Secret Surrender

That clinched it.

‘I’ll see you in a week’s time, Michaels, but for now—drop dead!’ Christy hissed, and with a haughty flick of her head and a flounce of her skirts she left Conrad standing alone and vacated the premises with a sharp click of her heels.

CHAPTER THREE

CHRISTY frowned irritably and cast narrowed eyes over the vast array of appealing clothes that were housed in her magnificent walk-in wardrobe. Usually she had no problem—no problem at all. But what to wear? What to pack for these damned two days with Drew Michaels—for a weekend that promised to be living purgatory and hell all rolled into one?

He had been irritatingly reticent about the situation of his newest home; secret hide-aways were his speciality—he had a retreat in almost every continent and the exact whereabouts of each one was a wellguarded secret.

Still, Christy decided, determined to be positive, determined not to let self-doubt and fear of what lay ahead eat away at her self-confidence, at her resolution to go through with this no matter what, it was only for two days and it was summer, and she would hardly be roughing it. Drew Michaels was renowned for his good taste in all things. Wherever she would be spending this hateful weekend, it was sure to be in the height of luxury.

The week since the incident in the restaurant had passed all too quickly and as Christy waited with nervous impatience for the car that would take her to his abode she found that not one ounce of annoyance had subsided in that far too short a time. Anger burned away inside, niggling her day and night like an ant bite that simply got redder and more painful.

The sudden blast of a car horn just then made her jump a mile. Silently cursing the driver for disturbing the discreet, tasteful ambience of this most exclusive of neighbourhoods, Christy peered cautiously around one of the ruched lace blinds in her drawing-room and glared at the shiny red Ferrari with scowling irritation. Typical, she thought, that he should employ someone with about the same amount of good manners as himself!

‘Haven’t you heard of doorbells?’ Christy enquired, lowering her head to the open car-door window. ‘Residents around here don’t appreciate a blast of a car horn at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning! Oh!’ She paused and straightened up as Drew Michaels opened the driver’s door and appeared, looking disgustingly fit and healthy. ‘It’s you.’

‘In the flesh.’ He cast her a glance, surveying Christy with a critical eye, and immediately the prickles of antagonism that seemed to spring so easily to the surface whenever she set eyes on him were in action.

‘Something the matter?’ Her voice held enough ice to cause frostbite as she glanced swiftly down at her own attire and picked off a minuscule piece of fluff that was adhering to the finely cut cream trousers she had elected to wear.

Drew shrugged broad shoulders and shook his head with a smile that left Christy feeling a little too uncomfortable. ‘No, not at all. I was just thinking how good, if not altogether practical, you were looking.’ He came around and removed the portable radio equipment and the well-filled holdall from Christy’s reluctant grasp—giving anything at all to Drew Michaels went against the grain. ‘Forget anything?’ he asked pointedly, glancing down at the bulging leather. ‘After all, you are going to be away from home for all of one night!’

Christy threw him a withering look. ‘I happen to take a pride in my appearance—unlike some,’ she added pointedly, casting derisive eyes over his attire of faded denims, battered trainers and a well-worn shirt, which was wound up at the elbows to reveal solid biceps of quite amazing proportions. ‘I don’t see that there’s any need for sarcasm or ridicule, and as,’ she continued haughtily, ‘you gave no indication on how or where I am to be spending the next two days, I had to guess at the sort of thing to wear.’ She glared at him as he walked around to her side of the car, after stowing away her luggage, and opened the passenger door.

‘Me, sarcastic? Perish the thought!’ he drawled smoothly. ‘And risk the ferocity of Miss King’s displeasure?’ He shook his head, a derisive smile twitching the corner of his mouth. ‘Time is passing, Miss King; get in. Oh, and try to take that scowl off your face.’ He placed a guiding hand on Christy’s back. ‘It’s giving the neighbours something to talk about.’ He raised a hand and waved to a window two doors along and a bedroom curtain fell swiftly back into place. ‘You see,’ he added as he got back into the Ferrari, ‘this area isn’t any different from all the rest—there are nosy old bats like that one wherever you happen to live.’

‘That woman happens to be a baroness!’ Christy retorted sharply. ‘She’s hardly an old bat.’

Drew started the car and the engine roared into powerful life. ‘Well, nosy old baroness, then,’ he amended easily, stretching the seatbelt across his broad chest. ‘As I said, there’s very little difference.’

‘That’s just the sort of remark I would have expected from you,’ Christy replied, as she fastened herself in. ‘Typical! And for your information, if I want to scowl for the whole of the time I have to suffer your company, I will—OK?’

The broad, rugged frame beside her shrugged with obvious unconcern. ‘Your choice. But don’t you think it’s going to be rather a long forty-eight hours?’

Christy cast a sideways glance and glared at the strongly shaped profile. ‘It’s going to be eternity whatever I do,’ she replied with a sweet smile. ‘So what’s the point in trying to hide my deeper feelings? Scowling comes naturally when you’re anywhere in my vicinity.’ She paused momentarily, and then added, ‘Unless you haven’t worked it out already, Mr Drew Michaels, I’ll say it now loud and clear, just so we both know where we are—I don’t happen to like you.’

She was dying to see a reaction, an indication that she had annoyed him, angered him, hurt his pride, that ego which so often afflicted big stars in the worst kind of way. Christy watched and waited and saw little, except evidence of that brand of patronising amusement that was usually reserved for silly young children who didn’t know any better.

‘Oh, I think I’ve worked that one out all right.’ Drew’s mouth widened as he manoeuvred the car through the heavy London traffic. ‘And all by myself too, and, just so we both know where we stand, let me say now that I’m not too impressed by you either.’ He turned cold eyes upon her. ‘Did you see the articles in the gossip columns relating to our little contretemps in the restaurant last week, by the way?’

‘No!’ Christy replied snappily, turning to gaze out of the window. ‘I did not.’

‘Probably just as well,’ Drew replied cuttingly. ‘You did come out of it looking rather…’ he paused and pretended to struggle for the right word ‘…ridiculous? But then I know you have quite a strength of character. You do, I’m sure, get over such embarrassing set-backs.’ His mouth curled tauntingly. ‘The various snippets were rather unkind. Such a shame, I thought, the way they seemed to ridicule you. And Conrad, poor, innocent bystander that he was, got roped in rather badly too.’ He paused and then added in tones that had ‘wind up’ written all over them, ‘I mean, you only have to look at the man to see that he’s not nearly as much of a wimp as they made out.’

‘He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be!’ Christy responded with unthinking fervour. She glanced angrily across and saw Drew’s mocking expression far too late.

‘A tiger in bed?’ he quipped icily. ‘Well, aren’t you the lucky one?’

‘I didn’t say that!’ Christy snapped, her eyes blazing. ‘Typical, though, of you to bring the conversation down to that level. Conrad happens to be a good friend, that’s all! And besides, I don’t judge a true man on how he happens to perform between the sheets. It doesn’t make one iota of difference to me.’

Drew raised one dark, disbelieving brow. ‘No?’

‘No!’ Her cheeks felt hot. She surreptitiously placed long, manicured fingers against her skin and hoped to goodness he hadn’t noticed her flush of embarrassment.

‘Not a subject you wish to discuss, I see.’ Drew glanced across with an infuriating smile at Christy’s uncomfortable expression. ‘So why’s that? Either Conrad’s an abject failure in bed, or the poor devil hasn’t been given the opportunity to prove himself one way or the other. Which is it, Christy? I find I’m really quite intrigued.’

‘You’re a coarse rat, aren’t you?’ she shot back angrily, turning towards him. ‘And downright disgusting! And if you imagine for one second that I would even begin to reveal parts of my personal life to you, you’re——’

‘You’ve revealed more than aspects of your personal life to me—or has that rather passionate moment in time slipped from your memory?’ he asked, with deliberate bluntness.

So, just a few minutes into the weekend and he had already decided to throw that at her! She stared sideways as the Ferrari overtook a black taxi cab and forced herself to keep cool. ‘I cut all memory of that great mistake from my mind the moment I left the hotel bedroom!’ she informed him icily. ‘As far as I’m concerned it was a totally forgettable experience!’

Drew turned and cast observant blue eyes over Christy’s flushed, angry face. ‘So why are you so uptight, then? Tell me that.’

Forty-eight hours of this? Christy thought angrily. I’m going to go mad at least a dozen times over! ‘I’m not uptight!’ she snapped haughtily. ‘And… and——’ she steeled herself ‘—and if you think that the fact that we had brief, unmeaning sex once three years ago has any bearing now on how I feel, then your ego is bigger than I estimated! Look, I’ll make it plain now, shall I, Mr Michaels?’ she added with force. ‘I’m here because I’ve signed a contract for this series and under the terms of that ludicrous piece of paper I have to undertake to interview you. I am a professional and, as much as I would prefer to be doing other things, such as spring-cleaning my house, shopping for mundane items, or even washing my hair, I will endeavour to carry out the terms of my contract to the full. However, in no area of small print does it say that I have to like the people I interview. I will of course be civil at all times——’

‘Civil?’ He laughed out loud, filling the confined interior of the car with an infectious sound that in any other circumstances would have been incredibly pleasing.

Christy turned her head away, annoyed beyond belief that he should be so genuinely amused, so unperturbed by what she had just said. She hadn’t wanted to refer to that time, but to allow him to think for just one moment that what had happened then did in any way mean anything to her…

She took a deep breath, refusing to acknowledge for even a second that Drew Michaels looked more gorgeous than ever, when his eyes crinkled with laughter and his mouth broadened to reveal strong, incredibly white teeth.

‘Well, I must say,’ he continued when his mirth had subsided a little, ‘that I’m looking forward to seeing you when you’re really angry. Will a mere man survive the wrath of Christy King, do you suppose?’

‘I will of course be civil,’ she continued determinedly, keeping her gaze fixed out of the sidewindow, ‘but you will be sorely disappointed if you hope for any sort of atmosphere, other than——’

‘OK. OK, I get the picture.’ Drew changed through the gears and turned off a busy main road. ‘You’re spending time with me under sufferance and if I expect the same sort of response as last time——’

‘You’re going to be sorely disappointed!’ Christy finished for him in crisp tones. ‘I never make the same mistake twice, Mr Michaels; you want to remember that.’

‘You don’t consider this a mistake, then—agreeing to spend two days solely in my company?’ he enquired tauntingly.

She felt a lurch of trepidation and knew instantly that it was a mistake, and a very big one at that. God, she had been an absolute fool to imagine for one moment that she could get the better of this man. ‘Wwhy should I?’ she managed carelessly. ‘As I made plain before, I’m here to do——’

‘Yes. I know.’ He turned and curved his lips into a contemptuous smile. ‘You’re here to do a job.’

‘Where exactly are we going?’

They had been travelling for some miles. The question of her destination hadn’t occurred to her before now—she had been too busy fuming over all that he had said. But earlier this morning it had been the first thing she had promised herself she would ask.

‘Wait and see.’ He reached forward and pressed the car’s CD player into action.

‘And if I don’t wish to?’ Christy replied stiffly, trying her best to be heard above the thumping, incessant beat of heavy rock, which was reverberating throughout the car’s suddenly claustrophobic interior. ‘I would like to know where we’re going now.’

‘Well, you’ll just have to wait to find out, because right at this moment I don’t care to enlighten you.’ He glanced carelessly across and threw her a glittering look. ‘Let’s just keep it as a surprise, shall we?’

As the miles passed, Christy became more and more intrigued as to where Drew Michaels was driving them both. All the reasonable, most likely possibilities were knocked off her mental list one by one, and as the Ferrari began to make its way along a dusty track she had to fight against her natural curiosity and feign complete and utter uninterest. After Drew’s last remark, she had decided that unless speech was absolutely necessary she would play dumb all the way. Besides, battling against the music would have been almost impossible anyway. And after all, what did it matter where they were going? she thought irritably. If he wanted to play silly little games then that was up to him…

The light aircraft looked too small and too fragile. Christy sat staring at it through the windscreen of the parked Ferrari and wondered if Drew Michaels was enjoying the effects of producing this, his trump card.

‘Come along, Miss King, time to get out. I have your bag and your equipment.’

She swallowed with difficulty, aware that her throat had suddenly turned as dry as a desert, and immediately began to rummage in her handbag. ‘I…I just need to fix my face.’ With shaking hands she fumbled for the soft coral lipstick she had chosen to wear with her outfit and attempted to look as if she meant what she said.

Drew heaved an exasperated sigh. ‘Your lips look perfect, your face looks perfect, in fact your whole body looks absolutely gorgeous, as you very well know. Now forget your face and hurry up! I want to get going before the weather changes. The forecast isn’t too good for later on today…’

Christy listened to the last sentence with a sinking heart, immediately visualising the prospect of flying goodness knew where in a flimsy light aircraft with thunder and lightning and wind and turbulence and all the other awful possibilities that always sprang to mind whenever the prospect of flying loomed into view.

Did he know how much she detested it? she wondered, as she doggedly began powdering her nose. Was he really planning to take her up in the sky in that thing, simply to get his own back, to make her suffer?

The small round compact mirror reflected her sudden pale complexion. Christy snapped it shut and glanced up into his face, her large violet eyes wide with sudden anxiety. What to do? Refuse point-blank without an explanation? Tell him? She shook her head involuntarily. And give him the ammunition to parade that weakness in front of her? She glanced over to the stationary aircraft. If only it hadn’t been so small. Getting into jumbo jets had taken her two years of determined self-will and discipline; only recently had she started to feel any amount of confidence about trusting herself to the skies. But in this thing?

‘Am I allowed to know where you plan to take me now?’ she asked in a voice that was surprisingly firm, surprisingly cool and controlled, despite everything.

‘Don’t look so worried, Miss King; you make it sound as if I’m kidnapping you at the very least!’ Drew slanted her a slightly puzzled look. ‘We’re just going up to Scotland. I have a particularly beautiful old farmhouse there, right on the edges of a loch.’

Scotland. Was that good? Christy wondered, desperately trying to find some crumb of comfort on which to hold. Well, at least they weren’t going to cross the Channel; there would be firm ground below them for all of the way.

She found herself gazing into his face, surveying the stunning, dark features, picturing the contemptuous curve of the lips that would surely appear if she told him how frightened she was at the prospect of flying.

You’re going to do it. The voice was small and unsure, but it was there deep inside forcing her on. You must. There is no way you are going to allow this ridiculous phobia to get the better of you. You are going to be strong and composed and you are not going to allow Drew Michaels to have any suspicions at all.

Her legs felt like jelly as she got out of the car and waited while he locked it up. Crossing the tarmac was like living a nightmare, watching as the plane became larger and larger, but still, as far as Christy was concerned, not large enough.

She was so preoccupied with keeping her fear at a controllable level and her composure intact that it wasn’t until Drew was actually strapping himself in beside her that she realised that it was he that was going to pilot the plane.

‘You fly?’ Her voice didn’t sound quite normal, but he seemed not to notice.

‘Yes, that’s right.’

Christy watched nervously as he placed dark glasses on his nose, a pair of headphones over his thick dark hair, and began to check the dials in front of him.

‘How long?’

‘Oh, I got my licence just last week; I’m looking forward to having a practice.’

Christy felt the colour drain from her face. This couldn’t really be happening, could it? Practice? She stared ahead out of the window and thought about backing out, telling him she just couldn’t go through with the flight. So what if she looked a complete fool? It had happened before, hadn’t it? She had survived.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Drew glance across. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ His dark brows were drawn together slightly and Christy saw a vague expression of concern shadowing his face. ‘Look, I was only kidding before,’ he added carelessly, handing her some headphones. ‘I’ve actually been flying for ten years now. I have more flying hours under my belt than I care to remember so you’ve no need to worry.’

‘Who said I was worried?’ Christy arched surprised eyebrows and tried to play the part of someone totally in control. ‘I’m just not particularly enamored about flying all the way to Scotland, that’s all!’

‘Why not? It’s a very beautiful country.’

He flicked numerous switches, checked dials and then before she knew what was happening the engine roared into life. Christy swallowed back the lump in her throat and hastily fastened her seatbelt.

Too late, she thought, surreptitiously gripping the seat as the aircraft taxied along the runway. You can’t tell him now, you stupid girl!

She felt the prickle of fear, the sudden sickness in the pit of her stomach as the plane got up speed and closed her eyes tightly as the aircraft lurched into the cloudless blue sky. When she finally found the courage to open them again, she realised he was watching her.

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