‘He didn’t want to do anything before, because he thought that he and Jago Marsh could work together amicably,’ she retorted stiffly.
Pete lifted his eyes to heaven. ‘God help us,’ he murmured piously. ‘She actually believes it! How naïve can you get! Come down off your cloud, Storm. Face facts. David has handed in his resignation because the competition is just too stiff for him and that’s the truth, only you’re too damned stubborn to admit it.’
It was what her father had said, only put far less gently, but Storm ignored him, awareness suddenly prickling over her as a door opened in the corridor. She knew without looking round who it was. Dear God, she wondered helplessly, how had everything about him become so familiar to her in so short a space of time?
She turned in time to see Jago’s eyes graze her skin, her grey jumper and lavender skirt no protection at all against those dissecting eyes. She gave a start when she realised that he wasn’t alone. Sam Townley, their main backer, was with him, and Sam was looking far from pleased. No doubt Jago had been trying to force Sam to dig a little deeper into his pocket, Storm thought in grim satisfaction. He’d need a mechanical bulldozer to do that. Her smile faded as she saw the girl emerging from the office behind the two men: Angie Townley. Storm’s mouth compressed. She didn’t like the supermarket baron’s daughter. Angie had a flat in London and a job which she vaguely described as freelance modelling. She was exactly Jago’s type, Storm reflected, watching the way the blonde girl draped herself across his lean body, her mouth pouting provocatively, as her eyes slid warningly over Storm.
The trembling awareness she had felt deep in the pit of her stomach the moment she saw Jago increased as he walked towards her, Angie’s eyes spitting fire.
‘Waiting for something, Storm?’ he drawled as she stood rooted to the spot.
The awareness fled, replaced by red-hot anger. ‘Yes,’ she told him through gritted teeth, ‘I wanted to have a word with you, Mr Marsh.’
His eyes narrowed at her challenging tone, but there was no other acknowledgement to show that he had seen her anger. He pushed back his cuff and glanced impatiently at his watch, and the action inflamed Storm’s smouldering temper.
‘Don’t worry—what I have to say to you won’t delay you for your lunch appointment,’ she told him pointedly, staring through Angie.
‘No,’ Jago agreed coldly, ‘it won’t. Pete,’ he instructed the D.J., ‘give Angie and Mr Townley an inspection of the studios, will you. I won’t be very long,’ he told them as Pete hurried forward. He closed the door to his office and turned to face Storm, his eyes like splinters of ice. ‘Don’t you ever talk to me in front of anyone else like that again,’ he warned her.
‘But it’s okay for me to do it in private?’ Storm lashed back. ‘Some chance!’
‘Come off it, Storm.’ His change of mood caught her off guard. ‘I know you’re not indifferent to me, but you’ve made your token gesture for the day, so what do you want?’
‘David phoned me,’ she began, refusing to be put off by his steely inspection.
‘To cry on your shoulder?’
Something seemed to shiver between them, making the atmosphere in the small room dangerously explosive, and Storm lashed out at him, trying to destroy whatever it was that triggered off the emotion she could almost taste, but Jago caught her wrist in an inflexible grip, forcing her arm back, until she was biting her lip to prevent herself from crying out loud.
‘Oh no, you don’t, my beauty,’ he warned her softly. ‘I’m not your precious David, Storm Templeton. You hurt me and I hurt you right back—and on this occasion the muscle’s all on my side.’
’And don’t you just love it!’ Storm flashed at him. She must be crazy doing this, she thought numbly as she saw the anger leaping to life and knowing it was too late to contain it. The violence of her own response to it shocked her, freezing the hot words clamouring for utterance. She was used to her own quickly flaring temper, the sudden spurt of rage followed by the equally sudden calm, but never before had she ever been moved to such intense fury—never had she actually wanted to strike someone and physically hurt them—yes, actually inflict pain—as she had wanted to do to Jago Marsh. Her lack of self-control was humiliating and her hands clenched into small mute fists.
‘God knows I’ve done my best to be patient with you, Storm,’ Jago said savagely. ‘You really believe in trying your luck, don’t you? Or is it just blind trust—like that blind “love” you claim to have for David? You think I’ve got more control of my temper than you have of yours, is that it?’
As though his words had triggered off an automatic response Storm responded heatedly, ‘I do love David. I do love him.’
‘Like hell you do,’ Jago returned flatly. ‘Now I’ve got just five minutes, so tell me what you wanted.’
‘It’s David,’ Storm whispered. ‘As if you didn’t know. How could you do this to him? How could you force him to leave the station he’s built up from nothing? Don’t you care that you’ve stripped his pride to the bone and made him look nothing in the eyes of everyone else? Or does that kind of thing give you some sort of kick?’
She had made him angry—very angry, but nothing would make her back down. In some odd way the mounting tension within the confining walls of the small office stimulated rather than frightened her. Jago’s immobile stance challenged and she rose to the implicit challenge, her breath coming jerkily between her lips as his eyes slitted, their smouldering heat grazing her skin, his jaw taut where a muscle beat sporadically against the tanned skin.
‘Finished?’ Quiet though his voice was it stopped Storm in her tracks. ‘Good,’ he said softly as she licked dry lips. ‘Now it’s my turn to indulge in a few home truths. You see yourself as David’s champion, don’t you, Storm, righting the wrongs imposed by a cruel oppressor—namely myself. Has it never occurred to you that you’re usurping his role? God, you’re incredible!’ he told her. ‘How you can sit there and accuse me of humiliating him I just don’t know. What the hell do you think you’re doing to him? You haven’t just humiliated the guy, you’ve damned near emasculated him as well!’
Storm went paper-white, clutching at the desk for support.
‘No!’ she moaned protestingly. ‘It isn’t like that…’
‘Of course it’s like that,’ Jago said softly. ‘Now I know he’s never made it with you, and he never will, will he, Storm? Do you enjoy turning him into a sexless pet dog—does that turn you on? What the hell are you, Storm, or daren’t you put a name to it?’
‘It’s not true! I’m not like that!’ She ached with a pain that could not be ignored, her heart beating feverishly against her ribs. She felt as though she’d been ripped apart and was slowly bleeding to death with Jago watching her, his cold grey eyes following every betraying gesture.
‘Stop looking at me like that,’ she stammered, covering her face with her hands. ‘I’m not like that!’
‘Aren’t you?’ Jago pressed savagely, tearing her hands away from her eyes and forcing her to meet the sardonic coldness of his. ‘Prove it to me, then, Storm. Give me one instance of when you’ve let pure instinct dictate your act
ions. Give me one example of when you’ve been a woman first!’