Fire Beneath The Ice

‘I’m fine.’ She glared at the inoffensive intercom as Wolf’s last words made her cheeks burn. ‘I can——’

‘Do as you are told.’ The tone was uncompromising. ‘I rarely make suggestions—that was an order, in case you didn’t recognise it.’ Both the harshness of the deep voice and the authoritative arrogance made her hands clench at her sides as she struggled for composure, but it was a good few seconds before she could bring herself to reply. How was she going to stand working for this megalomaniac for five or six days, let alone five or six months?

‘Very good, Mr Strade.’ The use of his surname was deliberate and there was a blank silence for a moment before he spoke again.

‘Did you come by car this morning?’ he asked coldly.

She nearly said ‘What?’ for the third time that day and checked herself just in time. ‘No, I didn’t,’ she said abruptly. ‘I travelled by tube—it’s not far.’

‘Then when we’re finished here you order a taxi. The name of the firm we use is under T in Mrs Havers’s address-book in the left-hand drawer of the desk, and you charge to the firm’s account, OK?’

‘There’s really no need——’

The deep, long-drawn out sigh cut short her protest. ‘I might have known.’ His voice was laconic and extremely sarcastic. ‘Here was I thinking I’d found the perfect substitute secretary—pleasant to look at, highly efficient and utterly devoid of fanciful ideas.’ By that she supposed he meant that with a husband and child in evidence he was safe, she thought furiously. ‘But unless I’m very much mistaken, there is a strong streak of stubbornness in you, Mrs Lydia Worth. Would you really prefer to wander about London on your own late at night when you can be safely transported to your door?’

‘I don’t intend to wander anywhere,’ she retorted tightly, ‘but I am more than capable of getting home——’

‘Order the taxi ten minutes before you think you’ve finished,’ he said sharply, ‘and I don’t want to hear another word on the subject.’ She heard him mutter something rude a moment before the click of the intercom signalled the conversation was at an end.

She wasn’t going to be able to stand this. She shut her eyes for a second before lifting the internal phone to call down to the canteen for the coffee and sandwiches. He had to be the epitome of all the qualities she most disliked in the male of the species, he really did. It wasn’t so much what he said but the way he said it most of the time—arrogance was far too weak a word to cover such cold, aggressive hostility. Was he like this all the time?

She was pondering exactly the same uncomfortable thought later that night as she lay in the peace and tran-quillity of her bedroom with her head spinning from the impressions of the day. She had finished the work he wanted just before eight, presenting the neat pile of typewritten pages to him in fear and trepidation and waiting by the side of his desk while he checked them through.

‘Excellent.’ He had raised piercing blue eyes to the soft brown of hers. ‘I can see we are going to get along fine, Lydia, despite a few hiccups. Have you ordered the taxi?’ She had nodded reluctantly and his mouth had twitched as he lowered his eyes to his desk again. ‘Good. Well I suggest you scoot off home to that husband of yours and reassure him that this won’t happen every night. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’ She had just reached the door when his voice had spoken her name again.

‘And, Lydia?’ She had turned to face him, her eyes apprehensive. ‘You really have done a magnificent job today, thank you.’ And then he had smiled, really smiled, and she had almost reeled from the shock of it, from the transformation it had wrought on his whole face.

Had he smiled at those other girls like that? she asked herself as she flexed her toes in the warmth from the electric blanket—it was almost October now and had been a particularly cold autumn. If so, she could under-stand why they had been smitten. Not that it affected her like that, she assured herself hastily, definitely not. She knew what he was really like—cold, aloof, hard and quite inexorable, but nevertheless…The softening of the austere classical features would cause any female’s heart to give a little jump.

Thank goodness she was immune. She nodded to herself firmly. He was pleased with her because she did her job well and was guaranteed not to get any romantic ideas about him. Well, that suited her just fine. She didn’t need any complications in her life at the moment. Hannah more than filled any spare time she had. She turned over in the big double bed and pounded her pillow into shape with unnecessary vigour.

There had been the odd suitor since Matthew died, but none had remotely stirred her blood or her heart and she had never repeated any of the dates more than once. Perhaps she would never marry again, never find a man to replace Matthew? She shut her eyes and let her thoughts roam where they would.

She had known Matthew forever: they had grown up next door to each other from babies and she couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been going out with him. Marriage had been a natural progression. He was as familiar to her as her own skin, and life had been comfortable, peaceful and relaxed with him—no big highs, no desperate lows. Perfect. She curled into a little ball in the warmth of the bed. Their lovemaking had been gentle and infrequent, but that had suited both of them. They had been busy with their separate careers. She didn’t believe in the sort of mindless passion one read about in books, anyway. She smiled whimsically in the darkness. Such emotion was a figment of writers’ imaginations, poetic licence, and if it became a reality would probably prove to be unbearably uncomfortable.

The last three years had been a hard struggle, she reflected quietly, and painful at times, but she had managed to get through by her own determination and fortitude, finding within herself a tenacity she hadn’t known she possessed. She had still been a child in many ways when Matthew died, protected and cocooned by circumstances and his love, but she had had to grow up very suddenly, and now her hard-won independence was precious, very precious.

She straightened in the bed, fingering her wedding-band as her thoughts wandered on. It hadn’t occurred to her for a long time to take it off—in a way it was a solid link with Matthew that time couldn’t erase—but when a friend had hinted she ought to think about doing that very thing, she had been shocked and horrified. Hannah deserved all her time and love for the next few years. Her daughter had been cruelly robbed of her natural father and no one, no one, could replace a father’s love. She had seen too many situations where the children of a first marriage were subtly pushed aside as a new baby made an appearance. No. She wouldn’t betray Matthew’s memory or Hannah’s trust by giving her anything less than her whole heart. Besides…She twisted restlessly in the bed. She had got used to being alone, to making her own decisions, she had. And everyone got lonely at times, even people who had been happily married for years.

No, everything was fine in her world, just fine. It didn’t occur to her that this was the first time she had ever had to assure herself of the fact, which was probably just as well because sleep was a long time in coming. A certain hard, masculine face, with eyes the colour of a winter sky, kept getting annoyingly in the way.

CHAPTER TWO

LYDIA awoke very early the next morning, aware that she had been dreaming but unable to remember what about But it had been a disturbing dream. She flicked her long blonde hair out of her eyes and glanced at the tiny alarm next to the bed. Five o’clock. Even Hannah wasn’t stirring yet. She padded through to the small bedroom next to hers and stared down at the delicate baby face of her tiny daughter. She had been asleep when Lydia had got home the night before. She said a quick mental prayer for staunch grandmothers who insisted baby-sitting was a joy, but she had missed the night-time routine of bath and then story in bed with Hannah. She wished she could see more of Matthew in the minute features, but they were all her own. Everyone commented on the remarkable likeness between mother and daughter.

Within an hour, the instant Hannah opened huge, liquid brown eyes, in fact, the small house was a hive of activity, the normal morning routine of breakfast, shower and dressing taking all Lydia’s concentration.

‘You didn’t kiss me night-night, Mummy.’ Hannah’s face was reproachful as she spooned cornflakes into her rosebud mouth. ‘Gamma told the story all wrong.’

‘Did she, darling?’ Lydia stroked the top of the silky blonde head lovingly. ‘You didn’t tell her that, did you?’

‘Course not.’ Hannah was a true diplomat even at three. ‘Are you going to pick me up from nursery today?’

‘I doubt it, sweetheart.’ Lydia knelt down by the breakfast stool and cupped the heart-shaped face in her hands. ‘Did Grandma tell you about my job?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Hannah was distinctly disenchanted. ‘But I want you to pick me up.’

‘Well, this job is a bit different from my usual ones,’ Lydia said carefully. ‘The man I work for needs me to work much longer hours sometimes, but he is going to give me a lot of money if I do that. How about if we think of a new bedroom for you? You could choose the curtains and quilt and everything, even a new carpet if you want.’

‘Really?’ Hannah planted a swift milky kiss on her cheek. ‘Can I have Pretty Pony, Mummy? Sophie has.’ Sophie was her best friend at nursery and the two were inseparable most of the time.

‘I should think so.’ Lydia rose to look down at the small face smilingly. ‘But you must promise to be good for Grandma when she picks you up and brings you home, even if I’m very late. I’ve only got the job for a little while, so we need to get as much money as we can for your room, don’t we?’

‘Yep.’ Hannah obviously realised she was on to a good thing. ‘Gamma says I’m her little angel,’ she continued, fishing for praise which Lydia dutifully gave. ‘Little angel’ was pushing things a bit far, but then she had never wanted a placid child anyway.

She was in her office at just before nine after dropping Hannah off at the nursery, which unfortunately was in the opposite direction to the Strade office-block, and found Wolf was already at his desk, his black head bent over a long report as she tapped nervously at the inter-connecting door. ‘Come in, Lydia, don’t stand on ceremony.’ He didn’t raise his head as he spoke and she wondered for an instant if he was telepathic as well. ‘You can get straight on with that dictation from yesterday,’ he said, after making a few notes in the margin before raising his head. ‘I have an appointment at the other end of the city in an hour, so you should have a relatively undisturbed day.’ He didn’t smile.

The fine silk shirt he wore exactly matched the clear sapphire-blue of his eyes, she thought inconsequentially as she smiled and nodded her reply before leaving the room, and his aftershave——She caught her thoughts abruptly, annoyed at the way they were heading. His aftershave was aftershave, that was all, she told herself sharply as she sat down at her desk and pulled out her notebook. He had probably paid a fortune to get the sort of reaction her senses had made when the sensual, intoxicatingly masculine fragrance had reached her nose.

She worked steadily for the next half-hour, pausing as he left to take a note of where he could be reached, her face bland and polite as he rapped out the telephone number and name of the firm, his face preoccupied and his voice remote.

There were several interruptions during the morning, but none she couldn’t handle, and after snatching a quick meal in the canteen at lunchtime she continued to work her way through the pages of dictation until three, when a courteous knock at her outer door interrupted her as she had almost completed the notes.

‘Come in.’ The polite smile on her face widened as the tall, good-looking man who had poked his head round the door spoke her name in surprise.

‘Lydia? What on earth are you doing here?’

‘Mike!’ She felt inordinately pleased to see a friendly face in the huge, overwhelmingly decorous estab-lishment. ‘How nice to see you. I’d completely forgotten you work here.’

‘You’re not working for Wolf, are you?’ He came fully into the room and walked over to her desk, his eyes bright with interest. Mike Wilson was the husband of one of her oldest friends, Anna, who had been a tower of strength to her when Matthew died, often arriving unannounced when she was feeling at her lowest pitch to whisk her out to lunch and provide a rock-like shoulder to cry on. Lydia didn’t know Mike that well—usually the two women met during the day when the agency didn’t have any work for Lydia, or at the weekend when Mike was playing his endless rounds of golf—but whenever they had met, Mike had seemed warm and pleasant, if slightly effusive.

‘Temping.’ She smiled up at him ruefully. ‘The agency dropped me in the deep end this time, straight to the top.’

‘I rather think that’s a contradiction in terms, but I know what you mean.’ Mike grinned sympathetically. ‘Bit of a slave-driver, isn’t he, from what I’ve heard?’

‘I don’t know really, I’ve only been here a day or so.’ A little alarm bell, deep in the recess of her mind, tolled warningly. There had been something in his face, she couldn’t quite define what, that had made the words more than what they seemed at face value and, ridiculously, she felt a surge of defensive loyalty to Wolf without knowing why.

‘Well, this is a nice surprise.’ He wandered round the side of her desk as he spoke, glancing idly at the papers lying on the top of it as he smiled down at her. ‘Wait till I tell Anna.’

‘How is she? I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks,’ Lydia said uncomfortably, feeling she should cover the detailed report on an important contract that she had just completed and printed, but knowing that it would look as though she suspected him of being nosy.

‘Fine, fine. You know Anna, nothing gets her down.’ He gestured towards the door of Wolf’s office, still with his eyes on her desk. ‘I presume the great man is elsewhere?’

‘Yes.’ To her relief he moved round the front of the desk again and bent down with his elbows resting on the wood as he spoke quietly.

‘Well, that being the case, could I make a suggestion, Lydia? Wolf is a little…difficult about his personal secretary fraternising with the mere workers.’ There it was again, that faint caustic note. ‘The reputable Mrs Havers was a positive iceberg. Have you met her?’ Lydia shook her head silently. ‘Well, you haven’t missed anything,’ he continued with a faint grin. ‘Anyway, it might be better for you if Wolf doesn’t know we’re old friends. He wouldn’t like it, and as you’ll only be around for a short time it seems silly to make waves, don’t you think?’

‘Well, I——’

‘It might make things a bit uncomfortable for me too,’ Mike continued quietly. ‘You never know how Wolf is going to jump on things like this.’

‘Well, of course I don’t want to do anything that might reflect on you, Mike,’ Lydia said quickly. ‘It’s just that it seems…unnecessary.’

‘It isn’t, believe me.’ He smiled quietly. ‘Well, do we have a deal, then?’

‘Well, I can’t see it matters one way or the other; so I suppose it’s all right,’ she said hesitantly.

‘Good girl.’ His smile widened. ‘And how about you and that delightful little daughter of yours coming to Sunday lunch soon? I haven’t seen her in months. I’ll get Anna to ring you, shall I?’

‘That would be nice, thank you.’ She forced a smile.

‘And don’t forget, not a word about our little secret.’ He leant across and kissed her lightly as he had done several times in the past, a social gesture, nothing more.

‘Good afternoon.’

If the ceiling had suddenly fallen in on her Lydia couldn’t have reacted more violently. She shot out of her chair, hand to mouth, as she stared at Wolf’s dark countenance in the doorway. It was clear he had heard, and seen, more than enough. ‘I—I didn’t know you were back,’ she stammered, aware she had gone a brilliant red.

‘Obviously.’ He eyed Mike coldly. ‘I presume you are in these offices for a reason, Mike?’

Mike had recovered far more quickly than she had, thrusting his hands casually in his pockets as he faced Wolf with an easy grin. ‘Just wanted a word with you about the figures for Kingston,’ he said calmly, ‘if it’s convenient?’

‘Perhaps later.’ Wolf’s narrowed gaze brushed Lydia’s hot face before he gestured to the finished work on her desk. ‘Bring that in, would you? I’ll glance through it before I do anything else. I want some of those letters to go off tonight.’ His voice was infinitely cold, and she shivered as she glanced at Mike before gathering the files together. ‘I’ll ring you if I have time today, Mike.’ It was a dismissal, and Mike went without another word, not even glancing in Lydia’s direction as he left.

She followed Wolf into his office and placed the work on his desk. ‘You’ve been busy.’ He was looking at the pile of correspondence as he spoke, but she felt the words were the proverbial two-edged sword and remained silent. ‘Sit down, Lydia.’

She sank into the chair facing his desk as he seated himself without taking his eyes off her troubled face. ‘I didn’t know you knew my financial director,’ he said slowly, his voice expressionless but as cold as ice. ‘You didn’t mention it.’

She stared at him helplessly. What on earth was the matter with the man? Why did it matter to him who she knew anyway? ‘I…’ There was something so chilling in his face that it was freezing her thoughts. ‘I didn’t know I had to,’ she said weakly, his aggressiveness making her feel twice as guilty as she did already.

‘How long have you known him?’

This was ridiculous, she thought frantically. Pull yourself together, Lydia, explain you are a friend of Anna’s, talk to the man. But she couldn’t. Those ice-blue eyes were totally unnerving and, when she thought back to how the little tableau in the office must have seemed, embarrassment sent its red fingers all over her face. ‘I don’t know…’ She tried desperately to think of how long Anna and Mike had been married. ‘I think——’

‘No matter.’ He straightened suddenly in his chair as though he had just come to a decision, and she stared at him, alarmed.

‘Do you often wear your hair loose for the office?’ he asked coldly as his gaze moved to the soft, silky locks lying in a shining veil across her shoulders.

‘My hair?’ She raised an unconscious hand to her head as she stared back at him. What had her hair to do with this?

‘I prefer it tied back in the sort of style you wore yesterday,’ he said coolly. ‘As my secretary you have a certain reputation to maintain, and a neat, unassuming appearance gives the sort of impression I like in my staff. There are always men who are inclined to stand and waste time by the desk of a pretty woman, given the slightest encouragement’

She really couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She stared at him open-mouthed as she wondered if what she had heard was what he had really said. ‘Exactly what are you saying?’ she asked, after a moment of stunned silence.

‘I’m saying that I would prefer a more discreet hairstyle,’ he said calmly as he picked up the phone that had begun to ring on his desk and gestured for her to leave. ‘If you don’t mind.’

There was nothing she could do but leave him to take the call, but as she returned to her own office her wits returned along with a flood of hot colour in her face. The cheek of it. The absolute cheek of it! Once that call ended she would tell him that she did mind, she minded very much, the arrogant, overbearing——

‘Could I leave this with you for Mr Strade, please?’ She came out of her silent fury to see one of the office juniors timidly holding out a large sealed envelope. ‘It’s from Mr Collins in Personnel.’

‘Of course.’ Lydia smiled at the nervous girl, who couldn’t have been a day over sixteen, as she took a deep, silent breath. When that call ended, Wolf Strade, when it ended…But half an hour later she was still waiting, by which time her anger had cooled, along with her face, and reason had asserted itself. This was a golden opportunity to get on her feet financially, and if she had to put up with this unpleasant, unreasonable male chauvinist pig as the cloud on which the silver lining was placed, then so be it.

But surely he didn’t expect to choose her clothes and her hairstyle, did he? Even the reputable Mrs Havers couldn’t have tolerated that, surely? She sat back in the chair with a puzzled little sigh. She didn’t understand a thing about this man and, worse still, she didn’t under-stand how he could get under her skin so badly. She had worked for more than a few awkward types in the last three years, but the most she had felt in the past was minor irritation accompanied occasionally by silent contempt for their crassness. But Wolf Strade…He was different. Totally different. And she had a good few months to get through yet. Could she do it? She frowned. Of course.

She thought of Hannah’s bright little face as they had chatted about a Pretty Pony beanbag to match the rest of her proposed new bedroom, and sighed resignedly. But it wasn’t going to be easy. She had the feeling Wolf Strade didn’t like her much, even if he appreciated her attributes as a secretary. Still—she glared across at the closed door as a tiny flame of anger reignited—he shouldn’t have given her the job, should he? She was blowed if she was going to be bullied into altering either her manner or her appearance to suit that pompous swine.

Nevertheless, the next morning she found herself fixing her long hair into a loose knot on the back of her head even as she told herself it was simply because it was less trouble that way. Wolf made no comment when she knocked and opened the door of his office to announce her arrival, wondering as she did so if he lived at the office. He was always around when she left at night and immersed in work when she arrived. She had been right. He was a machine.

‘Could you work on these tapes before you do anything else?’ he commanded abruptly as he handed her two audio-tapes from his desk. ‘It’s a report involving some complex financial data and I want it done immediately. And make sure you get the numbers right,’ he added tersely.

‘Of course, Mr Strade.’ The tone and the name were a cold rebuke, and he raised his head abruptly to meet the dark, angry gleam in her eyes.

They stared at each other for a good thirty seconds before he surprised her utterly by leaning back in his chair and running his hand across his eyes with a weary gesture that spoke of utter exhaustion. ‘I’m sorry, I sounded very rude.’ The icy blue eyes were a little dazed, she realised suddenly, almost as though he hadn’t slept. ‘I’ve been here all night working on this damn mess. Why I employ an accounts department and do the work myself, I’ll never know…’

‘You’ve been here all night?’ She saw the shirt was the same one he had worn the day before, but definitely the worse for wear, and the black stubble on his square chin made her heart give a solid little kick against her breasts before she could control it.

‘Crazy, eh?’ His smile was very boyish and rueful, and again her heart jerked uncomfortably. ‘The graveyards are full of guys like me who can’t let go of a problem until they’ve beaten it.’

‘Or it beats them,’ she added quietly.

‘Yeah, maybe.’ He settled back in the big black leather chair, stretching his hands above his head in a way that brought the muscled wall of his chest into stark prominence against the blue silk of his shirt. Some time during the night he had undone his tie and opened the first few buttons of his shirt, and now the sight of the dark, rough body-hair that covered his chest made her hands damp and her throat dry. What is the matter with me? she asked herself in disbelief. This wasn’t sexual attraction, was it? She didn’t fancy Wolf Strade of all people…did she? ‘How about a strong cup of coffee, and then maybe I’ll grab a couple of hours’ sleep on the couch before the meeting at eleven?’