‘I rather got the impression that you only took the orders that you wanted to take,’ said Vanessa drily. ‘Isn’t that why you left your father’s firm? Face it, you just couldn’t cut it in a job that requires you to be constantly deferential. You have to run things, to be in charge. You wouldn’t even know where your forelock was, let alone how to tug it!’
‘I haven’t noticed you being particularly deferential. And since when have I asked for any forelock-tugging from my employees?’
He seemed genuinely pained and she was quick to point out tartly, ‘You give me time off and then expect me to be meekly at your beck and call!’
He gave her a grim smile. ‘Meekly, no—I’m not that much of an optimist. But if you really didn’t want to be here with me now, Vanessa, you would have driven off and left me in a cloud of dust. But you didn’t. And don’t tell me that it was mere deference to my authority. Your thumb your nose at that when it suits you. When we get down to the nitty gritty, this is between Benedict and Vanessa, man and woman, not employer and employee.’
Vanessa gave him a haughty look. ‘I really don’t want—’
‘Yes, you do. You want me and you’re afraid of it. You’re afraid it makes you vulnerable. Well, hell, men are vulnerable too. Much more so. We can’t hide the fact that we find a woman exciting. Look at me, do you think I like having such little self-control...?’
He indicated his body with an impatient sweep of his hand from shoulder to hip. Not understanding his reference, Vanessa followed the gesture to its obvious conclusion and felt herself flushing at the sight of his blatant masculinity, her eyes jerking back to his sardonic expression.
‘Embarrassed? Think of how I feel!’
She did and her blush deepened. He gave a barking laugh. ‘Yes, well, I admit it’s not all bad. In fact...’ his drawl took on a husky note ‘...some of it is pretty damned good. The question is, what are we going to do about it?’
‘We’re not going to do anything,’ said Vanessa shakily, scrabbling for her battered defences. ‘And if you think that you can use sexual harassment to—’
‘Sexual harassment!’ He jack-knifed to a sitting position, cursing fiercely as coffee spilled across his thigh. He wiped the stain carelessly with the sleeve of his sweater as he continued harshly, ‘What in the hell are you talking about?’
‘About you using your...your position to...to threaten me—’
‘Any threats are in your own mixed-up little mind.’ She realised that this time he was genuinely angry and becoming more so with every word he uttered. ‘Why should the fact that you work for me have any bearing on the fact that we find each other attractive? So I went off my head a little at first—I think I was entitled, don’t you? Did I ever say I’d fire you if you don’t have sex with me?’
‘No, but—’
‘No. I said precisely the opposite, didn’t I? And have I touched you sexually against your will?’
He had hardly touched her at all in the past two weeks; that was what had made her so acutely aware of him...the fact that he was making such an obvious effort not to touch her. The fact that she had found h
erself looking at his hands and his mouth and remembering, wondering...
‘No, but—’
‘Have I made suggestive comments to you while we’ve been working on that damned book? Have I been anything but casual and friendly?’
‘No, but—’
‘But what? I’ve been walking on damned eggshells around you so as not to frighten you off, to give you a chance to get to know me as a whole person, and now you accuse me of sexual harassment? My God, do you really think I’m that bloody desperate? That despicable?’
He was shouting. Cool, contained Benedict Savage was shouting at her. And swearing like an explosive teenager.
‘No, of course not,’ she admitted weakly.
‘Then would you mind telling me what exactly it is that I do that makes you feel so quiveringly helpless before my slavering lust?’ He raked a look down her body that made her feel hot all over.
‘It’s that!’ she blurted out desperately. ‘The way you look at me.’
There was a shivering silence. Then, ‘Look? So even looking’s forbidden now? I think you’ll have to be a bit more precise, Vanessa.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it—’
‘Neither do I!’
Suddenly he was no longer sitting on the other side of the blanket. With a lithe movement he lunged across the clutter between them, upsetting plates and scattering food as he came down over her, straddling her body on his braced arms and knees as she collapsed backwards in shock. ‘I’d much rather do something about it!’
‘Stop it!’ she panted, pushing both hands against his chest, holding him at bay.