Return Engagement

No! She couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe that, because that would make a mockery of all she had once felt for him. And it had been so important in her life.

She drew herself up defensively. ‘We aren’t discussing me, Wolf,’ she told him briskly. ‘Why are you marrying Rebecca?’ She looked at him intently.

His mouth twisted, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets now, his suit jacket pushed back carelessly, revealing the flatness of his stomach beneath the fitted waistcoat. Wolf had always been slim, but now he was whipcord so, muscles rippling beneath taut skin. ‘Why do you think I’m marrying her?’ he returned softly, his mouth twisted mockingly.

Cyn was about to dismiss her right to ‘think’ anything about his relationship with Rebecca, and then she stopped, remembering Wolf’s easy familiarity with Gerald Harcourt, the obvious friendship between the two men. And she knew exactly why Wolf was marrying the young girl, and also why Rebecca had agreed to marry him.

‘A business arrangement,’ she said with obvious disgust. ‘My God, Wolf,’ she looked at him pityingly, ‘what happened to you?’ She shook her head dazedly.

His eyes were icy slits. ‘Happened to me?’ he repeated with cold menace.

Cyn stared at him as if she had never seen him before—as, indeed, she was sure she never had known this man. ‘Is this what you’ve become, Wolf, a hard-nosed businessman like Alex—?’

‘Leave Alex out of this!’ Wolf cut in harshly, no longer relaxed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides now. ‘He’s dead.’

She knew his brother was dead, had still been in Wolf’s life when the helicopter Alex had liked to fly himself, to get him to and from business meetings all over the country, had crashed in fog over the Cumbrian mountains, killing both Alex and his assistant instantly. But just because Alex had died it didn’t alter the fact that Wolf had hated the cut-and-thrust of Alex’s business world as he built up the family empire, that it had made Wolf shudder just to think of being involved in that world himself. And now, it appeared, he wasn’t just involved in it; he had become more of a cold-hearted bastard than Alex had ever been!

‘You can’t marry Rebecca because it makes good business sense, Wolf—’

‘Who says I can’t? You?’ he challenged scornfully. ‘You bailed out of my life at the first sign that things might be tough for a while, so don’t—’

‘That isn’t true!’ Cyn gasped incredulously. ‘I didn’t have any choice. You—’

‘Yes?’ he grated viciously. ‘I what? Wouldn’t be able to give you the attention you wanted after Alex died so suddenly?’ he dismissed contemptuously. ‘I thought you’d understand how it had to be.’ He shook his head disgustedly. ‘But you didn’t leave me with that erroneous belief for long, did you! Oh, no, you decided then was the perfect time to tell me you were seeing Collins again.’ His eyes glittered now with remembered anger at the disclosure. ‘If you ever stopped seeing him,’ he added harshly.

‘And just what do you mean by that?’ she demanded, heated colour darkening her cheeks.

Wolf made a dismissive movement with his hands. ‘You were involved with Collins before I met you. We were—close, ourselves, only a few weeks; it’s only natural to assume that— ‘

‘I was continuing to see Roger at the same time I was telling you I loved you!’ she finished accusingly, her eyes gleaming deeply violet. ‘Credit me with a few more morals than you had yourself, Wolf,’ she scorned with distaste.

His eyes narrowed to amber slits. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning—’ Cyn broke off with a heavy sigh. She wasn’t in the least disconcerted by the obvious danger of his chilling anger—at least, not much!—it was just that she couldn’t see the point, now of all times, of raking up the painful events of the past. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She shook her head dismissively.

‘Obviously it does.’ His eyes were still narrowed. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t have made the remark at all.’ His hands moved to grasp the tops of her arms as he held her securely in front of him.

Not that he needed to have bothered to have held her so tightly; her legs had gone too weak, at the first touch of his hands, to support her moving away!

‘Tell me what you meant, Cyn,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’m not leaving here until you do.’

She gazed up at him with pained eyes. God, she had once loved this man so much, had been willing to do anything for him—except the one thing he had demanded of her, she remembered heavily. Roger had tried to warn her, when she first went out with Wolf, had told her that people of Wolf Thornton’s class lived by a different set of rules from them. Only she had been too much in love, even then, to want to listen to those warnings. It had been a reluctance she had paid for a long time after Wolf was completely out of her life!

He was so close to her now, the warmth of his breath gently stirring the wispy blond fringe of hair on her forehead, the smell of his aftershave, a light woodsy smell, along with that masculine smell that was pure Wolf, filling her senses, making further thought impossible for the moment.

Or resistance, as she felt herself being slowly drawn towards the hard strength of his chest, the long length of his legs already pressed against hers.

‘Cyn...!’ he groaned low in his throat, the sound almost primeval, his arms moving about her now like steel bands as he drew her into the seductive warmth of his body.

It was as if the years since Wolf last held her like this had never been, her lips parting instinctively for the depth of his kiss, the onslaught fierce and demanding, his lips grinding down on hers, his hands roving restlessly down the length of her spine before coming to rest possessively against her hips, holding her against the taut arousal of his own body.

Wolf wanted her! As much as he ever had, Cyn realised dazedly. But even as she knew the truth of that she felt her own quivering response to the now languid caress of his lips against hers, tasting her, the tip of his tongue brailling every centimetre of her lips before dipping fleetingly into the hot, moist cavern beneath. Again. And again. Those flickering caresses were driving her into a frenzy of need for something deeper, her legs felt weak as she clung to the broad strength of his shoulders, her fingers unknowingly digging into the hard flesh there.

She trembled against him as his lips left hers now to travel the length of her throat, moving moistly against the throbbing column there, and her breath caught in her throat, her head falling back weakly against her shoulders.

This couldn’t be happening, was totally wrong, she knew in her more sane moments, and yet there was no way she could bring a halt to these caresses. Her whole being was crying out in need for the only man she had ever wanted in this way.

Wolf raised his head slowly, looking down at her, his eyes flowing liquid gold now, a nerve pulsing against the full sensuality of his mouth, the warmth of his hands burning through the silky material of Cyn’s blouse as he still held her against him.

Her tongue flickered out to moisten lips that had gone suddenly dry at the passionate intensity of that amber gaze, her breath leaving her in a shuddering sigh as she saw the way Wolf’s eyes darkened at her unknowingly provocative movement. ‘Wolf, I—’ She broke off with a disbelieving groan as the telephone on her desk began to ring intrusively.

She didn’t want to answer the call; she wanted to find out what emotion, if any, had motivated Wolf into kissing her in the way that he had. The passionate intensity of his kisses had been unmistakable, as had been her own instinctive response. But even as she looked up at him, to form her question, he was pushing her away from him, a hard savagery to the lips that had moved against her so sensually only seconds earlier.

He moved away from her with abrupt movements. ‘Answer the damn thing!’ he instructed harshly, glaring. ‘After all,’ his mouth twisted, ‘it might be some poor bride wanting to run away from her wedding, and everything connected with it—including the bridegroom!’

Cyn’s cheeks flushed as she remembered her conversation with Rebecca Harcourt such a short time ago. If ever a bride looked poised to run, it had been her!

And if the Wolf Cyn had seen today—those kisses apart!—was the one Rebecca knew, then Cyn didn’t blame her for feeling that way!

She reached automatically for the telephone receiver, all the time her puzzled gaze resting on Wolf as he stood so remote across the room, staring out of the window down on to the street below now. The office was situated above a bakery in the small shopping precinct. There were some days when the smell of baking permeating from the shop below could drive Cyn wild with hunger, but, despite the fact that it was almost two-thirty and she hadn’t even had lunch yet, today was not one of those days! And she doubted that Wolf was actually seeing any of the shopping scene below him either. Unless he had grown more heartless than she had imagined—because she still felt like a quivering wreck after the kisses they had shared!

‘Hello, Cyn,’ greeted a warm, masculine voice after she had put the receiver up to her ear and given the name of the agency. ‘You shot off earlier before I had a chance to make definite plans to meet you for that dinner you promised me,’ he added reprovingly.

Gerald Harcourt! Cyn shot a self-conscious glance across the room at Wolf. Of all the people who could have called her now...!

As if becoming aware of her tension, Wolf slowly turned to look at her, that amber gaze deeply probing on her suddenly pale face. ‘What is it?’ He frowned suspiciously.

Cyn swallowed hard. This was awful, just awful! She didn’t know what to do.

‘Cyn?’ Gerald prompted with a puzzled voice as he received no response to his teasingly made statement. ‘Have I called at a bad time?’ he guessed astutely.

A bad time! It couldn’t have been any worse. She swallowed hard. ‘Not really,’ she lied. ‘And dinner would be lovely.’ She deliberately didn’t look at Wolf as she accepted the invitation; if she hadn’t accepted it, she would have just prolonged the conversation, and with Wolf in the room, his expression now thunderous, that was the last thing she wanted to do. ‘Could you pick me up at eight o’clock?’ she continued to speak briskly to Gerald. ‘There’s a rather good Italian restaurant quite near here we could go to. Unless you would rather not have pasta?’ Who cared whether or not he cared for pasta? She just wanted to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible. Because if she didn’t, she had a feeling Wolf was going to explode!

‘Pasta sounds marvellous,’ Gerald agreed quickly, obviously pleased at his speedy success when he had surely been envisaging having to persuade her into accepting his invitation.

Cyn quickly gave him her address, all the time keeping a wary eye on Wolf, and ringing off as soon as she was able without appearing rude to Gerald.

Wolf hadn’t moved from his position in front of the window, and yet he seemed to have grown, become even more intimidating—if that were possible! Cyn stood beside her desk, her hands clasped self-consciously together in front of her, watching him warily. Both of them were silent, Cyn because she simply didn’t know what to say, Wolf, she was sure, because he had too much to say!

‘Gerald?’ he finally accused knowingly.

‘Yes,’ she replied unnecessarily; the flush that had instantly darkened her cheeks had been confirmation enough.

Wolf’s mouth tightened ominously. ‘And you’re having dinner with him tonight.’

Her chin rose in an instinctively defensive movement. ‘Yes,’ she abruptly acknowledged the statement.

He shook his head, his mouth turned back scornfully. ‘You asked me a short time ago what happened to me,’ he bit out derisively. ‘I can tell you in one word what happened to me, Cyn,’ he rasped harshly. ‘You happened to me! You with your silver hair, violet-blue eyes, and such an expression of innocence I was totally fooled seven years ago. But not again, Cyn.’ He marched purposefully over to the door and wrenched it open. ‘Never again!’ He slammed the door so forcefully after his exit that the whole room seemed to vibrate in reaction.

Cyn finally gave in to the weakness in her legs and sat down heavily in her chair behind the desk.

‘Never again’, Wolf had said. And yet his kisses such a short time ago, in this very room, made a lie of that claim. In fact, if Wolf could kiss her with such passion then he had no right marrying Rebecca Harcourt at all!

CHAPTER THREE

IN THE ordinary course of events, she and Wolf would never have met at all. In fact, it might have been better for everyone concerned if they never had!

Cyn had been working as one of the evening receptionists at Thornton’s, the exclusive hotel the family owned in the centre of London—the same hotel Rebecca and Wolf were due to hold their wedding reception at in August, which was why they knew there would be no problem with that particular booking!

There had been a lot of day as well as night-time staff on duty that particular evening; Alex Thornton and his wife were hosting a sixtieth birthday party for his mother, Claudia, in the main function-room. Despite the fact that this was posted up on the notice-board as the guests entered the hotel, Cyn had spent the majority of the beginning of the evening directing people to the appropriate room. Not that she had seen any of the family themselves; they had been escorted into the party by the manager himself. By ten-fifteen, Cyn had been sure all the guests had to be present by now, and settled down at her computer console to complete some of the paperwork that seemed to go along with the job and which she hadn’t had time to deal with earlier, while several of the other girls on duty took a well-earned break; they had all been working extremely hard today to make sure everything ran smoothly for the Thornton party. Cyn had been quite happy to wait for her own break. Besides, she knew she wasn’t going to be too popular if the couple in Room 217 weren’t even officially registered, let alone their preference for morning newspapers logged in!

‘What did that computer ever do to you?’ queried a deeply amused voice.

Cyn looked up from her frowning concentration on the VDU, her eyes widening as she took in the appearance of the man leaning so casually over the top of the desk as he watched her struggling to squash a lengthy home address of one of the guests into the totally inadequate space given for this very purpose by the supposedly foolproof computer program; obviously they hadn’t considered people coming from Russia when they devised the program. But one look at this man and she didn’t care whether the address was legible enough, after her pruning, for the guest to be billed for any extras discovered after his departure or not. This man was gorgeous!

Tall—he had to be, to be able to lean this far over the top of the reception-desk!—with over-long blond hair that persisted in falling forward over his high intelligent forehead, eyes the colour of warm amber looking at Cyn with deepening amusement as she continued to stare at him, his features striking rather than what could strictly be called handsome, everything slightly larger than life, his cheekbones high, his nose slightly bent, as if it might have been broken at some time, his mouth— Oh, God, that mouth...!

Cyn stood up slowly, crossing to stand on the other side of the desk from him. ‘Machines and I don’t get on,’ she dismissed with a rueful shrug. ‘Can I help you?’ she offered politely, although from the look of his black evening suit and snowy white shirt, his black bow-tie spoiling the immaculate effect slightly, being not quite straight, as if he had tied it in a hurry, he was yet another guest for the Thornton party. She couldn’t help wondering if one of the other girls would know who this particular guest was. There was a list, of course, for security reasons, but that seemed to have been put to one side earlier as they were swamped with queries about the party. Cyn gave it a sideways glance as it lay on the desk by her hand, but there were so many names not crossed off that it would be impossible to know who this man was. Unless she asked him. And she couldn’t do that—much as she longed to!

‘I hope so,’ he grimaced. ‘I’m afraid I’m a little late, you see, and—’

‘The Thornton party,’ she nodded understandingly. ‘Well, I shouldn’t worry too much about being late, if I were you; there are so many people crushed into that room that I doubt if anyone has noticed your absence!’ Although if she had asked this man to a party, even if there were three hundred other guests invited, she would still have noticed his absence.

His grimace deepened. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that if I were you!’ He shook his head.

Ah, she thought, there was obviously a woman involved, a woman who, like her, would be well aware of his absence. A woman he obviously didn’t want to hurt, otherwise he wouldn’t have been here at all, Cyn would hazard a guess. For some reason that knowledge made her feel slightly depressed.

‘I’d forgotten it was tonight at all, you see,’ the man frowned, completely unaware of Cyn’s disappointed thoughts. ‘Until about half an hour ago. I must have made the quickest change in history, and— What is it?’ He frowned as he saw she was slowly nodding at his words.

Her cheeks felt slightly warm as she blushed slightly. ‘I was—well, I was just thinking that that accounts for it,’ she admitted awkwardly.

Dark blond brows rose. ‘Accounts for what?’ he said slowly.

It was hardly her place to tell one of the hotel guests he was less than immaculately dressed! ‘I— Well— You see—’

He frowned down at his own appearance as he realised this was what seemed to be causing her embarrassment. ‘Hell, I haven’t put odd socks on again, have I?—no, that can’t be it,’ he ruefully answered his own suggestion. ‘You can’t see as far down as my feet. All right,’ he sighed, ‘what is it? Blood on my shirt collar? Shaving foam in my ears? Blood on my shirt collar and shaving foam in my ears?’ he groaned desperately.

Cyn was laughing by this time; she couldn’t help it. Because from his self-derisive attitude to the suggestion that he might have done any one—or all three!—of those things, she had a feeling that he had been guilty of all three of them on at least one occasion! ‘None of those things,’ she assured him, still smiling. ‘Although your bow-tie is less than perfect,’ she told him with a rueful grimace.

He put up a self-conscious hand to the offending item, a long, sensitive-looking hand, the fingers long and tapered. ‘I never was any good with the damned things,’ he muttered, looking up. ‘I don’t suppose you...?’

Cyn frowned her puzzlement. ‘I what?’

‘You can’t be any worse at tying bow-ties than I am,’ he decided firmly, leaning forward over the desk once again. ‘Have a go,’ he suggested, thrusting his chin forward to allow her better access to the tie at his throat.

She stared at him in dismay for several seconds. She couldn’t just go around rearranging guests’ dress! There was sure to be a rule about it somewhere in the contract she had signed to work here at all, and as she had only been here a matter of weeks—

‘Well?’ He muttered with his jaw clenched, obviously tiring of the unnatural pose. ‘I could get a stiff neck if I have to hold my chin up much longer, and end up walking about like this all evening. Then I’ll really be popular!’

With the woman at the Thorntons’ party who was waiting for his arrival. But what was she worrying about? Cyn derided herself; she was never likely to see this man again, so what difference did it make to her who was waiting for him in that function-room!

‘OK,’ she sighed heavily, leaning forward to untie the bow so that she could start from scratch. From the look of the crushed material the rather sad-looking bow she had just undone had been far from his own first attempt this evening!

His proximity, necessarily so if she were to arrange the bow-tie at all, was more than a little unnerving! So much so that she made a complete mess of the bow herself the first time she tried. But the man was so close to her she could see the pores of his skin, the black flecks in those strange amber-coloured eyes, feel the warmth of his breath against her cheeks. How could she possibly be expected to concentrate?

‘Not so easy, is it?’ he said with satisfaction as she started again, luckily seeming to have no idea it was he himself who was making this so difficult for her.

‘Mmm,’ Cyn acknowledged as she frowned her attention on the bow-tie, her tongue sticking out between her teeth preventing her from making further conversation as she tried her best to concentrate on tying the bow rather than on the sensual magnetism of the man she was tying it on.

He gave a sudden throaty chuckle. ‘Anyone finding us like this could be forgiven for completely misinterpreting the situation— I was only joking!’ he protested as she moved sharply away, thrusting her hands behind her back as if they had been stung. ‘You can’t leave me half dressed like this!’ he groaned as he put a hand up and found the bow was still incomplete.

He was hardly ‘half dressed’, Cyn protested silently—although the suggestion did bring some rather vivid imaginings to mind, predominantly a situation where he actually could be ‘half dressed’!

‘Come here,’ she instructed impatiently, pulling him forward by the bow, her fingers moving deftly now, irritated with herself for indulging in such daydreams; this man might be slightly disorganised, but he was still someone important enough to be a guest at the Thornton party, and, as such, completely out of her league. ‘There!’ she patted the newly tied bow-tie with satisfaction. ‘You—’

‘Wolf, what on earth are you doing?’ demanded an incredulous voice.

Cyn reacted with dismay to the sound of that intrusive voice, sure she was going to be in trouble now over the incident with the man she had now learnt was called Wolf—Wolf...! What sort of a name was that, for goodness’ sake? He didn’t look in the least perturbed by the interruption, giving her a rueful grimace before turning to face the woman who had called out to him.

‘Enquiring where the party is, of course, Barbara,’ he drawled easily. ‘How’s it all going?’ He strolled across the reception area to join her.

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