Lovestruck

Then Sam grinned down at her, mockery glinting in his face. ‘But, Natalie, we’re engaged, aren’t we?’

‘Oh, you think you’re so funny!’ she muttered. Well, it was her own fault for starting this game—she should have remembered that he was a tricky opponent; if you played games with Sam you had to do so with your eyes wide open, and his kiss had tricked her into closing hers. Maybe that was why she had gone a little crazy? Next time she’d keep her eyes wide open.

What next time? she asked herself furiously. There was never going to be another time, thank you very much. Once burnt, twice shy. She wasn’t going within an inch of him in future. She had learnt something this morning that worried her.

Sam could get to her. If he got too close he could make her go crazy. Well, he wasn’t getting another chance to do that to her!

His ring was a little loose on her finger, anyway; her fingers were so much smaller, thinner than his—so it was time she gave it back to him, in case she lost it. She would hate to do that, even if he richly deserved it. She knew how much the ring meant to him and his family, and how valuable it was.

‘Here,’ she said, very flushed, pulling the ring off and handing it to him.

‘Jilting me so soon?’ he reproached, but she noticed he accepted the ring without a second’s hesitation and immediately slid it back onto his own finger with an audible sigh of relief.

‘You know we weren’t really engaged!’ Natalie told him crossly, resenting his eagerness to get his ring back. ‘I didn’t take you seriously last night; I knew you were out of your head. I only kept your ring because I thought you might lose it if I didn’t take care of it. You obviously had no idea what you were doing! I just hope it has taught you a lesson. Maybe next time you go to a party you won’t drink so much.’

He eyed her coldly. ‘Yes, Miss—thank you, Miss!’ Then he grimaced. ‘No, you’re right—I can assure you, I will make sure I never drink that much again. I have the worst headache of my life today.’

‘You deserve it,’ she muttered, moving away.

He looked sharply at her, and then, his voice holding soft threat, said, ‘Be careful, Natalie. Don’t push it too far. Remember, I’m your boss. Now, would you be good enough to finish doing up my shirt?’

The last thing she wanted to do was go any closer to him again, but after being reminded that he was her employer she was wary of refusing point-blank—especially as those hard eyes of his were daring her to argue.

Also, if she refused she would betray something to him. He would realise she was afraid to come near him and he would start thinking about that and jumping to conclusions she didn’t want him to jump to——conclu— sions she had only just begun to suspect herself and needed time to think through.

So without a word she did what he wanted, trying to avoid contact with any part of his body, gingerly pushing the buttons through the buttonholes without touching the bare skin under his shirt. She had to stand far too close to him for comfort, but she kept her eyes lowered all the time to avoid meeting his watchful gaze. Through her lashes she could see Sam’s face, though, his eyes far too probing and thoughtful.

What was he thinking? Don’t even wonder! she told herself. Better not to know. For her own peace of mind!

As soon as the last button was done up she quickly moved away, aware that her face was very pink and her throat beating with awareness. She was going to have to watch herself in future, whenever Sam was around. Since when had he had this effect on her, and why hadn’t she noticed it until now?

You know why, she thought. This is the first time he’s come so close, the first time he’s made any sort of serious pass. He had once or twice tried to date her, when they’d first started working together, but she had turned him down cold and he had accepted that, had perhaps even been relieved—especially once they had worked together for a few weeks and Sam had realised she was so useful to him. Far too useful, in fact, for Sam to risk upsetting their working relationship by trying to seduce her.

That was why she hadn’t been exposed to his particular brand of masculinity before—and, judging by the women she had seen him date over the three years since she’d begun working at the radio station, he was sexual dynamite. So why was she surprised that she had gone down with such worrying symptoms? She should have expected it. Why on earth had she run the risk of playing with fire?

Maybe if she kept her head and never got too close again she would get over this weird, dizzy weakness every time she looked at him—if she could do that, she might even be immunised for life.

‘Shall we do some work now?’ she asked him. ‘We’ve got all these letters to deal with, and you have some calls to make.’

‘Tell me, when did I start working for you?’ Sam coldly enquired, lifting one black eyebrow. ‘I had the distinct impression it was the other way around.’

She had had enough of playing games, so she shrugged casually. ‘Oh, well, if you don’t need me I might as well take my coffee break now.’ In fact, she was relieved at the thought of getting away from him for a while.

She turned to walk to his office door but Sam moved into her path, dauntingly big and determined, obviously, to be very difficult.

‘I’ve only just got here! We have a lot to do this morning. You’re not taking any coffee breaks until I say so.’

‘I thought you had decided not to work today!’

‘I didn’t say that—I told you I was your boss, you weren’t mine. I decide what work we do. Before we deal with the mail I want to see last month’s ratings, so would you ring AR and ask if they’re ready?’

They had arrived that morning, from the audience research team, and she had known he would want to see them at once so she had put them on his desk along with the opened letters. Leaning over, she picked up the red folder and silently offered it to him.

Sam shot her a look like a knife that went right through her and came out in her back. ‘Has anyone ever told you how irritating you can be?’

‘Yes, you, Mr Ersk ine—at least once a day since I started working for you.’ She gave him another of her sweet, reasonable smiles. ‘But you don’t offend me, don’t worry.’ He could insult her all he liked while she was being paid so well to put up with him. ‘It comes with the job,’ she said. ‘Like having to answer abusive phone calls from the listeners.’

Sam’s teeth snapped tightly, as if he was biting off some furious comment, and she took a step back from him, not liking the glitter in his eyes. But luckily at that moment the office door crashed open and they both jumped and looked round, startled to see Johnny Linklater posing in the doorway, silver-lensed sunglasses hiding his eyes, his corn-coloured hair flopping carelessly over his temples. He had probably spent half an hour to get it to fall just like that. His image was his life’s work. He left nothing to chance, even the fall of a lock of hair.

‘Pinch me—see if you can find a pulse,’ he said with dramatic melancholy as he strolled elegantly over to sink into the nearest chair. ‘Am I alive or not? I can’t quite decide.’

‘Black coffee coming up,’ Natalie said, picking up her cue and immediately going off to her own office to make it.

‘You read my mind! Angel, darling heart, I love you,’ Johnny called after her, and she smiled warmly at him.

He had arrived at precisely the right time and she was grateful to him for that. He had rescued her from what might have become a real problem with Sam, and it didn’t help to acknowledge that it was her own fault. She had put ideas into Sam’s head, ideas she did not want there, but how was she going to make him forget them?

She came back with the coffee a few moments later to find Johnny totally relaxed, lying back in his chair, propping his silver cowboy boots on Sam’s desk, those long legs of his tightly encased in his usual black leather jeans. Johnny lived his own legend; he was never seen except dressed as if for a photo opportunity and he made sure he was usually surrounded by adoring fans, all of them female, most of them half his age, as if the proximity of the young might rub off on him, give him the illusion of youth for a few more years.

Natalie put the strong black coffee down on the desk, at his elbow, and he gave her a lazy smile, brushing back that soft flop of blond hair in a way that made it fall back precisely into place a second later.

‘Thanks, honey. Did you enjoy my party? There were so many people there I didn’t get to dance with you, and I’d promised myself I would, but things got so hectic. It was one of the best parties I’ve ever had, I thought.’ There was a slight anxiety in his eyes, a question mark; under Johnny’s apparent carelessness there was always this uncertainty, the melancholy of a man whose whole life depended upon his looks, which he knew to be finite.

‘Everyone had a wonderful time, Johnny,’ Natalie quickly assured him. ‘I know I did; thank you for inviting me.’

‘My pleasure, sweetheart.’ Johnny’s hooded eyes wandered down over her trim figure approvingly, then his face changed and, swinging his feet down from Sam’s desk, he said, ‘Hey, I just remembered. You could have knocked me down with a feather when you proposed, Sam—and I’ll never forgive you for stealing the girl I had my eye on!’ Bending his long, slim body, he lightly kissed Natalie on the cheek. ‘I wish you every happiness, honey, and if he doesn’t make you happy, give me a buzz and I’ll come round and beat him up. Just say the word.’

Natalie slid a glance sideways at Sam, who was scowling. Let him explain to Johnny that there was no engagement! Why should she?

Cheerfully Johnny asked, ‘When’s the wedding? Better make it soon. The autumn schedules are pretty heavy—Sam’s going to be very busy once we hit August. Hey, can I be best man? After all, you got engaged at my party?’

Sam said coldly, ‘Thanks for the congratulations, but we aren’t engaged, Johnny. It was just a joke.’

Johnny’s jaw dropped. He looked into Sam’s face, frowning, then at Natalie. ‘Just a joke? Whose joke? Yours, Sam?’ He was watching Natalie intently, his eyes searching her face. ‘Did you know it was just a joke, honey?’

She was touched by the serious look in his face—Johnny might give the impression to most people that he was a playboy, flippant and shallow, but there was a serious side to him, hidden away.

‘You don’t honestly imagine I would ever consider marrying Sam?’ She lightly shrugged, pretending to laugh. ‘Of course I didn’t take him seriously. I know he’s not the marrying type, and even if he was, he’s not my type.’

Johnny roared with laughter.

Sam was not so amused. In fact, when she risked a brief, sideways look at him, his face was icily blank—a fact which did not escape Johnny, either.

‘This girl’s smart; she’s really got you figured out,’ Johnny told him with a certain enjoyment. There had always been an element of friendly competition between the two men where women were concerned. Johnny put his arm round Natalie’s waist. ‘So I’m still in there with a chance, sweetheart?’

She let his arm stay where he had put it, and smiled at him without answering.

Sam said curtly, ‘Have you noticed the time, Johnny? You should be in the studio getting your discs set up for the show by now, shouldn’t you? Panic bells will be ringing in the control room if you don’t show up soon.’