No Holding Back

‘How will you get home?’

‘I’ve got my car——’

Saffron was hurrying across the well-worn floor as she spoke, pulling open the door in a rush. A cold wind, touched with a hint of rain, sneaked around her as she stepped outside, making her shiver uncomfortably, painfully aware of how little she had on under the protective layer of the coat. That thought brought a rush of burning colour to her cheeks, something that clearly worried the other woman.

‘Are you sure you’re fit to drive? Perhaps I should ring upstairs for someone——’

‘No!’ If he thought she was still in the building, heaven alone knew how he might react. She couldn’t face him again; couldn’t look him in the eye. ‘I’ll be all righthonest—it’s not very far——’

‘Well, if you’re positive…’

She still sounded unconvinced, and Saffron had to fight hard not to scream at her in panic as, through the large plate glass doors, she saw the other lift open and a tall, masculine figure appear in the hall, looking round him a way that made her think unnervingly of a hunting tiger. She could almost imagine him scenting the air, breathing in the trace of her perfume…

‘I have to go——’

Reacting purely instinctively, she kicked off the crippling shoes—she would buy Kate another pair—and turned to run towards the spot where her car was parked. The wind seemed to have found every opening in her coat, sliding in at the neck, whipping around her hem, revealing far more than was comfortable to her already precarious peace of mind, but she was oblivious to the cold and discomfort of her bare feet on the tarmac, reaching her small Fiat with a sigh of relief.

It was as she slid into the driving-seat and pushed her wild, wind-blown dark hair back from her face that she saw the other car, the one that, blinded by her anger, she hadn’t noticed on her arrival at the factory. Sleek and powerful, and gleamingly expensive, its paintwork was a shining light grey, almost silver, reminding her disturbingly of the eyes of the man in the managing director’s office—eyes that had looked at her with such contempt at first. But then that expression had swiftly changed to something much more worrying.

The car was in the MD’s private space too, she now realised, struggling with the shake in her hand that made it difficult to insert her key in the ignition. It was parked in the spot that had previously been reserved solely for the use of Owen’s late father—a space which must now, by rights, belong to Owen himself. Which, logic told her, bringing with it a wave of nausea, meant that there was only one person it could belong to—and that made matters all the worse.

Perhaps if she had been more aware of her surroundings on her arrival, if she’d been thinking straighter, she would have noticed it then, and its elegantly alien presence might have made her pause to reconsider her plan of action. But the truth was that she had been blind to everything but that plan. In fact, she had actively encouraged her anger on the journey here, feeding the flames, so that she hadn’t even noticed that Owen’s car wasn’t even in the car park at all.

She hadn’t even paused to look around her, Saffron reflected, sighing with relief as the slightly untrustworthy engine caught, and she let the brake out with nervous haste, not even glancing behind to see if her pursuer had come out of the building. She only wanted to get out of here without any further confrontation with the owner of that sleek, powerful vehicle, she told herself. Her stomach twisted into tight, painful knots of apprehension as every sense became tensely alert, ears straining for the shout she expected as she headed for the exit; unwillingly she contrasted her speedy departure, like a dog with its tail between its legs, with her confident, even cocky arrival such a short time earlier.

Then, fired up with determination and anger, she had barely allowed herself time to park the car before she was out of it and striding towards the main entrance, her brisk, forceful movements mirroring the state of her thoughts.

‘Hey!’

The shout cut into her thoughts, sounding clearly even above the noise of the engine, and the car swerved dangerously as her hands clenched on the wheel. A swift, nervous glance in the rearview mirror confirmed her instinctive fear, her stomach twisting painfully as she saw the way that letting her mind wander had slowed her responses, stilling her foot on the accelerator. Alerted by the sound of the engine, her pursuer had come out of the building and was heading purposefully across the car park towards her.

‘Wait! I want to——’

The rest of his words were drowned in the roar of the car as, heedless of safety or concern for her elderly vehicle, she rammed her right foot down to the floor. She knew very well what he wanted—he had made that only too plain—and she had no intention of waiting around to endure any more of his blatantly lecherous remarks.

It was just as she swung out of the car park and on to the main road that she glanced back one last time and saw the way he had halted, bending to pick up something from the ground.

Kate’s shoes, she reflected ruefully, wondering if, as in the Cinderella story, he thought he might use them as evidence to track her down. The problem was, though, that he was no sort of Prince Charming—quite the opposite—and if he did turn out to be who she suspected then she would need more than just a fairy godmother to get her out of a very sticky situation.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_0504d388-885b-5355-8ce4-d81923e49b08)

‘FOR God’s sake, Saffron—how many times do I have to apologise?’

Owen pushed impatient hands through his hair—hair that was not quite as dark as that of the man in the MD’s office, Saffron noted inconsequentially. His had been black as a raven’s wing where Owen’s was just a deep brown. That should have warned her, but she’d been too angry to think straight, and after all she had been expecting Owen to be there—hadn’t anticipated the possibility of anyone else being in the office.

‘Saffy, are you listening? I said I’m sorry.’

He didn’t sound penitent, Saffron reflected privately. If anything, he was quite the opposite—almost aggressive, in fact.

‘We had a date, Owen. I bought a new dress——’

The words dried in her throat as the thought of just what else she’d bought slid into her mind, bringing with it an all too vivid picture of the scarlet wisps of silk that she had pushed firmly to the bottom of the washingbasket. She doubted that she could ever wear them again when just the thought of putting them on awoke uncomfortable memories of the scene in the office, the sensual amusement in that appalling man’s voice. In fact, she didn’t know what had possessed her to buy them in the first place. They were a million miles away from the sort of thing she normally chose.

‘I waited for hours.’

‘I know.’ Owen sounded positively snappish now. ‘But I promised you dinner at Le Figaro and——’ an airy wave of his hand indicated their elegant surroundings ‘—I’m keeping my promise.’

‘Twenty-four hours late!’

Saffron couldn’t bite back the retort. Owen was the one who had stood her up, and yet he was behaving as if she was the offender. If he’d kept the date as arranged, she would never have gone to his office in a temper and made such a spectacle of herself.

‘Saff, you know how important this takeover is to me! I couldn’t keep our date yesterday because the big man turned up without warning.’

‘The big man?’

Saffron fought hard to keep her voice under control, but the rising tide of colour in her cheeks was a different matter. Try as she might, she couldn’t avoid the logical connection that her mind was making between Owen’s words and the hateful character she had encountered in the MD’s office. She had suspected this, had known that there wasn’t really a hope that she could be wrong, but to hear it confirmed by Owen was almost more than she could cope with right now.

‘Niall Forrester himself. Oh, come on, Saff! Where have you been for the past month? Niall Forrester owns Forrester Leisure, and Forrester Leisure——’

‘Is considering buying Richards’ Rockets—I know that.’

She knew only too well that Owen, whose interests lay in a very different direction, had been delighted when the huge international corporation had shown an interest in the small, rather rundown family business that he had inherited from his father six months before.

‘After all, you’ve talked about nothing else all month.’

She found it impossible to erase the tartness from her voice, but, well-launched on his major preoccupation, Owen seemed oblivious to the sharpness of her tone.

‘So, you’ll understand that when Niall Forrester himself rang to say he was coming up to Kirkham to look at the factory I just had to be there to meet him—and take him out to dinner in the evening. He kept me busy, I can tell you. He wanted to know everything there was to know—I didn’t have time to think——’

Or to ring and explain, Saffron reflected with a touch of asperity. But at the forefront of her mind was a more pressing worry.

‘And this Niall Forrester—the “big man”——’

The description fitted. Even sitting down, he had looked decidedly impressive, and the width of the straight, powerful shoulders under the immaculately fitted navy suit had been evidence of a formidable physique that, if she had had her wits about her, she should have known could not possibly have belonged to Owen.

‘Where is he now?’

‘Back in London, I expect. He said he’d seen all he wanted to see at the factory.’

Hastily Saffron tried to convert the choking sensation that had assailed her into an innocuous cough. Niall Forrester had seen everything he wanted and more! But at least it seemed that she could relax about one thing. Obviously, whatever his feelings about her appearance in the MD’s office, Forrester had said nothing about it to Owen. Of course, he wouldn’t know her name, but he could have asked the receptionist. If he’d described her, Beth would have known who he meant. The colour flooding her cheeks deepened hotly at the thought of just how he might have described her.

‘You’re not exactly chatty, Saff!’ Owen sounded decidedly peeved. ‘Is this because you haven’t forgiven me for last night? You’re not going to sulk all evening, are you?’

‘I’m not sulking!’

Saffron was indignant. Clearly Owen thought that he had apologised, but to her mind it seemed that what he’d really done was bring home to her the way that she came in second place in his life, after his business interests. From being angry about the way he had stood her up, she was now forced to wonder whether in fact his non-appearance last night had been a lucky escape in some ways. After the decision about their relationship that she had come to, only so recently, it was disturbing, to say the least, to find that her attitude towards him had shifted ground.

In fact, ever since Owen had appeared at her flat, she had been seeing him in a very different light. It was more than just annoyance at the way he had stood her up, though obviously that had a lot to do with it. Suddenly almost everything he said seemed to irritate her.