Blackmailed Into Her Boss’s Bed

She thought again of the man in the kitchen. Where was he tonight? Not that she cared, one way or the other. It was just that he’d looked as if he could have used the few dollars he’d have earned this evening. Well, that wasn’t really accurate. There’d been something about him, an aura she just couldn’t nail down that had seemed to overwhelm everything else. He’d looked like a beach bum, yes, but there’d been more to him than that.

She clucked her tongue in annoyance. What was the matter with her? She was tired, that was it, and why wouldn’t she be? She’d flown in early this morning and she hadn’t stopped since. This walk had revived her a bit, she had to admit that. All right, she’d go in a little further, just into the redwood grove ahead, although it did look awfully dark and gloomy and…

She heard the footfalls behind her just as she reached the first stand of giant trees. Footfalls? No, not that. Something was pounding hard along the gravel path behind her. And it was breathing hard. In the silence of the evening, the sound of air being drawn in an out of its lungs was raspingly loud.

Her heart constricted. Talia had grown up in a small city back East, and had spent the last few years in San Francisco. The closest she’d come to country living was the four years she’d spent at Cornell University in New York State, and although the campus was in a beautiful outdoors setting it hardly qualified as wilderness.

Images of bears, cougars, or something even worse jostled each other for attention in her mind. She stood rooted to the gravel path, trying to decide whether it was wiser to turn and face what was coming or to head further into the artificial night of the redwood forest. Face it, she thought. But, just as she turned, the creature that was pursuing her ran her down.

It came at her quickly, a dark blur that rounded the bend and entered the trees with a speed that sent it crashing into her. Talia felt the jarring slap of muscle against flesh, caught the sharp tang of salt and something muskier, and then she went down in a tumble of limbs and grey flannel.

‘For God’s sake, woman, what the hell were you doing?’

The thing that had run her over had a voice. Relief flooded through her as she realised that it was a man—a very sweaty, irritable one, from the feel and sound of him—and then she felt her own anger rising.

Talia pushed at his chest as he lay above her. ‘Will you get off me?’ she demanded. ‘Dammit, where do you think you are?’

The man caught her wrists as she flailed at him. ‘That’s it,’ he said, ‘add insult to injury. It isn’t enough you were playing statues in the middle of the path—’

‘This is a walking path, not a running path. Why weren’t you watching where you were going?’

The torrent of words halted as she stared into the face poised above hers. It was dark in the redwood grove; the man’s face was striped with shadow. But there was no mistaking the thatch of sun-streaked hair that fell across his forehead or the darkly blazing eyes set above those high cheekbones.

Talia’s heartbeat stumbled. The man straddling her was the surfer-cum-waiter she’d met in the kitchen earlier.

He seemed to recognise her at the same moment. A smile curved across his mouth, then vanished. He sat back a little so that she felt the weight of him against her thighs. ‘We meet again,’ he said, and she flushed.

‘Let me up.’

The smile came again. ‘Ask nicely.’

Talia gritted her teeth. ‘I said—’

‘Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I told you to ask nicely.’

‘Dammit! Get up. Are you deaf?’

He laughed coolly. ‘I’m just not good at taking orders. I’ve been told it’s my major failing.’ The grasp on her wrists tightened. ‘Now ask politely if you want me to get off you.’

‘Damn you…’

He smiled. ‘Actually,’ he said softly, shifting his body against hers, ‘I’m rather comfortable where I am.’

Talia closed her eyes, then opened them again. He was watching her narrowly, the smile twisted across his mouth. She was a long way from the inn, she thought suddenly, and a chill raced along her spine.

She swallowed. ‘All right.’ Her voice was wooden. ‘Get up. Please.’

He hesitated. Then, in one fluid motion, he let go her wrists, rose to his feet, and held out his hand. Talia looked at it, then at him, and turned her face away. She got to her feet stiffly, wincing as she did.

The man moved quickly. His arm slid around her waist. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No. I’m fine, no thanks to you.’

She tried stepping away from him, but his arm tightened around her. The smell of salt and musk came again, and she realised suddenly that it was him she was smelling, a sensual combination of sweat and some male essence that emanated from him.

‘Don’t be so bloody stubborn,’ he said. ‘Tell me what’s wrong. Is it your ankle?’

She shook her head. ‘I—I don’t think so, no. I just broke my heel, that’s all.’ Her eyes met his and she saw once again that dark intensity that she’d seen that afternoon. Her breath caught. ‘Let go of me.’ She waited a moment, then swallowed. ‘Please.’

‘I’ll help you back to the inn,’ he said. ‘Lean on me.’

His arm curved around her, moulding her to the muscular strength of his body. He was wearing the same T-shirt and shorts she’d seen him in earlier; both were soaked and clung to him like a second skin. She stumbled as he drew her to him; when she reached out to steady herself, her hand fell on his arm. His skin was warm and damp, taut under her fingers, the muscles beneath hard and powerful. Talia’s pulse leaped crazily, and she pulled back as if she’d touched her hand to a hot stove.

‘No.’ Her voice sounded ragged, and she swallowed. ‘No,’ she repeated, more evenly this time. ‘I’m fine. If you’d just—’

‘What are you going to do, walk back barefoot? Dammit, let me help you.’

Suddenly, his very nearness seemed to overwhelm her. There was a strange constriction in her chest; her head was reeling. In all her carefully ordered life, she had never felt the confusion this man seemed to inspire. ‘Just get your hands off me,’ she said. ‘Do you hear me? I swear, if you don’t…’

He grew very still. ‘If I don’t?’

Talia swallowed. ‘I’ll—I’ll report you. I’ll—I’ll…’

The man clasped her by the shoulders and forced her to face him. ‘I saw the way you looked at me today,’ he said softly. ‘You liked what you saw, Miss Roberts. But you were damned determined not to admit it.’

Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘You flatter yourself.’

He laughed. ‘Do I?’

In the second before he kissed her, Talia knew what he was going to do. But there was no time to stop him—he pulled her into his arms with a speed that took her breath away. One hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back, while the other cupped her chin.

‘No.’ Panic turned her voice thready. ‘Don’t—’

His mouth silenced her. Talia raised her hands and slammed them against his chest, but he only shifted her more closely against him, imprisoning her with his strength. His mouth moved on hers, hard and deliberate, and gradually he forced her lips to open to the demand of his. His kiss became an invasion of her senses: she tasted his heat, felt the mockery of passion his tongue made as it sought hers.

The assault of his embrace flamed through her, scorching a path the length of her body. Talia grew still in the stranger’s arms; her lashes fell to her cheeks as a strange lethargy spread through her. She swayed in his arms and he murmured something incomprehensible against her mouth, his kiss gentling, deepening.

His hand slid to her waist, and she felt the light press of his fingers just beneath her breast. For a tick of eternity, she felt abandoned by time and reality. A nameless fear welled within her, more of herself than of him.

With a sob of desperation, Talia pushed hard against his chest and twisted free of his embrace.

‘Are you always this brave,’ she said, after her heart had stopped racing, ‘or is it because I’m a woman that you think you can take what you want?’

He laughed. ‘If you mean do I always get what I want, the answer is yes.’

His voice was harsh, his tone contemptuous, and Talia thought she’d never hated anyone as she hated him. Anger fuelled her courage. ‘Then this will be the first time you don’t.’

‘There’s always a way, Talia.’ His eyes were cool as they moved over her. ‘Haven’t I just proved that?’

Her hand was a blur as it rose between them, but he was faster. He caught her wrist before she could strike him, his fingers curving tightly around the slender bones, and she drew a sharp breath.

‘Let go of me. Do you hear me? I—’

Laughter drifted towards them. There was the sound of feet scuffling on the gravel path, and suddenly a young couple stepped into the redwood grove. Talia recognised the boy—he was one of the servers she’d hired, and from the way she was dressed the girl was, too.

The couple’s laughter faded and they stood staring at Talia and the man. The little tableau remained still and silent and then, suddenly, he let go of Talia’s hand and stepped back.

‘Until we meet again, Talia,’ he said softly, and then he turned to the boy. ‘Help Miss Roberts to the inn. She’s had an accident.’

The couple sprang apart, the boy moving quickly to Talia’s side. ‘Yes, sir.’

Talia shook her head. ‘I’m fine. It’s only my shoe. I…’

Her words trailed away as the man turned and began running easily down the path. ‘Sir’, the boy had said, the word taut with deference. A little while before, it would have seemed ludicrous that anyone would address a man wearing T-shirt, frayed shorts and scuffed running shoes with such respect. But the stranger’s tone and bearing had suddenly commanded it. ‘Until we meet again,’ he’d said.

The breath caught in Talia’s throat. Suddenly, she knew beyond doubt that they would.

CHAPTER TWO

JOHN DIAMOND examined the tray before him as if the chicken pieces laid out on it might suddenly spring up and attack him. ‘What did you call this stuff?’ he asked, picking up the serving fork and gingerly moving aside a pineapple ring.

Talia smiled. ‘I didn’t call it anything,’ she said, watching as he put some chicken on his plate and cut into it. ‘It’s labelled batch number seven—although the kitchen staff’s been calling it Chicken Hawaiian.’

John put his fork to his mouth, chewed slowly, then swallowed and made a face. ‘How about calling it a mistake and letting it go at that?’ he said, pushing his plate aside and taking a long sip from a glass of iced water. ‘Much too sweet—nobody wants anything that sugary today.’ He glanced towards the closed door that connected the executive dining-room to the kitchen. ‘What’s next? Or don’t I want to know?’

‘Something involving artichokes, fillet of sole and capers.’ Her boss rolled his eyes and Talia laughed softly. ‘Well, you asked Staff to come up with some exotic offerings, John.’

‘Remind me to tell them exotic doesn’t mean inedible, hmm?’ John’s mouth drew up in a good-humoured smile. ‘What the hell, that’s what our monthly Surprise Luncheon is for, isn’t it? Better to test out new concoctions on ourselves than on our clients. And we average far more successes than failures.’ He took another sip of water, then set down his glass and looked at Talia. ‘Speaking of successes, I’ve had glowing reports about the Miller Weekend.’

Talia looked up. ‘I meant to thank you for sending me a copy of the letter from the inn,’ she said. ‘I’m glad they thought it went well.’

Her boss shook his head. ‘Not just the inn. I had a letter from Miller himself yesterday.’ He paused as the connecting door swung open and a waitress appeared bearing a covered platter. John sniffed as she set it down and took off the cover, and then he sighed. ‘Capers and artichokes, hmm? Do us a favour, Ann. Ask the kitchen to send out a couple of omelettes, will you? Thanks.’ He waited until the girl had hurried off, and then he covered the offending dish and shoved it aside. ‘You win some and lose some, I guess.’

Talia leaned forward. ‘You heard from Logan Miller?’

Her boss nodded. ‘Yeah. The big man himself.’ He looked at her and smiled. ‘He was impressed. Very impressed. Good food, good service, everything planned to the last detail…’

‘As if he’d know,’ she said impatiently. ‘I told you, he never showed up. Well, I suppose he did, I know he was listed as speaker at their general meeting and as chairman at some workshop, but I never laid eyes on him. He wasn’t at the cocktail party Friday evening or the dinner either night or—’

‘No one ever introduced you, you mean.’

Talia shook her head. ‘He wasn’t there, John. You could tell from the way people were acting.’

‘Didn’t you say you only made cursory appearances each evening?’

‘I followed company policy,’ Talia said defensively. ‘Stay in the background, be available if needed—’

John held his hands up. ‘For heaven’s sake, I wasn’t criticising you. You did a great job—didn’t I just tell you that? I’m only pointing out that just because you didn’t see Miller it doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. Anyway, you should count yourself fortunate he stayed out of your hair. Corporate weekends are rough enough without the top brass breathing down your neck.’

Talia nodded. ‘I know. And I’m glad to hear that Mr Miller was satisfied.’

‘More than satisfied, according to his letter.’ Her employer smiled. ‘I knew you’d be pleased; I gather you worked your tail off that weekend. You looked as if you hadn’t slept a wink when you showed up at the office Monday morning.’

Talia nodded as the door swung open again and the waitress brought their omelettes to the table. ‘It was—it was a tough weekend, yes,’ she said slowly.

John peered narrowly at his plate, then picked up his fork and stabbed at his eggs. A smile of relief eased across his face. ‘Thank God,’ he muttered. ‘Eggs unadorned. Remind me to give the chef who cooked this a bonus.’ He took a mouthful, chewed, then swallowed. ‘Of course the weekend was tough. A big job, and your first solo assignment. Why, I remember right after I started Diamond’s, I landed a huge account…’

It was a story Talia had heard before. Only half listening, she picked at her lunch while John rambled on. Talking about the weekend she’d spent at the Redwood Inn had brought a rush of unwelcome memories. Her thoughts drifted far from the small, handsomely appointed dining-room to a narrow trail winding through a shadowed grove of trees, to a man whose arrogant, handsome face had haunted her dreams for the past two weeks.

And that was ridiculous. What had happened on that trail had been unpleasant, even humiliating. The man had been brash and vulgar. But the only harm done had been to her ego. Talia knew that, just as she knew she should have long since put the whole incident out of her mind.

But she hadn’t. She was sure she knew the reason: as soon as the man had faded from sight, she’d thought of a dozen cutting remarks she should have made to put him in his place. At the very least, she should have dismissed him on the spot. He’d caught her off guard, she knew that, and she told herself she couldn’t be blamed for not reacting quickly enough to his insults.

By the time she’d hobbled back to the inn, she’d been burning with the desire to strike back at him. She’d shrugged off the concerns of the young couple who’d escorted her to the door, hurried to her room, exchanged her ruined shoes for a new pair and then rushed downstairs to begin her search for the man.

But he hadn’t been there. After a while, when she’d calmed down, she’d realised that there was no way he’d have stayed around. He’d certainly have figured out that she had been going to hand him his walking papers. And he’d never have let her have that satisfaction. He might be a drifter, but he wasn’t a fool.

The next day, she’d thought of asking if anyone knew his name. There was a certain camaraderie among those who drifted along the California coast, searching for the right wave or the right beach, and everyone knew someone who knew someone else. But it hadn’t seemed such a wise idea. People would have wanted to know why she was enquiring about him, and what would her answer have been to that?

She couldn’t have said he’d walked off the job. In this business, people did that often enough and it wasn’t the practice of employers to go looking for them. Nor could she have said he’d been insolent. To do that, she’d have had to explain what he’d done, and she wasn’t exactly sure what had happened to her in that redwood forest.

Besides, what would have been the point? The man had made a fool of her, but the incident was over and best forgotten. And she’d almost thought she had forgotten it, in the rush of activity that the day had brought. There had been no fresh mushrooms for the dinner salads, and one of the cooks had wrenched his back. By the time the day had ended, Talia had been exhausted and drained.

But, that night, she’d had her first dream about him. It had been filled with uncertain images. But the memory of his eyes, blazing with fire, had been as vivid as the memory of his mouth moving with fierce sweetness on hers. She’d awakened suddenly, trembling, stunned by the sharp reality of that kiss. Talia was almost thirty years old, she knew the facts of life—but she had never had that kind of dream before.

What was more upsetting was that what she’d felt in the arms of her dream lover had been more exciting than anything she’d ever felt in the arms of the flesh and blood man she’d been involved with. It had happened quite a while ago, but she still remembered how unfulfilled she’d felt after the relationship had reached that stage. She’d been lonely—that was probably what had made her seek Keith’s comfort. But she’d been even lonelier when she’d found that she’d felt nothing in the intimate embrace of the man who’d said he’d loved and wanted her.

The only positive thing about the brief affair was that it had proved that she wasn’t tainted by her mother’s affliction. The only passion that drove Talia was the passion to succeed.

She had avoided emotional entanglements ever since. There’d been no need for them; the job with Diamond Food Services had come along, and suddenly Talia’s life had been full and rich. Her career had become the passion of her life, her success the yardstick by which she could measure her rapid progress away from the poverty and desperation in which that life had begun.

Now, suddenly, shockingly, her body had betrayed her. She’d felt unclean. When her heart had stopped thudding, she’d thrown back the blankets and stalked to the shower, as angry at herself as she had been at the man who’d invaded her dreams. She’d stood beneath the streaming water for long minutes, scrubbing her skin until it glowed pink, as if the soap would cleanse not just her flesh but her mind and soul.

There’d been no more dreams—until the next night. And the next. To her despair, there seemed no way to stop them. The fantasies were never really clear, they were more like mirages shimmering distantly in a hot desert wind—but they always ended the same way, with Talia clasped in the stranger’s powerful arms, her body moulded to the heat of his, her mouth blooming under the passion of his kiss.

Last night, she’d awakened remembering his words. ‘Until we meet again,’ he’d said. Her heart had skipped erratically. It had only been a figure of speech, she’d assured herself. There was no way their paths would ever cross, they came from worlds so far apart, there was no sense in even attempting to envisage their meeting. Talia’s world was ordered and controlled; it was her safe way to face life. His—his was chaos and anarchy. It was the antithesis of everything she believed in.

Not that it mattered. She hated him. She only dreamed about him because he’d upset her—that was easy enough to understand.

Then why did she tremble in his arms every night? She wasn’t even asleep when he came to her. As soon as she climbed into bed and put out the light, he was beside her in the dark, his mouth a curl of flame on hers, his hands a silken glide across her skin…

‘Talia?’

She blinked and looked up from her lunch, her eyes focusing on her employer seated opposite her. John Diamond gave her a wry grin. ‘I knew you’d be pleased, but I didn’t think my news would bring a glow to your cheeks,’ he said.

Talia blushed. ‘I’m sorry, John. I must have been daydreaming. Did you say something?’

Diamond laughed. ‘Did I say something, indeed!’ He shoved his empty plate aside, learned forward, and put his elbows on the table. ‘When did you tune out, sweetheart? Before the request from old man Miller, or after?’

Her teeth closed lightly on her bottom lip. ‘Request?’ She groaned dramatically. ‘Don’t tell me he’s planning another executive weekend. I’ve hardly recovered from the last.’

‘Ah, ye of little faith, what do we care about executive weekends when we can establish executive dining-rooms?’ John grinned. ‘Your mouth’s fallen open, Talia. You really didn’t hear a bit of what I said a few minutes ago, did you?’

‘Executive dining-room? Logan Miller wants us to set one up?’

Her boss nodded. ‘That was what his letter said.’

‘But I’d have thought they already had one in their Los Angeles offices. A company like that…’

John shrugged. ‘I gather they’re opening new offices and they want us to do the honours.’ He paused, then smiled slyly. ‘Actually, it’s you the old boy wants, lovey. He made a special request for Miss Talia Roberts.’

Talia’s pulse leaped. The weekend really had gone well. To have made such a positive impression on a new client was more than she’d hoped for. ‘Really?’

Her boss laughed. ‘Really.’ He pushed back his sleeves, then raised his eyes to hers. ‘In fact, the old man will tell you that himself in less than five hours.’

‘He’s coming here? To our office?’

‘Now you’re letting yourself get carried away, Talia. I mean, it’s one thing to believe in good fortune, but miracles are another story. Logan Miller doesn’t come to the world, it comes to him.’

‘But you just said—’

John pursed his lips. ‘I said you’d be seeing the old boy in just a few hours.’ He paused, then leaned towards her. ‘And you shall. In his office, in LA. His secretary called this morning. You have a dinner appointment with him.’

‘What?’ Talia stared at her employer in disbelief. ‘I can’t, John. I have a meeting scheduled in an hour. Anyway, I’d never get a flight at the last minute. And I’d have to change my clothes—’

‘Changing your clothes is the only thing on your agenda.’ John Diamond shoved back his chair and got to his feet. ‘Someone else will take your meeting. As for flight arrangements, the old boy’s sending his Learjet for you.’ He grinned as he walked around the table and grasped the back of her chair. ‘Pretty impressive, hmm?’

Panic fluttered its wings in Talia’s breast. What kind of nonsense was this? John knew she didn’t work this way—he’d teased her about it often enough, but she knew that he admired her for it, too. She was a person who believed in planning. That was the way you took control of a situation. But that took time and preparation, and her boss—and Logan Miller—were giving her neither.

‘I can’t do it,’ she said. The expression on her boss’s face made her swallow. ‘I mean, I’d rather not do it this way. I—I work best when I have the chance to get myself organised, John. You know that.’

Diamond’s smile faded. ‘Listen, sweetheart, I’d love to play this your way. But there isn’t time. Miller said he wants to see you tonight.’

John pulled back Talia’s chair and she rose slowly. ‘Yes, but what’s the rush? The meeting can wait a day or two. I’ll telephone Mr Miller and explain—’

‘He’s leaving for South America tomorrow. Brazil or Chile, I don’t know, I’m not certain what his secretary said. Frankly, I was too busy pinching myself to make sure it was happening.’ John took her hand and tucked it into his arm. ‘Do you realise, Talia, that if you can pull this off, Diamond will have its first really classy account?’