sales figures from the
work they had published had been most encouraging .  and all those
books had been Sarah's own personal choice.  In fact, on a couple of
them she had had to battle extremely fiercely with James Richards to
get his acceptance of them.  He had wanted to go for more of the
'bodice ripper' type novels that David produced, but Sarah had held out
for her own choices.  In one case this had meant publishing the work of
a hitherto unknown author-James had been adamantly against this--but
the sales figures so far had proved Sarah to be right, and Elaine
Phillips had already been commissioned to write a follow-up to her
first book for them--a historical saga, following the fortunes of a
Yorkshire family down through the ages.  James had complained that the
book lacked 'fireworks', by which she suspected he meant sex.  but it
had a quiet charm that held the reader's imagination and in Sarah's
view readers would be eager to follow up the first book in the series
by reading the second.

"Sarah..."  She realised that Steven was still awaiting her response.

Every instinct she owned urged her to be wary of Joss .  not to be
intimidated by him.

If Joss wants me there while he goes through the list then I'm quite
happy to fall in with his wishes," she told him coolly.

Immediately his frown lifted.

"Good girl," he approved.

"What will you do ... stay with your sister?"

Sarah bit her lip.  That was something she hadn't thought about.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," she told Steven.

"Jane and her family are going away on holiday."

"Don't worry about it..  if Joss wants you down there, he can sort out
some accommodation for you," Steven told her with a smile.

"I'll give him a ring now, and then let you know what the arrangements
are."

Sarah made her way back to her own office her mind buzzing, fuelled by
a determination to prove to Joss that although she might not be able to
cope properly with David she was a thoroughly professional editor.

That was the problem in being the youngest and only female editor
employed by the firm, she reflected wryly back in her own office.  The
other editors were sometimes inclined to patronise her, and she,
ever-conscious of the weight of her new responsibilities often found it
hard to speak up for herself.  But she was a good judge of what other
members of her sex wanted to read.  She need have no fears on that
score, the sales figures from her list proved that.  And yet it was a
heavy responsibility .  and her own faith in her own judgment was not
entirely secure.  If it was, she would have told David immediately that
she did not like his new novel.  It worried her that Joss seemed to
have picked out her list for such intense scrutiny.  The story he had
told Steven seemed reasonable enough but Sarah was not reassured.  She
would have to be on her guard if this was the opening round of a
campaign to undermine her position with the firm.  Joss would make a
daunting adversary.  Her 'phone rang and she picked up the receiver.

"Sarah?  Everything's fixed up," Steven told her.

"You're to stay with Joss.  Apparently he's got plenty of room ... and
as he says it will make it much easier for the two of you to get
through the work on hand if you're there on the premises, so to speak.
You have got a current driver's licence haven't you?"

Numbly Sarah confirmed that she had.  Stay with Joss?  Now why should
that thought intimidate her so much?  Because in staying with him she
would be giving him the advantage of being on his own home ground, she
thought grimly, and Joss Howard had far too many advantages on his side
already!

"Good.  Lucidly we've got one of the rep's cars in the garage at the
moment.  You can use that..."  He caught the note of surprise in her
voice and chuckled.

"Well, it's the least we can do since you're giving up your weekend. It
wouldn't have been much fun for you struggling across London with two
dozen or so books in your suitcase, not to mention half a dozen or so
manuscripts."

That was something Sarah had not thought about.  Thanking Steven for
his consideration, and listening to him telling her that he would have
the car filled with petrol, and that she could pick up the keys from
Bill, the maintenance man, as she left for the evening, she tried to
quell the sense of dread filling her.

It would be stretching coincidence far too far to imagine that Joss had
deliberately arranged matters this weekend so that they would fall out
as they had.  but it did seem that fate was giving him a very unfair
lead on her.

Well, she would just have to show him that she was not as easily
intimidated as he no doubt believed.  It was very unfortunate that he
should have walked in on her and David when he did.  and she would have
felt that way about the scene he had overheard even without the
additional complications of the fact that they had been lovers.  All in
all it was probably hardly surprising that he was so anxious to get her
out of the firm, Sarah thought wryly.  Even without the personal
conflict between them on a professional showing to date she had
scarcely done anything to inspire his confidence in her.

It was just gone six when she left her office.  Bill grinned at her
when she went down to the door, clutching a box of books.

"Mr.  Holland told me to expect you.  Miss," he assured her.

"Car's outside and waiting for you... tank's full.  Mr.  Holland said
to tell you that Mr.  Howard would be expecting you this evening," he
added, as he took the box from her and turned to open the plate glass
door.

This evening!  Sarah digested that in silence as she hurried back to
her office for the rest of the books.

Another two journeys had the new list's manuscripts, plus all the sales
charts, safely installed in the boot of the car, which she carefully
locked.

The car was a nippy Metro, bright red and only one year old, although
with a fairly high mileage.  Bill saw her comfortably installed inside
it, and after one or two bumps as she got the feel of the clutch, Sarah
drove smoothly out on to the main road.  She had deliberately delayed
leaving, knowing that on a Friday night the traffic would be at its
heaviest between four and six.  Now it was still heavy but not too bad
to cope with.

Luckily, she was a quietly confident driver, refusing to be flustered
or provoked, using caution where she thought it necessary as she
refused to yield to the impatient honking of a sports car driver who
apparently wanted her to pull over.  no doubt so that he could go
through the lights at red, Sarah thought in mild irritation, wondering
as she did so what it was about being behind the wheel of a car that
seemed to change some people's personalities.

It took her just under half an hour to get to her flat.  Luckily it was
in a self-contained block with its own tiny gardens and car park, so
she had no problems as to where to leave the car.

Once inside her flat she took her time about getting ready.  She had no
idea what time Joss expected her, but she wasn't going to allow his
high-handed actions into panicking her.

She showered and washed her hair, and then while she was waiting for it
to dry she made herself a salad meal.  In all honesty she knew that she
wasn't hungry, and that in a way she was simply employing delaying
tactics.  She didn't want to have to face Joss and she certainly did
not want to be alone with him.  Thank God he was not still living in
the cottage.  Her face flamed as without wanting to she had a vivid
mental picture of them both; their naked bodies entwined, hers both
inciting and yielding to the powerful masculine dominance of his..

Shuddering slightly she fought to deny the image, pushing away her
salad barely touched, and trying to turn her mind to more practical
things.  She would need to pack .  what should she take with her.

Common sense suggested the kind of casual clothes she normally took
home with her when she stayed with Jane but she was staying with Joss
as a subordinate employee she would be working.  Chewing on her bottom
lip she went to her wardrobe and quickly extracted a couple of
pastel-hued skirts and their matching blouses outfits she normally wore
for the office but which were a little less formal than her business
suits.

She put these in the case and then added jeans and T-shirts and then
clean underwear and a nightdress.  She would hardly need anything
else.

When her hair was dry she dressed slowly in clean underwear, a fluid
printed cotton skirt and a matching plain top comfortable enough to
drive in, but not so casual that Joss would not recognise her
businesslike approach to the coming weekend.  Since she nearly always
wore her hair loose at weekends, instead of twisting it up into her
office chignon, she compromised by making one long neat plait which she
secured with a tortoiseshell clasp.  It was much cooler with the heavy
weight of her hair free of her face and neck like this, she thought,
studying her reflection in the mirror as she applied a light glossing
of eyeshadow and lipstick.

By eight-thirty she could delay no longer, and besides she was sensible
enough to realise that if she did not leave soon, it was going to be
past midnight before she arrived at her destination.  She grimaced
faintly at the thought of having to knock her host up out of bed.  Joss
would not be pleased.  No doubt he had expected her to go rushing down
there straight from the office, she reflected wryly, terrified out of
her little mind by the thought of displeasing him.

She suspected that her inability to handle David successfully had given
Joss a contempt of her professional abilities in general.  If she
wanted to keep her job--and she did--she would just have to reverse
that impression.  and she was going to start by showing Joss that she
was not at all afraid of him!

It was only as she got into the car that she realised that she was at
last going to realise her teenage dream of occupying Haughton House,
even if it was only briefly.  Smiling rather grimly, she started the
car.  So many other things had happened to her since the last time she
had seen the house, that her passionate love for it as a teenager had
completely faded into obsolescence.

CHAPTER SIX

Joss was not in bed when she arrived, and neither was he alone.  A
scarlet Mercedes sports car was parked next to his Porsche, and as
Sarah brought the Metro to a halt, she wondered why Joss had been so
insistent that she drive down tonight, if he was already entertaining
guests.

She got out of the car and went up to the front door to ring the bell.
From outside it was impossible to see what work had already been done
to the house.  Problems with the contractors had been Steven's
explanation for Joss's inability to return to London.

The front door opened, and Sarah stepped through it to confront her
host.  He was dressed in black pants and a white shirt; the shirt
opened at the throat, his hair faintly disordered.  For some reason her
mouth went dry, and she had to fight to drag her gaze away from him.

"You took your time."

So.  there was to be no chivalrous respite.  Battle was already
engaged.

"I'm not a fast driver," she responded with equanimity, 'and I didn't
leave town until nearly nine.  "

"You don't need to explain...1 hardly expected you to come rushing down
quivering with eager anticipation."

His choice of words disturbed her, as she was convinced they meant to
conjure up, as they did, memories of an occasion when she had literally
quivered with eager anticipation and she was grateful for the lack of
light in the hall to hide her expression.

She was just growing accustomed to its dimness when a light, feminine
voice called out impatiently, "Joss, what on earth are you doing,
darling?"

Now even more than before she was glad of the shielding darkness.  No
need any more to wonder about the racy Mercedes parked outside.  Was
this another deliberate move on Joss's part-reinforcement of how little
desire he had to promote any further intimacy between them?

Punishment for the surely very small dent she had made in his pride?

Loweringly, the thought struck her that Joss was hardly likely to be
affected by her feelings one way or the other.  Why should he want to
show her that there were other women in his life?  That there must be
had already been perfectly apparent to her.

The owner of the voice came tapping impatiently on high heels into the
hall.  In its dim light Sarah saw the pale glint of her expensively
coiffured blonde hair.  She came towards them, ignoring Sarah to link
one slim tanned arm through Joss's.

"DUt.  " Qg," she purred huskily, 'you're keeping me wA.^mg..."  Red
lips pouted seductively and with ^ cftia^ shock Sarah realised that
despite the skilful ^alee-up the woman was much older than she h^J Qfst
thought--closer to her mid-thirties than hA- mid-twenties.  Only the
faint lines on her skin bAy-ay6^ mat ^act' th^gh.  Hter figure was as
slim ^ a gi^'^ her P10^ cotton jumpsuit, with its zip ppeo to her
breasts, something that Sarah herself^ ^o11^ have thought twice about
wearing.

An extro^11' used to getting her own way.  and v^y very determined
under that little girl pose, Sarah suspected, waiting politely in the
shadows for ^oss to introduce her.

"Ah ... but keeping you waiting makes you all the more eager, Helene,"
he drawled softly, flicking the beautifully modelled nose with one
finger.

The blonde pouted again, and made a husky sound of pleasure deep in her
throat.  Sarah suspected that the other woman was trying to embarrass
her, but it wasn't embarrassment she was feeling, it was.  it was
nothing she told herself sternly.  and certainly never, never jealousy.
What right did she have to feel that sort of emotion?

None.  none at all.  "Who's your little friend, darling?"  the blonde
asked at last, when Joss made no attempt to introduce them.

"A member of my new staff," Joss told her laconically.

"Oh."  The tone of the blonde's voice changed.

"I see..  one of the secretaries I suppose..."  Her voice trailed away,
dismissively.  Sarah felt her skin prickle with dislike.

"Actually, no."  She could tell by the amusement in Joss's voice that
he was enjoying her discomfort and moreover that he was perfectly aware
afher resentment.

"Sarah is the editor ofLeichner & Holland's women's list."

"Oh."  If anything Helene's voice was even cooler.

"Sarah come and be introduced to an old friend of mine, Helene
Standish.  You might know Helene rather better under her stage
name--she's Rosemary Parish."

Sarah recognised the latter name immediately.  She had seen the actress
in several television plays and had not liked the open sexuality she
always seemed to bring to her roles.

Even so she hid her aversion and extended her [land formally murmuring,
"Yes, of course... I've seen you on television.

"And with a bit of luck you'll soon be reading tier first novel," Joss
told her smoothly, ignoring this companion's slight pout.

"Darling...1 thought we agreed that we wouldn't say anything about my
book until it was Finished."

"Well, since it will be included on Sarah's list..."

His casual assumption that a manuscript that she herself had not even
seen yet was already on her list infuriated Sarah, but she hid her
anger and said instead, "It sounds extremely interesting, Miss
Standish.  I'll look forward to reading it."

"It's Mrs..  actually," Helene told her icily.

"I've retained my married name even though I'm now divorced ... but I'm
sure there won't be any need for you to read my worker Sarah.  Joss
will do that.

To be honest I prefer a man's opinion.  "

Sarah was sure she did, but even so she could not resist saying
sweetly, "For women's fiction?"  Her eyebrows lifted slightly.

"I

admit there are some excellent male editors of the genre but they're
very few and far between.  "

Helene was looking at her as though she was having trouble believing
her ears, her silvery laughter faintly forced as she exclaimed, "Good
heavens Joss, you're going to have to teach your staff who's boss, I
think.  By the way ... what is she doing here?"

So she was reduced to 'she' now was she, Sarah thought grimly, awaiting
Joss's explanation with a certain amount of acid pleasure.

She was not disappointed.

"Sarah has brought down her list for me to oversee," Joss told Helene
briefly.

Icy blue eyes flashed dangerously over Sarah.

"I see, so that's what you meant when you said you were going to be
busy this weekend, darling... This new job must be awfully important to
you."

The insult behind the words was staggeringly plain, but Sarah refused
to respond to it.

"I am," Joss agreed.

"Well, remember, darling, that I expect you to come down and stay with
me later this month.  I should have finished the first draft by then
and I want you to go over it with me.  It's such a nuisance that I have
to fly back to Cannes tonight... and such a pity that you can't come
back with me."

She was looking at her, as though she personally were responsible for
that fact, Sarah reflected, wondering what Helene would say if she
realised how dearly Sarah would love to see Joss go with her.

Probably never believe her, Sarah thought wryly.  What woman worthy of
the name would pass up on an opportunity to have Joss all to herself?

No sooner had the thought formed than Sarah dismissed it.  She had no
right to any personal interest in Joss whatsoever, she reminded
herself.  None at all.  And yet it was impossible not to feel jealous
as Joss slid his arm round the other woman's shoulders and guided her
back through the hall, calling over his shoulder to Sarah to follow
them.

She couldn't love him .  it was impossible that she should and yet she
did.  It hadn't been simply desire or propinquity that had urged her to
go with him the night of the ball .  somewhere deep inside herself she
had instinctively recognised him as the man she would love.  She could
come up with no rational explanation for this, but nevertheless it was
true.  She had gone with him because not to do so would have been
impossible .  and yet it would have been far, far better if she had
not.

She followed Joss into a large shadowy drawing room and was suddenly
and very bitterly angry with him, instinctively she sensed that he was
deliberately highlighting for her benefit the sexual relationship that
existed between himself and Helene.  Almost instantly the hot heat of
her anger changed into sick misery.  Could this really be the same man
who had held her in his arms;

who had made love to her in a way that.  but no, she wasn't going to
think about that.  She mustn't think about it.

Instead, she studied her surroundings, seeing that the large drawing
room was filled with various oddments of furniture, none of it
apparently of any particular age or style.  She came out of her reverie
to hear Helene saying to Joss, "Darling, this place is such a mess.  I
don't understand why you're insisting on staying here.  Surely it would
be much better to stay away until the work is finished..."

"If I could trust the contractors to keep to then- time schedule then,
yes, it would be, but unfortunately I can't, which is why I, and
incidentally Sarah, are here."  He stood up and glanced at his watch.

"Didn't you say you had to leave for your flight?"

"Unfortunately, yes..."  Again the pout.

"Come and see me off then, darling and then you can get on with your
work in peace."

Again she linked her arm through Joss's, making no attempt to speak to
her, Sarah noticed, but she wasn't really bothered.  She heard their
footsteps ringing across the died hall, the front door opened and then
there was silence.  A silence that stretched for a considerable length
of time.  Unwanted and tormenting mental images slid treacherously into
her mind.  It was all too easy to picture Helene in Joss's arms.
Eventually she heard a car engine fire, and then within a few seconds
Joss was back.  Sarah blinked as he switched on the main light.  In its
glare she could see how shabby the elegant room was.  She knew that
Joss was coming towards her, but she kept her attention fixed firmly on
the fireplace, refusing to look round.

"You've brought everything I asked for with you?"

Sarah knew that she should have been relieved by his businesslike
manner, but contrarily she was not.  Politeness if nothing else
demanded that she at least look at him as she gave him her
confirmation, but she wished she had not when she saw the lingering
imprint of Helene's lipstick against his jaw and mouth.  So what had
she thought they were doing ouside .  discussing their mutual work?

"Everything's in the car," she added tiredly.

"If you'll tell me where you want it, I'll go and bring the boxes
in."

"It can wait until the morning."  He glanced at his watch again and
frowned.

"It's gone midnight...1 expected you earlier."

"Well, it's lucky that you were disappointed then, isn't it?"  Sarah
responded with a cool mockery that surprised herself.

"Meaning?"

She hadn't expected his dulcet challenge and had to fight to stop the
betraying colour flooding her skin, as she forced herself to meet it.

"Meaning that had I arrived earlier you would have had less time with
Helene."

He smiled tigerishly and said softly, "Jealous, Sarah?"

She had a momentary and insane desire to strike out and destroy the
smiling mockery on his face, but fortunately managed to control it.

How dare he change tracks like this, twisting her remarks so that their
conversation had turned from the impersonal to the personal, she
wondered despairingly, quite forgetting that she had been the first to
make the challenge.  Banking down her anger she said coldly.

"Of course not... how could I be?"

For a moment she thought she saw something akin to anger cloud his
eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure--his voice as cool but
much drier than her own as he agreed.

"How, indeed?"

"To experience jealousy one must first love," Sarah protested doggedly,
determined to have the final word.

"Where did you learn that little home truth?"  He was almost snarling
at her now.

"From someone else's writing ... certainly not from personal
experience, eh, my little virgin..."

The taunt hurt, sliding through her guard like a rapier through tender
skin, reaching to Where she was most vulnerable.  As she battled
against betraying her pain she saw the sardonic expression in Joss's
eyes.  He had won this encounter, she would have to give him that, she
acceded painfully to herself.

"I'm rather tired.  Joss," she said not troubling to hide the weariness
that suddenly seemed to have dropped over her.

"If you could tell me where I'm going to sleep."

He smiled again, not kindly, and opened the door behind him.

She followed him automatically, stopping half way up the stairs as
though the breath was driven out of her lungs when he threw laconically
over his shoulder, "What if I told you you were sleeping in my bed,
Sarah?"

She could feel time tick relentlessly by as she fought against the
insidious memory of his hands on her body, his mouth against her skin.
Slow shudders of remembered pleasure built up inside | her, threatening
to destroy her self-control.  | "That would be fine," she managed to
say at ;

last.

"Just as long as you were sleeping somewhere else."

He waited until they were both at the top of the stairs before making
any comment, turning slightly towards her so that his face was in the
shadows and hers was not.  It was almost eerie, listening to his voice
without being able to see his expression properly.

"You're a liar, Sarah," he told her quietly, 'and I could take you to
my bed right now and prove it to you.  "

It was only the suddenly prickly sense of danger that gave her strength
to say coolly:

"And you.  Joss, are a very arrogant man.  I'm not going to deny that I
found pleasure in your lovemaking--I did ... but I've already told you
why I went to bed with you and that statement still stands."

She held her breath waiting for his response, but all he did was move
ahead of her down the shadowy corridor, stopping outside one of the
several doors.

"Sorry about the poor lighting," he apologised laconically as he pushed
open the door.

"The electrical contractors are half way through rewiring.  The kitchen
and most of the downstairs are done, but they haven't got this far
yet... 3 " None of the bedrooms have been touched I'm I afraid--I got
someone up from the village to clean this one for you.  "

Sarah stepped past him and grimaced faintly at the brightly hued,
old-fashioned wallpaper, but as he had said, the room was clean, the
bed looked comfortable, if somewhat old-fashioned, and after all she
would only be staying a few nights.

"No private bathrooms as yet, I'm afraid," he continued, going back to
her bedroom door, 'the only one in use is there.  " He pointed to a
door across the corridor.

"And in case you're wondering it has a lock on the door.  Is your case
still in the car?"

"Yes."

"I'll go and bring it up for you.  Luckily my study has been
finished.

So I suggest we get to work down there early tomorrow morning .  say
ten-ish?  "

Sarah nodded her head, studying her new surroundings as he went back
downstairs for her case.

The room was a pleasant size and had the potential to look extremely
attractive.  She was dreamily mentally re-furbishing it when Joss came
back.

He dropped her case on her bed and then walked over to the door,
pausing briefly to drawl, "Sweet dreams, Sarah," and then he walked
through it and closed it after him.

Since she had heard him walk back downstairs, Sarah judged that it was
quite safe for her to use the bathroom.  She had no wish to be caught
at the disadvantage of dashing across the landing by Joss when she was
only wearing her nightdress.

The bathroom was as old-fashioned as her bedroom, but thankfully there
was plenty of hot water.  She showered as quickly as she could,
removing her make-up and brushing her teeth, before gathering up her
discarded clothes.  It was a nuisance that she had no dressing gown.

She didn't need one at the flat, and it hadn't struck her that she
would not have the privacy of her own bathroom.  Mentally shrugging,
she unlocked the door.  Her nightdress was made of soft cotton, and was
surely modest enough for her not to need to feel so concerned that Joss
might glimpse her in it .  after all, he had already seen what lay
beneath it.  And not just seen, she reminded herself, caught off guard
by the slow burn of heat flooding over her body.

Despite her physical tiredness it took her a long time to get to sleep.
Her searingly painful jealousy on seeing Helene with Joss was something
she was going to have to come to terms with and accept.

Frowning slightly, Sarah acknowledged to herself that it really would
be much safer from her point of view if she could find another job. but
she had already sworn to herself that she would not allow Joss to
browbeat her into leaving Leichner & Holland, and besides, she could
not afford to.  But every second she spent in his company only added to
the trauma and pain she would have to face, when eventually he was no
longer there.  How could she bear to work with him, when she knew there
were other women in his life, when she ached to touch him the way she
had done tonight.  She would have to find a way, Sarah told herself
resolutely .  and who knew, perhaps in doing so she might also find a
way to destroy her love for him as well.  He was not the embodiment of
all her secret inward yearnings as he had seemed that first night.  he
was a man who could be cruel, as he had been tonight.  She should be
feeling glad that she had had this glimpse of the man he really was,
but instead, all she could feel was pain.

She woke up early, so early that a fine spring mist still clothed the
fields in the distance.  Seven o'clock .  far too early to start work
and she had never felt less like sleep.  On impulse she got out of bed
and made for the bathroom.  Ten minutes later she was pulling on jeans
and a T-shirt, and on her way downstairs, her hair secured in its
plait, her face free of makeup.

After a certain amount of trial and error she found the kitchen, taking
in Joss's study on the way.  His study was really a small library, with
some beautiful mahogany shelves running along one wall.  The whole room
had a decidedly pleasant masculine ambience from the richly coloured
Persian rug on the floor to the heavy partners' desk with its leather
chairs.

It would be very pleasant to work in an atmosphere such as this.
especially on a cold winter's afternoon, Sarah thought, noting the
large marble fireplace.  If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell
the scent of apple logs.  Sighing faintly, she went in search of the
kitchen, gazing appreciatively around its spaciousness.  Plainly no
expense had been spared in its remodelling, and Sarah guessed that it
had once been several smaller rooms.  She liked the solid oaken units
and the tiled work tops and the ceramic tiles on the floor.

She was longing for a cup of coffee and she opened a few cupboard doors
experimentally, discovering a washing machine hidden away behind one
set and a fridge-freezer behind another.  Eventually she managed to
locate a filter coffee maker, and some coffee, although from what she
could see.  Joss had not yet got round to stocking up his cupboards.

He obviously hadn't expected to move into the house as yet, she
reflected, remembering what Steven had told her.  While she waited for
the coffee she looked for some bread to make toast with, but could find
none.

By the time she had poured and drunk her coffee it was gone eight
o'clock, and she was still hungry, Sarah thought wryly.  She opened the
fridge door and investigated its contents, frowning over their paucity.
How did Joss envisage they were going to live over the next few days?

She remembered that the local village shop opened early on Saturdays,
and on impulse decided she might as well use her time advantageously,
rather than simply waiting for Joss to come downstairs.

The woman behind the counter recognised her and looked slightly
surprised to see her.

"I thought your sister was away," she commented, when Sarah gave her
her order.

"She is."  It was plain that the woman was curious, but Sarah did not
explain, simply smiling her thanks as she packed away her groceries.

The shop did not sell bread, but by the time Sarah had left the village
store, the small, family run bakery had opened.

The delicious smell wafting through the open door was far too tempting
to resist.  Sarah went in and emerged several minutes later carefully
carrying a bag containing freshly made croissants, and another with
still-warm whole meal bread.

She had no idea what, if any, plans Joss had made for their meals, but
at least she would not starve, she decided cheerfully as she started up
the Metro.

A little to her surprise there was still no sign of Joss when she
returned.

It was gone nine o'clock now and she still had not had her breakfast,
and according to Joss they were starting work at ten.  Shrugging
mentally and telling herself that it was no part of her dudes to act as
Joss's unpaid housekeeper, Sarah set about making fresh coffee, and
then her conscience smote her.  It wouldn't kill her to go upstairs and
ask him if he wanted a drink.  She had turned the oven on to warm her
croissants, and the smell filling the kitchen was making her
practically dizzy with hunger.

Sighing faintly, she hurried upstairs, stopping abruptly when she
realised she did not even know which was Joss's room.  As she hesitated
she heard the bathroom door open and she turned round, her eyes
widening slightly as she took in the powerful breadth of Joss's
shoulders; the tiny droplets of water that still clung to the smooth
suppleness of his skin.  Helplessly her glance skittered over his body,
naked apart from the towel wrapped round his hips.  A great wave of
intense longing hit her, obliterating everything else, including the
reason she had come upstairs in the first place.

"That's no way to look at a defenceless man, Sarah."

The mocking words filtered past the shock of seeing him and
remembering.  The hand she had automatically lifted to touch his skin
fell to her side, her face white with shock.  It was impossible for her
to speak; her throat seemed to have closed up completely, the weakness
washing over her, frightening in its intensity.

"Breakfast..."  she managed to say weakly eventually.

"I...1 didn't know if you were awake ... if you wanted any
breakfast..."

"Breakfast..."  He laughed softly.

"And what were you proposing to give me, sweet Sarah?  The bewitching
nectar of your mouth?  The honey sweetness of your skin?"

At his words a deep, flooding tide of aching desire spread through her
body.  He was making love to her as surely and as effectively as if he
were touching her, Sarah thought despairingly, and she was powerless to
stop her body's response to him.

"You want me, Sarah..."  The arrogant certainty in his voice brought
her back to sanity and reality, desire changing to bitter anger as she
looked at him and saw the mockery in his eyes.  Suddenly she wanted to
hurt him as badly as he was hurting her.  Her anger was so intense that
it blotted out everything else, she moved instinctively, reacting to
the pain tearing at her, only realising what she had done in the thick
silence that followed the sound of her palm against his skin.  In sick
dismay she looked at the spreading imprint of her hand, her eyes cloudy
and dazed, unable to accept that she had actually hit him.  Suddenly,
the dangerous elemental quality of the silence enshrouding them struck
her and she took a step backwards, but Joss moved faster, imprisoning
her wrists with cruelly hard fingers, no trace of amusement or mockery
in his eyes now.  They were as dark and unreadable as the deepest ocean
and she shivered beneath their cold bleakness.

"Don't take your frustration out on me, Sarah," he told her grimly,
shocking her with the brutality of his judgment.

"At least not in that way... What's the matter?"  he goaded softly,
watching her with eyes as merciless as those of a falcon guarding its
prey.

"Too shy to ask for what you really want?"

This couldn't be happening, Sarah thought despairingly.  Why, oh why,
had she come upstairs?  Why hadn't she stayed in the kitchen where at
least she had been safe?  She gave a small moan, a release of pain both
physical and mental, closing her eyes as she tried to blot out the
sight of Joss's bitterly derisive face.

"Don't do that, you little fake."  He muttered the words against her
ear, causing shivers of fear to spread through her.

"We both know this haunted pallor and mock martyr air are false.  No
woman hits a man unless she either wants him to hit her back or kiss
her... Now which was it, Sarah?  Are you going to allow me to make my
own choice?"

She struggled then, tugging desperately to be free, hating him for what
he was doing to her and hating herself as well, for her inability to
forget what it had been like to be held in his arms as a lover.

It was pointless to struggle.  He dragged her against his body, freeing
her momentarily to secure her there with the arm he closed round her
waist, holding her so tightly against him that it was too dangerous to
struggle.  His free hand imprisoned the back of her neck, his mouth
descending to hers with punishing fierceness.

His grip on her was so tight that she could feel his heartbeat thudding
into her body; the heat coming off his naked torso; the male strength
of him compared with her own vulnerability.  And she could also feel
the potent force of his desire.  It made her go weak with tormenting
memories, her mouth opening beneath his, reality fading.

Humiliatingly it was Joss who dragged his mouth from hers, lifting his
head and breathing hard as he muttered savagely, "Oh, my God...
that..."

His harsh voice was all it took to remind her of the truth.  His grip
had slackened sufficiently for her to pull away from him, which she
did, her body trembling as she forced herself to say huskily:

"I came here to work with you.  Joss... Nothing else."  Tears blurred
her vision as she continued shakily, "You can believe that or not as
you choose, but I want it clearly understood that I do not want you to
" Make love to you?  " His mouth twisted, as though he was having
difficulty in believing what she was saying and fully intended her to
know it.  And why shouldn't he?  She couldn't hide from herself never
mind him the fact that she had responded to him just now with
unmistakable hunger, and she hated herself for it.

"I don't even want you to touch me..."  she told him fiercely, stepping
back from him.

He was looking at her with a peculiar intensity, his skin surely paler
than it had been?  Frowning, Sarah glanced down at herself, tensing as
she saw the way her T-shirt clung to her body, clearly revealing the
tormented thrust of her breasts and nipples, the fabric damp from its
contact with Joss's body.

She took a couple of steps backwards, and then for no reason that she
could analyse later when she was calmer, flung at him bitterly, "You
can believe what you like but I did come up here to see if you wanted
any breakfast."  And then, before her composure deserted her
completely, she fled back downstairs to the kitchen.

The warm, yeasty scent of the croissants, which had so tormented her
taste buds earlier, now only made her feel sick.  She switched off the
oven and sat down at the kitchen table, her head in her hands.  She
couldn't stay here if Joss was going to torment her like that again.

In his arms it had been all too easy to forget all that had happened
between them since the night of the ball.  In all honesty she could not
deny to herself that for a few insane seconds she had actually wanted
him to pick her up and carry her to his bed .  to make love to her as
he had done before.  She shuddered and forced herself to get up, and go
blindly through the motions of making herself fresh coffee.  How could
she stay here now and work with Joss?  How could she not?  She had her
job to think of.

He came into the kitchen several minutes later, dressed as casually as
she was herself, jeans moulding the masculine length of his legs, a
thick cotton check shirt with short sleeves, snugly outlining his
torso.

As he walked in through the door, he stopped, frowned slightly and
asked, "What's that I can smell?"

"Croissants and coffee," Sarah told him listlessly.  She couldn't bear
to look at him.

"I was hungry when I got up...1 couldn't find any bread and then I
remembered that the village store opens early on Saturdays.  You didn't
seem to have much in the way of food ... so I bought a few things."

He was silent and she couldn't bear to turn round to face him.  Now
what she had done suddenly seemed unbearably encroaching.  She had no
idea what plans or arrangements he might have had in mind for their
meals, she reminded herself.  With hindsight it was easy to see that
she would have been much wiser to stay hungry.

"Sarah..."

She felt the light touch of his fingers on her shoulder and tensed.

"I'm sorry...1 owe you an apology for what I said earlier."

For what he'd said.  but not for what he'd done, Sarah noticed, forcing
herself to turn to face him.  She managed a careless little shrug as
she slid away from his grip.

"That's all right," she said coolly.

"I don't suppose it's any more your fault that you're used to women
inviting themselves into your bed, than it's mine that I'm not..."

"Mmm ... rather ungrammatical but I get your point.  This time I'll let
you get away with your acid little barb, Sarah ... but don't try
pushing me too far."

Her stomach was quivering like jelly but she refused to let him see
it.

"What else did you buy besides croissants?"  he asked her, carelessly
opening the oven and removing them.

"I had intended to go out and get some supplies later on, but it seems
that you've saved me a chore."

"Only the barest necessities," Sarah told him.

"I wasn't sure what sort of eating arrangements you had in mind."

He sat down and put the plate on the table.  Now he looked at her,
frowning slightly.

"Meaning what exactly?"

Sarah shrugged.

"Well, if my sister had not been away I would have stayed with her and
only come here to work.  I don't know what social commitments you may
or may not have."

"Meaning that you really believe I'd leave you to eat here alone while
I was swarming off willing and dining elsewhere?"

"I'm here as an employee ... not as a guest," she reminded him
stiffly.

"And as your boss it's my duty to see that you're properly fed," he
retorted blandly, adding with a faint grimace, "There's so much work
for us to get through.  I was rather hoping you wouldn't mind if we
took it turn and turn about to organise our meals.  It will be chaotic
I know... with the contractors here and everything else.  I had no
intention of moving in at this stage, and so I haven't even attempted
to engage any staff.  However, if you prefer it I can arrange for you
to eat at the local pub if my company is such anathema to you."

What on earth could she say?  If she insisted on eating alone now she
would be childish and petulant.

"I've only got enough food to last us the weekend," she told him
eventually.

"Then first thing Monday morning we'll go and get some more.  These
croissants are delicious," he added, biting into his second.

"Aren't you going to have one?"

"I'm not hungry."

But in the end she did eat one, and she cooked Joss bacon and eggs.  A
dishwasher meant that there was no need for them to wash up but Sarah
couldn't help herself from smiling slightly when he said, "Well, I
suppose I'll have to make lunch... what did you plan for us to have?"

"Chicken salad," she told him gravely, watching the laughter leaping
into his eyes.

"I think I might just about manage that ... or I could, if you're very
good, make you my piece de resistance, this evening instead.  Steak au
poivre... I'm very good at it, and I happen to know there's some fillet
in the freezer."

"Okay you're on..."

It was deliciously heady stuff, sharing this teasing banter with him
but it was also very dangerous, Sarah reminded herself as she followed
him into the study.  The boxes from her car were standing beside his
desk, and as she sat down at it she could almost feel him distancing
himself from her.

Nervous now, knowing that he would soon be judging her professional
ability, Sarah rummaged through the boxes for the financial statements
of last year's list.

They worked until lunchtime.  Joss painstakingly thorough as he
listened to her explanations of her reasons for last year's choices,
sometimes making notes, sometimes not.

When she had finished he asked her, "And how do you feel about the
books you chose last year, in view of the financial statements on their
sales?"

He was asking her to substantiate with figures, her choices, Sarah
realised.  She took a deep breath.

"There are one or two surprises," she admitted hesitantly.

"The saga, which I personally liked, but wasn't too sure would have
mass appeal, sold extremely well ... so well that we've commissioned a
follow-up.  James was disappointed that David's book didn't do as well
as he'd hoped.  I know that Steven is very well pleased with the profit
on the women's fiction list so far."

Joss waited a few seconds and then said evenly, "I asked you for your
opinion Sarah.  Your opinion of your own judgment.  or don't you feel
able to give me such an opinion?"

He was coming dangerously close to uncovering her vulnerability
concerning her selfconfidence and Sarah could not allow that.

"So far I'm quietly pleased with my success rate," she told him
calmly.

"Quietly pleased?"  One eyebrow rose.

"That's something of a contradiction, isn't it?  Why aren't you loudly
pleased, Sarah?  It's my experience that most editors are only too
eager to let others know just how well they've done..  just how
invaluable they are to their employers."

What was he hinting at?  That she wasn't to think herself invaluable?

Was he deliberately trying to undermine her; because he was certainly
succeeding.

"I said quietly pleased.  Joss, because that's exactly what I meant,"
she told him firmly.

"I haven't been doing the job for long enough yet to be any more
confident than that.  Of course I'm pleased that my choices have done
so well, but that isn't enough to tell whether it was good judgment on
my part, or simply good luck."

"I couldn't have put it better myself," Joss agreed drily, plainly
amused to see her fall into the pit she had dug for herself.

"And the only way we will have of knowing will be to let you select
this year's list and possibly next's.  And, of course, if it was only
good luck and that luck fails..."

Sarah wanted to protest that he was hardly being fair.  But she was too
unsure of her ground to do so.  She felt instinctively that she did
have a flair for her work, but she was naturally unassuming and
hesitant to take credit for herself without someone else there to back
her up in doing so.

"Steven seems to have confidence in me," she said stiffly.

Joss grimaced.

"Steven is a sucker for a pretty face," he told her blightingly.

"Which is one of the reasons he's more than happy to hide behind me and
let me be his hatchet man if, of course, it should ever come to that as
I was just saying, it's really early days as far as your abilities are
concerned, isn't it?  Now I think we'd better break for lunch."

Childishly, Sarah wanted to tell him that she didn't want to eat.  He
had thoroughly upset her, leaving her feeling tense and drained.

Joss was watching her and Sarah felt thoroughly unnerved when he said
softly, "Hasn't it ever occurred to you that you're somewhat on he
sensitive side for this job, Sarah?  How do you ;ope for instance when
you have to deal with a itubbom writer, when you have to ask for alt
erit ions or do I already know the answer to that?"

Sarah knew that he was referring to David Vandal.

"That's not fair," she burst out, very close to be verge of tears.

"Most writers aren't a bit ike David."

"I should hope not," he agreed blightingly, adding: "By the way, I've
been through his nanuscript, and I don't like it.  It takes an attitude
o women that could do us a great deal of harm is a publishing house
from a feminist point of dew.  He'll either have to abandon, or
rework."

"I'll tell him."  Her relief that Joss agreed wither own view of
David's book was swamped by the knowledge that she would have to
confront David again.

"No."  Joss's sharp refusal jarred through her.

"I'll tell him," he told her grimly.

"Somehow I Think it will be much more effective coming from ne..."

His eyes told her mercilessly exactly what he meant and Sarah quailed
beneath the derision in them.  He was undermining her authority again,
and she knew she had to object, and yet a cowardly part of her wanted
to hand over the responsibility for dealing with David to him.  "It's
my job--' she began only to fall silent as loss intervened crisply.

"And it's mine to see that yours gets done, as quickly and efficiently
as possible.  You'll have to forgive me, Sarah, if I say that I can
hardly see that being accomplished after what I witnessed in your
office the other day.  David Randal terrifies you."

It was all too uncomfortably true, and Sarah lapsed into an unhappy
silence.  In a few short hours Joss seemed to have possessed himself of
every one of her weaknesses.  How long would it be before he told her
that he intended to recommend to Steven that she was demoted?

Not very long, she suspected miserably.

"Come on, lunch."

The fresh salad and chicken might just as well have been sawdust, Sarah
reflected as she pushed her plate away, barely touched.  If this was a
sample of what working with Joss was like, then perhaps she ought to
give in her notice.  But how could she?  How could she let him see that
he had bested her?  How could she manage without her salary?

They were two questions that returned again and again to torment her in
the days that followed.

Joss had a capacity for work that she could only marvel at, and she
could not hide from herself the knowledge that he was an extremely able
and accomplished editor.  Somehow in the few days he had available he
managed to read all through her past and current lists, possibly in bed
at night, Sarah reflected, because he was certainly far too busy to do
so during the day.  If they weren't being interrupted by the
contractors, the telephone was ringing it amazed Sarah how quickly he
could switch his attention from one thing to another without apparently
losing track.  The more she saw of his own professional ability, the
more insecure she felt about her own.  He had given her the odd word of
praise it was true .  but all in all when she returned to London on
Wednesday afternoon it was with the distinct feeling that her days as
Leichner & Holland's women's fiction editor were numbered.

The very last thing Joss had said to her before she drove off was that
immediately he got back he intended to write to David.

"If he gets in touch with you before then you can refer him to me."

"And the work I'm doing on this year's list?"  she asked hesitantly.

His response had been distinctly noncommittal, and all in all Sarah was
relieved to have been granted a couple of days off work, in lieu of the
previous weekend, before she need face him again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

the blow wasn't long in falling.  She had been in her office for only
half an hour on Monday morning when Steven rang through and asked to
see her.

She could tell by the faintly embarrassed smile he gave her when she
walked into his office what was coming.  How easy it had been for Joss,
she thought bleakly.  She might have known she would not have had a
chance in hell of standing out against him.  What would Steven say if
she told him that Joss wanted her out of the firm because they had been
lovers?  She closed her eyes, knowing she would make no such charge.
and knowing just as much that it was true.

"Sarah, are you all right?"

She could hear the anxiety in Steven's voice.

"Fine..."  she lied brightly.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Er, yes..."  He fiddled with some papers on his desk.

"Joss and I were having a talk last week."

"When I was away from the office..."  Sarah said evenly.

She caught the vaguely shifty glance Steven sent her.

"Er ... yes.  That's right.  Sarah, why didn't you tell me about the
problems you were having with David?"

She might have known Joss would choose to launch that cannon first,
Sarah thought bleakly.

"I felt I should handle the situation on my own," she responded coolly,
wondering exactly how much Joss had told Steven.

"But to allow yourself to be subjected to such a degree of sexual
harassment.  My dear girl, you should have gone to James or myself
immediately."

"I couldn't," Sarah told him baldly, "David was one of James' pet
writers."

"Oh, yes ... yes, of course, I'd forgotten that..."  He picked a
typewritten sheet up off his desk.

"When Joss came to join us it was on the understanding that he would be
able to vet his staff and make whatever alterations he thought fit."

Here it comes, Sarah thought numbingly, steeling herself for the
blow.

Why on earth hadn't she handed in her notice and left while she still
had pride intact?  She had known all along what would happen.

Steven was studying the sheet of paper in his hands.

"Joss is very impressed with the work you've done on our women's
fiction list, Sarah... very impressed indeed."

Silently Sarah digested the sugar knowing the pill was on its way.
sensing the as yet unspoken 'but' she was sure would follow.

"But..."  Steven continued, avoiding looking at her, 'he is concerned
that you lack a certain.  toughness shall we call it .  when it comes
to dealing with the authors.  David is a case in point here--a rather
extreme one I know--but you are a sensitive little thing, Sarah, I must
confess I had no idea that you were having all these problems with
David.  You know, you really should have told me.

Anyway .  to get back to the matter in hand.  For the time being Joss
wants to take the women's fiction list under his own control.  He
suggests that to facilitate this you work for him as his personal
assistant .  you would still be responsible for the initial selection
of the list.  Joss would simply take over from you when it comes to
dealing with the authors, and making the final choice.  "

It was not what Sarah had expected.  She blinked in bewilderment.  Why
on earth should Joss want her as his assistant?  Unless .  another
thought struck her.  No doubt he expected her to refuse the job .  to
hand in her notice rather than work for him, which would then totally
absolve him, in Steven's eyes, for being responsible for her losing her
job.  Very clever, she thought bitterly.  But it wasn't going to work.
At this moment in time she was so keyed up and angry that she would
have worked for the devil himself rather than give in to Joss's blatant
manoeuvrings.

"Well, if that's what Joss feels is best," she heard herself saying
huskily.

"I can't pretend that I'm not disappointed."

"Of course..  of course..."  Steven soothed her, plainly relieved that
he was not going to be faced with a bout of tears or protests, 'but it
really is for your own protection, Sarah and there'll be no question of
a reduction in salary.  "

"That's very generous of you."  She said it mechanically, getting up
out of her chair.  The room swayed distressingly around her, and she
was conscious of an empty aching feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She hesitated at the door, knowing that right at this moment in time it
would be impossible for her to face any one else, least of all Joss
himself.

"I...1 have a headache..."  she fibbed at last.

"I was wondering if I might go home."

"Yes..  yes..  of course you can, Sarah."  Steven was looking at her
with concern.

"Please don't get upset about this.  I promise you it's not a
reflection on your ability and it won't be the only change Joss makes
in the department.  Once you've gained a little more experience in
dealing with the authors you'll be back in charge of your own
department."

And pigs might fly, Sarah thought achingly as she stepped out into the
spring sunshine several minutes later.  All she wanted to do right now
was to hide herself away from everyone.  She could just imagine the
gossip there would be when the news broke.  How could she face the rest
of the staff?  She couldn't.  She stopped abruptly on the pavement
causing the woman immediately behind her to glare at her as she had to
sidestep to avoid cannoning into her.  And wasn't that what Joss was
bargaining on .  that her pride would not let her stay on with the firm
in an inferior position.  Oh yes, he had been very clever.  He knew
that Steven was far too sentimental and soft hearted to dismiss her
outright so he had managed things so that she would leave of her own
free will .  but she was not going to do so.  No.  No matter what it
cost her .  she would work for him as his assistant, and she would make
him regret the day he had suggested to Steven that she be offered that
particular post, she thought viciously, as she headed for the
underground.

By the time she let herself into her flat her fictitious headache had
become a reality.  All she wanted to do was to lie down, but she forced
herself to strip off her office suit and blouse first, dropping
thankfully on to her bed wearing just her underwear and waiting for the
painkillers she had taken to take effect.

She was woken from a confused dream about Joss by the ring of the
doorbell.  Still muzzy from the painkillers, she staggered into the
bathroom to pull on her to welling robe, making her way across the
living room to the small hall.

She opened the door automatically and then gasped with shock as she saw
David standing outside.

"David!"

Too late she saw the expression on his face, her muzziness drowned out
by the sharp spearing panic bursting into life inside her as he pushed
past her and into her flat.

"Thought you'd been very clever, didn't you?"  he demanded thickly
waving a bundle of papers under her nose, 'getting that fine lover of
yours to send me this.  "

Sarah could only stare at him, frozen with fear and shock.  What was
David doing here?  What did he mean?

"I suppose it was all your idea, wasn't it?"  he snarled viciously,
advancing so close to her that Sarah was forced to move backwards into
her living room.  She was trembling with an ever-increasing sense of
disbelief and terror.  She had no idea what David was talking about .
but she could guess, couldn't she?  He must have received Joss's
rejection of his manuscript.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he continued vengefully, "Well, you
needn't think I'm going to leave it there.  No one gets to make a fool
of me and believe me it's been tried by experts."  His mouth twisted
and suddenly he was the most dangerous man Sarah had ever seen.  Why
had she never noticed before how small and close set his eyes were? How
fleshy and repulsive his mouth.  She closed her eyes and knew she had
made a bad mistake as she felt his fingers dig, into her shoulders.

"Thought you were so clever finding yourself another lover, and then
getting him to get rid of me ... didn't you?  But not as clever as you
thought.  Why shouldn't I enjoy a little piece of the action you've
been giving him ... compensation for ruining my career?  You frigid
little bitch... You're too cold to appreciate real sex, either verbal
or physical and it was your prudish interference that got my work
rejected, don't think I don't know that."

"You're wrong."  Sarah tried to sound firm, but knew she had failed.

She tried to fight free of him, but his hold on her only tightened.  a
thick tide of dark colour was seeping up under his skin and she
realised sickly that her fear was exciting him.  Those scenes he had
written into his books had been his own sick fantasies she thought,
suddenly seeing the truth .  and he would enjoy putting them into
practice.

Rape was an ugly word.  She had heard about women being attacked in
their own homes and had wondered how it had ever happened .  how they
would ever be able to feel safe anywhere again .  and now, she who had
always been so sensitive to other people's fears, was experiencing that
wholly feminine terror for herself.  She wanted to scream and fight but
she sensed to do so would only inflame him further.  Reason with him .
try and keep calm, an inner voice urged her, but it was like telling
herself to climb Mount Everest equipped with nothing more than her own
feeble strength.

Even so she tried .  forcing herself to explain that she had had no
real part in Joss's decision;

that she hadn't even realised he had written to David.

"You're lying."  He said it so viciously that Sarah knew he did not
want to believe her.  He wanted to have an excuse to punish her to hurt
her and she supposed that not even a man like David could rape a woman
in cold blood .  he had to have something to goad him .  to use as an
excuse to defend himself.  She was trembling, and she could see his
pleasure in her weakness.  It was no use fighting.  She closed her eyes
against weak tears.  Perhaps it would simply be better to let him get
it over with and yet the moment she felt the fetidness of his breath
against her skin, every muscle in her body clenched in desperate
protest.  If he touched her more intimately she would be sick .  she
knew it.  "Little bitch.  Pretending to me that you were so innocent
and pure when all the time... Enjoyed it, did you?  Well, I'm going to
enjoy making you pay for trying to make a fool of me.  I needed to have
that manuscript accepted.  I needed the money it would have brought in
but you..."

He was whipping himself up into a state of intense fury, Sarah realised
. panic flaring through her.  "Well, let's just see if you're as good
as he obviously thinks you are."

He was tugging at the cord securing her robe, and taking advantage of
her freedom from the biting pressure of his fingers, Sarah broke free
of him, tearing back into the hall.

He caught her in the doorway, exhibiting a speed she never expected,
the force of his body weight slamming her back against the wall.

Sarah cried out sharply with pain, the breath jolting out of her body
as she simply crumpled up like a broken doll.

"Stop that."  He hit her sharply across the face.

"Stop that noise.  We don't want anyone coming to see what's going on,
do we...?"

Spittle flecked his mouth and Sarah stared in fascinated revulsion as
he dragged her up against the wall.  It was a nightmare, it had to be .
things like this simply didn't happen.  But it was happening, she
realised frantically a few seconds later, as David's weight kept her
pressed against the wall and his hands groped with the top of her robe,
wrenching it off her shoulders as he reached for her breast.

She felt the sickness gag in her throat as she screamed out a tormented
denial of what he was doing and then she felt the sheer fabric of her
bra tear, his fingers squeezing painfully at her breast as he leaned
his full weight against her, grinding his hips into her body.

She was going to be sick, Sarah thought dizzily .  she.  "Sarah..."

The front door which David had left unlocked, opened and Joss stepped
into the hallway.

He took in the whole of what was going on in less time than it took
Sarah to draw the breath to cry out his name.

With merciful speed the nauseating weight of David's body was removed
from her own.  She closed her eyes, dreading discovering that she had
simply imagined Joss's arrival that in her despair she was merely
hallucinating and then opened them again as she heard the unmistakable
crunching sound of bone against bone, just in time to see David sag to
the floor, clutching his jaw, his eyes wild with fury.

"She was only getting what she deserved," he swore at Joss.

"The little bitch has been leading me on for months."  Spittle foamed
against his mouth now and although it made her sick to look at him
Sarah could not drag her gaze away.  "She wanted it.  She was enjoying
it."  David was like a man possessed by a fever, his colour high, sweat
pouring off his skin as he staggered to his feet.

"She wanted me, I tell you..."

Sarah saw the sick distaste in Joss's eyes.

"I'd like to kill you for what you've just said and done," he said
quietly, 'but the law doesn't give me that right .  it does, however,
give Sarah the right to prosecute you for attempted rape.

Where's your 'phone?  " he asked Sarah without removing his eyes from
David.

"No."  The denial was out before she could stop it.  Sarah had heard
what happened to women who brought rape cases to court.  Often they
were more mercilessly pilloried than their attackers.  She couldn't
endure to go through anything like that.

"See, I told you she wanted it..."

"No!"  She shuddered in unmistakable revulsion, and then said huskily,
"Please make him go away.  Joss...1 think I'm going to be sick if you
don't..."

"Don't worry.  I'm already on my way.  Leichner & Holland aren't the
only publishers in the world," he spat at them both.

"You wait and see, my book will make sales that'll make fools of both
of you..  I'll see you pay for what you've done to me both of you... As
for that cold little bitch..."  he sneered at Sarah as he moved towards
her front door.

"You're welcome to her."

"You shouldn't have let him walk away like that," Joss told her quietly
as he closed the door after him.

She tried to move away and make for the security of her sitting room,
but she found she was too weak to move.

"I couldn't have gone through the trauma of a court case," she told him
huskily, shivering at the very thought.

"Nobut it might have prevented him from succeeding in doing to someone
else what he tried to do to you.  You realise he would have bloody well
raped you if I hadn't arrived when I did."

Realised it!  Sarah closed her eyes sickly.  Even now she was powerless
to stop her mind from relaying to her imagination tormenting mental
images of his hands against her body .  his body, engorged with lust,
pressed hard against her own.

She swayed and heard Joss curse.  From somewhere she found the strength
to mutter weakly.

"I don't think he'd do it to anyone else ... it was just me...1 never
realised..."  She shuddered again and clung to the security of Joss's
arms as they closed round her.

"Perhaps you're right."  His voice came from close to her ear.

"Where's your bedroom?"

She forced her eyes to open.

"No..;' Her mouth felt swollen and sore ... and she raised her hand to
touch it, remembering how David had hit her.  She wanted to tell Joss
that she didn't want to lie on her bed before she had cleansed herself
of the contamination of David's touch ... if she did she would never be
able to sleep there again.

"The settee..."  she said groggily.

"I..."

She saw his mouth tighten.

"Don't worry, Sarah, I wasn't about to finish what he started."

It shocked her that he should think that had even occurred to her and
she shook her head.

"Not that...1 want a bath," she told him shudderingly.

"I...1 want to be clean..."

She heard him curse, but it was too much of an effort to open her eyes
to look into his face.

She felt him lowering her on to the settee, and shivered as his arms
were withdrawn from her.  All she wanted to do was to go to sleep, to
blot out everything that had happened, but he wasn't going to let
her.

"Where do you keep your booze?"

"I don't want a drink..."  Her lip throbbed with pain and she raised
her fingers to touch it, her eyes opening wide, when she felt Joss's
fingers there instead.

"You may not, but I certainly do," he told her unsteadily, holding her
eyes with his own.

"You may not realise it but that's the first time I've hit another
human being in anger since I left my teens behind.  Dear God, that he
should ... I should have killed him."

He said it so emotionlessly that Sarah blinked, conscious of the way
the flat words hung on the air.

"What did he do to your mouth?"

"He hit me."  She saw the look in his eyes and shook her head.

"He's sick.  Joss.  He was enjoying it..  enjoying hurting me.  It was
as though he was acting out one of his private fantasies ... I know now
why I've always disliked his books so much...1 suppose instinctively I
must have known that was the sort of man who enjoys hurting women ...
degrading them."

"He ought to be locked up," Joss said flatly, 'and if I had my way he
would be.  What was be doing here in the first pake?  "

"He'd got your letter of rejection.  He thought you'd done it because
of me he'd been to the office I suppose and discovered I wasn't
there... it wouldn't have been hard for him to get hold of my
address."

"Not hard at all," Joss agreed.

"It took me about five seconds."

His comment made her frown.  She had been so overjoyed by his timely
arrival that it had not occurred to her to question what he was doing
at her front door.

"Steven told me you'd gone home with a headache.  It occurred to me
that I might have been responsible for it.  I thought I'd come and have
a talk with you."

"Try and persuade me to give up my job you mean," Sarah said bitterly.
Now that the shock of David's attack was receding she was remembering
her earlier fears that Joss was determined to force her into giving up
her job.

"Why should I want to do that?"  Joss asked levelly.

"You must already know from what Steven told you that I consider your
flair for fiction to be very well worth developing."

"And that, of course, is why you've demoted me," Sarah was stung into
replying.

"Not at all.  I demoted you, as you put it, to avoid just the sort of
situation I found you involved in just now ... although, of course, I
never realised just how dangerous Randal is.  As Steven told you, at
the moment you're too soft with some of your authors--' " And all you
want to do is to protect me from them, is that it?  "

Sarah asked sarcastically.

Suddenly, horrifyingly she wanted to cry.  She turned her head into the
cushion of the settee, not wanting Joss to guess how appallingly weak
she felt.

"Where the hell do you keep your drinks?"

Tiredly she gestured to a cupboard, relieved when he moved away from
her.  He had been too close to her before, making her too aware of the
vast difference between him and David.  Joss's body smelled clean and
male.  his breath fresh his touch made her ache and burn for his
lovemaking where David's revolted her.

"Here, drink this."

Raw brandy, Sarah noticed, shuddering as she gulped the liquid down and
felt its heat pour through her stomach.  Joss she noticed was drinking
whisky--neat.

"I don't want to push you out of your job, Sarah."  He squatted down
beside her, so that their eyes were on a level.

"I promise you that."

He was lying, Sarah thought dismally, but she could hardly accuse him
of wanting her to leave because they had once been lovers.  That would
be to tread on far too uncertain ground and if she wasn't careful he
would trap her into betraying the fact that she loved him.

There, she had admitted it now .  what she had known all along, almost
from the first moment he touched her.  She loved Joss.  "Would you like
me to stay here with you tonight?"

Sarah's mouth gaped open.  Joss wasn't looking at her, but
contemplating the contents of his glass.

"I'd sleep here on the sofa, of course," he added tightly.

"I was only thinking you might not want to be alone."

How right he was.  She could have gone home to Jane and Ralph of
course.  but, of course, she recollected, they weren't back from their
holidays and even if they had been home, Sarah knew she couldn't have
faced their concern and anxiety right now .  and she certainly could
not face a night in her flat alone.

She closed her eyes, nodding her head weakly.

"Yes, please."

"Right.  It's four o'clock now.  Why don't you go and have that bath
you wanted, and I'll make us both something to eat.  I promise you I'm
not going to touch you, Sarah," he added gently as he stood up.

"You have my word on that."

She believed him.  What possible desire could he have to touch her
anyway?  They had been lovers once; and although he had told her then
that he didn't go for one-night stands, there were enough eager women
in his life to ensure that he would be the last man to need to force
himself on any woman.  And then there was his relationship with
Helene.

"Can you make it to the bathroom?"

She was sorely tempted to shake her head and give in to the pleasure of
having him carry her there but instead, she struggled to sit up,
sliding her feet to the floor.

She knew he was monitoring her shaky progress towards the door; she
knew that if she started to fall or faint, he would catch her, and the
dismal thought struck her that it was torture to be so wrapped up in
his care and concern and to know that it would only be hers for
tonight.

He followed her into the bedroom, stopping at the door.

"Don't lock the bathroom door, Sarah," he told her quietly.

"The combination of the shock and that brandy ... I'll give you half an
hour, okay?  If you're not out by then..."

Mechanically taking clean underwear from her drawer, and a casual lemon
flying suit to go over it, Sarah went into her small bathroom.

As she stripped off her robe, shuddering distastefully as it dropped to
the floor, she reflected that it was just as well she had stayed in
London at the weekend and had re-stocked her 'fridge.  Joss would have
no trouble finding them something to eat.

He was a complex man, she thought hazily seconds later, relaxing in the
warm, scented water of her bath.  As a lover, even her untutored body
had recognised his skill, his enjoyment of and pleasure in her
femininity.  She had seen his anger .  known that his sharp mind was
working against her and even feared him because of it.  and now she was
seeing yet another side to him .  a caring compassion which she sensed
he would have extended to any woman in the same situation she had been
in.

Joss was as far away from the truth as he could be if he really thought
she feared he might approach her sexually, Sarah thought wryly.  What
really terrified her was that she might betray herself to him!  And
that was what had terrified her all along.  She had known when she
crept out of his bed that fatal morning that she was leaving more than
her innocence behind her; that she had lost something to him of far
more importance than mere virginity.  She had loved him then.  and that
love had only gone on growing, she acknowledged.

She glanced over the edge of the bath and saw her ruined bra.

Revulsion shuddered through her as she felt David's greedy, hurting
fingers on her breast.  She picked up the soap and started lathering
her skin with despairing urgency .  trying to wash away the touch of
him.  There were bruise marks forming on her breast already and her
flesh hurt.

"Ten minutes, Sarah..."

She heard Joss shout, and then the sound of her bedroom door closing
behind him.

She got out of the bath, drying herself briskly, wincing as she saw the
puffiness round her mouth where David had slapped her.

Her flying suit was last year's and comfortable.  She was too tired to
bother with fresh makeup or to do more than stroke her brush through
her long hair.  She looked dreadful, she thought wryly, studying her
reflection momentarily in her bedroom mirror.  No competition for
Helene at all.

"Good timing, I was just coming to fetch you."

Joss was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.  He had discarded his
jacket and his shirt was unbuttoned at the throat.

"Omelette suit you?"  he asked lightly.

"It's all ready, it won't take a moment to cook."

"Lovely."

There was no room in Sarah's tiny flat for a dining table and she
normally ate either in the kitchen or off a tray on her knees.  Joss
had obviously opted for the latter; she could see the trays on the
kitchen counter.

"Go and sit down," he told her gently, adding, 'how do you feel?  "

"Shocked, but as though it was all somehow unreal," she told him
wryly.

"Even now I can't believe that David--' " Stop thinking about it," Joss
ordered her.

"By the way I've taken the liberty of opening a bottle of wine."

Wine?  Sarah's nose wrinkled.  She hadn't realised she had any.  She
drank so rarely herself and entertained in the flat so little it was
something she rarely bought, and then she remembered that an author had
given her half-a-dozen bottles the previous Christmas.  She had pushed
them to the back of one of her kitchen cupboards, and she was surprised
that Joss had managed to unearth them.

"White, luckily," he announced ten minutes later, placing a tray in
front of her, a deliciously fluffy omelette heaped on to her plate.

He poured them both a glass, and then returned to the kitchen for his
own tray.

"This place must seem like a mouse hole to you after Houghton House,"
Sarah commented wryly.

"It reminds me of my reporting days.  I've lived in much worse than
this, believe me..."

"What made you give it up, reporting I mean?"

As though he sensed her need to be distracted from her thoughts he
responded to her question seriously.

"I got tired of all the travelling.  I wanted more from life than to
live constantly among strangers.  After a while it makes you feel as
though you're living in a glass bubble..  as though you're not properly
in contact with the rest of the human race."

"So you've exchanged the glamour of being a foreign correspondent for
village life.  Quite a contrast."

"Maybe.  But it's what I wanted...1 think most human beings at heart
have a deep-seated need for their own place, a home base."

"Mmm... You know as a teenager I always longed to live in Houghton
House myself," she admitted dreamily.

"I fell in love with the house when I was twelve, and I've remained
faithful to it ever since."  She laughed as she said it, glimpsing a
strange expression in his eyes.

"And are you the faithful type in everything, Sarah?"  he asked her
softly.

"Your heart once given, given for ever?"

She knew he was just making idle conversation, trying to help her to
relax, but still she responded seriously, as though the words were
compelled out of her.

"Yes.  Yes...1 am... The trouble is that these days most people don't
want that sort of love.  It's too heavy a burden' She thought
fleetingly of Helene.  She was divorced, like so many thousands of
others.

Joss was looking at her.  He was delving too deeply into her most
personal thoughts, she thought in panic, learning too much about her.

"Tell me about your childhood," she demanded.

"Where were you brought up?"

"In Lancashire," he responded promptly.

"My father owned and ran a small printing business there.  He and my
mother emigrated to Australia five years ago when my sister married out
there.  They all live near Sydney..."

"You must miss them."

She was thinking how much she had missed her own parents, how much she
would miss Jane if she and her family ever moved far away.  "A little,
but there are such things as planes and bear in mind that I'd been
something of a roamer myself for several years before they left.  Want
another glass of wine?"

"I've already had three," Sarah protested.  In point of fact, she was
feeling pleasantly relaxed not to say slightly tipsy.

Joss glanced at his watch.

"There's a programme I'd like to see on TV in ten minutes.  Would you
mind?"

"No..  you go ahead," she invited him.

"What is it?"

"Oh, just a chat show, but they're interviewing an American author who
I happen to know is looking for new English publishers.  Henry Blake
you might have heard of him."

Sarah had.

"Oh yes.  He writes those books about the pyramids and outer space,
doesn't he?"

Joss's mouth twitched slightly.

"That's one was of describing them," he agreed gravely.

"He has a very large following ... and he puts forward an extremely
convincing argument."

"Do you believe what he writes then?"  Sarah challenged.

"I didn't say that."  He got up, picking up both their trays and
disappearing into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two
mugs of coffee.

"Mmm ... it's lovely to be waited on like this," Sarah told him.

"You're going to make someone a wonderful husband..."  The words were
out before she could stop them.  It was the kind of teasing comment she
might have made to any of her unmarried male friends in the same
circumstances and yet for some reason the words hung uneasily on the
air.  For some reason?  Liar, Sarah chided herself, you know damn well
there's only one person you'd want to see him married to.  "Mmm ...
well when I get round to it I know where to come for a recommendation,
don't I?  Doesn't your sister spoil you when you visit her?"  he added
lightly, getting up again to turn on the television.

"She tries to, but it's a bit difficult for her with three children
under five to look after," Sarah told him, 'especially in view of the
fact that they're triplets.  "

It struck her that for a moment Joss had gone slightly paler.

"My God ... do they run in your family?"

Sarah laughed.

"No... Jane had appendicitis when she was thirteen.

The operation blocked her fallopian tubes.  She had to have an
operation and fertility drugs before she could conceive.  The doctor
warned her she might have twins.  Three instead of two was an extra
bonus.  "

She went quiet as the programme changed, pleasurably aware of the
secure bulk of Joss's body next to her own on the settee.  She had
kicked off her sandals and her feet were tucked up beside her.  A
pleasant languor filled her body .  the wine, she thought ruefully. 
She would just close her eyes for a moment.

CHAPTER EIGHT

'come on, sleepyhead, time you were in bed.  "

Sarah could feel Joss's voice rumbling deep in his chest as well as
hear it, but she didn't want to move from where she was.  Instead, she
burrowed deeper into his side, keeping her eyes closely shut.

"Sarah.  Wake up ... it's bedtime."

Reluctantly she opened her eyes, realising that the blissful cocoon of
warmth wrapped around her was Joss's arm.

She was stunned to see from the clock on the television that it was
gone midnight.

"You should have woken me earlier," she protested, muzzily.

"You must be shattered."

"Mmm...1 must admit the thought of sleeping on your settee isn't
exactly enticing' She couldn't see his face, and his voice was lightly
amused, nothing more, but all at once Sarah was overwhelmed by a mental
image of the last time the two of them had shared a bed, and suddenly
she wanted that experience again more than she wanted anything else in
her life;

she wanted the intimacy and closeness of being held in his arms, supine
and relaxed in the aftermath of love.  She wanted the passionate bite
of his fingers against her skin, his mouth on her body.  She moaned
faintly and shivered, racked by the ferocity of her need.

"Sarah, there's nothing to be frightened of now."  She felt Joss's arm
tighten around her and knew that he had misunderstood the cause of her
tremors.

Feeling weak and deceitful she clung to him pleading desperately,
"Joss, don't leave..."

"I'm not going to."  He stood up, lifting her as easily as though she
were a child.

"I'll be right here outside your bedroom door.  You'll be perfectly
safe."

He carried her through into her bedroom, supporting her weight while he
pulled back the sheet and duvet and then placed her gently on the
mattress.

"I don't want to sleep here alone.  Stay with me.  Joss ...
please..."

In the darkness his eyes gleamed like a cat's, Sarah thought absently.
Every one of her senses was overpoweringly aware of him;

she wanted to reach out and hold on to him .  never let him go, but
already he was disengaging himself, his expression closed and
shuttered, his thoughts hidden from her.

"I can't do that, Sarah."  His voice was calm, kind almost, filling her
with hurting, aching shame, as she curled away from him, turning her
back on him, so that he wouldn't see the betraying shimmer of tears
glittering in her eyes.

In a moment of weakness she had betrayed herself to him, offering
herself and he had refused, gently, kindly .  but it had been a
rejection none the less.  Pain made her whole body ache and desire for
him made it burn.  She had to fight not to plead with him to stay with
her.

"You'll be quite safe," he assured her, pretending not to realise that
her plea had sprung from desire and not fear.

"I'll be outside ... no.

one can get in.  "

He was deliberately salving her pride, Sarah thought miserably,
dissolving the embarrassment from the situation, but even so she was
tempted to plead with him again, to beg him to stay with her, to hold
her.  Almost as though he had read her mind he said quietly, "I can't
sleep here in this bed with you, Sarah.  You must see that."

Yes, she did see it.  She saw also that whatever fleeting desire he had
had for her was now gone.  This was why he wanted her to leave Leichner
& Holland, because he had wanted to avoid this type of situation.  She
wanted to cry out that she loved him, and to beg him to love her in
return, but she knew that to do so would only be to embarrass him.  He
was not an unkind man, despite what she had thought before.  He was
both caring and compassionate.  If he hadn't been, he would not be here
with her now.  But it wasn't his compassion she wanted, she thought
fretfully, as she heard her bedroom door closing behind him, it was his
love.  It was the very worst kind of torment to know that he would be
sleeping just the other side of that wall and that she was forbidden to
be with him.  She closed her eyes and let the weak tears seep beneath
her lashes.  It was a long time before she finally fell asleep.

"Mmm ... well I'm glad to see you're looking very much better.  I hope
you feel as fit as you look.  We've got a punishing schedule of work
lined up for this week, including a trip to Cannes.  I've got to go and
see Helene about her biography.  We leave tomorrow afternoon."

Sarah was in Joss's office.  Today was her first day back at work after
the enforced break Joss had made her take following David's attack. She
had spent the last four days with Jane and Ralph on their return from
Menorca, and for once her elder sister had seemed disinclined to fuss
or ask awkward questions.

Physically she felt fine, but emotionally.  Only she knew how much she
had dreaded facing Joss this morning.  She had watched him with aching
intensity while he was talking to her, waiting for some slight but
unmistakable sign that he found her presence an embarrassing nuisance,
but so far she hadn't seen one, and now he was talking about the two of
them taking a business trip to Cannes.

Before she could say anything.  Joss continued, "I've had your stuff
moved into the office off mine.  For one thing it's larger than that
cupboard you were using before and for another it's much more
convenient to have my assistant within shouting distance rather than
two doors away down the corridor."

"And the women's fiction list," Sarah asked dry-mouthed, "Who will be
looking after that?"

"You, of course," Joss told her, frowning slightly.

"I thought I'd already made that clear, but now you will have full
support from me, and I shall be the one dealing with the authors..."

"And my secretary?"

"Will still be your secretary," Joss told her still frowning.

"Lindsay could hardly cope with the output from both of us.  Look,
Sarah," he added coming out from behind his desk to study her, "I
thought we'd talked through this thing of yours about the transfer of
responsibility being a demotion.  It's no such thing.  On the
contrary," he told her wryly, 'you'll find as my assistant that you
gain a far wider scope of what's going on.  In fact, I've got a couple
of manuscripts here I'd like you to read and make notes on for me.

They're novels destined for the general market if they reach
publication, and I'd be very interested in a woman's view of them.

Both of them are faction novels one's written by a reporter I know very
well, the other by an ex-politician.  "

"What do you think of them?"  Sarah asked him, picking up the
manuscripts from his desk, but Joss shook his head.

"Oh no.  It's your view I want.  unbiased by whatever I might think.

"Now about this trip to Cannes," he continued, changing the subject.

"Helene has run into problems with her biography, and she wants to talk
them over with me.  I was due a few days' holiday myself, and I've
decided to combine the trip with a brief visit to a friend of mine
who's working on a family history.  He owns a small vineyard which has
been passed down through the same family since the time of Napoleon, so
instead of flying out to Cannes, I thought we'd drive down, and call in
on him on the way... You don't suffer from car sickness do you?"  he
asked when Sarah went pale.

She shook her head, unable to explain to him that it was the thought of
spending several days travelling alone with him that had driven the
colour from her face.  She was surprised that he was willing to endure
her sole company, she thought bitterly, especially in view of her
feelings for him, but then Joss was man of the world enough to know how
to defuse any potentially difficult situations that might arise between
them.  He had proved that that night at her flat.  Her face flamed
suddenly as she recalled the calm way he had rejected her.

"Sarah, are you sure you're all right?"  He was standing in front of
her, placing cool fingers against her hot skin, making it burn even
more.  She jerked tensely away from him, surprised to see the way his
eyes darkened and his mouth hardened.

"I'm fine," she assured him huskily, trying to distract him by asking,
"What time did you want to leave tomorrow?"

"Well we're booked on a late evening ferry, so no later than
mid-afternoon if you can make it.  We won't be gone for longer than a
week, I hope."  He frowned again.

"I'm extremely anxious to get this manuscript of Helene's finished.  It
should be quite a coup when it's published, and I'd like to see it on
the shelves in time for Christmas."

Was his anxiety solely due to getting the book finished?  Sarah
wondered bleakly, or was it caused by a more personal interest in the
actress?  Reminding herself that it was none of her business, she
listened while he told her that all their travel arrangements had been
made, pausing only to ask her if her passport was up to date.

For one cowardly moment she was tempted to lie and say that it wasn't,
but this was now her job, she reminded herself, and she couldn't afford
to lose it.

She spent the rest of the day checking through the post which had
accumulated during her absence.  Joss had dealt with all the urgent
letters, and as she and Katy went through the rest of them Sarah grew
tired of hearing her secretary sing his praises for his efficiency.

"Lucky you going to the South of France with him," Katy commented
enviously.

"I wonder if he's involved with anyone..."

Refusing to respond, Sarah bent her head over the papers on her desk.
She knew the answer to that all too well and was searingly jealous of
the blonde-haired actress.

The first thing she did when she got back to her flat that night was
ring Jane and tell her she was going to be away for a few days.  Then
she got out her suitcase and packed what she hoped would be enough
clothes to last the duration of their travels, mainly coolly casual
T-shirts, shorts and skirts, and then on an impulse she couldn't quite
define she added a sheer printed silk dress that flattered her tiny
waist and full breasts, telling herself even as she did so, that she
was travelling with Joss on business, nothing else .  and moreover that
his head would be so full of Helene he was hardly likely to notice what
she was wearing.

Her portable typewriter and a good supply of notebooks and pens were
added to the small pile, her wallet checked for credit cards, even
though Joss had told her he was taking care of all the financial
arrangements.

Joss had told her that she needn't go in to the office in the morning,
and that he would pick her up immediately after lunch, but even so
Sarah deemed it wise to have an early night.  She hadn't been sleeping
well since David's attack, often waking during the night and then
finding it hard to get back to sleep again.

Tonight was no exception and at two o'clock she lay sleepless, staring
at her curtained window, longing to have Joss beside her.

Like a child playing with a forbidden toy, she re-lived the night she
had spent in his arms, her body tensing as it was tormented by the
memory of how his touch had aroused her.  It was gone four o'clock
before she drifted off to sleep again, and she woke at seven feeling
jaded and still tired.

Sarah spent the morning cleaning her flat.  She washed and dried her
hair, and on a sudden crazy impulse varnished her nails a soft pretty
pink to match the cotton jeans and knit top she had elected to wear for
the journey.

Unlike many redheads, she could wear pink most successfully.  Catching
a glimpse of herself in her mirror, suddenly aware of the way the
cotton of her jeans clung to her hips and legs, and the brevity of the
sleeveless boat-necked top, she was tempted to change into something
more sober.  Hot colour stained her skin as she visualised Joss looking
at her, knowing that she had dressed in a way she hoped he would find
attractive.  Nonsense, she told herself curtly, she had dressed for
coolness and comfort, that was all.

And yet when Joss arrived to collect her, his glance was totally
impersonal.  She might as well have been wearing an old sack, she
realised miserably, but then what had she expected?  How could she
compare with a woman like Helene?

"What's this?"  he asked, picking up the case with her portable
typewriter.

"It weighs a ton."

When she explained he nodded his head approvingly.

"I meant to bring mine but the keys have been jamming and it's being
repaired.  Is this the lot?"

Sarah nodded her head.  She had meant to offer him a cup of coffee
before they set out but his manner had been so briskly distant that she
had felt she ought not to.  He was letting her know quite definitely
that from now on they were boss and employee, she thought achingly, as
she followed him out to his car.  Oh, he was being pleasant enough, but
there was a very obvious reserve there, a barrier that warned her that
he did not wish her to trespass into more intimate territory.

Joss drove well, his large Porsche comfortable to sit in.  As soon as
they joined the main stream of traffic he flicked on the stereo system,
the Beethoven filling the silence of the car, pleasantly soothing.  And
it served a dual purpose, Sarah thought wryly.  It meant that he did
not have to talk to her.  It struck her that he would probably far
rather not have brought her with him, and she wondered a little
bitterly why he had, unless he merely wished to reinforce and underline
the fact that there would be no personal involvement between them. Yes,
that must be it she thought, achingly.  Joss wanted to make it plain to
her that what had happened between them in the past was well and truly
over.  Well, she would not embarrass either him or herself by throwing
herself at him.  She could take a hint as well as the next woman.

Tired?  "

They were approaching the coast and for the last few miles Sarah had
been lying back in her seat with her eyes closed.  This way at least
she was not likely to give in to the temptation of watching Joss.  He
obsessed her, she admitted mentally, she could spend hours simply
watching him, just absorbing the reality of him into her senses.

Even with her eyes closed she was conscious of everything about him.

"Not really."  She sat up straight and forced a brief smile.

"What time do we sail?"

"Not for at least a couple of hours yet.  I thought we'd stop for a
meal this side of Dover--I didn't think you'd want to dine on the
ferry, and once we get to the other side I want to press on as quickly
as we can and I warn you, it's likely to be the early hours of the
morning before we reach our destination."

Sarah frowned, not liking the thought of Joss driving for that length
of time.

"What's wrong?"  he asked her.

She told him.

"Perhaps I could relieve you at the wheel for a while."

A little to her surprise he agreed.  For some reason she had half
expected him to exhibit a masculine superiority towards her driving,
and insist on handling the car himself.

"It's a little early to eat now," he commented, glancing at the
dashboard clock.

"Barely gone five-thirty, but if you've no objections I would prefer
that we do so."

When Sarah shook her head he continued.

"There's quite a pleasant small hotel a couple of miles down this road,
where I think we'll be able to get a passable meal."

The hotel was a couple of miles off the main road, with gardens running
down to the river.  It had a public bar which was already crowded when
Joss escorted Sarah through it and into the small dining room which
overlooked the gardens.

A little to Sarah's surprise there was no problem in serving them with
a meal, although the wife of the hotel proprietor explained that
because of the early hour the menu would be a little restricted.

Sarah had no desire to eat a heavy meal and soon chose fresh salmon
baked in herbs with an assortment of vegetables, noticing that like her
Joss, too, ordered fish.

"Much lighter on the digestive system than meat," he explained, 'and
therefore, less inclined to leave one feeling lethargic.  "

Both of them had opted for melon as a first course.  The flesh was cool
without being icy, and deliciously juicy.

The herbs in which Sarah's salmon had been baked brought out the
delicate flavour of the fish.  Her vegetables were crisp and tasty, and
the coffee she ordered after her meal fragrant and piping hot.

Joss had cheese and biscuits, but Sarah refused anything more.  They
had had the dining room to themselves, although Sarah noticed that it
was starting to fill up as they left.

They reached the ferry terminal just as the cars were starting to load
and did not have long to wait to get on board.

The channel crossing was uneventful.  Joss found them both seats in the
bar, and Sarah sat back and watched the comings and goings of their
fellow passengers.

Because they were not heading directly for the South of France once
they had cleared Calais they had the road almost completely to
themselves.

Joss pulled into the side of the road and stopped the car.

"Your turn to drive, that's if you still feel up to it?"

Sarah nodded her head, climbing out of her own seat to take the one
Joss had vacated.

Ralph had taught her to drive the year she was eighteen and he had been
a patient, although exacting teacher.  Sarah knew that she was a
competent driver, but even so she felt slightly nervous.  Joss's large
Porsche with its automatic transmission was not the sort of car she was
used to driving, but Joss explained the mechanics of it to her
patiently once he had assured himself that her seat was properly
adjusted and that she could see through the rear-view mirror.

"You drive and I'll navigate," he suggested, showing Sarah where to
insert the ignition key.  He shot back the cuff of the thick cotton
sports shirt he was wearing to glance at his watch.

"It's just gone eight now.  We'll swop over at ten, if that's all right
with you?"

Although at first she was a little unsure of the unfamiliar heavy car,
by the time she had travelled twenty miles in it, Sarah was beginning
to relax and enjoy the feeling of power that came with the large
engine.  Joss was an excellent navigator, giving precise and clear
instructions in plenty of time.  The roads were practically deserted,
and Joss was a surprisingly relaxed passenger, and unlike most of the
men she knew quite content to leave her to do the driving unchecked.

At ten o'clock they stopped and swopped over.  Joss drove faster than
she had done, but very safely.  The route they were taking was clearly
marked on the map he handed to her and as he drove he explained that
they were making for the Cote-d'Or wine region of France, where his
friend's vineyard was.

"They produce a traditional Beaujolais-mostly premier cru wines
although Jacques is hoping that this year's wine will be graded as
grande cru."

"Have you known him long?"  It was ridiculous to feel this intense
desire to gather up just as much information as she could to hoard like
a miser and gloat over in the empty days when Joss himself would no
longer be part of her life.

"I met him when I was working as a foreign correspondent.  Like me, he
was a reporter.  He had an elder brother who had inherited the
vineyard.  Renauld was killed by an Algerian bomb in Paris eight years
ago.  He wasn't married, and so Jacques inherited the vineyard and is
making a great success of it."

"And he's still managing to find time to write a family history as
well?"

"No, it's Louise, his wife, who is really collating the information for
him, although Jacques will write the book.  Chateau d'Anterre came to
the family as a gift from Napoleon; apparently Jacques' ancestor was a
fellow Corsican who fought alongside Bonaparte and rose to the rank of
Marshal."

"But for them to gain the chateau someone else must have been
dispossessed," Sarah remarked.

"Yes, that's true.  It's rather a romantic story though.  The tale goes
that all the male members of the family d'Anterre perished during the
revolution but one member of the family, a girl, was saved and brought
up in the village by her nurse.  When Jacques' ancestor came to see the
chateau Bonaparte had given him he saw this girl and fell in love with
her without knowing who she was."

"Mmm...1 suspect their marriage owed more to French practicality than
genuine romance," Sarah said wryly, 'but it does make a pretty story.
"

She was looking at the map as she spoke and looked up, suddenly
conscious of Joss's attention focused on her.

"Don't you believe in such a thing as love at first sight then,
Sarah?"

Suddenly she was tongue-tied.  What could she say?

"I suppose it can happen," she admitted reluctantly at last, hoping
that he wouldn't guess the reason for her burning cheeks and trembling
hands.

"But you yourself have never experienced it?"

Why was he goading her like this?  He must know by now how she felt
about him.  Luckily before she was obliged to reply they came to a
crossroads where they had to turn off the autoroute they had been
travelling along, and by the time she had finished giving Joss
directions, he seemed to have forgotten his earlier question.

At some time or another, Sarah couldn't have said when, sleep overcame
her, and it became increasingly hard to fight against the hypnotic hum
of the engine and the overpowering desire to close her eyes.

She fought against doing so, but the struggle became too much for her.
Her head slumped to one side and came to rest against Joss's shoulder
but she was too deeply asleep to realise it.

"Wake up, sleepyhead, we're here..."

Sarah was having the most delicious dream.  She was asleep in Joss's
bed.  Joss's voice a vibrant purr against her ear.  She wriggled and
muttered a protest, not wanting to abandon her dream.

"Sarah ... wake up."  He was shaking her now.

Unwillingly, Sarah opened her eyes, blinking when she realised that at
least some of her dream had been real.  She might not be in Joss's bed,
but she was curled up against his side, her head resting on his
shoulder, one of his arms supporting her as his other hand gently shook
her.

"You shouldn't have let me sleep for so long," she protested.

"You must be exhausted."  She struggled to pull away from his shoulder,
wondering why his mouth should tighten so ominously but before he could
say anything light streamed out of the door suddenly opened in the
building ahead of them.  Apart from realising they were in an enclosed
courtyard, Sarah could see very little of their surroundings, but the
man who came out to greet them was typically French.  Dark and wiry
with mobile features, and dark brown eyes that caressed her with warm
sensuality, he exclaimed in English:

"Joss ... mon ami... who is this lovely lady you bring with you...?"

"Hands off, Jacques," Joss drawled, getting out of the car and
embracing his friend.

"Sarah is strictly out of bounds..."

"So."  Amusement crinkled fine lines around his eyes as Joss went to
help Sarah out of the car.  She felt stiff after travelling for so long
and she stumbled against him, her heart pounding with fierce excitement
as his fingers bit into her waist and she felt the warmth of his breath
against her skin.

"Louise begs to be forgiven but she has already retired," the host told
them as he escorted them inside.

"My wife, Louise, is enceinte... how do you say..  with child," he
explained to Sarah, 'and in these last few weeks she tires very easily.
"

"What are you hoping for this time, Jacques... another boy?"

They were in a very traditional and enormous French kitchen of
cavernous proportions, everything in it shining clean.  A simple supper
of bread and cheese was laid out on the well-scrubbed table, a bottle
of wine opened next to it.

Won.  non.  I already have two sons.  this time I should very much wish
to have a daughter .  and Louise also, although we shall be happy with
whatever Ie bon dieu sends us.  But what about you.  Joss?  "

Jacques teased his friend.

"Is it not time you were producing sons of your own?  What do you say,
Sarah?"  Jacques asked Sarah with a liquid smile.

"Do you not think Joss would make a good papa...?"

Pain seized her heart in a cramping grip, unwanted images of Joss
holding a child with Helene's fair hair and delicate features
tormenting her mind.  It astounded her that she should experience this
primitive, driving need to conceive his child herself; the strength of
the impulse so strong that she could actually feel the ache of loss
inside her because she knew it was impossible.  Why didn't Joss explain
to his old friend that she was simply his assistant?  It was plain to
Sarah that Jacques had misread the situation and thought that there was
a much more intimate relationship between them.

"I'm afraid Sarah is rather tired," she heard Joss saying when she made
no response.

"It's been a long drive."

"But, of course.  Let me show you to your room.  And you.  Joss ... do
you too wish to seek your bed, or will you join me in a late supper and
perhaps a discussion of the kind we used to have when we were
correspondents together?"

"Supper sounds a great idea," Sarah heard Joss saying.

"I'll go out and get our bags before you show Sarah to her room."

He was gone only briefly, returning carrying two cases, and then Sarah
was following her host down what seemed like miles of passages, and
then up several flights of stairs until he stopped outside a heavy
wooden door.

"We have put you and Joss in the Tower suite separate rooms I'm afraid
and neither of them large enough for a double bed, but there is a
connecting door either side of your shared bathroom.  It was Louise's
idea to put you in here.  She thought you would like the view..."

Scarlet cheeked and embarrassed, Sarah waited for Joss to explain that
they were not lovers, but to her surprise, he simply shouldered open
the door and dropped her suitcase inside it, emerging again to say
lightly, "Sweet dreams, Sarah," and then, dropping a brief kiss on the
corner of her mouth, he turned to follow Jacques to another door, and
having deposited his case, followed their host back downstairs.

Thoroughly bemused, Sarah wandered into her room.  As Jacques had said
it was only small, but completely round and she realised with a tiny
thrill of delight that she was in a tower room.  Another door led out
of the room and she opened it to discover a bathroom on the other side,
with a door in the opposite wall which she guessed must lead into
Joss's room.  She didn't open it, locking the door on her own side, and
running a bath.  She suspected that it would be quite some time before
Joss came to bed, and she had no fears that he would disturb her when
he did.  Probably he hadn't corrected Jacques' mistaken assumption that
they were lovers because he didn't want to embarrass his friend, and
after all they were only staying the one day.  Tomorrow evening they
would be continuing their journey to Cannes, and she very much doubted
that they would be given adjoining rooms in Helene's villa!

"Sarah, wake up!"

Sarah opened her eyes reluctantly, blinking in the strong morning
sunlight, totally disorientated for several seconds, filled by a tidal
wave of bliss as she looked up into Joss's eyes.

"Joss..."  Her voice was sleepily sensual, her pleasure at discovering
him there too intense to be concealed.

He was only wearing a to welling robe tied loosely round the waist and
she longed to reach up and slide her hands into its deep vee opening
and caress the tanned warmth of his skin.

"Sarah, you locked the bathroom door on my side last night and I can't
get in to shower."

Joss's curt words brought her back to reality with brutal speed.

Immediately she cringed back from him, horrified by how close she had
come to thoroughly embarrassing them both.  Another second and she
would actually have been touching him .  caressing him.  "I'll go and
shower now," Joss said curtly as he stepped back from her.

"Give me fifteen minutes and then you can have the bathroom.  I thought
I'd better warn you that I was using it."

No, he wouldn't want her walking in on him, Sarah thought achingly, her
mind tormenting her with mental images of his naked body.

In the end she waited for half an hour before getting out of bed and
opening the bathroom door.

The room was empty but the tangy fragrance of Joss's cologne clung
aromatically to the air.  She was assailed by such a wave of longing
that she had to blink away weak tears.  She didn't know which was
worst, being close to him or being away from him; both, in their
differing ways, were acute forms of torment.

The day passed quickly, although Sarah did not see much of Joss.  He
spent most of it with Jacques, discussing his book, while Louise
entertained Sarah.

In her eighth month of pregnancy, she complained to Sarah that she was
beginning to feel the summer heat a trial.  A pretty, smiling brunette,
Sarah felt an instant kinship with her and it was no hardship to spend
the morning in her company.

The vineyard was very much a business concern, she explained to Sarah,
adding that at this time of the year, lunch was a very scrambled casual
affair, and that normally Jacques ate his outside in the vineyards with
his men.

They talked about the work she had done on Jacques' book, and Sarah
found herself wishing she could spend longer with her.

"Have you known Joss long?"  she asked, when lunch was over.

"Only a few weeks."  It made Sarah feel guilty to know that Louise
thought of them as an established couple when in fact they were no such
thing.

"He's a very attractive man--I've always thought so, and not just
because of his looks.  It is not often one meets such a truly romantic
Englishman and Joss is very romantic, I think.

That is why he has not married before now.  He once told me he was
waiting for a very special woman; that he wanted to fall deeply and
completely in love and that nothing else would do.  I'm so glad it
isn't going to be Helene.  He brought her here once but I didn't like
her.  At the time he seemed very involved with her, but obviously
now--' She paused obviously not wanting to embarrass her, but Sarah was
beyond that-Louise was so wrong.  Joss cared nothing for her.

And Helene?

Tears stung the back of Sarah's throat.  Was Joss deeply and completely
in love with Helene?  Perhaps not in the sense that Louise meant; but
he certainly desired her, which was more than he felt for her.

They left the chateau late in the afternoon, with Louise and Jacques
both commanding them to visit them again soon.

"What did you think of them?"  Joss asked Sarah as they drove away.

It struck her as an odd question for him to ask her, after all what
could her opinion of his friends matter to him.  Even so she replied
honestly.

"I liked them both, especially Louise... How long will it take us to
reach Cannes?"  she asked him, changing the subject.

"It will be late tonight before we get there, but that shouldn't bother
Helene, she's very much a night person."

CHAPTER NINE

sarah discovered just how true that statement was when they arrived at
Helene's villa in what appeared to be the middle of a party.

The villa was several miles outside Cannes itself, set into the
hillside, and would have spectacular views of the sea, Sarah suspected
as she wearily allowed Joss to help her out of the car.  Unlike her he
seemed completely fresh and untired; as vigorously masculine as ever. A
fact which Helene seemed to appreciate as she appeared in front of
them, wearing a clingy silk dress that moulded the curves of her
breasts and clung seductively to her long legs.

Watching her run into Joss's arms, Sarah had to turn away to hide her
pain.  Jealousy ripped through her with the violence of spiked talons
tearing at her insides, leaving burning trails of fire.

"Joss, darling, at last... Mmm ... you look divine."

It was impossible for Sarah to drag her gaze away from the pouting red
mouth caressing Joss's, even though she longed to do so.

"You must come and meet Harry--he's offering me the most marvelous part
in his new film."

"In a minute..."  Joss disentangled himself from Helene's embrace and
turned back to Sarah.

"Sarah's dead on her feet, Helene ... if someone could show her to her
room."

For the first time Helene deigned to notice her presence, and Sarah was
weakly conscious of the contrast they must present, Helene glowing
vibrantly with life, her skin tanned and sleek; her make-up and hair
immaculate, while in direct contrast, she looked pale and washed out,
her hair lank, and her face white with tiredness.  No wonder Helene was
looking so triumphant, although she had scowled faintly on first seeing
that Joss wasn't alone.

"Oh, yes ... your little assistant.  She's sharing a room with one of
the maids.  I'll get someone to take her to it.  You're right.  Joss,"
Helene added with an acid trill of laughter.

"She looks completely washed out..."

Silently digesting the status to which she had been reduced, Sarah was
left to her own devices, while Helene whisked Joss away.

It was almost half an hour before a young girl came up to her and
touched her apologetically on the arm.

"You are the assistant of Monsieur Howard?"  she asked and when Sarah
nodded her head, she added, "Please to come this way."

The room Sarah was to share with one of the maids was barely large
enough to hold the two single beds and narrow chest of drawers that
were its only furniture, but Sarah was too dred to care about the
paucity of her surroundings.  The only bitter thought that did cross
her mind as she prepared for bed was to wonder where Joss was sleeping.
With Helene?  Stop it, she warned herself, stop thinking like that,
it's no business of yours.

The maid whose room she was sharing spoke as little English as Sarah
did French, but even so Sarah found her a friendly girl.  The household
staff rose at six, she explained to Sarah in the morning when her alarm
had woken both of them.

Wide awake once the girl had gone about her duties, Sarah went in
search of the bathroom she had been shown last night.  The staff's
quarters were right at the top of the four-storey villa, in what must
once have been attics, the bathroom antiquated but scrupulously
clean.

Having showered and dressed Sarah made her way downstairs and out into
the gardens of the villa, empty at this early part of the day apart
from a couple of gardeners working silently on the flower beds.

As she had suspected last night, the villa commanded a breathtaking
view of the Mediterranean, a panorama of wooded slopes, pastel-painted
villas, and then the deep dense blue of the sea stretching out below
her.

Joss had explained to her that Helene was hiring the villa for the
summer, and looking at the size of it, Sarah guessed that it must be
costing the actress a small fortune.  The thronging crowd that had met
her tired and confused gaze last night was missing this morning; a
solitary male seated under one of the striped umbrella'd tables by the
pool apparently engrossed in some papers he had spread out on the table
in front of him.

Nevertheless he must have heard because he lifted his head and turned
it in Sarah's direction, frowning slightly as he looked at her.

Sarah ventured a brief smile, and offered a tentative "Good morning."

"Hi, there...1 thought I had the place to myself at this time of day. I
haven't seen you around before, have I?"

"No, we only arrived last night."  Sarah introduced herself and learned
that her companion's name was Harry Weinberger.

She recognised it instantly.  This must be the film director Helene had
mentioned to Joss the previous night.

"So what brings you here?  It isn't like Helene to welcome feminine
competition."  His rather full mouth twisted slightly, the cool blue
eyes flickering appreciatively over Sarah's slim, jean-clad legs.

He was older than Joss .  somewhere in his late forties, but there was
an earthy attractiveness about him that Sarah suspected few women would
be immune to.  It wasn't so much his physical looks, she thought
watching him, it was more the aura of power that clung to him, an
almost tangible awareness of himself as a man.  That aura of power
would be very attractive to her sex, and she could well understand why
Helene had been so cock-a-hoop about the role he had promised her in
his new film.

They chatted for several minutes, although Sarah did not volunteer any
information as to what she was doing at the villa.  A natural inborn
caution urged her to say nothing about Helene's book--she had no wish
to fall foul of the actress by discussing her private affairs behind
her back.

"I normally eat my breakfast round about now," Harry announced,
glancing at his watch.

"Helene never makes an appearance before lunchtime, and so if you want
something to eat, I suggest you join me.  Am I right in thinking you
arrived with Helene's latest male acquisition?"  he questioned,
watching Sarah sharply.

Sarah turned slightly away from him so that he wouldn't see the agony
in her eyes.

"Yes... Joss is my boss," she admitted colourlessly.

"Your boss?"

She could hear the curiosity beneath the transatlantic drawl, and
suspected that he was about to question her further.

"Thanks for the offer of breakfast," she interrupted quickly, 'but
after all that driving down here yesterday I feel like stretching my
legs.  If you'll excuse me I think I'll walk down to the village.  It
isn't very far, is it?  "

"Only a couple of miles, not that there's very much down there.  I'm
going into Cannes later this morning.  I'll give you a lift there if
you like."

"Thank you, but I'll have to check with Joss."

It was a good excuse to escape on, although as she hurried away from
the villa, Sarah wasn't really sure why she should have felt any need
to escape.  Harry Weinberger was an urbane, sophisticated man, and
hardly one who was likely to be interested in her, but there had been a
certain look in his eyes as he studied her slender figure that had set
alarm bells ringing in her brain.  Who knew, he might even have thought
she had deliberately sought him out.  As a film director he had no
doubt developed a certain degree of cynicism towards her sex, Sarah
reflected absently as she set off in the direction of the village.

As Harry had told her there was nothing much there, but the
mouth-watering smell of freshly baked croissants filtering out from the
patisserie proved far too tempting for her to resist, and a warm wooden
bench seat beneath the plane trees in the small dusty square proved a
fascinating spot to sit down and consume the croissant she had just
bought, as she watched the villagers go about their daily business.

Her enjoyment of the scene in front of her was heightened by her
reluctance to return to the villa, but she could not stay here for
ever, she reminded herself.  Sooner or later she was going to have to
face up to the reality of Joss and Helene as a couple--as established
lovers.

Reluctantly she got to her feet and began the long walk back to the
villa.

The first person she saw as she walked down the villa's drive was Joss.
He was pacing the drive frowning, the taut movements of his body
indicative of a pent-up, ferocious tension.  He was dressed in cream
cotton jeans and a thin, shortsleeved shirt, and Sarah's heart leapt
betrayingly into her throat as she simply stood and stared at him,
avidly drinking in the sight of him .  the way the heavy cotton clung
to the long lines of his thighs .  the way his hair grew thick and dark
into his nape.

He turned round and saw her and his frown deepened.  He didn't look
like a man who had just spent the night making love she thought
heartbreakingly feeling the waves of tension beating out of him even
from several yards away.

"There you are.  Just where in hell have you been?"  he demanded
harshly, striding towards her.

"I've turned this damned place upside down looking for you."

"I walked down to the village."  To her consternation Sarah found that
she was flushing, guiltily conscious of the fact that she was here
ostensibly to work, and that she was not a free agent.  As a palliative
she offered without thinking, "I wouldn't have gone out, but Harry
Weinberger told me Helene never gets up before lunchtime."

Instantly, she was aware of her mistake.

"So?"  Joss demanded icily.

What could she say?  Luckily Joss seemed disinclined to press for her
response, instead hurrying her towards the villa.

"I'm seeing Helene at twelve to talk to her about her book.  I want you
in on the meeting to take notes."  He frowned and came to an abrupt
halt.

"And just how did you get so pally with Weinberger?"

"He was out by the pool this morning when I walked past.  We got
talking."

"Did you now?  Well you'd better not let Helene catch you just talking
to him.  She considers Harry to be very much her own private
property."

Joss was still frowning, and Sarah felt a wave of sympathy for him wash
over her.  Could he be jealous of the film director?  If so, she knew
exactly how he must be feeling.  She wanted to reach out and touch him
.  to offer him some sort of comfort, but she knew she daren't let
herself come into physical contact with him.  It might prove too much
for her shaky self-control.

In the event it was half-past-twelve before Helene deigned to see them.
She received them-and that was the only word Sarah could use to
adequately describe the languorous manner in which she lay on a
silk-covered chaise-longue-in the pretty sitting room off her bedroom,
her voluptuous body sheathed in pure silk satin lounging pyjamas, her
hair and make-up immaculate, but her expression petulant and bored,
anger sparkling in her eyes the moment she saw Sarah.

"Joss, darling, surely we don't need your little assistant here...1 was
looking forward to having you to myself," she pouted.

Sarah couldn't look at Joss.  Instead she started to move back to the
door, but he stopped her, fastening hard fingers round her wrist.

"Sarah stays, Helene," he said coolly.

"I need her to make notes.

Now .  what was the problem you needed to discuss so urgently?  "

Helene pouted, but after another acid look at Sarah she started
explaining.

"I wanted to do a chapter about my relationship with John Vincent--he
directed me in my first film, and everyone said that he exploited me,
paying me a flat fee instead of offering me a percentage... Of course
the whole world knows that he's gay and that he dislikes attractive
women.  He was madly jealous of me at the time because Gray was so
attracted to me, and he wanted Gray himself...1 want to put all this in
the book.  Joss, but Richard doesn't agree."

"He's quite right," Joss told her after a few moments' silence.

"You don't want to be landed with a libel or slander suit, Helene..."

The actress's eyes flashed, her mouth hardening with temper.

"It's my book.  Joss," she said angrily, 'and I'll put in it what I
damn well want to.  If you don't publish it, someone else will.  In
fact--' "Stop threatening me, Helene."  Sarah marvelled that Joss Could
keep so calm.

"You asked me for my advice and I'm giving it to you."

"But can't you see?  It would serve John right if I exposed him..  made
him look the pathetic little creep that he is."  Ugly patches of colour
darkened Helene's skin, suddenly making her look all of her thirty-odd
years.

"He kept me out of the latest Harding film you know..  and everyone
knows that it's bound to get an Emmy.  That part was made for me, but
he gave it I'm going to put that chapter in my book.  Joss ... and
you're not going to stop me.  Oh, Joss, I thought you'd be on my side,"
she cried, suddenly abandoning her anger and getting off the
chaise-longue, to cling to Joss's side, curling her nails into his
skin.

Sarah wanted to look away but she could not.  The sight of the actress
clinging to Joss exercised a horrible sort of fascination over her,
compelling her to watch, no matter how much the sight tormented her.

"I am, but you can't seem to see it."  Unbelievably Joss was now
smiling rather wryly.

"I do understand your desire for revenge, Helene."  Was that really a
certain cynical dryness she heard in his voice, or was she imagining
things, Sarah wondered?

"But you haven't thought of the high price you might have to pay.
Vincent will most definitely sue if anyone publishes what you want to
write."

"I don't believe I'm hearing this.  Joss."  Helene released him and
started pacing the floor.

"In fact, I'm going to pretend I haven't heard it.  I suggest that you
take yourself and your little assistant off and have a very good think
about what you've just said... When you've done that, I'm sure you'll
see that I'm right, darling..."

"And if I don't...?"

Joss's voice was totally devoid of all expression.

"Well then, darling," Helene told him malevolently.

"I'll just have to find another publisher, won't I?"

The rest of the day was a nightmare.  Joss disappeared after their
interview with Helene reappearing only after the al fresco lunch which
was served on the patio.  As on the previous evening the pool and
garden area were crowded with people, all of whom seemed to greet one
another as 'darling', most of them men Sarah noticed, and all of whom
seemed to form an adoring court around Helene.  Watching her fondle the
sun-bronzed back of one young boy who, despite his arresting physical
appearance, could not have been a day over twenty years old, Sarah
thought it was just as well that Joss wasn't there to witness what was
going on.

He reappeared during the afternoon, dressed in swimming shorts, and
looking rather grim.  Watching the fast, demanding crawl with which he
traversed up and down the pool for a dozen or so lengths, Sarah felt
her heart ache with sympathy for him.  He was not a man who would find
it easy to stand on one side while his lover openly demonstrated her
interest in other men.  Harry Weinberger was sitting with Helene now,
Sarah noted, absently admiring the skill with which the older man
detached the young Adonis from Helene's side, and then captured her
attention for himself.

"Envying her?"  She hadn't seen Joss get out of the pool, and he
showered small droplets of warm water on her skin as he came to sit
down beside her.

"No," Sarah told him, with clear-eyed honesty, wondering why on earth
he should think she was the slightest bit attracted to the film
director, 'just admiring his technique.  "

"Well, he's certainly had plenty of practice.  He's just got rid of his
fourth wife..."

"Do you think Helene will back down over the book?"  Sarah asked him,
wanting to distract his attention from the other couple, knowing what
he must be feeling at the sight of them together.

"I doubt it.  She can be very stubborn when she wants to be."

"So what will you do?"

"I've told Helene my stance on the subject," Joss said coolly, 'and I'm
not going to change my mind not through bloody-mindedness but because I
know I'm right.  If we went ahead and published the book as Helene
wants to write it, John Vincent would sue us straight away, and I can't
say I would blame him.  Helene's letting her desire to pay him out
blind her to reality, I'm afraid.  "

"And if we lose the book and she takes it to another publisher..."

She held her breath, knowing how much he had been depending on having
the book in the shops for Christmas.

"Better to lose the book than face a law suit," he said, shrugging
easily.

"It isn't the end of the world.  To be honest, now that I've read what
she's done so far, I'm not very impressed.  Richard, her agent, has
done most of the work for her, but in reality it's nothing more than a
lot of badly cobbled together gossip.  Even so it would have sold after
some work by a good ghost writer.  However, we can't win 'em all. Still
I suppose I'd better go and see if I can talk some sense into her."  He
got up, his body sleek and supple, already a warm brown.  She longed to
reach out and touch him; to run her hands up over the silken planes of
his skin, to.  Gulping painfully, she closed her eyes and settled back
in her lounger, mentally comparing her own very respectable chain-store
bikini to the far more daring garments the other women were wearing. 
Most of them were bare-breasted, with bodies that spoke of endless
hours in gyms and working out.

Against her will, she glanced across to where Joss was sitting with
Helene and Harry Weinberger.  Helene was stroking the director's bare
forearm, leaning into his body, laughing up at him, her every movement
calculated to make Joss jealous, Sarah recognised, knowing that this
was the actress's way of punishing him for defying her.  She didn't
know how Joss could stand it, and she marvelled at and admired his
self-control.

A lesser man would have given in.  but Joss wouldn't, she reflected.
Nothing would deflect him from his decision, and she suspected that
Helene would not be pleased about that.  She was a woman who was used
to commanding the adoration and obedience of her men, but Joss was not
cast in that mould.

Her long fingers curled round Harry Weinberger's thigh, her eyes
narrowing in sexual pleasure as she stroked the firm flesh.  See, she
seemed to be saying to Joss .  see what you are missing, what pleasure
I could give you .  but Joss seemed to be oblivious to her manoeuvres,
Sarah thought mechanically, knowing exactly how she would feel if she
was there in his place, watching him openly and very sensually
caressing someone else while she was at his side.

Unable to bear any more Sarah got up and went inside.  Her small room
at the top of the house was hot and stuffy, but at least up there she
didn't have to endure the sight of Helene tormenting Joss--and enjoying
every minute of it.

The stuffiness in her room made her head ache, but Sarah was reluctant
to go back outside.  She found some magazines that belonged to the maid
and flicked idly through them, wishing with all her heart that Joss had
left her behind.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside made her frown and put
the magazine down, her frown changing to surprise as Joss thrust open
the door and walked in.

"Good God," he exclaimed looking round the tiny room.

"It's like an oven in here.  Can't you open the window?"

Sarah shook her head.

"No, they're all screwed down.  Perhaps these rooms were once
nurseries.  Did you want me for something?"

"Yes we're leaving just as soon as you're ready," he told her
tersely.

"Leaving!"  Sarah stared at him.

"Have you...?  Has Helene...?

"The answer to both those questions is " no"," he told her with dry
irony.

"Helene it seems is more interested in securing a part in Weinberger's
new film than discussing her book, so we might as well leave."

Poor Joss.  Sarah could imagine how he must be suffering, forced to
watch Helene flirting with Harry Weinberger.  No wonder he wanted to
leave.

"It won't take me long to pack," she assured him quickly.

"I'll meet you downstairs, in say... half an hour."

"Fine.  I'll go and give our hostess the good news.  I'm quite sure our
presence won't be missed."

He was hiding his bitterness well, even managing to sound faintly
derisive, but Sarah wasn't deceived.

Helene didn't even bother to see them off, and Sarah felt she could
well understand the reason for the tension hardening the bones of
Joss's face as they drove away.

It wasn't until they were clear of Cannes that he spoke to her, and
then only to say briefly, "I hope to God we can find somewhere to stay
tonight.  It's not going to be easy, right in the height of the
season."

His prediction proved all too accurate and it was well after ten
o'clock when they eventually found rooms in a small family run auberge
a few miles off the main tourist route, in a small village.

They would have to share a bathroom.  Joss told Sarah briefly as he
signed the register, but Sarah was beyond caring.  They seemed to have
been travelling for ever, and the long journey down to Cannes, and the
tension of their stay at the villa, were now catching up on her.

"I've organised a meal for us," Joss told her, 'but first I need a
shower.  " He grimaced, running his hand through his hair.

"God, I'm tired..."

He looked it, too.

"You use the bathroom first then," she offered.

"I'm not too bad," she fibbed, 'after all you're the one who's been
doing all the driving.  "

She gave him half an hour before going upstairs herself.  The door to
the bathroom they were to share was open.  Joss had obviously vacated
it.  She was too tired herself to bother about finding anything special
to wear.  What did it matter anyway?  Joss wouldn't notice.  His mind
would be on Helene.

A soft cotton dress lay at the top of her suitcase and grabbing it and
clean underwear she made for the bathroom.

Her shower revived her a little, and feeling at least clean and fresh
she went downstairs in search of Joss and her meal.

The small dining room was empty.  Frowning slightly she went outside
thinking he might be in the garden, but it, too, was deserted.  On her
way back into the foyer, she bumped into the proprietress, who shrugged
her shoulders and looked blank when Sarah asked her in her schoolgirl
French if she had seen Joss.

He must still be in his room .  perhaps waiting for her, she realised,
going back upstairs slowly.

His bedroom was opposite hers, the door slightly open.  Sarah tapped on
it and walked in, coming to an abrupt halt, his name dying on her lips
as she saw Joss sprawled out across the bed on his stomach, the brief
towel wrapped round his hips his only covering.

Her entrance had obviously woken him, and he turned his head, staring
groggily up at her.  Something in the way she was watching him must
have betrayed her because almost instantly the grogginess disappeared
from his eyes to be replaced by a glittering febrile intensity.

His glance swept her from head to toe, leaving her skin burning.  He
got up off the bed, the same, but suddenly different, dangerous in a
predatory unleashed way that trailed flutters of alarm down her spine.
This was not the Joss whose control she had envied and admired as he
sat watching Helene flirt with Harry Weinberger.  This was a man whose
emotions were most definitely not under any sort of control at all she
recognised numbly as he came towards her.

"What is it, Sarah?"

How silky and soft his voice was, but dangerous, too, setting her
pulses thudding in primitive warning.

"I came ... to tell you that our meal was ready."

"Did you..  but it wasn't food you were thinking about just now was it,
Sarah?"  He had drawn level with her now and she could smell the musky
male scent of his skin.  She wanted to turn and leave the room .  to
escape from the danger she could feel closing in around her, but she
simply could not move.

"You were looking at me as though you couldn't wait to feel my skin
against your own... as though you couldn't wait to touch me."  His
voice was low and faintly rasping now, making her shiver in tense
reaction.  She wanted to deny what he was saying .  to escape from the
humiliation he was forcing on her, but she couldn't.  She was like a
helpless rabbit mesmerised by a hawk.

"Do you want to touch me, Sarah?  Do you want to feel my flesh against
your own?  Were you remembering what it was like between us?"  He
laughed suddenly, a harshly bitter sound.

"Joss ... please, I know why you're doing this..."  Her throat hurt as
she forced the words out.

"I know how you feel about Helene."  She risked a brief look at him and
found that he had gone tensely still, his eyes narrowing on hers.

"I know you..."

"What is it you're trying to tell me, Sarah?"  he demanded softly.

"That you're jealous of Helene?  Were you jealous of her, Sarah?"  he
probed, closing the distance between them.

"Of this.  Were you jealous of this...?"

His mouth was on her own, taking it without finesse or delicacy, his
arms locking round her like bands of iron as his self-control was
blasted away completely and he gave in to the tightly reined emotions
she had sensed churning within him all day.

She knew she ought to resist .  that it was not her he Wanted, but the
sheer sensuality of his kiss exercised its own dark power.  Against her
will she responded to it, her lips parting to the thrusting demand of
his tongue.

His body burned against her own, his hands urgent and ungentle as he
caressed her.  She tried to break free of him, appalled by the sudden
pressure his arms exerted on her body as he restrained her.

"Don't fight me tonight, Sarah," he muttered against her throat.

"I

need this too much to stop now.  You shouldn't have come in here .  but
now that you have.  "

His heartbeat thudded crazily into her chest, all sense and reason
suspended as she found herself responding instinctively to the male
lure of him.  This was the man she loved .  wanting her.  needing
her.

"Stay with me tonight, Sarah."  His mouth touched hers, lightly, less
lightly, and then very fiercely as he reinforced his need.  She could
feel it in his body; in the hard urgency of his muscles, and in the
tormenting throb of his arousal.

It was easy now to forget how he had rejected her .  that he didn't
love her, when she stood within the circle of his arms, and his mouth
was slowly caressing the tender arch of her throat.  Without realising
she had moved she felt the smooth skin of his back beneath her palms, a
long shudder of pleasure rippling through his body as she slowly
caressed the supple flesh.  His teeth bit gently into the vulnerable
juncture of her throat and shoulder, and then again less gently, so
that it was her turn to shudder and cling helplessly to him as he eased
down the zip of her dress.

She was almost feverish with the need to be rid of her clothes.  She
wanted to feel the satin glide of his body against her own.  She wanted
to touch him, to taste him.  Blindly she placed her lips against the
hollow of his throat, amazed and thrilled by the explosive sounds of
pleasure he made beneath her tentative caress, his fingers against the
vertebrae of her spine, pressing her into his body so that her breasts
were flattened against his chest.

"Why the hell do you have to wear so many clothes?"  He muttered the
protest against her ear as he unfastened and removed her bra, holding
her slightly away from him as he cupped and studied the aroused
fullness of her breasts.

"I can't believe you're real."  He said it slowly, like someone caught
up in a dream, his eyes dark and veiled, almost unfocused.

"Come to bed with me now, Sarah," he muttered against her mouth, slowly
drawing her towards the bed.

Sarah went unresistingly with him, letting him pull her down beside him
on the bed, watching almost dreamily as he threw off his towel and
removed her briefs.  Her body knew his now.  knew it and reacted
immediately to the proximity of it, her senses already savouring the
pleasures she knew were to come.

"Sarah."  Joss whispered her name against her mouth, kissing her
slowly, his hand cupping her jaw, holding her beneath his mouth as it
ravaged hers with increasingly urgent kisses.  His heart was thudding
at twice its normal rate, the heat coming off his skin burning her own.
Beneath his breath he was muttering words she couldn't decipher; his
hand leaving her face to travel along her throat and down to her
breast, his fingertips lightly grazing her already erect nipples.

"Joss..."  Sarah was barely aware of moaning his name as she arched
eagerly beneath his hands, but she heard the hoarse note of desire in
his voice as he demanded rawly, "What is it you want, Sarah?  Is it
this?"  His mouth touched her throat, caressing it moistly.

"This...?"

His head dipped further, his tongue tracing slow circles against the
aureole of her breasts.  She was dissolving in pleasure, Sarah thought
hazily, melting in those circles of fire Joss was painting on her body.
She reached up towards him, dragging her nails protestingly along his
shoulder, unable to endure the sensual torment of his warm mouth
against her skin.  Her teeth found his shoulder and bit protestingly,
her body shuddering in heated delight as Joss's teeth caught against
her nipple as he dragged in a deep breath.

"Do that to me again and I won't be responsible for how I react," he
muttered thickly.

"I want to feel your mouth against my skin, Sarah," he told her
huskily, 'it does things to me that I can't begin to describe.  "

Listening to him was doing things to her that she couldn't begin to
describe, Sarah acknowledged hazily.  The erotic mental images he was
drawing for her, were turning her blood to fire, drugging her senses .
making her shudder in delicate response to what he was saying.

"Make love to me, Sarah."  He murmured the command with aching urgency,
drawing her down against his body.

Her fingers clutched at his shoulder and then relaxed, tracing the hard
muscles beneath his skin, her lips instinctively feathering light
kisses along the same path.  Hesitant at first, Sarah felt her
confidence grow as Joss responded openly to her caresses, inviting them
to become more intimate.

Her lingers touched the hard flatness of his belly and he shuddered
convulsively, muttering i her name, but when she drew away his hand |
covered hers, holding it against his body, moving it to where he
throbbed demandingly.

The maleness of him beneath her hand was distinctly arousing, her
stomach muscles tightening, desire flooding through her, weakening her
so that she wasn't sure which of them it was who shivered.

Her need to feel the life force of him pulsing deep within her was
overwhelming.

"Sarah."  Feverishly Joss caressed her body, drawing her up against
him, moving against her in urgent demand.  She wanted him so much.  The
intensity of it coiled achingly within her, exploding into liquid heat
when his fingers touched the velvet moistness from which the heat
radiated.

"You want me."  His voice was thick and drugged with passion, slurred
faintly with an edge of masculine triumph.  Beneath the open sexual
desire glittering in his eyes Sarah could sense a more primitive male
delight in his ability to arouse her, to reduce her to this melting,
writhing mass of nerve endings that craved only one release.

And then suddenly she was sick with self- disgust.  What was she doing
allowing Joss to use her as a means of relieving his frustration?  He
didn't want her.  not in the way that she wanted him, above and beyond
all other human \ beings.  She was simply a body in his bed, a woman
who he could use to forget Helene for a few brief hours.

He sensed her withdrawal immediately, his body tensing, the glitter of
sexual hunger in his eyes replaced by a mingling of anger and.  and
what?  she asked herself achingly.  Pain?  Hardly.

"What's wrong...?"  He wasn't touching her at all now, and in fact had
moved completely away from her.  Treacherously her body missed the heat
and pressure of his.  She shivered, suddenly cold, coming down too
quickly from the high plateau to which he had taken her.

"I think I'd better leave.  Joss."  She made to get out of his bed, but
to her surprise he reached out and stopped her.

"For God's sake, Sarah..."  The words were strained and hoarse.  She
could sense him fighting for self-control and reminded herself that he
had every reason to feel rage against her.  She should never have
allowed their lovemaking to get so far.

"Look ... we have to talk."  He sounded surprisingly gentle, but very,
very tired, as though emotionally he was drained dry.

"I promise you I won't touch you again."

She couldn't hide her expression from him; the bleak misery that filled
every part of her mind and body as she acknowledged what he was saying.
Of course he wouldn't touch her again .  he wouldn't have touched her
at all if it hadn't been for Helene.  Suddenly she was too miserable
and exhausted to conceal the truth from him any longer.

She could not go on working for him feeling the way she did about him.
at this moment in time she simply didn't have the energy or the
willpower to fabricate a suitable lie.  Perhaps after all it was better
to tell him the truth.  After all he had never deliberately set out to
hurt her.  It was hardly his fault that he didn't want her love.  How
much easier everything would have been if there had simply been that
one night between them.  If they had never met again.  But that
wouldn't have stopped you loving him, an inner voice told her.

"Sarah, what is it?"

Wearily she told him.

"It isn't the fact that you touched me.  Joss."

She shut her eyes as her throat closed on a tight ball of pain, and
admitted huskily, "Far from it.  It's the fact that you were using me
as a substitute for Helene..."

There was no mistaking the quality of the stunned silence that followed
her announcement.  Joss sat up and grasped her arms, pulling her half
upright and snapping on the bedside lamp so that he could see her
properly.

"Say that again?"  he commanded thickly.

Hesitantly Sarah did so, fascinated by the way his fingers tensed into
her skin, his eyes closing as he tipped his head back and swallowed
deeply.

When he spoke his voice was unfamiliar, thick and clogged with a
rawness that made her own pain intensify.

"Like hell!  For God's sake, Sarah!  I was making love to you quite
simply because not to do, was driving me completely out of my mind...
You are driving me out of my mind," he underlined, shaking her and then
before she could stop him dragging her into his arms, his mouth blindly
searching for and finding her own.

He was kissing her .  touching her like a man starved of any physical
contact over a period of months rather than minutes, his mouth moving
on hers with an absorbed intense hunger.

"I love you, Sarah... Surely you realise that?"

She felt the movement of his lips against her own, heard the words but
could not take them in.

"Say something, dammit."  He was shaking her again, or was it he who
was shaking, his face drawn and strained, his eyes almost black,
burning in a face suddenly gaunt with need.

"But how can you?"  She was whispering the question, reaching out to
touch his face with her fingers, registering the convulsive hunger with
which he pressed them to his mouth, feeling the rapid thud of his heart
beneath the palm she had placed against his body to support herself.

"But how can you love me?  You never...1 thought you wanted to get rid
of me that I would read more than you intended into what had happened
between us ... and then there was Helene."

"A smoke screen who I used to stop myself from frightening you off..
and I admit, who I also used to try and make you feel jealous.

Helene has never meant anything to me, Sarah.  She's shallow and vain.
the sort of woman who's more of a turn off than a turn on.  "

"But that night at my flat when you stayed with me ... when I wanted
you."

She saw the look of pain cross his face.

"Did you think I had rejected you?"  He shook his head.

"You were so vulnerable that night, Sarah ... too vulnerable.  I
daren't risk taking what you were offering me in case you regretted it
in the morning.  Suddenly, tonight I was tired of playing games, Sarah,
of holding off in case I frightened you away.  Whether you're ready to
hear this or not, it's too late...1 love you, Sarah...1 fell in love
with you the moment I saw you at the ball.  I couldn't believe what was
happening to me.  how I felt about you but you seemed to feel it,
too..."  He shook his head like a man coming out of a dream and Sarah
felt her heart contract with love and joy.

"I told myself it was all too good to be true, that I was going
headlong into danger, but my heart wouldn't listen," he told her
wryly.

"You've no idea what it did to me when I woke up and found you gone."
His fingers traced the shape of her mouth.

"I

wanted to put you through hell for that.  for the agony you caused me.
"

"But you didn't try to find me."

He didn't deny it.

"No... I'd already taken too much of an emotional beating to risk any
more pain.  You see, Sarah, when you came to me... gave yourself to me
the way you did I thought it was because you shared my feelings...1
thought that when we made love we had established a rapport, a
relationship, that went far beyond the merely physical.  For the first
time in my life I was experiencing the reality of love..  when I woke
up and found you gone I knew that reality had only been an illusion.
Your very absence proclaimed more loudly than any amount of words, that
you did not share my feelings ... that what for me had been a unique
experience I wanted to treasure for the rest of my life, was for you
something you wanted to put behind you and hide from."

"I had no idea you felt like that...1 thought I was just ... just a
one-night stand."

He grimaced faintly.

"Thanks very much.  Didn't I tell you at the time that I didn't go in
for them?  You hurt me, Sarah, and badly...1 was only just beginning to
come to terms with what happened when I walked into Leichner & Holland
and discovered--' The sitting there..."

"Mmm ... and obviously as embarrassed and resentful as hell to discover
I was going to be a permanent feature of your working life.

I almost wanted to kill you when you told me why you'd made love with
me', he admitted rawly, pain reflecting in his eyes for a moment as he
stared down at her.

"I was twisting the truth for self-defence," Sarah admitted.

"Oh, Jane and I had talked about me protecting myself from David by
taking a lover, but I would never have done it."  She smiled
mischievously up at him.

"I saw you before the ball you know...1 was shopping in town with
Jane."

"And?"

"And quite unconsciously I wondered what you would be like as a
lover...1 told myself it was because of what Jane and I had been
discussing, but it was more than that... It was you.  Joss," she
admitted huskily, 'although I wasn't ready to admit with my mind then
what my heart was telling me.  It sounds so ridiculous, falling in love
with a stranger.  "

"Ridiculous..  and at times excruciatingly painful," Joss agreed wryly,
'but nevertheless a reality.  "

"Yes.  That's why I ran away ... why I left that morning.  I woke up
and looked at you and suddenly I was scared.  I knew what we'd had
wasn't enough..  but how could I believe you would feel about me as I
did about you?  For all I knew you might just have wanted a
light-hearted affair, and I knew I couldn't have endured that ... it
seemed safer simply to run."

"But now I've caught you."

"Yes."  Her voice was a breathless tremor.

"And since you're my captive, you're mine to do with as I please..."

"Yes."

"To obey my every command."

He was kissing her now, teasing, light kisses that made her forget
everything but the need to cling to him and mutely demand more..

much more.

He stopped kissing her and lifted his head to study her for a moment.

"Sarah, are you sure triplets don't run in your family?"  he demanded
thickly.

She laughed.  Quite sure.  "

"Mmm ... good."  He was kissing her again and this time it was her turn
to withdraw.

"But twins do," she teased him.

"And in mine.  Nice ... two little girls just like you.  I think I'd
like that."

"Or two little boys just like you."  She said it dreamily, her body
instantly responding to the touch of his hands against it, the look in
his eyes turning her bones fluid.

"Is that what you want?"  He whispered the question against her
mouth.

"Yes, please."

Instantly his expression changed, triumph gleaming in his eyes as he
announced vigorously, "Good.  Then you'll have to marry me first..  I'm
a very conservative type you know.  No wedding, no twins..."

"Is that right?  She laughed at his expression and then said soberly, "
Joss, are you sure I'm what' you want?  "

"More sure than I've been of anything else in my life.  I knew it the
first time I saw you."

Sarah digested his words in silence, the sincerity and depth of them
driving out the last vestiges of her doubts.

Smiling at him she reached up to embrace him, loving the shudder that
racked through his body when hers moved against it.

"Joss, I love you so much..."

"Thank God for that."

His prosaic reception of her declaration was slightly dampening.

"I

thought I was never going to hear you say it," he told her huskily,
correctly reading her expression.

"In so many words that is..."  he teased.

"Your body has already, in the most satisfactory way possible."  He
laughed as she made to hit him with a small fist, kissing her until she
ceased to struggle, until there ceased to be anything other than the
taste and feel of him, and then drawing her down beside him he added
softly, "But I wanted more than the response of your body, Sarah.  I
wanted your heart as well, your commitment ... your love..."

"All that and in return all I get is a vague promise of twins..."

She pretended to be horrified.

"That," Joss agreed dulcetly, 'and, of course, this.  "

Her body melted against him, her lips parting for his kiss, everything
else forgotten as Joss showed her the depth and intensity of his
love.