‘Well, go on,’ he said irritably as he moved from the desk towards the coat-stand in the corner of the room. ‘I haven’t got all night.’
She hesitated for one more moment and then turned quickly and sped into the outer office, her thoughts in turmoil. She didn’t want a lift with him, she didn’t, she thought, panic-stricken as she slipped into her coat and checked the word processor was switched off. How was she going to make conversation with this iceberg of a man on the way home, and what if he expected to be asked in? He wouldn’t, though, of course he wouldn’t— would he…? She shut her eyes for a moment and prayed for calm. But if he did, she could say her husband was at work, or away, or something. Her eyes snapped open as he appeared in the doorway, his big black overcoat and heavy, dark briefcase adding to the image of formidable imperiousness.
Why had she started this? she asked herself desperately. Why had she lied? A tremor raced through her as she remembered his face when he had spoken of Mike Wilson’s deceit. She should have come out in the open, made her position as a widow clear, and then the ball would have been in his court. And she hadn’t explained properly about Mike either.
‘Ready?’ He waved a dismissive hand towards the door and followed her out into the corridor, his face remote and withdrawn and his body straight. She glanced at him carefully as the lift took them swiftly downwards. She knew why she had lied. It was there in the almost tangible signals of dissociation his body was sending to hers, the total repudiation of any involvement, however slight, on a personal level. He wanted an efficient machine in his office. That was all. If she had said she was in effect single again…She nodded to herself mentally. She had done the only thing possible in the circum-stances. And of course he wouldn’t want to come in for coffee—one didn’t fraternise with machines, after all.
‘You seem to be settling in very well.’
It was as she opened her mouth to reply to the obviously forced cool pleasantry that the lift shuddered to a halt between floors, the momentary imbalance of the big box shaking her off her feet and throwing her against the solid bulk of his chest. His arms opened automatically to receive her as he in turn stumbled against the wall of the lift, and for a breath-stopping moment she was aware of being held in his arms, her face lifted up to his, for all the world like two lovers about to kiss as the lights flickered and dimmed.
‘Are you all right?’ Afterwards she realised he hadn’t reacted as she would have imagined by pushing her impatiently, or even distastefully, away. In fact his arms tightened fractionally as he looked down into her frightened upturned face, in which the darkness of her eyes stood out like two velvet pools. ‘Don’t worry, lifts have a habit of playing silly devils,’ he reassured her softly.
‘Do they?’ She tried to smile but the combination of her fear of plunging to her death trapped in this little metal box and, more especially, his closeness was making her feel as helpless as a child. Although certainly her body was reacting in a way that was definitely not child-like, she countered wryly as she carefully eased herself away from him. He was holding her loosely now, his hands under her elbows, but the smell and feel of him were all around her and they were…unsettling. And thrilling. Undeniably thrilling.
‘You haven’t hurt yourself?’ For a split second she considered saying yes so that he would hold her a little longer, but that impulse alone was enough to shock her out of his hold as she shook her head, moving back a pace quickly.
What on earth’s the matter with me? she asked herself weakly as he moved across the few feet of space and pressed the emergency button, his movements cool and controlled and his face expressionless. Is it sexual frustration? She shut her eyes briefly and prayed for the trembling that had taken over her limbs to still. But she didn’t even have a sex drive, did she? Or not until three days ago, anyway.
‘Claustrophobia.’
‘What?’ She opened startled eyes to see his face inches from her own again, and the next moment he had taken her into his arms, stroking her face comfortingly as he held her close against him.
‘The panic you’re feeling,’ he said softly, his voice deep and low. He had seen her trembling and put it down to claustrophobia? She said a mental thank you to her guardian angel. ‘It’s perfectly natural and you’ll be out of here in a few minutes. Just relax and let me take the load—you’re doing fine.’
This wasn’t helping, it definitely wasn’t helping, she thought weakly as he enfolded her into him, wrapping his overcoat round her as he held her next to his heart. He thought she was scared to death but, instead of the biting scorn she would have expected, he was displaying a tenderness that was alarming. She was immensely glad a few seconds later when the emergency button buzzed loudly and the small intercom next to it crackled out the security guard’s voice. ‘Hello? Is anyone in there?’
‘Rogers?’ Wolf moved across to answer and Lydia leant limply against the wall of the lift, her heart thudding as she watched him. ‘My secretary and I are in here. What the hell’s happening?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Strade,’ the male voice answered promptly, ‘but there’s some sort of a power-cut that’s affected all this side of the road. I understand it’s being dealt with as quickly as possible, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do at the moment.’
‘Brilliant.’ He glanced across at her quickly before speaking again. ‘Any idea how long before we’re out?’
‘Not long, sir.’ There was a brief pause while they heard him talking to someone else. ‘About twenty minutes or so at the most.’
‘Right, keep me informed.’
As he turned to face her fully again she spoke quickly in case he thought he had to continue the role of comforter. ‘I’m fine now, really.’ She smiled brightly. ‘It was just the suddenness of it all.’
‘Good.’ He clearly thought she was just trying to be brave, because the expression of gentle concern that was so surprising on the harsh features didn’t lessen. ‘Well, we may as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait. I suggest you take off your coat—it’s already getting a little warm in here.’
‘Right.’ As she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders he moved quickly and drew it down her arms, his light touch burning her flesh as his fingers briefly made contact.
‘Sit on this.’ He made his own coat into a large cushion, crouching down as he plumped it into shape. As she sat down on the wad of material he gestured at his tie. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked mildly. ‘I don’t like these things at the best of times.’
‘Of course not.’ He stood up again, for which she was supremely grateful. The way the material of his trousers had moulded to his thighs had caused her breathing a few problems. He unbuttoned his jacket, revealing the grey silk shirt tucked into the flat waistband of his trousers, and then loosened his tie, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. Somehow, in the close confines of the small lift, the action was painfully intimate, but for the life of her she couldn’t draw her eyes away from his broad shoulders and muscled chest, the dark body-hair beneath the shirt causing hot colour to surge into her cheeks. Was he hairy all over? She shut her eyes against the thought.
‘OK?’ Her eyes snapped open to see him sitting against the opposite wall, his narrowed gaze fixed on her face. ‘You look hot.’
‘No, I’m absolutely fine.’ She smiled brightly.
As she brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek his eyes followed the action, his gaze resting on the smooth blondeness of her hair. ‘How did you come to get such unusual colouring?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Your hair is so fair and yet your eyes are almost black.’
‘I don’t know.’ She tried for a casual smile—that piercing gaze was more than a little unnerving. ‘Some errant gene, I suppose, but it must be a strong one. Hannah, my daughter, is exactly the same.