Roberta Leigh - Not a Marrying Man Read online

  'I wouldn't dream of telling you anything.'

  'But would you?' he persisted.

  'If I loved the man and that was what he wanted.'

  Their eyes met and held: hers green and defiant; his warm brown and getting warmer as they ranged over her smooth oval face and long thick hair, the colour of a newly minted gold coin.

  'Maybe you are as real as your hair,' he murmured.

  That's something you'll never know.' Pushing back her chair, she stalked out of the dining-room.

  Temper made her dress quickly, putting on flat-heeled shoes and a tweed suit in soft shades of hyacinth and green that did wonders for her colouring. She pulled her hair on to the nape of her neck and kept it in place with a black velvet ribbon. Then she went into Madame Rosa's bedroom to wish her good morning and say she was going for a walk.

  'With Bruno?'

  'He's going jogging.'

  'From the look on your face I can see you wish he was jumping,' Madame said, and added: 'Into the lake!'

  Sara looked rueful. 'Am I as obvious as that?'

  'I wished you liked him,' Madame said by way of answer. 'You know nearly as much about the business as I do. You could be a great help to him.'

  'You have a board of directors,' Sara said composedly.

  'They look after the financial side. None of them know about the day-to-day running of the business. How could Bruno talk to them about the way a woman feels when she stares at the wrinkles round her eyes and knows Rosalyn can offer her something that will help her fight the years?'

  'I must take a recording of that,' Sara smiled. 'I don't mind pushing our products, but please don't ask me to believe in them!'

  Madame jerked up in bed, her plump body quivering with indignation. 'What I say is true. We cannot eradicate the years, but we can keep them at bay. One day we'll be able to hold them back entirely. Why else do you think I employ chemists like MacGregor and Hamish Roster?'

  'Because they come up with lipstick like Something Special I If we ever do succeed in retaining our youthful looks it will be done by bio-chemists, not cosmeticians.'

  'The two must work together.' Madame Rosa was on her hobby-horse and riding it hard. 'To look good is to feel good; you know that as well as I do. When doctors started letting women in mental homes have their hair done each week and forced them to wear pretty clothes and make-up, there was a remarkable rate of recovery. I am surprised you should need me to remind you of that.'

  Sara wished she could retract her thoughtless remarks, but knowing it was impossible, she tried to explain them away.

  'No matter what we do to ourselves, we can't fight what is in us. An easy life, plenty of money and beautiful clothes can help a woman look her best, but if she's unhappy or overworked, she'll look it.'

  'You obviously need a holiday,' Madame said haughtily. 'You have been working so long you have gone stale. I will tell Bruno to send you to New York for a few weeks. In any event it will do you good to meet Alistair. The publicity he's done for us in the States is excellent.'

  'I knew there was a reason behind your generosity,' Sara smiled.

  'Your meeting Alistair was an afterthought. My first one—that you're getting jaded and need a holiday—still stands.'

  Walking along the banks of the Serpentine Sara wondered whether jaded was the right word to describe her mood. Disenchanted was far more appropriate. Yet why should she be disenchanted when she was leading a more exciting life than she could ever remember doing ? More important still, there was a handsome man who wanted to marry her. She paused at the water's edge and stared at a family of ducks gliding past. The antics of the smallest one made her chuckle and the sound was echoed by a deeper one which told her, without the need to look round, that Bruno was standing behind her.

  'So you do like the fresh air,' he commented. 'And here I was picturing you back in bed with the Sunday papers.'

  'I keep that for my afternoon by the fire,' she responded and turned to face him.

  His skin was flushed from exercise and his hair was untidy, the top damp with perspiration and curling. He must have been jogging for quite a while, for he was breathing deeply and exuded a warmth that made her very physically conscious of him. Though not as tall as Nevil he was so much more powerfully built that he seemed far more masculine and she was reminded of an untamed animal, his strength controlled, his hunting instinct just below the surface. And what a successful hunter he was! She took a step back and his hand came out and gripped her arm.

  'Do you want to fall in the water?' he asked.

  She glanced down and saw that a further step would have sent her into the water. 'I didn't realise I was so near the edge.'

  'Of what kind of precipice?' His expression was serious but spoiled by the corners of his mouth quivering with amusement. 'Walk with me,' he said before she could think up a suitable rude reply. 'I've done my running for the day.'

  'Did you run in Central Park too?'

  'I didn't need the exercise.'

  She glanced at him. 'Must you discuss your private affairs so frankly?'

  'My love affairs aren't private. The women with whom I go to bed like everyone to know. They think it gives them kudos to be my girl-friend,' he added modestly.

  She bit on her lip to prevent herself smiling. It was difficult to remain annoyed with a man who so enjoyed his reputation as this one. 'At least you're an honest Casanova. I doubt if anyone will be able to sue you for breach of promise.'

  'How right you are! I only promise what I know I'm going to keep.' 'And what sort of promises are those?'

  To give a girl a good time. To let her know she is the only one in my life, whether it be for a week or a month, and to go on being friends with her afterwards.'

  'Your friends must be legion, then!'

  His laugh was spontaneous and he stopped in his tracks and caught her hand. 'I like your sense of humour. I can see why Aunt Rosa's so fond of you.' He continued walking but still kept hold of her hand. 'I should imagine she must have been like you when she was your age. Not in looks of course but in spirit.'

  It was an unexpected compliment and Sara was not sure she liked it. But what else had she wanted him to say? Wasn't it better for him to see her as a young Aunt Rosa than as another girl to seduce?

  'My aunt thinks we should send you to New York for a few weeks,' he went on. 'I think so too. You've been working very hard since I came over.'

  She was surprised he had noticed. 'I don't need a holiday,' she assured him.

  'If you wait till you need one, you'll never enjoy it.'

  'Madame wants me to meet Alistair when I'm there.'

  'I don't,' he said. 'Not unless you particularly wish it. Go over and have yourself a ball.'

  'I don't know anyone there.'

  'I'll give you my address book,' he grinned. 'Seriously though, make it a total holiday. You can stay in my apartment.'

  'I couldn't do that.'

  'Why not? There's no point wasting money on a hotel.'

  Instantly her pleasure in the offer faded, and she shrugged. 'Very well.'

  'Make arrangements to go at the end of the week.'

  'How do you know I want to go to New York?' She had a longing to be contrary. 'I might prefer to go to France.'

  'All beautiful girls should go to New York at some time. Or are you worried at leaving the fair Nevil?'

  'Certainly not.'

  'Perhaps he'll go with you,' he suggested slyly.

  'I have no intention of letting him. He isn't my boyfriend, Mr Lyn.'

  'Bruno. Why do you keep forgetting?'

  'I can't think of you as Bruno,' she said, staring at him defiantly.

  'Will this help you?' he asked and, pulling her behind a huge flowering bush, gathered her into his arms.

  She had no chance to resist him; no chance to avoid his mouth which came down full on hers. It was warm and gentle, as were the hands that moved down her back to her waist, drawing her close against him. She felt the heat radi
ating from his body and breathed in the musky scent of after-shave lotion and the more intimate scent of the man himself. It reminded her of the open air and sunshine; of log fires and candlelight. Her brain was a jumble of chaotic thoughts as were her emotions, though soon one began to take precedence over all the others as his kisses grew deeper and more demanding, arousing her to a response she did not want to give yet was unable to withhold. His hands moved up beneath her jacket and gently ran along her spine before pressing her body closer to his. She tried to move away from him, but he would not let her go.

  'Not yet,' he said thickly, and went on kissing her, moving his lips along the fullness of her cheek to the lobe of her ear and then along the curve of her neck. She felt his hand on the zip of her blouse, but he made no effort to undo it or even to hold her in a more intimate way, which surprised her and also pleased her.

  'You are as soft and warm as a kitten,' he whispered.

  'Just give me a chance to move and you'll feel my claws,' she whispered back.

  His body trembled with laughter. 'Such words of endearment! Can't you do better than that?'

  'Much better,' she replied, and bit him on the lip.

  He let her go abruptly and with dismay she saw a little trickle of blood at the side of his mouth. 'I'm sorry,' she said instantly. 'I didn't mean to hurt you, but you did ask for it.'

  'I know,' he agreed. 'But it was worth it. What's a pint of blood between friends? I will recover and live to love another day.'

  'With another girl, I hope?' She opened her bag and took out her compact, staring into its tiny mirror to see that her own mouth was devoid of lipstick but was so red from his kisses that she needed none.

  'Would you like to be the only one?' he questioned. 'We work well together in business and I'm sure we'd be equally good in———'

  'No!' she cried. 'I wouldn't.'

  'Pity. As I said this morning, you are very fanciable.'

  'And as I said this morning—you aren't!'

  'Then you are an excellent actress.'

  She went scarlet but bravely met his mocking gaze. 'You're an excellent kisser.'

  'How about trying me out in other ways?'

  'Don't you ever take no for an answer?' Exasperated, she began to walk, and he loped easily along beside her.

  'You're foolish to turn me down,' he said conversationally. 'Being the boss's girl-friend would put you in a marvellous position.'

  'It's the other position I don't fancy.' Her voice firmed. 'I have no desire to further my career via your bedroom—or any other man's bedroom.'

  Once again he stopped walking and she jumped back like a startled rabbit. But she had no need to fear his kissing her again, for he only looked at her intently, his expression incredulous.

  'I do believe you're a virgin.' He saw the colour run under her skin. 'Well, well, wonders never cease. I would have said you chewed up men for breakfast and spat them out for lunch!'

  'I have far too delicate a digestion.' Her tones were dulcet. 'And I'm frigid by nature.'

  'Like hell you are. A moment ago you'd have melted an ice pack.'

  'Don't read more into it than was meant.'

  Resolutely Sara resumed walking and he kept pace with her. He did not reply to her comment and they walked together in silence, turning automatically in the direction of the penthouse.

  It was only as they went up in the private lift that she knew what she had to say to him and did so. 'I like working for Rosalyn, Bruno, and I would hate to leave. But if you kiss me again or treat me like… or behave the way you do towards your girl-friends, I'll walk out straight away. Have I made myself clear?'

  'Yes.' It was a flat sound.

  'Good. Then we can forget what happened.'

  There's only one question I want to ask you,' he said as the lift doors opened and they stepped into the penthouse.

  She stopped and looked at him, waiting to hear what he wanted to know.

  'Did you say what you just did because you don't like me or because you're scared you might like me too much?'

  Desperately she searched for an answer that would put him in his place. 'How clever of you to guess,' she said finally, her tone as sweet as sugar. 'I'm actually petrified of falling in love with you.'

  'Why? We could have fun together.'

  There's no fun in being part of a legion.'

  'I only have one playmate at a time.'

  'But you change playmates too often to suit me,' she said, beginning to feel the conversation was getting out of hand.

  'I don't think I would change you all that quickly,' he said. 'In fact, quite the opposite. You have a competitive spirit and we'd be sparring the whole time.'

  'I would prefer to keep our sparring to the boardroom —not the bedroom. I'm not your type, Bruno, and if you weren't bored you would realise it for yourself.'

  'What makes you think I'm bored?' he questioned. 'If I wanted companionship I've plenty of girls to call on.'

  Then I suggest you do. I don't feel flattered to be your choice.'

  His eyes flickered but he made no comment, merely stepping back to let her precede him down the corridor that led to the bedrooms.

  Alone in her room, Sara kicked off her walking shoes and padded across to the window. Far below lay the Park, stretched out like a blanket of green. Somewhere among that green Bruno had kissed her. She ran her tongue over her lips. He had all the qualifications to turn a girl's head: looks, charm, money and a devil-may-care attitude that made one want to take him down a peg or two. Yet to contemplate doing so would be dangerous, for she could easily fall in love with him. The knowledge was frightening, but she forced herself to face it. An affair with him would be exciting, but her position would be untenable once the affair ended.

  She turned away from the window and caught sight of herself in the mirror. He had sneeringly called her a sophisticated career girl with a glossy veneer, but it hadn't stopped him from propositioning her. No doubt he considered her too hard-boiled to be hurt by a love affair and its termination. She took off her jacket. Despite the brisk walk and Bruno's kisses, she looked soignee and cool. Even her casual tweed suit looked elegant on her tall, slender frame. No wonder Bruno believed she was hard.

  Stepping away from the mirror, she wryly acknowledged that it wasn't only her looks which had made him see her that way. It was her brain and her ability. That was the greatest stumbling block as far as Bruno was concerned, for it reminded him of his aunt: a woman he loved but whose domination he feared.

  Angry that she should be thinking of him in this fatuous way—after all, he was nothing to her—she slipped on a pair of house-shoes and went to see Madame Rosa.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Because Bruno had returned to London, Sara considered it unnecessary to remain at the penthouse and, despite Madame's protestations, left immediately after lunch. Bruno made no attempt to dissuade her and when she went to say goodbye to him she found him ensconced in front of the television watching an old movie. Because his aunt kept the penthouse over-hot he had changed into a silk sweater, the colour of caramel, and it gave unexpected warmth to his skin and found the golden glints in his dark eyes.

  He gave her a lazy smile and rose slowly to see her to the lift. 'I hope you aren't leaving because of me?'

  'Of course I am,' she said composedly. 'I'm running away from you before I fling myself into your arms!'

  'You're overdoing it,' he grumbled. 'Even I can't swallow that. But don't worry, beautiful Sara, you've made it very clear how you feel about me and I won't bother you any more.'

  'You don't bother me,' she said with false calmness, and pressed the lift button.

  The doors closed and the last she saw of him was his glinting eyes framed by those ridiculously long lashes.

  Her own apartment seemed drab and small after the luxurious one she had left, and her own company dull after Bruno's mocking one. She toyed with the idea of telephoning Nevil to see if he was home and then thought better of it. She was hav
ing enough difficulty keeping him at arm's length without giving him more encouragement. In the not too distant future she would have to end their friendship.

  The decision came into her mind with such stealth that only as it surfaced did she wonder when she had made up her mind that she and Nevil had no future together. A few days ago she had been considering it, yet now she knew it was impossible. What had made her so sure?

  She did not have to look far for the answer: Bruno Lyn.

  Much as she disliked his attitude towards women and deplored his romantic liaisons, he had shown her that life with Nevil was not what she wanted. Besides, Nevil's view of her was as false as Bruno's, for he too saw her as a career-minded sophisticate.

  She was in a tetchy mood on Monday morning when she arrived at the showroom in Bond Street. As she went up the yellow-carpeted stairs to her office her ill-humour started to evaporate and, after she had made several telephone calls and had had a long conversation with the Beauty Editor of a magazine who had promised to promote a competition for Rosalyn products, she felt more like her normal self and was able to go and see Bruno— when she had a message asking her to do so—without a visible tremor of apprehension.

  He still occupied the room she had always thought of as Madame Rosa's but, entering it today, she was astonished to see a totally different decor. In place of the various shades of yellow there was now tan and cool blue. The rugs had been replaced by a fitted carpet and the golden drapes had given way to clinical-looking Venetian blinds.

  'Like it?' Bruno asked.

  'It's more you.'

  'I should hope so. Sitting in the middle of all that yellow made me feel like one of Van Gogh's sunflowers!'

  'More of a thistle, I'd have said!'

  He grinned and shook his head at her.

  'Have you told your aunt you've done this ?' she asked.

  'Actually it was Aunt Rosa who did it. When I came in this morning hey presto, here it was.'

  'You mean you didn't know?'

  'All my women spoil me,' he said modestly.

  Abruptly she turned away. A man of Bruno's charm would be as easy to spoil as to love.