Captive Loving. Кэрол Мортимер

knew almost immediately that she had entered the wrong room, the overhead fluorescent lighting showing this to be an office, the teak desk cleared of all work, the swivel-chair behind the desk turned towards the window. The view of the surrounding countryside had a beauty of its own from this height, and she spent a minute or so drinking in the peace and tranquillity, finally turning to go in search of the powder-room.

      ‘Don't go.’

      Jessica froze, slowly turning in the direction of that silky voice. The swivel-chair had been spun round to reveal a man, a ruggedly handsome man who was looking at her with open admiration, a man of perhaps thirty-five or thirty-six.

      Tawny eyes were narrowed appreciatively, the hair a deep burnished gold, worn rather long, his skin deeply tanned, as if he had recently been on holiday. Beneath the tawny eyes the nose jutted out slightly aquiline, his mouth curved into a smile, sensually so. As he stood up, easily over six feet, a good foot taller than her own meagre height, Jessica could see how well the white dinner jacket fitted across his powerful shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist, and muscular thighs clearly outlined in the black tailored trousers he wore. He was tall, and powerful, and he made her feel uneasy.

      The way he was looking at her now made her blush, every inch of her having known the fire of his gaze. ‘I——I'm sorry,’ she stuttered. ‘I was looking for—I came in the wrong door.’ Hot colour flooded her cheeks.

      His smile deepened to humour, his teeth very white against his tan. ‘The ladies’ room is next door,’ he drawled.

      ‘Er——yes.’ She turned to go.

      ‘Stay,’ he repeated his earlier request.

      Her lids flickered up in surprise, her lashes long and dark, tipped with gold. ‘The dance …’

      ‘Can get along without us very well for a few minutes.’ He took her arm, steering her over to the swivel-chair he had just vacated. ‘I wonder who you belong to,’ he muttered almost to himself.

      ‘I don't belong to anyone,’ Jessica surprised herself by snapping at him.

      ‘Good,’ he smiled. ‘Because I think I'd like you to belong to me.’

      She struggled to get out of the chair, but found her way blocked by his powerful frame as he sat on the desk in front of her, his legs either side of her stopping her turning the chair.

      ‘Will you let me go, Mr——’

      ‘Matthew,’ he murmured softly, gently touching the silver of her hair. ‘Just Matthew.’

      She squirmed away from him. ‘Don't do that!’ Two spots of angry colour darkened her cheeks.

      ‘Why not?’ His hand didn't move away from her, caressing her cheek now. ‘Your name—what's your name?’ he demanded impatiently.

      ‘Jessica. But——’

      ‘Not Jess? I hope not, because I don't like names to be abbreviated.’ He made this comment as if he expected his likes and dislikes to matter to her.

      Well, they didn't And neither did he. ‘If you'll excuse me …’ She tried to brush past him, but he wouldn't let her go.

      ‘I can't do that, Jessica,’ he said the name with enjoyment, savouring every syllable. ‘Mm, it suits you. My lovely Jessica.’ His tawny eyes held her captive. ‘I was sitting in that chair wondering how I was going to get through the evening when I looked up and saw your reflection in the window. Do you have any idea how lovely you are?’

      ‘If you're the office Romeo——’

      ‘Oh, not me, Jessica,’ he smiled, his hands on the arm of the chair pinning her back against the leather. ‘That's Baxter's prerogative.’

      Andrew! Oh God, everyone did know about his affairs, including this man! The two of them could even work together, and this man Matthew would probably enjoy telling Andrew how he had frightened his wife half to death. Andrew would never forgive her if this man should even guess at their sterile relationship.

      ‘I've heard he's a flirt,’ she said lightly, doing her best not to panic. She would just sit this out, he was bound to tire of teasing her soon.

      ‘He is. But I don't want to talk about him,’ Matthew dismissed. ‘Will you promise the rest of the evening to me?’

      Jessica gasped. ‘Of course not!’

      ‘You have to!’ His hands gripped hers, his expression intent. ‘Jessica, I'd just about given up on you.’

      ‘But I've never met you before!’

      ‘If you had I wouldn't have been feeling so despondent about this dance. I hate Company dances,’ he grimaced.

      ‘So do I.’

      ‘You see?’ he said eagerly. ‘We have a lot in common.’

      ‘Mr—Matthew, disliking Company dances means we have one thing in common,’ Jessica pointed out mockingly, pleased with herself for her calm. This man could just be flirting with her, or he could be slightly unbalanced, whatever he was he was dangerous; there was a predatory light in the tawny eyes.

      ‘We're attracted to each other,’ he claimed arrogantly.

      ‘We most certainly are not!’ she gasped, wondering at his raw audacity. Andrew might be a womaniser, but this man easily beat him!

      ‘But we are, Jessica. I've been waiting all my life for you——’

      ‘Isn't that approach a little hackneyed?’ She scorned to hide her rising panic. He didn't seem to be tiring of this game at all, in fact he seemed to be getting bolder, his thumbs sensually caressing the back of her hands, desire in his eyes.

      Heavens, she was so alone with him here, and Andrew or no Andrew, she was going to scream in a minute!

      The man frowned darkly. ‘It isn't hackneyed if it's the truth,’ he rasped.

      She looked at him steadily, forcing herself to do so. ‘It may be true for you, but it certainly isn't true for me.’

      ‘Of course it is,’ he dismissed impatiently. ‘I refuse to believe——’

      ‘And I refuse to listen to this—rubbish any more,’ she cut in coldly. ‘I'm sure this approach has worked for you in the past, but I'm afraid that this time you've struck out. Perhaps you ought to take lessons from Andrew Baxter,’ she added bitterly.

      ‘Jessica——’

      ‘Would you please get out of my way.’ She looked up at him with cold eyes. ‘I'd like to get back to the party,’ she lied.

      ‘I'm not losing you now I've found you,’ Matthew told her firmly. ‘Will you come and dance with me?’

      She knew it was just an excuse for him to get her into his arms, could see that in the naked desire in his eyes, but it could also be a way for her to get out of here. ‘I have to go to the ladies’ room first,’ she reminded him huskily.

      ‘Do you have any idea how sexy your voice is?’ he asked deeply.

      Did nothing stop this man? He probably had a wife waiting for him in the other room! She pitied her even as she pitied herself. Maybe the two of them should get together and trade unfaithful husband stories!

      ‘Jessica,’ Matthew prompted her attention back to him. ‘Why do I get the impression you keep fading off from me?’ he frowned.

      Maybe because she did! She had become so used to shutting herself off from Andrew that she often did it without even realising it. And this man's flirting turned her off more than anything, despite his undoubted attraction. She was married to a man who was too good-looking for his own good, and this man was just an older version of Andrew.

      She gave him a bright meaningless smile. ‘You were just telling me how sexy my voice is,’ she recited to show she had been