LITMIR.BIZ

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with a warmly sensual note of appreciation, breaking into the trancelike state that had held Saffron frozen.

      ‘Why, you——!’ Words failed her, shock and disbelief forming a knot in her throat that threatened to choke her.

      ‘Oh, come on, honey——’ His smile was as slow and provocative as his voice. ‘If you don’t want the customers to be interested then you shouldn’t display the goods quite so attractively.’

      ‘Display—customers!’ Saffron exploded as the insulting implications of that taunt sank in. ‘I don’t want you——’

      ‘No?’ The amusement in the single syllable stung more than any harsher comment might have.

      ‘No! You’re—you’re not who I meant—you’re the wrong man entirely!’

      ‘Is that so? Well, I hate to disagree with you, but from where I’m sitting I’m the right man—and you——’

      Those silvery eyes moved over her again, seeming to burn where they rested, so that Saffron’s pale skin glowed in fiery embarrassment.

      ‘You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for—so if you’ll just tell me your terms, I’m sure we’ll be able to come to some arrangement.’

      ‘Terms!’ Saffron spluttered, unable to believe that this was happening to her. ‘We will do no such thing! We——’

      She broke off on a terrified gasp as the man dropped his pen on to the desk and straightened, as if about to get to his feet. The tiny movement shattered what little remained of her self-control, and whirling in panic she headed for the door, running as fast as she could towards the lift.

      ‘Wait! Please——’

      The lift doors were just closing as Saffron reached them, but luckily her strangled squawk of near-panic caught the ears of the solitary female occupant, who reacted swiftly, obligingly pressing a firm finger on the ‘Door Hold’ button, halting them in their tracks. A couple of seconds later, with a metallic rattle, they jerked apart once more, allowing her to step inside.

      ‘Thanks!’

      It came out on a choked gasp as, not daring to look behind her, she hurried into the compartment, huddling into the far corner and giving a deep sigh of relief as the doors slid closed again and the lift started to move smoothly downwards. If that man had followed her, then surely she’d got away from him now.

      ‘In a hurry?’ The other woman, someone she vaguely remembered from Richards’ last Christmas party, enquired smilingly.

      ‘You could say that!’ Saffron’s response was wry, her voice still shaking in a way that she prayed her companion would believe to be the result of her dash along the corridor and so not ask any awkward questions.

      ‘And those heels aren’t made to run in——’

      ‘They most definitely are not!’ she returned feelingly.

      How she wished she could kick them off—her feet were killing her! But she was sure that if she did she would never get the damn things back on again. She had borrowed them from her friend and workmate Kate and, as well as being much higher than anything she normally wore, they were a very tight fit indeed—Kate being built on a much smaller scale than her tall, fine-boned friend.

      Saffron pushed a disturbed hand through the tumbled mane of her shining dark brown hair, holding her coat closely fastened with the other, her lips twisting slightly as she recalled the way Kate had described the offending footwear, the words repeating inside her head with a worrying significance.

      ‘They’re real tart’s shoes,’ her friend had said, laughter lifting her voice. But now, remembering, Saffron felt no trace of her earlier amusement. If that was how that man might describe what she was wearing on her feetthen what words would he use to describe her?

      ‘Are you all right?’ Her companion had noticed her involuntary shudder, and was studying her more closely.

      ‘As a matter of fact, I think I’m going down with flu,’ Saffron improvised hastily. ‘That’s why I’m going home.’

      She prayed that the explanation would cover any other betraying reactions she might be showing. She knew that her cheeks were brightly flushed, and that probably her brown eyes were overbright and glittering with reaction to the shock she had just had. The way she was clutching her coat to her must also look peculiar, to say the least, particularly in this well-heated building. That thought had her instinctively tightening her grip on the black trenchcoat. She had reacted automatically, not thinking straight enough to check that all the buttons were fastened, the belt securely tied. If it should gape open, this woman would get the shock of her life.

      ‘Bed’s probably the best place for you, then.’

      Somehow Saffron managed a vague murmur that might have been agreement, her mind too busy with other, more troublesome matters. Thinking straight! She hadn’t been thinking at all, just reacting. All that had been in her head had been the need to get out of there fast, to hide her embarrassment, get away from those coolly mocking eyes, that hateful voice.

      It was all Owen’s fault, she told herself furiously. If he hadn’t stood her up last night, then none of this would have happened. The bad temper that his neglect had sparked off in her had burned all through the night, not at all improved by a restless, unsatisfactory attempt at sleep. The fact that as the morning progressed it had become obvious that Owen wasn’t even going to bother to ring up and explain had been positively the last straw, finally causing the simmering volcano of fury inside her to boil up and spill over like red-hot lava.

      ‘I’m not going to put up with this, Kate!’ she had declared at last, slamming the phone down on yet another caller whom she had hoped might just be Owen, offering a very belated excuse for his non-appearance, but in fact had turned out to be an assistant at the laundry with a thoroughly mundane enquiry about the number of napkins and tablecloths they had sent in their usual Monday morning bundle of linen. ‘He’s just taking me for granted, and I won’t stand for it.’

      ‘Perhaps he was ill,’ Kate had suggested, her tone soothing.

      But Saffron had refused to allow herself to be placated.

      ‘How ill do you have to be before you’re incapable of using a phone?’

      ‘My, you have got your knickers in a twist, haven’t you?’ Kate teased, studying her friend’s indignant face with a touch of amused curiosity. ‘This isn’t just about being stood up, is it? There’s more to it than that. I know you—and I haven’t seen you this worked up in a long time.’

      ‘I don’t like being taken for granted,’ Saffron muttered, not meeting Kate’s eyes. She wished the other girl didn’t know her quite so well—well enough to put her finger on an uncomfortable spot in her feelings.

      ‘And——?’ Kate prompted laughingly, but then the

      flush of embarrassment that had shaded Saffron’s cheeks was replaced by a stronger, hotter colour, that could only be the result of deep embarrassment. ‘Saffy!’ she exclaimed in frank disbelief. ‘You didn’t!’

      ‘Didn’t what?’

      ‘Don’t stall me! You know perfectly well what I mean. You’ve been fretting over things for weeks, trying to make your mind up. So, confess—had you finally decided that last night was to have been the night?’

      ‘I don’t want to just drift any more, Kate. I’m ready for some sort of commitment. I want a future—I have been seeing him for over six months.’

      ‘But I never thought you saw him in the light of a grand passion. Poor Owen.’ Kate laughed. ‘All these months he’s been begging you to go to bed with him and getting nowhere, and when you finally decide to let him have his wicked way he doesn’t even turn up. No wonder you’re hopping mad.’

      ‘You should have seen me last

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