Craving Her Boss's Touch

She turned away, closing her eyes, refusing to look at him as he stood up.

His fingers grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. ‘It’s okay, I’m going,’ he said wryly. ‘I guess my timing was at fault. You shouldn’t have worn that damned dress. The thought of how little you were wearing underneath it’s been driving me crazy damned near all night. I’m not totally without feelings, Storm. You’ve taken a hard knock over Winters, but that doesn’t make me any less determined. You’ve proved tonight that you’re not exactly indifferent

to me. And I’m one hell of a long way from being indifferent to you. I’m prepared to give you some time, so I won’t press matters to their logical conclusion tonight—although we both know that I could.’ His hands cupped her face so that it was impossible for her to look away, although she felt the heat sear her skin as his eyes lingered on her body.

‘If I don’t go now, I’ll end up spending the night with you whether you want it or not,’ he said at last. ‘I haven’t forgotten that vow I made to hear you say you want me, Storm, and it still holds good. Now kiss me and I’ll go.’

She was trembling all over, but she still raised her mouth to his, her fingers curling into the thickness of his hair as her tongue traced the outline of his lips, feeling them harden under the tentative caress.

As his mouth took possession of hers her hands slid on to his shoulders, the muscles contracting beneath her touch.

‘Forget Winters,’ he told her jerkily as he released her. ‘Forget him, Storm.’

Long after he had gone she lay wakeful and anguished. Her body throbbed with an unappeased ache and to her shame she acknowledged that if he had decided to stay with her she could not have refused him.

It was just as she feared. In love she was desperately at risk, wanting to yield her mind and her body. She closed her eyes, trying to relax into sleep.

There was no way now that she was ever going to persuade Jago that she was indifferent to him. All she could hope to do was to prevent him from discovering the depth of her love.

For a moment she let herself dwell on how it would feel to have Jago return her love, but she quickly dismissed the thought, knowing it to be impossible.

In some ways she almost wished he had stayed with her. Once he had taken what he had wanted he would surely lose interest, and already she was waiting for the pain she knew would follow their lovemaking as surely as night must follow day.

* * *

Work kept her busy for most of the following week. Because she had her father’s car she told Jago that there was no need for him to give her a lift. As it happened he was tied up in meetings during the week, and she saw very little of him. He rang her every night at eleven o’clock to check that everything was all right as he had promised her parents.

One evening before he rang off he reminded her that Saturday was the evening fixed for the housewarming-cum-business get-together he had organised.

Rather reluctantly Storm asked if there was anything she could do to help, but he told her that everything was in hand.

‘I intend to find a housekeeper after Christmas,’ he told her, reinforcing her impression that he intended to make his Cotswold house his permanent home. ‘But for Saturday I’ve organised some outside caterers. We’ve used them before in London and they’re pretty good.’

She sometimes forgot that he had another life far removed from that at Radio Wyechester, Storm reflected as she hung up. The evening he took her to visit his friends had been a sample of that life—moneyed, sophisticated, a far cry from the quiet country existence she enjoyed.

She guessed that Tony and Valeria would be among the business associates Jago had invited. As one of the backers of Radio Wyechester Tony would want to inspect the team. In her heart of hearts she didn’t want to go to the party, but she knew that to refuse would only cause comment.

There hadn’t been a whisper of David’s defection at the studio, but she knew that the others must be aware of what had happened. She herself had seen David in Wyechester with Angie Townley clinging to his arm, and she wondered if Jago had primed them to keep silent.

To her surprise he had not made any attempt to follow up the advantage David’s departure had given him. At first Storm thought this was due to pressure of business, because the week had been very hectic, but then she started to wonder if Jago now considered that without David to use as a barrier, her capitulation was only a matter of time. He knew well enough how he affected her; he was far too experienced not to appreciate her reaction to him. That episode in her bedroom had been a complete giveaway; a moment of weakness which must not be allowed to happen again. Because Storm was still determined that she would not give in.

She had had ample time to think the whole thing through. Jago did not love her, he merely wanted her, and she was honest enough to know that as far as she was concerned, desire would never be enough. In fact she suspected that to give in now and allow him to possess her completely would only increase her need for him.

The initial response to the search for foster-parents had been even better than they had hoped. With the aid of the local Social Services Department a formula had been arranged for dealing with the prospective ‘parents’, and already the Matron of the home had high hopes that some of the younger children were going to find loving homes.

’The older kids are a tough bunch,’ Pete told her as they discussed the progress of the scheme. They were sitting in the studio surrounded by all the equipment, drinking mugs of coffee, while Mike hosted the late morning show.

‘But their stories would melt perma-frost. I want to try and get a couple of them on the show so that they can put their side of things; what they’re looking for in a family, that sort of thing.’

‘Sounds a good idea, but you’ll have to get Jago’s approval,’ Storm warned him. Released from David’s carping disapproval, Pete had blossomed into a hard-working enthusiast, putting them all to shame with the work he was putting in on their various projects.

As well as offers to act as foster-parents, the appeal had brought a positive avalanche of free gifts, tickets and invitations for the children, and Sue had taken on the extra duties of sorting these out.

No one could deny that there was a far more optimistic atmosphere in the studios these days Storm admitted. One of the first things Sam Townley had done following his defection had been to put up their rent, but Jago was making plans to find them fresh accommodation.

‘He’s talking about starting right from scratch,’ Pete told her enthusiastically. ‘Brand new equipment, the whole bit. Apparently he was quite taken with Harmers’ place. That’s one of the reasons he’s gone up to London today, to have talks with some architects.’

This was news to Storm, and she bent over her coffee mug, hiding her face.