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Trail Of Love
AMANDA BROWNING
You're in Trouble with a Capital T! Kay Napier was a happy, intelligent young woman who had been brought up in a loving home. But then lightning struck… The first bolt came in the disturbingly attractive shape of Ben Radford. The second - the unraveling of a well-kept secret - was a very challenge to her identity.She wasn't who she thought she was! But then something else came to light… Ben wanted her body, but not her love… He was marrying Nita!



Trail Of Love
Amanda Browning



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#u09ab4675-e332-56de-97df-c10a54090bd9)
CHAPTER TWO (#u37cfa862-15be-5dca-83c0-72cab21d1c62)
CHAPTER THREE (#uc7db594a-394d-56b3-8b3f-6661d5ee4ef4)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE
THE seat Kay Napier sat on so uncomfortably stood in the immaculately kept gardens of a quiet London square. Her large, troubled green eyes rested on the building opposite. Having come this far, it would be foolish not to go on, but the doubts which had been her disagreeable companions these last few weeks had risen up to hold her back. Did she really want to go in there and make a fool of herself? Yet wasn’t it better to find out the truth? She sighed. What truth? The truth was that she was Kay Napier, a twenty-four-year-old actuary, and she shouldn’t let one unpleasant incident make her doubt the beliefs of a lifetime.
Yet it had, and did, because sensible advice was very rarely taken. She needed to have her life put back into its proper perspective. She had believed there was nowhere she could go to achieve that, now her mother was dead, but a week ago the solution had hit her; there was somebody she could ask. The Endacotts themselves. The family lived in Northumbria, but Sir Charles Endacott was head of the family’s merchant bank here in London. The very bank, in fact, that she sat across from now, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t totally crazy.
When fate had produced a cancelled appointment, giving her some free hours in which to deal with her problem, her course of action had been clear. It still was, she thought with a wry smile, and recalled what Macbeth had said, ‘If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly’. She would go in, get her answer, and then get on with the rest of her life.
With which bracing advice she climbed to her feet and headed for the gate set in the wrought-iron railings. The door to the elegant Regency building swished open almost soundlessly, which reminded Kay, although it was hardly necessary, that a great deal of money changed hands inside these portals.
The receptionist looked up with a friendly smile as Kay approached her desk. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked pleasantly.
Kay assumed her most businesslike expression. She might be in a quandary, but it wouldn’t do to let anyone else know it. ‘Yes. I would like to see Sir Charles Endacott, please.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
Mentally kicking herself for forgetting something so basic, Kay saw her spur-of-the-moment project being scuttled before it reached first base. This now required some delicate handling, not to say outright bluff. Her smile was confident. ‘No, I don’t, but I’m sure you’ll find he will see me.’
The young woman returned the smile with a polite one of her own. ‘I’m sorry, but without an appointment Sir Charles doesn’t see anyone,’ she said firmly.
At any other time Kay would have admired her efficiency, but not today. ‘I’m sure exceptions can be made?’ Her glance said, surely, as one woman to another: we can come to some sort of arrangement.
‘If you’d care to make an appointment, I’m sure Sir Charles will be only too happy to see you, on that day.’
Kay straightened her spine. She wasn’t prepared to give in, now that she was here, and if it took a downright lie to get her past this female Cerberus, she’d use it. ‘I’m sure he would, but he might not be too happy about missing me today!’ she countered sweetly.
The receptionist was no fool, but at that implication she hesitated. ‘I see.’ She clearly wasn’t too sure if she was hearing the truth but didn’t want to take the risk of insulting a friend of her employer. ‘You’ll appreciate that Sir Charles is a very busy man. It may not be convenient. However, if you’ll take a seat for a moment, I’ll have a word with his secretary.’
Kay sank into a seat by the window, marvelling at her own temerity. She watched as the receptionist held a low-voiced conversation on the telephone. Was she being described? she wondered, and shivered. It could be from nerves, or the building’s air-conditioning, which was working flat out because this was one of the hottest summers on record. The heat troubled her, for her skin was so fair that it simply burned instead of tanning. It was a legacy of her rich copper-coloured hair, which, when free of its confining French pleat, fell in lush waves to her shoulders.
She had wanted to look smart, yet cool, and she knew the grey linen pencil skirt with matching jacket suited her tall, slim figure. There had been times when she had described her figure as boyish, but that was no longer true. Her hips might be narrow, but her legs were long and shapely. Her breasts were undoubtedly small, but they were in perfect proportion to the rest of her. There could be no doubting her femininity.
A slight frown marred the perfection of her finely boned face as she dropped her gaze to the manila folder she held on her lap. Even white teeth chewed uneasily at lips that usually described a perfect, if slightly full bow. The source of all her recent uncertainty lay inside.
As if to reassure herself that she hadn’t dreamed it all, she reached inside and withdrew a folded paper. It was her birth certificate, and although she virtually knew the details by heart she still opened it. Sarah Jane Napier, born twenty-four years ago to Ronald and Jean Napier.
Nobody called her Sarah, of course, but she had always known the reason for that—or thought she had. Kay had been a pet name, a fancy of her mother’s which had stuck. There was nothing unusual in that. But then she hadn’t been in possession of her mother’s diary. Or that letter, which she had destroyed but somehow couldn’t forget.
Just then she heard the receptionist put the receiver down, and, quickly tucking the paper away, Kay rose and approached the desk once more. The young woman was extremely polite.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting. If you take the lift to the top floor, Mrs Rivers will meet you.’
Kay saved her smile until she was inside the lift. So far so good. However, it was only a small success. She was to be met, which meant they weren’t giving her the chance to go anywhere they didn’t want her to. She’d have to think fast. This Mrs Rivers sounded a very different kettle of fish. All the same she found herself quite looking forward to the encounter.
She laughed. Lance would have a fit at her behaviour! That brought her up short. Lance Young was the man she expected to marry one day, yet she hadn’t even discussed this visit with him. She hadn’t wanted to bother him. Now it occurred to her to question why not.
She realised she’d said nothing because he’d only call her foolish. Lance was a very meticulous, private man in his late thirties. He respected her sensible outlook, her career-mindedness. This—sudden insecurity—he would think frivolous. Instinctively she had kept her own counsel. And, if the fact that she couldn’t confide in him her personal worries hurt, the disappointment was small, for in everything else they were like-minded. Neither believed in a ‘grand passion’. Their marriage would be one of mutual respect. It had always given Kay a sense of well-being to know where her life was going.
Seconds after that warming thought raised her spirits, the lift doors opened again to reveal Sir Charles’s doughty secretary. Mrs Rivers was a compact, grey-haired woman who was friendly enough in an impersonal way. She led Kay to her office before opening the attack.
‘I understand that you wish to see Sir Charles, but there seems to be some confusion as to whether you have an appointment or not.’ The secretary consulted an open diary on her desk briefly.
Kay assumed a cajoling smile. ‘I don’t have one, but...’
‘But apparently that isn’t necessary because Sir Charles is an old acquaintance,’ the sentence was finished for her.
With her bluff called, Kay was left in a difficult position. To say yes and get caught out in the lie would, she suspected, earn her short shrift, whereas the truth... Yet what choice did she have? ‘Actually, he isn’t,’ she admitted wryly. ‘I know it was wrong to lie, but I only did it because it really is so vitally important that I see him.’
Mrs Rivers resumed her seat. ‘That’s as may be. As a statement it’s hardly unique. The fact remains that Sir Charles is a very busy man.’
‘I appreciate that, I really do, but I only need to see him for five minutes, ten at the most,’ she insisted pleadingly.
The older woman sighed and pursed her lips. ‘Well...perhaps if you were to tell me what your business is?’ she offered reluctantly.
Kay had no wish to reveal anything unless she had to. ‘It’s a personal matter.’
Sir Charles’s secretary regarded her askance. ‘Can’t you be more specific?’
Shaking her head, Kay squared up. ‘The only person I can explain it to is Sir Charles. Can he fit me in, do you think?’
Mrs Rivers looked at her squarely for almost a minute, then sighed again. ‘You’re very persistent. I’ll see what I can do. All I can promise you is a long wait with no guarantee.’
That was all Kay wanted—a chance. ‘I’ll wait.’
The secretary smiled wryly. ‘You may live to regret saying that. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable over there?’ She indicated a low couch nestling behind a coffee-table on which lay several magazines. ‘I’ll let you know if Sir Charles will see you.’
Kay flashed her a smile and once more took a seat. She picked up a magazine and began to flip through it, but, having come so close to her goal, it was impossible to think of anything but the reason she was there. That, of course, was the diary.
Kay sighed at the memories that brought. There had only been the two of them since her father left them when she was only a baby, and her mother’s tragically early death from cancer had been a blow, so suddenly had it happened. It had left Kay with the sad task of clearing her mother’s house, and she had come across the diary at the bottom of a case containing various other personal items. These she had taken home with her to go through at another time. Only the diary had called for her attention. She had read it in the expectation of finding out more about her mother’s early life—a subject she had been reticent about—but the entries had been spasmodic, covering no more than a few years at most, the pages crossed in a small neat hand.
They had begun with her daughter’s birth. The entry was simple: ‘K came today. She’s so beautiful’. The wording had not struck her then, nor the singularity of her name only being referred to by the initial. But even that wasn’t so very unusual for someone keeping a diary, and Kay had forgotten about it until, several weeks later, her interest had been piqued by a television documentary on kidnapped children who had never been returned after the ransom had been paid. One case which had featured prominently was that of Kimberley Endacott.
A passing interest it might have remained, but for the anonymous letter. Addressed to her mother and redirected from her house to Kay’s flat, it had demanded money, said the writer would be in touch, and had contained clippings of the very same Kimberley Endacott case.
She had assumed it was the work of a crank, and torn it up angrily, refusing to give it credence, until one evening she had answered the telephone. The caller had asked for Jean, and when she had told him her mother had died, he had demanded to know if Jean had read the clippings.
‘No,’ Kay had told him with satisfaction. ‘I tore them up. Mother died several weeks ago, so you’re too late with your sleazy attempt to blackmail her!’ she had declared coldly and slammed the receiver down.
Only the call had added substance to the letter and somehow she couldn’t stop thinking about it. In the end she had had to go to the library and get photocopies of the clippings and then read the diary again.
Things had started to click in her mind. At first she had laughed it off as preposterous. It was only a coincidence that the first entry was on the same day as little Kimberley had disappeared. That the ransom had been paid and collected on the day her father had left them. That Kay was an odd name to call a child christened Sarah, and that the initial ‘K’ could refer to Kimberley as much as it did Kay.
All coincidences, and yet they had preyed on her mind. Because if, by the wildest stretch of the imagination, it should be true, then that could make her gentle, hard-working mother a kidnapper. For that was what the anonymous letter had surely been implying.
A thought that made her feel as if a gaping hole had opened up beneath her feet. A thought so alarming that she had dismissed it as ludicrous. This had happened in the north of England, and she had lived in London all her life. No! She was Kay Napier, an actuary, aged twenty-four. Her birth certificate said so. It also, dismayingly, gave an address in Alnwick.
Then the doubts had resurged. ‘What if?’ nagged at her day and night. Questions crowded in, but there were no answers, and no one to ask. Disloyalty and guilt at what she was allowing herself to suspect of someone who had shown her nothing but love warred with an increasing need to know. Which was why she had screwed her courage to the sticking place and come here today. Because a university degree and a down-to-earth job as an actuary in a highly reputable firm in the city couldn’t allay her primal fear. She knew it wouldn’t go from her mind until she had a definite ‘no’.
At which point she dragged her thoughts back to the present. Time passed slowly, and she had drunk a cup of coffee and flipped through two magazines before the secretary, who had slipped discreetly through a door, reappeared and beckoned her over.
‘Sir Charles has agreed to give you five minutes. Go on through.’ She nodded to the open door. With a fast-beating heart, Kay stepped into the inner sanctum.
Sir Charles Endacott was sitting at a large desk by the window. Now in his seventies, he still possessed a full head of hair, although it was silvery grey, like his moustache. Puffing on a pipe, he watched Kay approach him through sharp grey eyes.
Kay stared at him as he rose to his feet and waved a hand in the direction of a chair. It struck her then, that the question she was about to ask had far-reaching implications. This man, this stranger, could be her grandfather! And that really was absurd, because she felt nothing. There was nothing in his distinguished face that reminded her of herself.
It was enough to clear her vision and to tell her that coming here was totally preposterous. She wasn’t an Endacott, she knew it in her bones. Realising her foolishness in allowing one malicious person to manipulate her, she hesitated with her hand on the back of the chair. It would take some doing now, to extricate herself from this with her dignity intact.
‘Well, young woman?’ Sir Charles prompted in a brisk voice. ‘My secretary tells me you insisted on seeing me. Did you think I would be flattered that such a lovely young thing should seek my advice on something personal? Unfortunately I can’t say I approve of your methods. Do you make a habit of thrusting your way into people’s offices?’
Kay wished the floor could open up, and horrified colour washed into her cheeks because, after all her wangling, she knew she was wasting his time. ‘I’m most terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake.’
Grey eyes narrowed. ‘Have you indeed? Am I to take it you didn’t wish to see me?’
‘No! That is, I thought...’ she began disjointedly, only to be halted by his abruptly raised hand.
Sir Charles began by frowning, then a look of dawning comprehension swept across his features. ‘Ah,’ he said, and reached for the telephone, punching out a number. ‘Ben? Get in here, would you?’ he ordered down the line before replacing the receiver and eyeing her unwaveringly.
Perplexed by this seemingly illogical action, and not sure if it was a dismissal or not, Kay began a diplomatic retreat. ‘You’re busy. I’m sorry. I’ll just...’ The sound of the door opening behind her halted the flow, and she turned.
‘What’s this all about, Charles?’ a smooth male voice queried, punctuating the question with the closing of the door.
The man advancing into the room was in his mid-thirties, tall, six feet at least, and slim of hip. Even the most conservative of suits couldn’t hide the lean muscularity of his frame, nor the almost cat-like quality of his movements. Kay suffered an unfamiliar tightening of her stomach muscles. Out of the blue, her senses were bombarded with messages that set her nerves tingling and her heart thumping. She raised her eyes to his handsome face. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen, and his mouth was a criminal temptation. Set in a strong face, surrounded by thick waves of black hair, they were an attraction she recognised with a shock. Potent and heady as the finest wine.
But there was more to come. Because for a moment their eyes met, and clashed, and something like a bolt of lightning shot through her. The shock she knew to be on her face was duplicated on his. She could see the fine tension in him suddenly. It had been total recognition. Elemental and instant.
Yet while she was trying to assimilate it, his eyes lifted to her bright copper hair, where they lingered. The change in him was instantaneous. For a second he sent her a fulminating glare which was doused by the appearance of a cynical smile on his lips. Automatically she braced herself, without knowing why.
‘Now then, young woman,’ Sir Charles reclaimed her attention. ‘This is Ben Radford. I expect he’s the man you expected to see, isn’t he?’ Clearly he found it amusing, although the man who stopped beside him, arms crossed, wasn’t laughing.
His, ‘I hardly think so, Charles,’ mingled with her,
‘I beg your pardon?’
From the name she recognised the younger man as the other partner in the bank. He was well-known and respected in the City, and was widely suspected to be the real motivator behind the bank’s continued success. Which was well enough, but she was at a loss to understand why Sir Charles should imagine she wanted to see him.
There followed a brief pause when they all looked at each other. Sir Charles frowned and Ben Radford’s eyes were cold. Kay found herself stiffening defensively.
The older man cleared his throat. ‘You mean she isn’t one of your damn flirtations?’
Kay was far from amused to find herself lumped in with a host of women who apparently chased after Ben Radford, even though, after her own response, she could understand why they did it. No wonder he was looking down his elegant nose at her. ‘There seems to be some mistake,’ she said frostily, dispelling the idea immediately.
‘And you made it,’ Ben Radford cut in swiftly, making her gasp. Who did he think he was? Handsome is as handsome does, she thought, and he falls a long way short. Of all the conceit!
Sir Charles was none too pleased either, but for apparently different reasons. ‘Ben!’ he remonstrated, but the younger man remained unperturbed.
‘What does she want?’ he asked shortly, and in a tone guaranteed to put her back up. Even if she weren’t a redhead, with all the temper that implied.
Kay focused narrowed eyes on him, angry for herself and Sir Charles, who was a true gentleman. ‘Nothing. I’ve already said I made a mistake. I was about to leave.’
That cynical smile deepened. ‘Yet you obviously came here with some purpose in mind.’
On her mettle, Kay raised her chin, refusing to be browbeaten by his look or tone of voice. ‘Yes, I did. There was a question I intended to ask Sir Charles, but I changed my mind.’ Let him make what he liked of that, she thought. Clearly his character wasn’t as attractive as his looks.
‘Really?’ he scoffed.
Her anger, hinted at by her hair, but usually kept under wraps, boiled up. ‘Yes, really!’ she snapped back.
Sir Charles banged his pipe down. ‘Stop harassing the girl, Ben!’ he ordered, and the younger man took his eyes from her briefly. Kay experienced a shaky kind of relief, only now aware of the quality of tension that had crackled between them. It was to be short-lived.
‘Charles, the girl is a redhead. A strawberry blonde, if I’m not mistaken,’ he said incisively.
There was a tangible change in atmosphere. Something new and disquieting had entered the lists against her. Automatically Kay raised a hand to her glittering locks as two pairs of eyes speared her. ‘I fail to see what that has to do with it,’ she argued, very aware of a pronounced chill in the air.
‘Do you, Miss...? Do you have a name, I wonder, or should I guess?’ Ben Radford probed scathingly.
Kay wondered how she could, even for a second, have found that cynical face attractive. ‘My name is Kay Napier,’ she replied with seething dignity.
‘What was the question you wanted to ask me, Miss Napier?’ There was a reserve in Sir Charles’s voice now, and she found that strangely upsetting. His innate courtesy remained, but Ben Radford’s insidious cynicism had poisoned his mind against her—and for no good reason that she could see. Her emergent dislike of him intensified.
She shook her head, unable to blame Sir Charles. ‘It’s not important,’ she temporised, and she should have known she wouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.
‘It was important enough to bring you here. Why don’t you ask it and let us be the judges?’ Ben Radford commanded in a tone that brooked no argument.
She produced a smile that was every bit as cynical as his. As a judge he had already shown that his impartiality was seriously compromised. The tension now filling the room was awesome, and Kay had no idea what it was she had done to produce such a reaction. Surely not just the fact of having red hair? There was more here than met the eye, and she wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t wanted to know what it was. The way to find out was to ask the question she had come here for.
‘Very well, though it’s a waste of your time because I already know I was a fool,’ she declared pointedly. ‘You’ll think so too.’
‘Oh, I doubt very much if that will be our reaction, Miss Napier,’ her antagonist drawled with heavy irony.
She bluntly ignored him, turning instead to the older man, who had sunk down into his seat. However, voicing the question was no easier now than it would have been five minutes ago. ‘Sir Charles, my name is Kay Napier—well, it’s Sarah really, but everyone calls me Kay. I’m twenty-four years old. I have my birth certificate here telling me all this. But...’ She really didn’t want to mention the letter in the other man’s hearing, especially as she had destroyed it. ‘My mother died not long ago, and in among her things I found her diary. This is the crazy part. In the diary she used “K”, you see, just the initial. I thought it stood for Kay, but what if...?’ Helplessly she floundered to a halt, then, with eyes as much angry as unconsciously confused, added, ‘Oh, this is ridiculous. Just tell me this—could I be Kimberley Endacott?’

CHAPTER TWO
WHATEVER reaction she had expected to receive, the total silence that followed wasn’t it. She would have anticipated anger, or even dismay, at her intrusion on a subject so personally tragic. It was Ben Radford whose deep blue eyes registered withering contempt.
‘Who sent you, Miss Napier?’ he demanded in a voice that could cut through three-quarter-inch steel.
Already made uncomfortable by her own sense of betrayal and confusion, she found his insinuation doubly distasteful. Consequently her voice dripped ice. ‘Nobody sent me. I came here because...’ Her hesitation was fractional as she veered once more from the full truth. ‘Ever since I saw that programme I’ve been unable to think of anything else.’ She answered him, but her eyes were on the still silent older man, who now appeared lost in thought.
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.
‘Good morning,’ Kay greeted politely, despite her heart’s alarming tendency to gallop out of control. She then found herself the object of a long leisurely perusal from her head to her feet, the result of which clearly found her wanting, and made her blood boil.
‘My, my, you do turn up in the most unexpected places,’ he drawled, amusement dancing in his eyes as he witnessed her reaction. Slipping his hands into his trouser pockets, he paced towards her.
Still angered by the way he had looked her over so scathingly, it was an effort for her to remain polite, as the twitch of his lips showed he knew only too well. ‘It’s not unexpected at all. I happen to work here. I came to tell you that Mr Winterbourne has been delayed. An effort was made to contact you, but you couldn’t be found.’ Her chilly ghost of a smile suggested that any waiting he had to do was therefore his own fault.
His response to that was to step unnervingly closer to her, so that she was made vitally aware of the height and breadth of him, and the pure male scent that mingled with his cologne and so appealed to her senses that they went into overdrive.
‘Meanwhile, you were sent to keep me...entertained?’ he queried in a sexily husky voice.
Although she knew it was deliberate, on one level his voice did amazing things to her insides, and in pure self-defence she summoned anger. ‘No, I damn well was not!’ she responded, eyes spitting sparks.
His eyebrow quirked. ‘Tsk, tsk, now is that any way to talk to a client?’
It was a timely reminder, and Kay fought an inner battle for control, because he was right, damn him. It was not company policy to actively antagonise clients, especially ones designated VIPs. Yet there was clearly a double standard at work here, for, while he had leave to say what he liked, she must keep her place. ‘I’ll have you know it wasn’t my idea to come here.’
Ben Radford laughed. ‘No, I can well believe that! So, you work here, do you? That’s very interesting.’
She couldn’t see why. ‘Is it?’
He sent her a broad smile and wandered over to the desk, turning to prop himself against it, arms crossed. He was the epitome of male power, leashed for now, but ready to spring into action. ‘I hope you’ve taken my advice to heart, Miss Napier, otherwise things could become a little awkward. For you, that is.’
Kay stiffened at the renewed threat. ‘I had absolutely no intention of seeing anyone involved with the Endacotts ever again, and quite frankly I could have done without this meeting too.’ Because there was a deplorable part of her that found him so devastatingly attractive that it shattered her mind!
‘Rest assured, there are plenty of women whose company I would seek before yours, Miss Napier,’ he retorted scathingly, making her gasp in equal degrees of shock and hurt.
But she’d rather die than let him know that he could affect her in any way, and her lips curled. ‘Oh, I’m sure there are, and I can imagine the sort, too! Big flashy blondes with more chest than brains!’ she sniped sarcastically, losing control of her tongue yet again.
Blue eyes became frosty. ‘Perhaps. They certainly wouldn’t be avaricious little gold-diggers, who dress with as much sex appeal as cold rice pudding!’ Ben Radford shot back swiftly.
Kay didn’t know which description hurt the most, and while she struggled to find a response she was saved the need by the door being thrust open. Matthew Winterbourne rushed in, totally oblivious to the atmosphere, tossing aside his briefcase and holding out a hand to the other man.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Ben. Traffic was at a standstill!’ he apologised.
Ben Radford shook hands. ‘No problem. Miss Napier here has been keeping me amused,’ he said smoothly, no trace of animosity in his tone, which warned Kay she should never take this man at face value.
Matthew Winterbourne smiled vaguely in her direction. ‘Has she? Thanks for holding the fort, Kay.’
From somewhere Kay dredged up a smile. ‘You’re welcome,’ she responded before making good her escape, but not before she heard Ben Radford’s parting sally,
‘See you around.’ Well, not if she saw him first! Cold rice pudding! How dared he? He was a hateful, hateful man, and if she never saw him again it would be much too soon.
Unkind fate, however, saw to it that, while out of sight, he was lamentably not out of mind. It was during her dates with Lance that Ben Radford’s ghost kept rearing its ugly head. Try as she might—and she did try very hard—she couldn’t help but compare the two men. She hated herself for it, because Lance always seemed to come second—and a very poor second at that. How desperately she tried to feel something when he kissed her goodnight, but she just couldn’t. And to make it worse, in the middle of a kiss, she’d find herself thinking he was too short, too flabby—too unlike Bed Radford! Yet the more she tried to think better of Lance, the more she failed, and her nights were spent in restless self-condemnation.
Lack of sleep made her mind dull, too, and she found, by the end of the following week, that it was a struggle to concentrate. Never before had her beloved mathematics failed to absorb her whole attention, and it felt like the worst kind of betrayal. Never before had she looked forward to the weekend with quite such eagerness. She’d give her flat a good spring-clean and wash that man out of her thoughts at the same time!
Such was her plan. She should have known better. The telephone call she received on Friday morning came as a complete surprise, and a welcome distraction from the hours of wasted work the crumpled papers on her desk represented. Expecting her secretary to answer the ring, when it continued she realised Donna was out of the office and lifted her own receiver quickly.
‘Kay Napier,’ she stated briskly.
‘Charles Endacott here.’
Kay very nearly dropped the phone. Indeed, she replaced the papers she was juggling back on her desk with almost extreme care. ‘Sir Charles?’ she greeted him awkwardly after a pause of several seconds, during which her brain had gone into frantic convolutions wondering what he could possibly want, and at the same time dragging up an inimical picture of Ben Radford’s stony face. ‘This is a surprise.’
‘I’ve been doing some thinking, Miss Napier. Your visit was something of a shock, but it also intrigued me. I’d very much like to talk to you again, and I was wondering if you might be free for lunch today?’ The mellow tones of the old gentleman were warm in her ear.
But it was another voice that made her fingers tighten on the plastic. A cold voice which had warned her off in no uncertain terms, when advising her that just such an occasion as this might arise. Finding herself in the midst of a minefield, it behoved her to step very cautiously indeed.
‘Do you think that would be wise?’ she murmured diplomatically, and could almost hear his surprise.
‘I can see no harm in it.’
Kay sighed. ‘No,’ she admitted, ‘but others do. Mr Radford was quite emphatic, and I think I have to agree with him. My visit was a mistake, and perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to compound it in any way.’
Sir Charles sounded amused. ‘Warned you off, did he? If that isn’t like him! Ben is a very good businessman. Frankly, this bank would be lost without him. But he doesn’t know everything.’
‘He was concerned for you,’ she felt bound to point out gently. ‘After all, you know nothing about me.’
‘I didn’t get where I am without trusting my instincts. And I can look after myself. As for not knowing you, meet me for lunch and we’ll put it right. Now, what do you say? It would make an old man happy,’ he wheedled skilfully.
Kay, who had sorely missed having no other relatives, melted at the gentle cajolery. After all, she told herself, what harm could it really do? Ben Radford need never know, and she had liked Sir Charles on sight.
‘I usually have lunch between one and two,’ she said by way of acceptance, and burning her boats at the same time.
‘Good, good. My car will pick you up at one o’clock sharp. I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Napier,’ Sir Charles declared, and rang off.
Of course, as soon as she put the phone down, she started to doubt her sanity. She was laying herself open to all sorts of accusations if Ben Radford ever found out, and it wasn’t the wisest move if she wanted to put the whole of that encounter from her mind.
Yet, having given her word, she couldn’t go back on it, and therefore was waiting on the pavement when the silver-grey Bentley drew up on the dot of one. It made her glad that today she was wearing her favourite French navy coat dress. Anything else wouldn’t have done justice to the mode of transport!
The restaurant she was driven to turned out to be situated in a well-known gentlemen’s club. Sir Charles was already seated at a table when she was shown in, and he rose courteously, offering his hand.
‘Miss Napier. It was very kind of you to accede to an old man’s wishes.’
‘Please, call me Kay,’ she invited as they sat down, and paused until a Jeeves-like waiter melted away with their order before adding, ‘You make it very difficult for a person to refuse.’
Sir Charles smiled faintly. ‘I apologise for using unfair tactics on you, Kay. It’s a habit, I’m afraid. My grandchildren call me a wicked old blackmailer.’
Kay laughed softly. ‘It sounds as if they love you. You’re fortunate to have such a close family.’
‘I like to think so,’ he agreed and a short silence fell. Kay broke it a moment later.
‘What did you want to talk to me about?’
Sir Charles paused while the waiter returned with their starter, then cleared his throat. ‘As I mentioned the other day, since Kimberley disappeared there have been many attempts to extort money by people claiming to know where she was, and from children and young women claiming to be her. Naturally all were referred to the police who have the means to deal with such—frauds.
‘It used to make me very angry, but time has mellowed that. Today, what I feel is a deep sadness. I no longer hope for a miracle. Which is why your story intrigued me. You’re such a contradiction. Everything about you is right—your age, your colouring. Yet you want nothing, except to know you’re not Kimberley. You came to me, guilty and distressed because you had nowhere else to turn. I feel I should have been of more help to you. I would like to think that if by chance my granddaughter is alive, and if she has troubles, there will be someone for her to turn to. So, if you still wish to, why don’t you tell me exactly what it is that has so upset you?’
Kay felt more than a little choked. It was a long time since she had received such an unselfish offer. Advice without any emotional strings was exactly what she wanted, some objectivity which she seemed unable fully to reach herself. And considering the subject was one so close to Sir Charles, his offer was a generous one that she couldn’t refuse.
Sir Charles listened intently while she repeated her story, still carefully editing out any mention of the letter and telephone call, which she had decided were malicious, made by someone with a grudge against her mother. It wasn’t, she told herself, even as if it was necessary to the story. He nodded from time to time, as their meal progessed, to show his understanding, and occasionally interspersed a question. At the end, they both sat back, sipping at their coffee.
‘I can see why you suddenly had these doubts, Kay, but I have to say I agree with you about their being mere coincidence. If your mother had not kept a diary, it would never have occurred to you to doubt. I expect that if we did a survey, it would show that many redheaded babies were born on the day Kimberley disappeared, and that quite a few of their fathers walked out on the day the ransom was paid. You’re making the facts fit the case, but only by ignoring everything else.
‘No, my dear, I think we can safely say that you can rest assured your parents weren’t kidnappers. And as someone with a vested interest in the truth, I think you’ll trust my word, hmn?’
His smile was so kindly that Kay returned it easily. Everything he said made so much more sense than her own circling thoughts. Instinctively she reached out to touch his hand. ‘Oh, I do, and you’ve no idea how good it makes me feel to know I was being a fool. I needed someone to put it all into perspective.’
So engrossed had they been on their discussion that neither had seen the new diner enter the room. They only became aware of his approach as his shadow passed across them, causing both to look up at once, though their reactions differed vastly.
‘Very cosy, Charles. I had no idea you were entertaining,’ Ben Radford drawled.
Sir Charles laughed. ‘Even an old man can have secrets, Ben,’ he replied with bluff good humour, to Kay’s horror. She knew it was the wrong tack to take.
‘So I see,’ the younger man agreed, turning cold blue eyes her way. ‘Miss Napier,’ he greeted with an awful quiet that spoke volumes to her.
Kay experienced a sinking dismay. This was the last thing she wanted to have happened, and she didn’t need a high IQ to know what interpretation he was putting on a meeting he inevitably saw as clandestine. And as if that weren’t enough, she suffered again that instantaneous and all-encompassing awareness of him. His hand was just within her field of vision, long-fingered and tanned, in no way effeminate. She experienced a clear vision of it running caressingly over pearly skin—her skin—and felt heat rise all over her body.
Yet her voice was blessedly steady as she inclined her head. She would not let him see what effect his presence was having. ‘Mr Radford.’
‘Kay and I have been having a very interesting chat, Ben,’ Sir Charles went on, as if he couldn’t sense that the atmosphere had cooled. To Kay it was a red rag to a bull, and the very worst thing he could say.
Ben Radford, however, smiled with feigned interest. ‘I’m sure...Kay has a wealth of interesting stories to tell. Perhaps I’ll look her up some time and have a chat myself?’ There was no perhaps about it, as far as Kay could see.
‘If you’re trying to make a date, Ben, do it on your own time. Kay is my guest. Besides, she doesn’t have time to chat to you. If I don’t get her back to Winterbourne and Stonely in five minutes, she might be out of a job.’
It was extremely unlikely, but Ben Radford didn’t know that. The thought obviously pleased him, even if his words belied it. ‘We can’t have that, even though I’m sure Kay has her sights set on something higher than being a mere hireling all her life.’ With which parting salvo he sauntered away to a table by the window and proceeded to ignore them.
Kay knew in her bones that she hadn’t heard the last of it. Ben Radford had been paying lip-service to his partner. His true feelings were that she had ignored his warning and now woe betide her! Which thought caused her lunch to sit heavily on her stomach all afternoon.
By the time she returned to her flat that evening, she had developed a nagging headache, but as she had a date for dinner with Lance’s parents she hastily swallowed some aspirin and hoped they would do the trick. It was all due to the tension produced by one man. Waiting for Ben Radford’s appearance was like waiting for the axe to fall.
Making herself a snack of cheese on toast, she wished she could stop thinking about him. Just to mention his name conjured him up in her mind. Conjured up memories of his kiss, too, and how she wished she could make that vanish, never to return!
She lingered under the shower and felt better for it, and, after drying herself on a large fluffy bath sheet, donned sheer silk and lace bra and panties. Once it had seemed nothing more than an extravagant luxury that her underwear and night clothes were sinfully feminine, while her outer clothes were the ultimate in primness. Now, with the advent of Ben Radford, her wardrobe took on a hidden significance, her passionate nature concealed beneath a plain outer shell.
It was as if she had been lying to herself for years—and that made her extremely uncomfortable as she slipped on a simple black jersey dress, with its contrasting white bolero jacket. Stepping into low black pumps, to lessen her height—Lance was shorter than her and conscious of it—she checked her hair and make-up in the mirror. She was pleased with her appearance, and knew she would be approved of, but was also aware that that was due to her projecting negative sexuality. She realised she didn’t like that at all.
Such ambivalent thoughts made her even more unsettled, and so did Lance’s reaction to her when he arrived on the dot of seven-thirty. Not a second early or late, so that Kay had the unworthy idea he had been outside, checking his watch to make sure of the exact moment to ring the bell. Schooling her features not to show any doubt or irritation, she answered the door.
‘You look very nice, Kay, as always,’ he flattered, brushing his lips over her cheek.
Kay had a fleeting wish that he would sweep her off her feet instead of the customary kiss on her cheek, then mentally rapped her knuckles, knowing whose fault that thought was. Lance, with his wings of grey in his hair, and conservative grey suit, would consider it an insult to her. Besides, the disloyal thought ripped at her, being beneath his dignity.
‘Mother’s arranged dinner for eight. We’d better not keep her waiting,’ Lance urged moments later, and Kay obediently collected her handbag.
But these unsettling thoughts didn’t make for an enjoyable evening, although she did try. However, for the first time ever she allowed Mrs Young’s narrow-minded statements to draw her into an argument, which left that lady in a mood of high dudgeon and Lance bad-tempered, a fact which almost had her picking an argument with him, too. Which wasn’t like her at all. So that by the time they left, her relief was palpable. Lance saw her to her door, as always the perfect gentleman. Out of sorts, Kay felt the need to apologise. Unlocking the door, she turned.
‘I’m sorry I was such a grouch, Lance. Put it down to a headache. Did I utterly spoil your evening?’
He wasn’t to be so easily mollified, though. ‘You should have told me you weren’t well, instead of taking it out on Mother. We could have left hours ago,’ he said testily, then, clearly feeling he’d made his point, relented. ‘I won’t come in. You’ll be better off in bed with some hot milk.’
Irritably, Kay thought he sounded just like his mother, then retracted the awful thought and its implications. She’d always liked Lance for his consideration. ‘You’re right, of course. Goodnight, Lance,’ she murmured.
He took her in his arms and his embrace was everything she expected—pleasurable, but unexciting, and when he let her go she felt disappointed and hated herself for it.
‘I’ll ring you tomorrow,’ Lance promised and left, his footsteps echoing down the stairs.
‘Damn,’ Kay muttered, annoyed at her own ambivalence. Turning to go inside, she shot round in alarm as a scraping sound came from the shadows at the end of the landing.
‘What didn’t you fancy, the milk or him?’ an all too familiar voice queried mockingly, and a darker shadow rose from the next flight of stairs and came towards the light from her door. Ben Radford stepped into the beam, eyes glittering in a way that set her whole system on edge. ‘That was Lance, I take it?’
She chose not to answer either question. Because the shocking truth was that she hadn’t wanted Lance’s kiss at all, but this man’s. Now here he was, tempting and taunting her with every breath he took. She didn’t know who she loathed most—him or herself.
‘What do you want?’ she countered ungraciously, although she could guess.
His slow smile said he knew. ‘To have that chat I promised. Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

CHAPTER THREE
KAY’S first instinct was to shut the door in Ben Radford’s face, but then she realised if she did that he would only keep on coming back until she did agree to see him. Better to get it over with now than have it looming over her head like the sword of Damocles.
‘It’s a little late for a social call,’ she pointed out acidly, yet reluctantly stepped back and allowed him to precede her inside.
Closing the door made her feel as if she had locked herself into the cage with the tiger. She took several deep breaths before she joined him in the lounge. He seemed to grow in proportion to the room shrinking. It was impossible for her to be anything other than vitally aware of his presence. He would dominate any room, but she was determined he wouldn’t dominate her. Which meant keeping some measure of control over the proceedings.
‘Could we keep this short? As you obviously overheard, I have a headache.’ She spoke to his back as he studied his surroundings.
He swung around then, the action smoothly graceful for all that his hands were tucked into the pockets of his trousers. He must have left his coat in his car for he was in shirt-sleeves, the cuffs tantalisingly turned back. It in no way minimised the effect of his presence—rather, it magnified it.
‘An interesting love-life you two will have, what with hot milk and headaches,’ he observed with lashings of irony.
To her chagrin, Kay felt her cheeks flame. ‘That’s none of your damn business.’
Her temper was water off a duck’s back to him as he shrugged. ‘Just making conversation.’
She snapped her teeth, tossing her handbag on to the couch. He was being deliberately provocative, and rising to his bait was simply playing into his hands.
‘What do you want?’ she repeated hardily, raising her head in time to catch him taking a long, leisurely perusal of her from head to toe. It was as if he had actually touched her physically. As her nerves jolted into vibrant life, a tiny betraying gasp left her lips.
Which brought his eyes to them in an instant. ‘Some coffee would be nice. I’ve been waiting for hours.’
It was stunning the way her lips tingled as if he had stroked them. Her immediate response was to fly off the handle. ‘I’m not your servant! And I’m not responsible for you wasting your time on my doorstep!’ she very nearly shouted, chest heaving.
Ben Radford ambled a step closer. ‘You have a very short fuse, Kay Napier, and something tells me Lance isn’t the man to deal with it.’
‘Your opinion leaves me cold. And stop talking about Lance that way. I like him just the way he is!’
‘Do you really? Wouldn’t you rather he showed some hot male blood? Showed he wanted you?’ he probed on regardless.
Her hands clenched into tight fists. ‘I know he wants me. He doesn’t have to prove it all the time.’
He shook his head. ‘He’s no match for you. You’re fire and he’s ice. You’ll scare the life out of him, so that he’ll never satisfy you. In the end you’ll emasculate him and he’ll hate you for it,’ he added derisively, making her gasp in indignation.
‘You’re loathsome!’
He backed off thoughtfully, eyes piercing. ‘Why so outraged? Do you think you want a nice, cold, sexless little marriage?’
That he should have discovered so easily the reason for her own sudden ambivalence made the need to hide it vitally important. Regaining control, she clasped her hands together. ‘You have no right to say those things to me. How I choose to live my life is my affair,’ she said with stolid dignity.
To her relieved surprise that brought him up short and he dragged a hand through his hair, a sign that he wasn’t so cool himself. ‘You’re right. That wasn’t why I came here. You have the uncanny knack of throwing me off my stride.’ His tone said he didn’t like that at all.
‘Totally unintended, I assure you,’ Kay snapped, and he laughed, albeit grimly.
‘Now that I do believe!’
They faced each other across the room, as if battle lines had been drawn up.
‘I thought you were intelligent enough to heed my warning not to contact Charles again.’
At least here, her ground was relatively firm. ‘For your information, he telephoned me, not the other way around,’ she pointed out.
He wasn’t impressed. ‘As I told you he would. I also, if you recall, told you not to see him,’ he added unnecessarily as far as Kay was concerned. She remembered everything about that day far too clearly for comfort.
Instinctively she defended herself. ‘I saw no harm in it.’
Ben Radford laughed drily, as if he had just won a bet with himself. ‘Why should you? As far as you were concerned you had nothing to lose and everything to gain.’
He was nothing if not persistent. ‘Except you’re deliberately missing the point. I’m not after gain of any sort.’
‘So you say,’ he agreed sceptically, and Kay saw red again.
‘I’m not in the habit of lying, or of having my veracity called into question, Mr Radford. Did you ask Sir Charles why he wanted to see me?’ she challenged, and watched his lips thin.
‘He told me to mind my own business,’ he said shortly, and Kay could no more stop herself from grinning than she could live without breathing.
‘And you didn’t like that, did you?’ she murmured with a certain amount of satisfied glee. It was nice to know he didn’t get his own way all the time.
His fascinating blue eyes narrowed to mere slits. ‘You’re a dangerous woman, Kay Napier,’ he pronounced tautly, and her eyes widened.
She was dangerous? The only one posing a threat was him, and not along the lines he meant, either. A line of reasoning she must keep him from at all costs. ‘Oh, come on! This is ridiculous. You’re tilting at windmills!’ she gibed, and couldn’t withhold a shiver at the look he gave her.
‘I’m glad you find it amusing. Perhaps you’ll also find it amusing to be out of a job,’ he drawled icily.
Kay froze, all humour dying rapidly. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked sharply.
Having caught her attention, he didn’t leave her dangling for long. ‘It just so happens that Matthew Winterbourne and my father were in the army together. A word in his ear and I doubt that you’d be employed there for very much longer. No financial institution would want their name connected with that of an attempted extortionist.’
Without looking in the mirror, Kay knew her colour had vanished. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘Try me and see. All you have to do is continue to defy me.’
It was unbelievable, and she absolutely refused to kowtow. ‘Of all the hypocrites! I don’t know how you have the nerve! What you’re threatening is as bad as what you’re accusing me of!’
Ben Radford remained unperturbed. ‘I did warn you you wouldn’t like it if you crossed me.’
She slapped a hand helplessly against her thigh. ‘I don’t believe this! I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing,’ she denied with total disbelief. She knew he could do what he said, or he wouldn’t have said it, and the implications this would have on her life. The reverberations of such a dismissal would spread like ripples on a pond. It was blatant manipulation and she despised him for it. ‘I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you run my life because of your own misconceptions. I’ll say it again, and I’ll keep on saying it. I’ve done nothing wrong.’
She was batting her head against a brick wall, for his expression didn’t soften one iota. ‘Obviously we see things differently. However, I’m hoping that from today we can begin to see eye to eye. All you have to do is sign this document, agreeing never to see Charles again, and renouncing all claim to being Kimberley Endacott.’ From his shirt pocket he produced a folded sheet of paper which he held out to her.

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