Sandra Marton - No Need For Love

Don’t answer, she told herself, but the words were already bursting from her lips.

‘I did?’

‘I’m ashamed to admit that it hadn’t occurred to me that it might be a good idea to try and please the female members of the delegation.’ She looked at him sharply, but his expression was completely guileless. ‘They were delighted to find that Longworth, Hart, Holtz and MacLean employs attractive, intelligent women in responsible positions.’

She stared at him intently, trying to find even a hint of laughter or condescension in his eyes. Because if that’s what he was doing, by God, if he was playing her for a fool again...

‘At any rate, I hope it’s not too late to offer my thanks, Hannah.’ He rose and offered his hand to her. ‘I’ll see to it that there’s a note of commendation placed in your personnel file.’

She stared at the outstretched hand as if it were contaminated with poison. A letter of commendation was the adult equivalent of a nursery-school gold star! Even if he was foolish enough to think she could be bribed, he was far too intelligent to attempt to do it so cheaply.

Her gaze flickered to his face. He was still smiling, very pleasantly and politely, and all at once she understood.

The man was absolutely serious! What had happened at her door, those heated kisses, even her embarrassing response, had meant so little to him that he’d forgotten it. He’d set out to humble her, he’d succeeded, and that was the end of it. He had wiped the slate clean.

But it wasn’t. He might have forgotten, but she hadn’t. He’d kissed her. He’d taken her in his arms. He’d—he’d turned her world upside-down and left her to lie awake half the night thinking about the taste of his mouth and the feel of his body against hers...

‘Hannah?’

She looked up, horrified.

‘Are you all right, Hannah?’

‘Yes,’ she said. But she wasn’t. Her mind was racing almost as swiftly as her pulse. Where had such ridiculous thoughts come from?

‘Are you sure?’ He came around the desk quickly and put his arm lightly around her shoulders. ‘Here, sit down. You’re as white as a sheet.’

‘I’m fine,’ she insisted.

‘How about some water?’ He looked at the glass on his desk, half-filled with water, and handed it to her. ‘Here. Take a sip.’

Their eyes met as his fingers brushed her lips, rough against the soft flesh, and she looked quickly at the glass.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and put it to her lips.

‘I hope you don’t mind sharing the glass,’ he said.

She looked up quickly, but his face was expressionless.

‘No,’ she said, and gave him a tiny smile. ‘Not at all.’

She sipped at the water, not because she wanted it but because it seemed safer to do that than to try and understand what in heaven’s name was going on. After she’d managed a couple of swallows, she handed the glass to him.

‘That’s better,’ he said pleasantly. ‘The colour’s coming back into your cheeks.’

‘Mr MacLean...’

‘Grant,’ he said, and smiled.

She looked at him. If she didn’t confront him in the next few seconds, it would be too late. But how could she, without making herself look more foolish than she already felt? How could she make an indignant speech about an incident so meaningless to him that he’d already forgotten it?

‘Hannah?’

Say something, she thought furiously. Dammit, Hannah, say something. Anything.

‘It’s just occurred to me...’ He frowned. ‘Are you ill because of something you had last night? The wine, perhaps?’

The wine. Of course. She seized on the thought the way a drowning man would grasp a bit of driftwood. They’d both been under a strain to begin with, he worried about Magda Karolyi, she about the act she’d been forced into. And they’d both had some wine. Too much, perhaps. He had been aggressive, and she had been abrasive. Yes. It made sense—more sense than going off half-cocked, making a scene and losing the best job she’d ever had.

‘Hannah?’

She took a deep breath.

‘I’m fine, Mr...’ His brows rose. ‘Thank you, Grant,’ she said with a polite smile. Her hand closed tightly around the letter of resignation and she crumpled it up and stuffed it into her pocket. ‘Really.’

‘Good.’ He rose to his feet and she did, too. ‘Now, then,’ he said, his tone brisk and businesslike, ‘do you think you can manage to go through those files by one o’clock?’

She nodded as they reached the door to the outer office. ‘Of course. I’ll get right to it.’

‘Perhaps you should take some aspirin.’ He opened the door and stepped aside. ‘You might be coming down with the flu. Everyone seems to be catching it.’

‘I doubt it,’ she said, her tone as pleasant and impersonal as his. ‘I don’t feel ill at all.’

‘Tired, then,’ he said.

‘Yes. Just a little...’

The words caught in her throat. The expression on his face had not changed, but his eyes had gone dark and smoky, and all at once she felt that same light-headedness she’d felt when he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her.

‘Didn’t you sleep well last night, Hannah?’ She didn’t answer, and his smile tilted just a fraction of an inch, hinting at something intimate and shared. ‘No,’ he said, ‘you didn’t. And neither did I.’

His gaze swept over her face, lingered on her parted lips. Hannah held her breath. God. Oh, God...

‘Hannah?’ Sally rapped lightly against the half-open door and smiled brightly. ‘Oh. Mr MacLean. Sorry to bother you, sir. I didn’t realise you were in yet. I was going to ask Hannah if she wanted to take her coffeebreak now, but if she’s busy...’

Sally’s words faded as Grant swung towards her, his face a cold mask.

‘At this hour?’ He frowned as he looked past the two women to the wall clock in the outer office.

Sally cleared her throat. ‘Well, sir, those of us who get in early usually go to the lunch room for coffee and a Danish just about—’

‘Spare me the details, please. I don’t care what you have or where you have it, just as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work. You will have the material I want on my desk by one, Hannah, won’t you?’

Somehow, Hannah nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Good.’

The door swung closed. Sally stared at it in silence, and then she gave a dramatic shudder.

‘Brrr,’ she said. ‘The temperature goes down fifty degrees when he’s around. Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with it! Well, never mind. Listen, wait until I tell you what Betty said when she saw that nightgown...’

Hannah smiled faintly as she followed the other girl into the corridor, even managing to look as if she was listening to Sally’s story and laugh when the other girl laughed. But she didn’t really hear anything she was saying. She was, indeed, still caught in that moment when Grant had looked at her with the memory of last night burning deep in his eyes.

What might have happened if Sally hadn’t come bursting in?

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