Unknown by Unknown Page A

that her aunt’s alarm had failed to go off. She knew she should apologise and tell him she was sorry she was late—he had warned her in Layton about being late. It was important, she knew, for her to keep on the right side of him; her very future, hers and Teddy’s, depended on his keeping her in his employment. But for once she felt she couldn’t knuckle down to him. It was as if there was more at stake than the fact of her being late—somehow it seemed important that she didn’t let him override her all the time.
    ‘Will you let go of my arm?' she said coolly.
    ‘And if I don’t?’
    She caught a gleam in his eyes and thought, damn him, he’s enjoying this. Not taking her eyes off his, she stated simply and very calmly:
    ‘If you don’t, Mr Arrowsmith, it will give me the greatest pleasure to deliver one heartfelt kick to your shins.’ Whatever she expected, what happened next was the last thing she would have dreamed would have happened. For Crawford Arrowsmith, the head of the multi-million-pound combine, looked steadily at her for all of one second, then as a smile tugged at his mouth as though refusing to be restrained, he tipped back his head and a very pleasing laugh struck her unbelieving ears.
    Amazement fought with wonder that her calmly voiced comment had struck at his sense of humour, and while she was still trying to comprehend the fact that she, Geraldine Barton, had actually made this rude, overbearing man laugh, the humour disappeared from his face and he was saying soberly, ‘I knew the real you would have to come to the surface before too long.’
    And then, while she was still trying to think up something sharp in reply to that, he was hauling her even closer to him, and she saw his head coming down to meet her, and knew herself powerless to stop him. She felt his lips close over her own and thought she was going to faint from’ sheer shock.
    Then it was over and she might have imagined those warm lips had ever claimed her own. She tore her transfixed gaze away from his mouth, all her energies busy trying to gather the security of a false calm about her.
    ‘Perhaps, Miss Barton, I’ve hit on the one way of ensuring you are never again late arriving for work. I’m sure you gained as little pleasure from that—small punishment as I did.’ With that he let go of her arm and strode past her.
    She didn’t look behind to see where he was going. Her own radar seemed decidedly faulty and she needed all her concentration to get her the remaining few steps down the corridor to the door of Janet’s office.
    Crawford had said he gained no pleasure from kissing her—well, she didn’t doubt that; she already knew he had no liking for her. But what of her own feelings? Was she so starved of masculine caresses that even a kiss from that brute had seemed pleasurable? It wasn’t that—she knew it wasn’t. But she couldn’t hope to argue against the voice inside her that yelled to be heard—she had felt the touch of his mouth against her own anything but as objectionable as she would have supposed. Unable to deal with such traitorous thoughts, she opened the door to Janet’s office and went in.
    Janet reminded her during the morning that it was her last day, and as they broke from their work for a few moments, asked, ‘Have you enjoyed your three days with us?’
    Gerry hadn’t stopped to wonder whether she had or not. As far as she was concerned it was one mad rush to get here, and another mad rush to get home to her sister. But the part in between, the actual time spent with Janet and seeing how she did things had been most instructive and—yes, now she came to think of it, most enjoyable.
    ‘Do you know,’ she said, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice, ‘I rather think I have.’
    ‘Good,’ said Janet, seeming pleased. ‘I think Mr Arrowsmith was concerned that you should be happy with us—you’ll be able to tell him he had nothing to worry about.'
    Gerry couldn’t quite