Undying Love
‘Exactly.’ She gave him a saccharine-sweet smile.
He shook his head. ‘It’s still you I want, Shanna.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I really believe you are,’ he frowned at her quiet sincerity.
‘Yes,’ she nodded.
‘I can’t work you out.’ Rick shook his head dazedly.
‘Don’t even try,’ she advised. ‘Just don’t become involved with me——’
‘I want to go to bed with you, not become involved!’
Her smile was genuine this time. ‘And one precludes the other with you?’
‘Yes,’ he bit out tautly at her mockery.
‘Goodnight, Mr Dalmont. We’ll meet again?’ she drawled.
‘You can bet on it!’
‘I’m not usually a betting woman, but I’m sure that if I were I would win that bet.’
‘Little tease!’ he rasped.
Her humour faded as quickly as it had begun. ‘That’s one thing I’m not, Mr Dalmont. I’ve told you bluntly to leave me alone, you’ve chosen not to take that advice. You would be doing us both a favour, and saving yourself a lot of time, if you gave up on me now.’
‘Because you’ll never give in to me?’
‘No.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m not prepared to give up on you yet. I’ll be seeing you, Shanna.’ He ran a fingertip lightly down her cheek, lingering against her mouth, nodding confidently before going over to Henry and Janice to take his leave.
Shanna wasn’t altogether surprised at his departure from the party; he knew there was no point in pursuing her any further tonight, not when she had made her feelings more than plain. And she didn’t want to stay here any longer herself now; the verbal encounter with Rick Dalmont had opened up wounds that she knew would never get the chance to heal.
‘What did you do to him?’ Henry demanded when she joined him. ‘I’ve never known Rick to leave a party at eleven o’clock before!’
She shrugged. ‘There has to be a first time for everything.’
‘Yes, but——’
‘It may have escaped your notice,’ she taunted, ‘but Selina has gone too.’
‘She left with Gary,’ her brother dismissed. ‘She gave up once Rick returned to you. She decided it’s Gary’s lucky night instead.’
‘Bitchy!’ she smiled.
Henry grimaced. ‘Selina picks up a different man every time she comes here. I’ll have to tell Janice not to invite her again.’
‘A snob too!’ Shanna mocked.
‘Stop changing the subject,’ he scowled. ‘What did you do to make Rick leave?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ Henry frowned.
‘Exactly that,’ she nodded. ‘And I intend to continue doing nothing. Don’t forget to tell Janice I’ll be here for lunch tomorrow,’ she reminded lightly, intending to show him she had far from forgotten the talk she wanted to have with him.
‘She always cooks enough for an army,’ he answered vaguely.
Her brother’s air of distraction did nothing to reassure Shanna. Henry always knew what he was doing, had been a more than competent successor to their father as head of the family newspaper and magazine empire.
Poor little rich girl, Rick Dalmont had called her. He didn’t know anything about her. Until her marriage to Perry four years ago, perhaps that description would have fitted her, but marriage had matured her far beyond the spoilt girl she had been at twenty-one.
She had married Perry against her father’s wishes, something that had been hard to do considering her closeness to her single parent, her mother having died years ago. Her father had been completely against her marrying a man who risked his life for a living. But the marriage had been a success, and it had perhaps been Perry’s constant brushes with death that had speeded the process of her maturity and cherishing of the deep love they had for each other. Whatever the reason, her father had been assured of her happiness before he died two years ago. At least she had given her beloved father that, and he had been spared the pain she was still suffering, the pain of losing Perry.
No one knew or could understand the loss she felt at Perry’s death, not even those closest to her. And no one knew how she feared death for herself…
She breakfasted alone the next morning, as she had for the last six months, before tidying the apartment. Not that it needed much of that, one person didn’t make much mess, and because she and Perry had spent most of their marriage living out of suitcases she had learnt not to have too many personal possessions, so the apartment was bare of all personal imprint.
It was a new apartment since Perry’s death, the one they had used as their home-base when in London had been on the other side of town. But photographs of Perry were prominent in every room, photographs of him racing, of him winning, of the two of them together. Most of them were from before Perry’s first accident, the one that had precipitated the end of his career. A serious back injury meant the end of his career as a top racing car driver six months before his death, and she knew it had been a blow Perry had never fully recovered from. Racing had been his life, his career, and for a time he had gone wild.
Damn Rick Dalmont! She knew he was the reason for the memories. What else could she do but remember when he had pointed out so forcibly that all had not been well between Perry and herself at the time of the fatal accident? But he had been right about one thing, the fault in the marriage had been hers, not Perry’s. It was true that when a man couldn’t find satisfaction in his own bed he turned elsewhere for solace. Perry had done just that.
None of her sleepless night showed as Janice opened the door to her shortly before twelve, her expression coolly composed, looking elegant in a dress the same green of her eyes, its long-sleeved, high-necked style more provocative than a more seductive style could be.
‘I’ll never know how you do it,’ said a harassed-looking Janice, her blonde curls in disarray, a smudge of flour on her nose. ‘You always look like a fashion-plate, and I—Well, I look what I am, I suppose, a housewife.’
‘A beautiful housewife,’ Shanna smiled, kissing her sister-in-law affectionately on the cheek. ‘And I look this way because I go out to lunch,’ she laughed.
‘Hm,’ Janice acknowledged wryly. ‘Although that doesn’t explain how you still look this way when we come to your apartment for dinner too.’
‘Caterers,’ she taunted dryly.
‘You know you’re a fantastic cook,’ Janice dismissed with a sigh. ‘Well, I’d better not keep you from Peter and Susan any longer. They’re waiting for you in the lounge.’
The next few minutes were taken up with the ecstatic greetings of her young niece and nephew, although Shanna had time to realise that there was no sign in the spotlessly clean lounge of the smoky party of the night before.
Peter and Susan were five and six respectively, as alike as if they had been twins, both fair-haired and blue-eyed like their mother, although they had their father’s height and were both inclined to be serious like Henry too. But they were lovely children, and Shanna greeted them as enthusiastically as they did her.
Henry sat back in his favourite armchair and watched them with an indulgent smile on his lips, puffing away on his favourite pipe; an affectation he believed gave him a look of distinction. It just made him more endearing to Shanna. She and Henry had always been close, despite the difference in their natures, but as the time for lunch neared and Henry still made no effort to bring up the subject of Rick Dalmont she decided to broach the subject herself.
‘Henry——’
‘Lunch is ready,’ Janice came through to announce.
Henry gave a pleased smile as he stood up. ‘Thank you, darling.’
‘I’ll give you thank you!’ Shanna muttered as she accompanied her brother through to the dining-room. ‘You won’t get away so easily after lunch.’
He turned to grin at her. ‘But at least then I’ll have a full stomach!’
‘It won’t help you,’ she warned.
‘Maybe not, but you’ll seem less fierce once I’ve eaten.’
‘Fierce, Henry?’ she spluttered. ‘I’ve never been fierce in my life!’
He shook his head. ‘Sometimes you remind me so much of Dad it’s incredible.’
‘Dad was a lovely old man, despite his crustiness; I can’t see the resemblance at all,’ Shanna smiled.
‘Oh, it’s there. I’ve seen it in your handling of Rick Dal——’
‘—Mont,’ she finished triumphantly. ‘I’m so glad you haven’t forgotten about him, Henry.’
‘No,’ he mumbled. ‘But lunch first, hmm?’
‘But no longer,’ she warned. ‘My patience is wearing a little thin, Henry.’
‘I didn’t know you had any!’
Shanna grinned at his woebegone expression, and her good humour lasted all through the delicious Sunday lunch Janice had prepared. Peter and Susan helped her with the washing-up afterwards, then she carried through a tray of tea to her brother and Janice, arching her brows at Henry as he seemed settled in front of the television.
‘Henry and I will take our tea through to the study,’ she announced firmly. ‘Won’t we, Henry?’ She looked at him steadily.
‘Will we?’ He sighed at her stubborn expression. ‘I suppose we will.’ He stood up reluctantly.
‘I won’t keep him long, Janice,’ she promised.
‘Oh, I think you will,’ her sister-in-law said knowingly. ‘Good luck, Henry.’
‘She sounded as if she thought you might need it,’ Shanna questioned as she sat opposite her brother in his study.
‘I might,’ he nodded.
She frowned. ‘Tell me, Henry,’ she said quietly, ‘what business do you and Rick Dalmont have?’
‘You won’t like it,’ he warned.
‘I have a feeling not,’ she acknowledged heavily.
He stood up to pace the room. ‘You see, the newspaper hasn’t been doing too well lately, and I needed a cash flow for a while.’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve been trying to get this deal together with Rick for months, and when he came over to England two weeks ago it was an ideal opportunity to further the talks. We finalised the deal on Friday, that’s partly what the party was about last night.’
‘Yes?’ Shanna was very wary now, Henry deliberately avoiding her gaze.
‘Well, that’s it,’ he shrugged.
‘No, that isn’t it at all, Henry,’ she refuted softly. ‘You haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know. What’s the deal you’ve made with Rick Dalmont? Has he come in as your partner or just with a financial loan?’
‘Neither.’ Henry wetted his lips nervously.
Shanna’s unease began to deepen. It wasn’t like Henry to be so evasive. ‘Then what is the deal?’
‘Look, when Dad died he left all the publishing business to me. Maybe he shouldn’t have done, but you were happily married to Perry at the time, and Dad did leave you financially secure.’
‘I never wanted any of the business, Henry, you know that,’ she dismissed. ‘You’re entitled to make whatever deals you want. I just want to know where I come into it, because I do, don’t I?’
‘Yes,’ her brother sighed heavily. ‘It’s Fashion Lady.’
‘What about it?’ she gasped.
Henry shrugged. ‘As of Friday it belongs to Rick Dalmont. You now work for him.’
CHAPTER TWO
SHANNA’s breath left her in a hiss. Fashion Lady now belonged to Rick Dalmont! She couldn’t believe it. Fashion Lady had become her lifeline the last year, had given her something worthwhile to do after Perry’s death six months ago. And Fashion Lady had continued to thrive under her control, her natural flair for what was fashionable and what would interest the fashion-conscious woman of today increasing the magazine’s circulation considerably.
And now it all belonged to Rick Dalmont. ‘I’ll have to leave,’ she said dully.
‘Er——’
‘Yes?’ Her tone was sharp at her brother’s hesitation, sensing there was more to come.
Henry looked anxious. ‘Part of the deal was that you would stay on for at least a transition period.’
‘And how long is that?’ she frowned.
‘Six months,’ he revealed reluctantly.
Shanna rose slowly to her feet. ‘No, Henry,’ she told him coldly. ‘You had no right to sign a deal like that without consulting me. Or were you asked not to?’ she realised sharply.
Henry looked sheepish. ‘I knew you’d never go for it——’
‘You knew?’ she accused.
‘All right, both Rick and I knew.’
‘Then you were both right,’ she snapped. ‘I could never work for him.’
‘But I’ve signed the contracts now!’
‘But I haven’t,’ she pointed out stiffly. ‘You knew I would never agree to it, Henry,’ she shook her head. ‘And your signature can’t commit me to anyone.’
‘You’re contracted to Fashion Lady, regardless of who owns it.’
‘Then I resign,’ she snapped.
‘Your contract requires three months’ notice,’ he reminded her.
‘I rescind all right to the money owed me,’ Shanna told him. ‘Just give me my references.’
‘I can’t do that,’ Henry shook his head. ‘I’m no longer your employer. And if you leave now Rick would sue you and me for breach of contract.’
‘Then let him!’ Her eyes flashed in challenge.
‘Shanna, I signed my part of the bargain in good faith.’ Henry’s voice lowered pleadingly. ‘One breach of the contract could ruin the whole deal.’
She glared at her brother. ‘Then it will have to ruin it!’
‘And the Chronicle could go under!’
She frowned, searching her brother’s face, seeing the lines of worry there, the strain he had been hiding from her. ‘That bad?’ she said softly.
‘That bad,’ he nodded grimly.
‘Rick Dalmont wouldn’t call off the whole deal just because I won’t work for him!’
‘He will,’ Henry said with certainty.
‘He—will?’
Her brother nodded. ‘He refused to even consider signing the contract until you were included in it.’
‘God,’ she said shakily.
‘It’s normal practice for senior staff to stay on after such a negotiation,’ Henry pushed his point as he sensed her confusion.
‘Nothing about Rick Dalmont is normal,’ she flashed. ‘You know why he’s done this, Henry. I won’t go out with him, so he’s forcing me to relate to him from a work point of view.’
‘That’s rubbish,’ he dismissed abruptly. ‘I told you, we’ve been discussing the deal for months.’
‘And when did I enter into it?’
‘About—Well, I——’ Henry broke off, frowning.
‘About two weeks ago, right? Before that I’m sure he had no interest in the staff of Fashion Lady,’ she scorned. ‘That he didn’t give a damn if they stayed or went.’
‘That isn’t true,’ her brother blustered. ‘The future of the staff of Fashion Lady has always been high on my list of priorities.’
‘Your priorities, Henry,’ she pounced triumphantly. ‘Rick Dalmont doesn’t give a damn about the little people who get in his way. He told me so himself.’
‘No one at Fashion Lady is in his way.’
‘I will be. His being my boss won’t make the slightest difference to how I feel about him personally. I don’t like him, nothing will change that.’
‘You don’t have to like him, just work for him.’
‘That isn’t what he wants, and you know it,’ Shanna sighed. ‘Henry, how could you do this to me?’ she groaned. ‘You’ve seen the way he follows me, the way he never stops looking at me. I’ll be handing in my notice—I have to, Henry,’ she insisted as he went to protest. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll give him his three months. With any luck he’ll leave the acquisition of Fashion Lady to one of his hirelings.’
But she knew he wouldn’t, knew this was just the opportunity Rick Dalmont had been waiting for. She wasn’t conceited enough to think he had bought Fashion Lady just to get a hold over her, but she felt sure he would lose no opportunity in using it as such. She would have to be very careful of Ricardo Dalmont in future; he didn’t play by any rules she knew, in fact he didn’t play at all!
Everything seemed normal when she went in to work on Monday morning; no high-powered executive was waiting for her to tell her of her new employer. Gloria, her secretary, sat in her normal place behind her desk, handing over the mail and messages that had already come in.
But Shanna knew that she was different, that inside she was a seething mass of emotions. If Rick Dalmont thought he was going to breeze in here and take her by surprise as the new owner of the magazine then he was going to be out of luck; she intended greeting him as coolly as ever. And she didn’t intend that he should have the upper hand in anything.
‘Gloria,’ she buzzed through to her secretary, ‘get Mr Dalmont of Dalmont Industries for me. He’s at the Excellence, I believe.’
‘Rick Dalmont?’
‘That’s the one, Gloria,’ she said lightly, releasing the intercom button. Gloria was a good secretary, and had worked for the previous editor too, but even her usually unruffled demeanour had been unnerved by the mention of Rick Dalmont. He would have that effect on most women, and as most of the staff at Fashion Lady were women she envisaged more than a little hero-worship once it was known he was the new boss.
‘Mr Dalmont, Shanna,’ Gloria announced a few minutes later.
She picked up the blue telephone on her desk that matched the blue and white décor of her executive office. The cover of Fashion Lady was always in blue and white, and for the most part so was Shanna’s office. Blue was a colour she tended to avoid away from work.
‘Mr Dalmont?’
‘Shanna,’ he returned throatily.
‘I believe we should meet, Mr Dalmont.’ Her tone was briskly businesslike as she imagined his mocking humour at the other end of the telephone.
‘You’ve spoken to Henry?’ he drawled.
She could now visualise the look of satisfaction on his smug face. ‘I’ve spoken to him,’ she acknowledged. ‘Would twelve o’clock in my office be convenient?’
‘Are you inviting me out to lunch, Shanna?’ he taunted.
Her mouth tightened, the gleam of revenge in her eyes making them glow deeply green. ‘I’m inviting you to my office at twelve o’clock,’ she told him stiffly.
‘I’ll be there.’ He rang off abruptly.
And so would she. She could sense his feeling of triumph even over the telephone, and she was determined he wouldn’t know any more such feelings where she was concerned. He had won this round, and she would see that Henry didn’t have to go back on his word as a business man because of her, but Ricardo Dalmont wouldn’t win any more rounds over her. She was going to be one step ahead of him from now on. Ignoring him hadn’t worked, being polite to him hadn’t either, she would have to try and make sure she stayed that one step ahead of him in future.
She had warned Gloria to buzz through to her office when Rick Dalmont arrived, and it was exactly twelve o’clock when the single buzz alerted her. She moved smoothly to her feet, ethereally thin in the black dress, her black hair caught in at her nape, her eyes like twin jewels above her high cheekbones.
Rick Dalmont’s eyes widened appreciatively as she went out to greet him, those same dark eyes narrowing at her formality.
‘Please come in, Mr Dalmont,’ she invited coolly, vaguely irritated by the way Gloria couldn’t seem to stop staring at the man. Admittedly he looked very handsome in a fitted iron-grey three-piece suit and snowy white shirt, but he was only a mere man after all. She didn’t notice the power that emanated from the force of his body, or the shrewdness in the dark eyes, the determination on the sensuous mouth. She should have noticed all those things about him, but she didn’t, was blind to it all. Perhaps if she had noticed…
She opened her office door for him to enter, standing back as silence fell over the seven people waiting inside the room, all of them looking at Rick Dalmont with open curiosity. Rick’s reaction to this unexpected meeting with Fashion Lady’s heads of department was harder to discern, and a hard mask fell over his face as he raised dark brows at her in acknowledgment of the first round going to her.
‘We’ll discuss this over lunch,’ he told her softly, a smile to his lips, only the flare of anger in his dark eyes telling her it would be far from a pleasant conversation.
She moved forward hastily, and silence fell over the room where conversation had begun to buzz as Rick’s identity was realised. Her body moved gracefully beneath the black dress, the heels on her sandals adding to her height. ‘I’m sure you all know Mr Ricardo Dalmont,’ she introduced unnecessarily, knowing that they all realised who he was. ‘What you aren’t yet aware of is that he is now our new boss.’ She turned to him with a challenging smile, the conversation behind her increasing to a roar as the information was absorbed and disbelieved. Like her, her heads of staff had had no idea a takeover was in the offing. Henry had certainly played this close to the ground, and she didn’t need two guesses at whose instigation that had been.
Rick met her challenge with an arrogant inclination of his head. ‘Mrs Logan has been—premature in her announcement,’ he drawled reproachfully. ‘I had meant to talk to you all when Mr Blythe was present. But as I was here to take Mrs Logan out to lunch she thought I should have a few words with you before we leave.’ It was his turn to give Shanna a challenging look, triumphantly so.
Shanna was so angry that she didn’t hear a word he said over the next few minutes, but she could see by the pleased expressions on her colleagues’ faces that they liked what he was saying. He might think he had just trapped her into having lunch with him, but he was wrong, no one forced her to do anything she didn’t want to do. And she didn’t want to have lunch with Rick Dalmont.
‘So I can assure you all that I will make as little change in the format of Fashion Lady as I can,’ he concluded. ‘I look forward to working with you, ladies—and gentleman,’ he acknowledged the single male head of department in the room with the six ladies. ‘A little discrimination in reverse?’ he mocked.
Joe Deane gave an appreciative laugh. ‘I have no complaints.’
‘I don’t think I would either.’ Rick looked at the women with open appreciation.
‘If you’ve quite finished?’ Shanna said icily. ‘We still have a magazine to run,’ she reminded him curtly.
Rick’s eyes narrowed dangerously before he turned to smile at the others. ‘I’m sorry I kept you so long,’ he told them smoothly. ‘I’m sure I’ll meet you all later, individually, in the week.’
Shanna could have cringed at some of the open smiles of encouragement on some of the faces of the women she could have sworn were hardbitten career women. Was no woman immune to this man’s rakish charm!
‘That was not only unethical,’ a cold voice of gravel and honey told her softly. ‘It was also unprofessional,’ Rick bit out tautly; the two of them were completely alone now, and the tension between them was almost unbearable.
‘Unprofessional?’ she echoed quietly. ‘You don’t call buying this magazine without even informing the editor unprofessional or unethical?’ she demanded angrily.
He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘It isn’t required of me to tell you anything.’
‘Not even when I’m included in the deal?’ she snapped.
‘As editor of the magazine, of course,’ he drawled.
‘Of course!’
Again he shrugged. ‘It’s normal practice——’
‘For senior members of staff to stay on after such a negotiation,’ she finished dryly. ‘You coached Henry very well, Mr Dalmont, he used exactly the same argument.’
‘Did it work?’ He leant casually back against her desk.
‘No!’ she told him curtly, holding out an envelope to him. ‘I’m giving you three months’ notice.’
He took the envelope, putting it away in the breast pocket of his jacket. ‘Can you train your replacement in that time?’ he enquired coolly.
Shanna bit back her chagrin with effort; he hadn’t even tried to talk her out of leaving, damn him. ‘I’m sure I can,’ she confirmed waspishly.