No Escaping Love

He paused for a second. ‘I’m afraid it was the old story—she fell in love with her boss. That by itself isn’t a sackable offence, but I’m afraid she let it affect her work.’

There was no mistaking the warning in his voice. Don’t make the same mistake, it seemed to say.

Resisting an urge to comment on the girl’s mental state at the time, for surely she must have been loopy to fall for such an insufferably arrogant man, Shauna gave a prim smile. ‘Well, don’t worry, Mr Ryder—I can assure you that I will not fall into the same trap.’

‘Good,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’

But Shauna thought he didn’t sound one little bit convinced.

CHAPTER TWO (#u04c020c4-4461-51f8-aacb-d1d0b0b5d0aa)

MAX RYDER’S next words were, however, brisk and businesslike. ‘I assume that you’ve clothes and stuff to collect?’ He looked down at Shauna’s rather battered suitcase. ‘Or do I take it that’s the sum total of your worldly goods?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘No, you do not!’ she retorted indignantly, pushing away a dark curl which was tickling the corner of her mouth. ‘Don’t forget—I have just come off the boat. As a matter of fact—I’ve got two more suitcases.’

‘So where have you left them?’

‘They’ve been in store at some friends’ flat.’

The green eyes beneath the dark brows were looking at her questioningly. ‘Local?’

‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘In London.’

He gave a heavy sigh. ‘Are you being deliberately obtuse, Miss Wilde?’ He glanced at the pale gold watch. ‘I’m expecting a call from Paris at eight—I can give you a lift to collect your belongings, then when we get back I’ll show you over the flat.’

She shook her head, so that two more curls wiggled out. For some reason, she was reluctant to be driven there by this man. He was her boss, and—she had to admit—dangerously attractive. She didn’t want contact with him spilling over into her private life. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I can manage on my own, honestly.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ he exclaimed impatiently. ‘I’m not trying to unlock the secrets of your soul—I’m simply offering you a lift. Why struggle on the Tube when you can do it in comfort? And if you’re worried about some boyfriend—ex or otherwise—rushing out to hit me on the jaw, then don’t. Like the proverbial wise man—I’ll hear, see nor speak evil!’

The very idea was laughable. She simply couldn’t imagine anyone having the temerity to hit this man on the jaw! Quite apart from anything else it looked as though it were fashioned from granite.

‘I happened to share with two lawyers, not cavemen,’ she retorted. ‘And they live in Hampstead.’

To her surprise, the questioning ceased. ‘Hampstead’s miles away,’ he said briefly. ‘It would take you all night to get there. Come on—we’ll take the car.’

She followed him in silence out of the office and into the lift. At the ground floor he introduced her to Charlie, the commissionaire. Then he ushered her through heavy revolving glass doors and outside, where the light was fading rapidly from the sky. The typically October temperature had plummeted rapidly now that the sun had disappeared and Shauna shivered involuntarily, her linen jacket seeming totally inadequate. She hadn’t thought he’d been looking, but he noticed immediately.

‘I hope there’s a thicker coat among your things?’ he commented.

‘Yes, I’ve got an overcoat.’ She didn’t like to say that all her things would probably look to him as if they’d come out of the Ark! Two years was a long time in fashion, and department stores had only recently begun to realise that not all women were of medium height and build. Shauna, being tall and very slim, had always found it notoriously difficult to find clothes to fit her.

Their steps led them to the back of the building, where he unlocked a cunningly concealed car-port to reveal the low, sleek lines of a Mercedes. He was a good driver—confident, but not over-confident. He drove the powerful machine well within the limits of the city’s speed restrictions. She thought it rather a waste to have such a powerful car if he lived in town. They headed north.

‘So tell me,’ he said, ‘how on earth you managed to survive two years working in a foreign country on your own.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she declared indignantly.

He shrugged, the glimmer of a smile playing on his lips. ‘If you thought I was running a massage parlour and escort agency, then your imagination must have been working overtime when you were abroad.’

She flushed. Her daydreaming had got her into trouble on more than one occasion. ‘I’m surprised you gave me the job.’

A brown hand expertly and swiftly changed down into second gear as a taxi shot out of a side-street and into their path. ‘I had a strong gut feeling about you, and I tend to rely on my instincts—where business is concerned, at any rate,’ he finished.

She began to wonder how he might respond where his emotions were concerned. If indeed he had any! She remembered his conceited remark about women displaying the ‘ripe-plum syndrome’—meaning, presumably, that they all fell eagerly into his arms, she thought acidly. But he’d been nothing but disparaging about her fellow job applicants, so he obviously wasn’t desperate for scalps to notch up. She sneaked a surreptitious side-glance at him in the darkness of the car. How old would he be? Early thirties? Involved? Someone as eligible as Max Ryder would be bound to be involved. Except that she couldn’t recall seeing any photographs in that vast office of his. Come to think of it, it had been one of the most impersonal rooms that she had ever been in. Stark and dramatic. Even the bonsai tree on the plain black desk had given nothing away. Stunning, but impersonal. A bit like him, really.

‘So you managed to spend two years on the Continent without getting yourself into any scrapes?’ he probed.

The way he said it made her feel about ten years old. ‘I’d been used to working in Portugal,’ she defended. ‘After two years I knew the job inside out and back to front. I got back to England and suddenly I felt like a stranger in my own country. When I walked into your building I felt totally out of place—it was so outside my experience that I imagined the worst possible scenario.’ She tucked one of the errant curls behind her ear and looked at him slightly nervously. ‘Do you understand what I mean?’

Unexpectedly he said, ‘I believe I do.’

The curl sprang back. ‘Can we forget it, and put it down to travel fatigue? By the way—it’s left here.’

The car swung up the tree-lined road. The trees were beginning to lose their leaves now. It seemed such a long time since she had lived here—a lifetime ago, really. Nick and Harry had been great flat-mates to have—kind and protective, just like the brothers she’d never had.

‘Nice area,’ he commented.

‘Yes, it is. Could you pull up here? It’s the second house, behind the van.’

The powerful car pulled smoothly to a halt. He turned to face her in the semi-darkness. ‘I’ll wait here,’ he said. ‘Let me know if you need a hand with anything.’

‘Thanks.’ She climbed out of the low car, walked to the front door and pressed the bell.

She had to wait several minutes, and was contemplating leaving a note, when the door was opened and a tall, tousled-haired young man stood stock-still, and then a grin split his face in two.

‘Shauna!’ he said in surprise, and then, ‘Shauna!’ again in a tone of delight. ‘You dark horse, you! Why didn’t you say?’

‘Because I didn’t know until recently,’ she laughed. ‘And you know the advert you sent me? I got the job!’

‘You got the job!’ he echoed in delight, and before she could stop him he had caught her up in his arms and whirled her round and round.

‘Put me down, Harry,’ she giggled. ‘You’ll give yourself a hernia!’ But as he carefully lowered her back on to the step she saw over his shoulder that Max Ryder was no longer sitting in his car, but lounging against the bonnet—his expression in the darkness unreadable, but, even in that outwardly relaxed stance, there was no mistaking the coiled tension in the long limbs. Obviously, he must have seen Harry embrace her, and she wondered why she should mind that he had.

Harry looked at her closely. ‘You look fabulous, Shauna,’ he said quietly. ‘But pensive. Come in. Have a drink?’

She shook her head regretfully, eyeing the familiarly shabby hall with affection. ‘I can’t. I’ve got someone waiting. He’s offered me a job and accommodation. I’m here to collect my stuff.’

‘So? Invite him in, too.’

Shauna took in the overflowing books, the half-empty wine bottle, last Sunday’s—and the Sunday’s before that!—newspapers littering the floor. She could just imagine the minimalist, bonsai-loving Max Ryder fitting in here!

‘I don’t think so, Harry,’ she smiled at him fondly. ‘He hasn’t even shown me the flat, yet—and he’s expecting a phone call from Paris. But I’ll come round another night—you can cook me one of your famous Bolognese sauces, and we’ll catch up on all the gossip.’

Harry frowned. ‘If only we hadn’t let your old room out.’

‘I would hardly have expected you to hold on to it for two years!’ exclaimed Shauna. ‘That would be stretching friendship a little too far!’

‘No, I suppose not.’