Trail Of Love

Ben Radford laughed harshly. ‘You and thousands like you! Have you any idea how many claimants have beaten a path to our door since Kimberley disappeared?’

She shot him a glare. ‘I don’t care about them!’ she gritted, so angry at him that she entirely missed the point of his question.

His smile grew wolfish. ‘You should. They all had the same idea as you—getting their hands on the Endacott fortune.’

Now that did get through. Kay blinked like a startled owl, the colour draining from her cheeks. ‘What?’ She was shocked, her thoughts so far removed from the fiscal. He couldn’t possibly be thinking...

Ben Radford rounded the desk in two purposeful strides, to loom over her like some threatening bird of prey, and against her will she backed away. But only one step before stiffening her spine and squaring up to him. Not at all an easy thing to do, because his potency at the width of a room seemed to treble at such close quarters. He was not the sort of man you could ever ignore, even if he weren’t as handsome as sin. Battling regrettably capricious senses, she forced herself to concentrate on his words, and not the attractive curve of his mouth.

‘Had she been here, Kimberley Endacott would have been twenty-four and shortly to come into possession of a substantial amount of money. Which, naturally, you didn’t know,’ he finished scornfully.

She held her ground, her body trembling. She told herself it was anger—only anger. Because she had never been so insulted in her life before. ‘No, I didn’t, and it’s not why I’m here!’ she protested her innocence gamely. He didn’t believe her, and, in fairness, if what he said was true, why should he? Desperate to remove her gaze from one that had almost an hypnotic effect, she turned to the desk. ‘Sir Charles, just tell me there’s no possible way I could be Kimberley, and I’ll leave.’

A snort echoed behind her. ‘That’s certainly a novel angle. I don’t believe anyone else has used it,’ Ben Radford drawled nastily, and Kay, pushed to the limit, lost her temper.

She swung round, eyes flashing fire, hands balled into fists at her sides. ‘Shut up!’ she ordered, then balked at her nerve.

His brows rose. ‘Well, well. To use an overworked cliché, you’re magnificent when you’re angry.’

It could have been a compliment, but it wasn’t. She had never come so close to actually hitting a man, but the temptation was great. It successfully negated her sense of contrition at her behaviour towards him. ‘I came here because I was concerned, not to hear your ridiculous accusations.’ Once more she turned her back and appealed to Sir Charles. ‘Please, look at me. I can’t be your granddaughter, can I? The whole idea is ludicrous, isn’t it? Just tell me so, so that I can stop thinking these terrible thoughts about someone I loved very dearly.’

Sir Charles glanced up at that and heaved a deep sigh. ‘I’m afraid I cannot do so. I’ve no more idea than anyone as to whether my granddaughter is alive. As to what she would look like now—you could be her. The colouring is right.’

This wasn’t what she wanted to hear at all. ‘You can’t be serious!’ she gasped in dismay.

There was a flicker of compassion in the old grey eyes as he pushed himself rather tiredly to his feet. ‘I can sympathise with your problem, Miss Napier. You’re being made to doubt where only trust had been. You want that trust restored. However, you’ll appreciate, too, my own dilemma. I could walk past Kimberley in the street tomorrow and not know her.’

The unspoken anguish in that soft statement moved her terribly. Beside it, her own doubts seemed selfishly trivial. ‘I’m sorry. I never meant to revive bad memories for you. It was simply that I didn’t know who else to ask,’ she apologised stiffly, voice tinged with regret.

Sir Charles circled his desk and laid a large, comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘You haven’t upset me, if that troubles you. One doesn’t ever forget. One simply goes on living.’

To one side, his partner snorted. ‘Charles, you’re letting a pretty face undermine your judgement. Any minute now you’ll be offering to take her to lunch!’

‘Don’t be so damned cynical, Ben. The girl’s upset. Any fool can see that,’ Sir Charles countered irascibly.

Bed Radford dragged an irate hand through his hair. ‘And there’s no fool like an old fool!’ he rejoined, then held up a placatory hand as he saw the older man bristle. ‘OK, I’m sorry. You’ll do as you please, but just don’t forget she probably knows all the angles, and I know what she’s angling for.’ His blue eyes flashed a warning at her that made her shiver. It said: You may fool Charles, but you don’t fool me for one minute. ‘As I seem to be an unwanted third in this little drama, I might as well be on my way.’ However, at the door he halted. ‘But I will offer you a small piece of advice, Miss Napier. You’d do well to look up the law on blackmail. I’m sure you’ll find it fascinating reading.’ His pithy parting shot made her go cold.

‘You mustn’t mind Ben, he’s only looking after my interests. I’m afraid you aren’t the first young woman to turn up, but you are the only one who wanted us to prove you weren’t Kimberley.’

Regaining her composure now that the other man had gone, taking the tension with him, she looked serious. ‘Please believe me, I never once thought about the money.’

He smiled. ‘No doubt Ben would call me a fool again, but I do believe you.’

Kay smiled back. He really was a very nice man, unlike his younger partner. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and would have taken her leave, only a thought occurred to her. ‘If I had come here, claiming to be Kimberley, what would you have done?’

‘Called the police,’ he proclaimed, not mincing his words.

‘Oh!’ she responded, disconcerted, realising he might be kind but he wasn’t a fool. She had got off very lightly. Far more lightly than his partner would have liked.

‘You mustn’t forget my granddaughter was kidnapped and my family blackmailed for a very large sum of money. Both of which, and to our continuing sadness in one case, we have never seen again.’

Kay knew an enormous sense of guilt at bringing the whole tragic episode to the fore again. ‘I’m sorry, I never meant to cause you any distress. It was selfish of me, and stupid, too. I know who I am, and I shouldn’t have allowed a string of coincidences to undermine that. Please forgive me.’

Sir Charles escorted her to the door. ‘Of course I will, my dear. What are you going to do now?’

She hoped he wasn’t about to offer her lunch as Ben Radford had so cynically suggested. She gave a tiny shrug. ‘Go back to Winterbourne and Stonely, and put this entire episode behind me.’

Sir Charles looked impressed. ‘They’re very sound. A good financial reputation. What do you do there?’

There had been times in her life when explaining her work had been a complete turn-off, but she didn’t fear that from this man. ‘I’m an actuary. Basically I’m an investment analyst, managing portfolios and such.’

He whistled soundlessly. ‘If I say I’m impressed, it is sincerely meant. That’s quite a position for one so young.’

Kay grimaced. Her comparative youth, combined with her sex, did have its drawbacks. After failing to get jobs she was eminently qualified for, it had dawned on her that her looks were decidedly against her. Which was why she now dressed in very businesslike suits and drew her hair back. Experience had taught her it inspired confidence in her clients, and her employers.

Sir Charles opened the door, and Kay stepped outside, finding herself back in the corridor. She smiled up at him ruefully. ‘I’m working on getting older,’ she quipped, then sobered with a sigh. ‘You must think I’m a very ungrateful daughter who could think such things of my mother.’

‘A minute or two in a lifetime is no crime. We’re all human, and make mistakes. Good luck to you, Miss Napier.’

‘And to you,’ she said, and on a rare impulse, reached up to brush a swift kiss on his weathered cheek. Then, a little embarrassed, she turned and walked back towards the lift. She had made rather a fool of herself, but she would recover from it. At least there had been one positive result—common sense had returned at last, despite the lack of confirmation, and it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, giving a spring to her step.

‘Very touching!’

The sarcastically drawled comment brought her head round and she found herself confronting a stony-faced Bed Radford.

‘Laying claim, were you?’ he went on, joining her as she waited for the lift to arrive.

Kay went instantly tense and on the defensive. Oh, he was handsome, but there wasn’t an ounce of compassion or understanding in him. ‘Actually, I was disclaiming.’

As the lift doors opened, he stepped aside with studied gallantry, and she ground her teeth, stepping into the small cubicle. It shrank alarmingly as he followed her, stabbing at the button with a viciousness that was the only sign of the anger he was concealing.

‘Very clever. Now Charles won’t be able to think of anything else. He’ll begin to wonder. Then he’ll contact you. No doubt you told him where you could be reached?’ He saw her involuntary start and his lip curled.

Kay rushed to her own defence. ‘That wasn’t why I told him.’

‘But it was why you kissed him!’ he charged caustically.

Their eyes met across the small space, and there it was again—a charge so powerful that it was as if she had been plugged into the mains. It left her tingling, all the fine hairs on her skin raised to attention. That he had felt it too was in the wide flaring of his nostrils as he breathed in swiftly. It became of vital importance to hide a reaction that astounded her.

‘I was saying goodbye!’ she snapped in a rising voice, and her nerves jolted violently as his hand flashed out to press the stop button and the lift ceased its smooth descent. Alarm jangled through her, and there was no way to stop her heart from thudding against her ribs.

‘Is that how you usually say goodbye to virtual strangers?’ Ben Radford derided.

It had been an impulsive act that she couldn’t regret enough, now she knew it had been witnessed. ‘To an elderly gentleman who showed me olde-worlde courtesy, yes!’ she countered, tremblingly aware of his impressive bulk, and the anger and dislike emanating from him in waves.

But it still couldn’t conquer dismayingly receptive senses. Having scarcely registered before, they now appeared ultra-sensitive. His aftershave was tangy and inviting. In a seeming reversal of roles, everything about him was a siren-song, calling to her on a level as primitive as the emotions it aroused.

‘And I suppose you had no ulterior motive in mind?’ His question was a welcome distraction to her thoughts.

Somehow she managed to instil scorn into her tone. ‘Don’t judge me by your own yardstick. Now, if you’ve had your fun, Mr Radford, let me out,’ she added curtly as she braced herself to meet his eyes.

‘Why do you do it?’ he returned, making no move to comply, and effectively blocking her escape by resting back against the control panel.

Kay blinked, put off stride. ‘Do what?’

‘Dress like my maiden aunt, Miss Prunes and Prisms.’

She balked at that. ‘Don’t be so damned insulting! I dress this way because it pleases me!’ Not for anything would she explain herself to him.

He eyed her up and down. ‘Well, it sure as hell doesn’t please me,’ he observed disparagingly.

‘You can’t know how delighted I am to hear that, Mr Radford,’ she responded with sarcastic relish, only to have the feeling shattered seconds later.

‘Does it please any man, I wonder?’

The man was insufferable! ‘For your information, it does!’ she retorted, then could have kicked herself for descending to his level.

‘What’s he got, starch in his veins, too?’ he mocked.

Kay bit back a scathing retort, satisfying herself with a pithy, ‘Whatever Lance has got, it’s a one-hundred-percent improvement on you!’

A smile curved his lips. ‘Sounds as if you’re trying to convince yourself more than me. Does he know you’re here?’

She couldn’t help the betraying flicker of her lashes. ‘This is a private matter,’ she snapped defensively.

‘Wouldn’t he approve of your methods?’ he chided.

Lance wouldn’t, but for different reasons entirely from, those this man imagined. Not that she’d ever tell him that. ‘You made up your mind about me before I ever said a word, and that’s that, isn’t it?’ she charged instead.

‘What else did you expect me to do?’

‘At least give me a fair hearing.’

‘Oh, I listened, lady, and I didn’t like what I heard. What made you think you could get away with it? Because Charles is an old man, or because you have that extraordinary shade of hair?’

That was the second time he’d referred to her hair, and it annoyed her as much as it mystified her. ‘Why do you keep saying that? Why is my hair so damned important?’ she challenged touchily, having suffered as most redheads did from teasing.

His eyes grew mockingly sceptical. ‘Do you really expect me to believe you don’t know?’

This time she held on to her temper. ‘Why would I ask if I knew?’

‘Because you’re clever. To know too little is far more plausible than to know too much,’ he explained in that hateful drawl.

Kay followed his reasoning all too clearly. ‘If I was trying to prove I was Kimberley Endacott, which I’m not.’

‘Ah, but we only have your word for that,’ he countered. ‘The same way I only have your word that you didn’t know Marsha Endacott was a redhead, and her mother, too. They were renowned for it. There’s a famous portrait of the two of them at the house, but I doubt you’ll ever get to see it,’ he added with a certain satisfaction.

Kay stared at him for a moment, to check if he was lying, but in truth, she already knew he wasn’t. She closed her eyes. Why had he had to tell her that? She had come here, certain of having her doubts allayed, and they had been—until this very moment. Why couldn’t he have let sleeping dogs lie?

When she looked at him again, it was through stormy sea-green eyes. ‘I want to leave,’ she reiterated quietly, ‘and I’d rather not cause a scene if I can avoid it.’

His head went back at the threat, yet he turned and pushed the button none the less. However, when the doors opened on the ground floor mere seconds later, he halted her departure with a firm hand on her arm. It was like being branded. To all intents and purposes, the sleeve of her jacket need not have existed. She felt the impact to her core and caught her breath at the shock of it. His words seemed to come from a long way away.

‘Stay away from the Endacotts. They’ve suffered enough. I’m giving you fair warning, Miss Napier. Continue in this, and I’ll take it as personal, and believe me you’ll regret that. Have I made myself clear?’

Kay controlled her skittering senses with an effort and shivered, knowing he was not a man to make idle threats. ‘Perfectly,’ she gritted, and looked pointedly at his restraining hand.

He seemed to release her arm reluctantly. ‘Good, because I’d really hate for someone as lovely as you to get hurt.’

Disbelievingly, she made the mistake of meeting his gaze. His eyes were no longer cool. They blazed, but not with anger, and they both froze. Slowly, almost incredulously, he raised a hand to stroke a finger down the fragile line of her cheek.

Kay felt that brief caress to her bones. It was like a lick of flame. Her shiver this time had nothing to do with fear, and her lids dropped. Something was happening between them that was way beyond her experience, and instinctively she fought it. ‘I’m touched by your concern,’ she retorted with all the sarcasm she could muster. ‘Now let me go!’ The order held a quiet desperation as she felt the situation slipping out of her control.

He did no such thing, and it seemed to Kay almost as if he couldn’t. ‘I can feel you trembling,’ he declared in an oddly strained voice.

Kay drew in a ragged breath, as the suggestion triggered off a shock wave through her system. ‘If I am, it’s because I detest you,’ she choked out, looking away, sensing freedom a step away yet unable to reach it. Then her eyes were drawn helplessly back to him. Something he saw there made his fingers tighten.

‘Not that. You’re afraid. What do you think I’m going to do to you?’ he asked dulcetly, as if he’d entirely forgotten where they were.

‘I’m not afraid,’ she denied thickly. ‘I just want to say goodbye, Mr Radford.’

He drew in an audible breath. ‘They say you’re only afraid of what you don’t know,’ he murmured, almost to himself. As if he had to convince himself of something.

In the next instant every nerve in her body quivered with shock. He caught her to him, one hand curving about her jaw as the other encircled her waist and gathered her fast to his strong male body. Her gasp died under his descending mouth.

After a moment’s frozen surprise, she began to struggle for freedom. But trying to drag her mouth free only made him slide his free hand into her hair to hold her still. It was the most incredible thing, for as his fingers slid through her hair, running over her scalp, frissons of excitement brought the hairs up all over her body, and she shivered. Time and space became encapsulated. She forgot to fight because too many other messages were shooting to her brain. How his solidity had a potency she could never have dreamed of. That her breasts found the feel of that strength incredibly exciting, and flowered into aching points that wanted to press closer.

And his mouth... No kiss had ever made her feel so hot and shivery at the same time. As if she had a fever. His lips scorched her with their dry heat. Moving sensually, he tasted her, one second barely brushing her lips, the next drawing her lower lip into his mouth, caressing the silky inner skin with his tongue. Ever gradually the kiss deepened, demanding more of a response—and getting it. Until finally her lips parted, and with a triumphant sound he claimed her with his tongue piratically plundering her sweetness until her own tongue flickered to meet his.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Raising his head, he eased away to look down into her flushed face.

‘What are you, some sort of witch?’ he demanded in a husky drawl.

She shuddered in reaction. If she was, then he was a wizard. She’d never felt such magic. ‘I...think you’d better let me go,’ she responded weakly, somehow unable to free herself.

For a moment it seemed he hadn’t heard her, then with a sort of mental shake he released her and stepped back. ‘You’re right, of course. You’re trouble with a capital T. A man would be a fool indeed to ignore the warning signs.’

He had recovered quicker than she, but Kay rallied her defences at that. What on earth did she think she was doing? And with him of all people? Self-disgust made her voice chilly. ‘There’s no need, because we won’t be seeing each other again after today.’

‘I sincerely hope not.’

Kay winced inwardly as he made it abundantly clear he deplored that moment of weakness. Well, she did, too, and she let him know it. ‘No more than I. Goodbye, Mr Radford. I won’t say it’s been a pleasure meeting you, because I hate lying.’

Without another word she turned and marched away, very much aware that his eyes were on her until she passed through the front door. Only out on the pavement again did she draw in a fresh breath, and found she was shaking. As much from sheer reaction as anger. Not caring where she went, she strode out, her pace mirroring her inner turmoil. Her response to Ben Radford filled her mind. She had always thought she had a low sex drive, but he had proved that notion as full of holes as a rusty pail.

Reviewing her life now, she realised she must have led a very cloistered existence to have arrived at that decision about herself. Or had she begun to believe her own publicity? Had her well-cut businesslike suits and dresses become so much a part of her that the sensual side of herself had been hidden from her? Until her encounter with Ben Radford had proved there was nothing staid in her make-up—when the right man triggered her natural responses.

Yet, while he had done that, he was the wrong man. He hadn’t wanted to feel that way about her any more than she had him, so why had it stung, the way he had chosen to fight it? Did the answer really matter anyway? His opinion of her and her ‘questionable motives’ should be enough to make her head easily conquer her wayward emotions.

Besides, there was Lance. He was solid and dependable. OK, so he had never lit any fires in her, but she hadn’t expected him to. How ‘real’ was it, anyway? Emotions were fickle. It had been a very emotional day. Her reaction was probably heightened by the unreality of the whole situation. The thought somewhat eased her troubled spirit.

Her footsteps slowed, and, glancing round, she discovered she had no idea where she was. Fortunately a taxi cruised into sight and she flagged it down. Giving the driver the office address, she sank back into the seat with a sigh. She thanked heaven she would never have to see Ben Radford again. She would put him from her mind, just as she intended doing with the sad business of Kimberley Endacott.

* * *

Two days later, as Kay was congratulating herself on her success—the diary once more resided in the case which now lay tucked away at the back of her wardrobe—she glanced up quickly as, after only a brief knock, her office door was pushed open.

‘Do you have a minute, Kay?’ John Kovacs, her immediate boss, asked as he popped his bald head through the gap.

‘For you, five,’ she returned with a grin. ‘What can I do for you?’ she enquired as he came in and sat down. His usual jovial face was glum.

‘A big favour, I hope. You know I wouldn’t ask this if it weren’t so important. There’s a VIP due to meet Matthew Winterbourne about now, only he’s in a jam somewhere between here and Heathrow. There’s been a monumental foul-up somewhere, and, what’s worse, we can’t contact the VIP to put him off.’

Kay could see what was coming. ‘And you want me to keep him entertained until Matthew gets here?’

John’s face began to beam. ‘I knew we could count on you!’ he declared, jumping up.

‘Hey, I haven’t said I’ll do it yet,’ Kay pointed out quickly, then almost laughed, because if John had had any hair left he would have been pulling it out. So, although the request smacked of male chauvinism, she hadn’t the heart to let him down. ‘All right, but you owe me one. Give me a minute to make myself presentable and I’ll be up there.’ She reached into a drawer for her bag, and rose. ‘Who is it, do you know?’

He paused briefly on his way out. ‘Ben Radford, the merchant banker. Not someone you’d want to upset. Thanks, Kay; Matthew shouldn’t be more than half an hour.’

With a wave of his hand he disappeared, not realising he’d left Kay in a state of shock. Ben Radford! His name was a silent groan. Of all the pieces of bad luck. If she’d known she never would have agreed. Now she was committed to spending at least thirty minutes in his unenviable company. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve it, but it was too late to back out.

Hurrying to the ladies’ washroom, she surveyed her face. Was it any wonder she looked pale? But that was soon remedied with make-up. Unfortunately there was nothing she could do about her black pencil skirt and tailored white blouse, which were comfortable but quite definitely prissy. Then immediately she was annoyed at herself for allowing just his name to put her into a spin. He was just a man, for heaven’s sake! Deciding she’d done enough primping, she let herself out and headed for the lift.

Kay nodded to Matthew Winterbourne’s secretary as she passed through en route for his office. At the door she stopped and rather nervously smoothed her skirt down over her hips before taking a deep breath and entering. Ben Radford had his back to her, standing at the window, but he turned as he heard the door, his smile turning to a deep frown.