Love's Only Deception

She took advantage of his preoccupation to absent herself, leaving the noisy party to go into one of the side rooms, to find herself in the peace and tranquillity of a library, its walls lined with books, books her fingers ached to touch.

She looked along the shelves, finding most of the classics, and took down her own particular favourite, leafing through the pages.

‘I see I’m not the only one who needed to escape,’ drawled a husky male voice.

Callie turned almost guiltily, her eyes widening as she looked at the man who had interrupted her solitude—tall, with dark, almost black hair, a rivetingly handsome face, the dark dinner suit perfectly tailored, as was the white hand-made silk shirt. She looked up into darkly grey eyes, and wondered why she hadn’t noticed him at the party earlier—he was hardly the type to be overlooked.

He closed the door behind him, instantly shutting out the noise of the party, and walked across the room with long, relaxed strides, looking at the book in her hand. ‘Jane Eyre,’ he mused. ‘You like the story?’

His voice was deep and well modulated. ‘Yes,’ she blushed her confusion. ‘Have you read it?’

He smiled, instantly looking younger than the mid-thirties she had guessed him to be, his teeth very white against his tanned skin, looking ruggedly attractive this close to rather than handsome. ‘I think everyone should read Jane Eyre at least once,’ he drawled.

Callie held the book in front of her almost defensively, something about this man warning her he was dangerous. ‘Which means you have?’ she persisted.

‘Twice, actually.’

‘So you liked it.’

‘I think Rochester could have been a little kinder to Jane.’ He shrugged. ‘But if he had been perhaps she wouldn’t have fallen for him. You women are reputed to fall for the bastards of life.’

Callie flushed her resentment of such a generalisation. ‘We can’t pick and choose whom we love—neither men nor women. And Mr Rochester wasn’t kind to Jane because he was conscious of his mad wife.’

The man sat down in one of the armchairs, looking very relaxed. ‘If he had been that conscious of her he would have sent her away as soon as he realised he was becoming attracted to her.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘Unfortunately most humans aren’t that self-sacrificing.’

He eyed her curiously for several seconds, obviously liking what he saw. ‘Before we come to blows perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m Logan Carrington,’ he introduced softly.

‘Callie Day,’ she returned stiffly.

‘I’ve upset you,’ he said ruefully. ‘I didn’t mean to. Jane Eyre is a favourite of yours, hmm?’

‘Yes.’ She sighed, beginning to smile at her intensity. ‘Sorry,’ she shrugged, ‘they say you should never get into a discussion about religion or politics, but with me it’s books. Everyone gets something different out of them.’

‘Truce?’

‘Truce.’ She smiled openly now, very attractive in a dress the brown of her eyes, her hair made to look even blonder against its dark colour.

He sat forward to put his hand out to her. ‘Friends?’

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before placing her hand in his. ‘Friends,’ she agreed huskily.

The touch of his hand against hers was only fleeting, and yet her ringers seemed to tingle from the contact before she hastily thrust her hand behind her back and placed the book back on the shelf. She turned to find him still watching her.

‘Do I have a smut on my nose or something?’ she challenged, not being used to being stared at in this way.

Logan Carrington smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Nothing like that,’ he shook his head. ‘I was just wondering why a beautiful girl like you would shut herself away in here when the party is out there.’

‘Maybe for the same reason you’ve come in here,’ she returned, a glow coming to her cheeks at being called beautiful.

‘I doubt it,’ he grimaced. ‘Unless you have secretary trouble?’

‘No,’ she laughed. ‘I am a secretary.’

Much to Marilyn’s disgust she had kept on with her job, sure that the bubble of her sudden wealth would burst and leave her penniless. She could do without being jobless too. She had been brought up with a sense of values, of having to work for what she had, and it was going to take months, not weeks, to accept that she no longer had to work. Besides, the question of Jeff’s will hadn’t been settled yet, and she didn’t intend spending money she didn’t even have.

‘You are?’ Logan Carrington looked interested.

‘And very happily employed, thank you,’ she told him hastily.

‘Oh.’

‘If your girl is incompetent——’

‘She isn’t,’ he made a face. ‘She’s very good at the job.’

Callie sat down, looking puzzled. ‘Then I don’t understand your problem.’

‘She’s new, my last secretary has left to have a baby. Her replacement is—well, she—she just isn’t suitable.’

The uncomfortableness of his expression told a story in itself. ‘She’s attracted to you,’ Callie guessed with amusement.

‘Yes,’ he admitted with a grimace.

She had trouble holding back a smile. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that a drawback.’

‘Except that I don’t get involved with my secretaries.’

‘Ah, now that is a problem.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you mocking me?’

‘Me?’ she gave him an innocently wide-eyed look. ‘Of course not.’

‘You are,’ he gave a reluctant smile.

‘Yes,’ she smiled back.

‘So tell me, why are you hiding in here?’

‘I’m not hiding!’ She was irritated by his choice of word. ‘But I am bored and—and tired.’

‘Tired?’ He raised one dark eyebrow.

‘I haven’t been sleeping very well lately—and not for the reason you’re thinking,’ she added sharply at his speculative look. ‘Do you have any idea of the pain babies suffer while they’re teething?’ she attacked.

‘Your baby?’

‘Of course not! I’m not married.’

His brows rose. ‘I didn’t think that was compulsory nowadays.’

‘In my book it is,’ Callie told him waspishly. ‘The baby lives next door. And he’s going through agony.’

Poor Marilyn had been pacing the floor day and night with Paul the last few weeks, and it was starting to tell on her, dark circles appearing under her eyes. And Callie knew she didn’t look much better. The walls of the flat were not exactly soundproof, although not for anything would she let Marilyn and Bill know of her own disturbed nights.

‘I thought they had creams and things for that nowadays,’ Logan Carrington spoke now.

Her eyes widened. ‘They do. But I have to admit to being surprised that you know about things like that. Do you have children of your own?’

‘I’m not married,’ he gave her own answer.

Well, at least she wasn’t lightly flirting with a married man! ‘Neices and nephews, then?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m an only child. But I told you my secretary left to have a baby.’

‘And she told you about teething creams?’ It seemed a strange subject to discuss with one’s boss.

He grinned. ‘Only when I teased her about all the sleepless nights she was going to have.’

‘Typical male!’ Callie tried to sound annoyed, and knew she had failed miserably as Logan began to chuckle. ‘I’ll have you know your attitude is chauvinistic,’ she added crossly.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you have to sound so—so proud of it?’

‘Are you a Woman’s Libber?’

He made it sound like something insulting, and Callie wished she could have said yes. ‘No,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘I admit to liking equal opportunities, but I like to be treated as a woman.’

‘Protected?’

‘I suppose so,’ she nodded.

‘You want it all ways,’ he drawled mockingly.

‘Yes!’ her eyes flashed.

‘As a man, I can tell you we like to protect. I also like a woman to have a mind of her own. We humans are a mass of contradictions, aren’t we?’

‘We’ve also discussed some very unusual subjects for two people that just met!’ Callie had suddenly realised the strangeness of the situation. She and Logan Carrington had only met fifteen minutes ago, and yet they had been talking, arguing, like old friends. He was a man she found it easy to talk to, and she was aware of talking to him as she and Jeff used to talk, lightly arguing, airing different points of view. After four months it felt good to be with someone she could be like this with.

‘Maybe we could discuss some more unusual subjects,’ Logan suggested huskily. ‘Maybe over dinner one night in the week?’

She was tempted—oh, how she was tempted! But she didn’t know this man, no matter how relaxed she felt with him. She knew nothing about him except that she liked talking to him, liked the challenge of their conversation.

‘I’d really like it, Callie,’ he prompted.

She stood up. ‘I should get back to the party.’

Logan stood up too, suddenly very serious, his expression intent. ‘Dinner, Callie. Please?’

He didn’t look as if it were a word that came easily to him. ‘Maybe you could call me …’

‘Give me your number,’ he nodded.

She watched while he wrote it down, the pen he used obviously gold. He looked as if he might be a wealthy man; he had an air about him that spoke of authority.

She gave him the number, not really expecting to hear from him again, sure that he wouldn’t even remember the meeting tomorrow, then watched as he moved across the outer room with lithe grace to join a tall willowy redhead, whispering something in the woman’s ear before they made their excuses and left. The woman had been beautiful, and their relationship was obviously intimate. No, Logan Carrington wouldn’t remember her tomorrow—but Callie knew she would remember him!

‘There you are!’ Donald pounced. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’

‘I think I’d like to leave now, Donald,’ she told him coolly.

‘That’s why I’ve been looking for you. It’s late, I have to work in the morning.’

What a husband he would make! ‘No, I can’t make love to you tonight, I have to go to work in the morning’! He didn’t know the meaning of the word spontaneity.

As she had known, he didn’t take the news that she didn’t want to see him again very well. But she didn’t tell him the real reason she had been stringing him on this last month—let the Spencers stew for a while! Bill was looking into Spencer Plastics for her, and by the time she attended the shareholder’s meeting next month she should have a fair idea of what was going on. She would knock down their marriage plans at the same time.

The telephone was ringing as she let herself into the flat, and she rushed to pick it up, the silence from the adjoining flat telling her that so far Marilyn was having an undisturbed night.

‘Yes?’ she hissed into the receiver.

‘Callie?’

She instantly recognised the voice. ‘Heavens, Logan, it’s almost one o’clock in the morning!’

‘Am I disturbing you?’ His voice had cooled.

‘I just told you, it’s almost one o’clock in the—–’

‘I meant, are you alone?’

‘Of course I—Logan!’ She was indignant as she realised what he was implying.

‘Ssh, you’ll wake the neighbours,’ he chided mockingly.

‘I should think you’ve already done that,’ she snapped, although there was still no sound from next door.

‘You told me to call you—–’

‘Yes. But I didn’t mean now, tonight—–’

“‘Never put off until tomorrow what you can do—–"’

“‘Today”,’ she finished the quote dryly. ‘What happened to your friend?’

‘Danielle?’

‘If that’s her name, yes.’

‘As far as I know she’s at home safely tucked up in bed,’ he taunted.

‘And why aren’t you with her?’

‘What makes you think I’m not?’

‘I—Are you?’ She blushed, even though he couldn’t see her reaction to his teasing.

‘No,’ he chuckled. ‘Believe me, she wouldn’t let me call another woman while I was in her bed! And what about your partner for the evening, where’s he?’

‘On his way home to be safely tucked up in bed, I should think,’ Callie answered mischievously.

‘And why isn’t he with you?’

‘Because I always sleep alone,’ she told him waspishly.

‘Always?’

‘Yes!’

‘But you don’t always eat alone?’

‘No …’

‘Dinner tomorrow, then?’

It was like being taken along in the path of a tidal wave, and Callie rebelled at this management of her life. ‘Not tomorrow,’ she refused. ‘I already have a date,’ she invented.

‘Break it.’

‘I most certainly will not!’

‘The neighbours, Callie,’ he once again taunted.

‘Damn the neighbours—–’

‘Tut, tut, tut, you swear too.’

‘Too?’ she echoed sharply.

‘As well as talk to strange men at parties,’ he mocked.

‘As I remember it, that strange man spoke to me first!’

‘Touché,’ he chuckled. ‘How about dinner on Monday?’

‘I—–’

‘Tuesday?’

I—–’

‘Wednesday?’

‘I was about to say Monday would be fine,’ she put in quickly before he got to Thursday, deciding that Monday didn’t seem too eager. ‘Although your calendar seems to be very empty for such a—–’ she broke off as she realised what she had been about to say. Logan Carrington needed no extra boosts to his ego from her!

‘Such a …?’ he prompted softly.

‘Such a conceited man,’ she snapped.

He chuckled. ‘Tell me your address, Callie, and I’ll let you get to bed.’

She told him, wondering if he rushed all his women like this. She was beginning to feel decidedly overwhelmed. So much for him forgetting all about her!

Marilyn and Bill spent the day at Bill’s mother’s the next day, so Callie didn’t get chance to discuss Logan Carrington with her friend. She didn’t quite know how to explain him to herself, she just knew she had been instantly attracted. And after Donald’s inane conversation for a month it would be nice to talk to someone who obviously read as much as she did, a man of high intelligence who amused and challenged her at the same time.

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