The Threat of Love

There were butterflies in her stomach when she walked out of the lift and into Gil's office. His secretary looked up at her entrance and gave a brief nod. She still wasn't .my friendlier, but Caro was used to her hostility by now.

There was no sign of Gil himself, thank heavens. Caro knew he would spend most of the morning on his tour of the store, but although she expected that, the morning dragged by; Caro kept watching the clock but the more she watched, the slower the hands seemed to move. Gil didn't appear until almost lunchtime and, when he did arrive, had two senior members of his staff with him. They walked in talking, Gil wearing one of his beautifully tailored formal suits, a dark blue pin-stripe, with which he wore a crisp white shirt and blue silk tie.

He looked striking, and Caro was angry with herself for feeling an immediate stab of pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. What he felt, she could not guess from his expression. He nodded curtly, but didn't say anything, walked behind her desk and paused for a moment to observe what she was doing, then, still without a word, went back to his own desk, collected some documents from a locked drawer and walked out again, his employees following.

Stupidly, she felt as if he had slapped her in the face. He might have said something! A few polite words wouldn't have hurt him, would they? She forced herself back to work, but found it hard to concentrate.

Gil came back at seven minutes to three that afternoon. Caro knew what time it was because she kept looking at the clock and wondering, Where is he? She looked up as he walked in, tensing, but he still didn't say anything. She watched the hard outline of his profile, her throat dry with nerves. Just having him in the same room had become both an ordeal and a painful delight. His secretary walked into the office and Gil gestured to the chair in front of his desk. He smiled at the woman; Caro watched through her lashes and ached with stupid, pointless jealousy. He had no smiles for her, it seemed. He had become quite friendly for a little while; now they were back to the cold war, and Caro hated it.

He spent the next hour dictating to his secretary, then left again, without even glancing in Caro's direction. She understood. He regretted making love to her last night; he didn't want her to think it had meant anything. He was staying out of her way and treating her remotely so that she shouldn't be under any illusion about their relationship. Her father's intention of buying Westbrooks made them enemies. Well, he needn't bother to hammer home the point.

She had known, last night, just why he had been kissing her. That was why she had stopped him. Last night, Gil had been walking a knife-edge of anger and frustration. Of course, he should never have got involved with a married woman, but he must be unhappy, and Caro hated the thought of him...of anyone...being unhappy.

But being unhappy didn't give him the right to treat other people so ruthlessly.

He had kissed her and tried to make love to her without caring how she might feel. He had tried to take advantage of her—and now, no doubt, he was afraid that she might try to take advantage of him! What did he think she might do? Tell Miranda? Or perhaps his grandmother?

Caro stared at the window, seeing nothing of the London roofs, the blue spring sky it framed. Were all men opportunists, not to be trusted? Wasn't there one of the sex that you could rely on?

Gil's secretary came in to say coldly that she was now leaving, and reminded Caro about the time when the security staff would want her out of the building. 'I'm going now,' Caro said irritably, getting up. Amy rang her that evening, bubbling over with excitement. 'You remember Antony Calthrop?' 'No,' Caro said, half yawning. 'Yes, you do, darling,' insisted Amy. 'No, I don't,' said Caro, to whom the name was totally unknown.

'You do, he's a surgeon, ear, nose and throat ops, at St Luke's Hospital. He took my tonsils out last year. Tall guy, lanky, hair sort of straw-coloured. He isn't good-looking, exactly, but he has a terrific bedside manner.'

Caro gave a burst of laughter. 'I see! He's your latest, is he?'

'No, darling,' protested Amy. 'No, the point is... he's giving a flat-warming party, he just moved to St John's Wood, to be nearer the hospital, and he's invited me.'

'Wonderful, have a great time. Tell me all about it when we have lunch.' Caro was eager to have a bath, wallow in her misery, and then go to bed to wallow some more. The last thing she wanted was to talk about men. They were not her favourite subject at the moment.

'Hang on,' Amy said hurriedly. 'Caro, he remembered meeting you at the hospital when you visited me.'

'Well, I don't remember meeting him. It was over a year ago!' Caro couldn't actually remember much about her visit to see Amy except that her friend could only eat jelly and ice-cream and had kept whispering mournfully that her throat hurt. Fred Ramsgate had come along too, because Amy was one of his favourite people, and he had been very anxious about her.

'Oh, don't tell him that,' said Amy, sounding horrified. 'It will hurt his feelings. I said I was sure you remembered him, he had made a big impression on you...'

'Oh, did you?' said Caro indignantly.

Amy gave one of her little giggles. 'Well, he is so sweet,

I was sure he must have done! He was delighted to hear

you remembered him so well.'

'Oh, really, Amy!'

'So he invited you to the party!'

'What?' Caro exclaimed, appalled. 'I can't go, thanks all the same, Amy. Very kind of him, but I'm busy that night.'

'I haven't told you when it is yet!'

'Whenever it is, I am busy. I'm not being dragged off on one of your famous blind dates. Every time you meet a man who is too ghastly for words you kindly decide to land me with him, while you go off with the only good-looking guy in sight.'

'Antony isn't ghastly,' protested Amy. 'Honestly, darling, he isn't, he's funny and kind and sweet, and you'll love him.'

'I doubt that,' Caro said grimly. 'If he's so gorgeous, why aren't you dating him?'

Amy giggled. 'I'm going with someone else, or I would. Look, darling, if you really don't like Antony, it won't matter because he's invited hordes of people. He's the host, so he'll be kept busy... you know how it is at a party. You don't have to stay, but do come, or he'll be furious with me for taking another man to his party.'