No Holding Back - Kate Walker

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Using every ounce of acting ability she possessed, Saffron injected the word with an icy hauteur. ‘Well, I’m afraid that you’re never likely to see me in any such thing.’

      After this, she wouldn’t be able to bear to wear the scarlet silk underwear ever again. She would sooner die! Even just to see it would remind her unbearably of the look in his eyes, that hateful smile, his voice…

      ‘So, we’ll just have to agree to differ on this.’

      She knew that by defying him like this she was risking his anger, possibly even the fact that he might call her bluff and tell Owen everything, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had to stand up to him, give as good as she got.

      For a carefully timed moment he kept her hanging, waiting for his response, then, just at the point where she thought that she would scream if he didn’t say something, he lifted his broad shoulders in a nonchalant shrug.

      ‘So we will,’ he said easily, adding in a tone so soft that only she could hear, ‘For now.’

      At that moment the waiter appeared with their meal, Owen returning to the table at the same time, and Saffron welcomed the interruption thankfully as a chance to gather her thoughts and try to cling on to the shattered remains of her composure. She knew exactly what Niall Forrester was up to. He had made it only too plain that he appreciated—and enjoyed—the possibilities of some rather nasty emotional blackmail, was well aware of how uncomfortable she would be at the prospect of Owen finding out about the fact that they had already met—and in what circumstances!

      The problem was that he couldn’t be more wrong. In the same second that she had considered the possibility of Niall telling Owen everything, she had realised just how little it worried her. All through the evening—in fact, ever since Owen had stood her up—she had had second, and third—even fourth thoughts about their relationship, and now she knew that there no longer was a relationship to worry about. She didn’t care if Owen found out—and yet she still felt threatened. And that was what really worried her.

      Earlier she had thought of Niall Forrester as a cat sitting outside a mousehole, and now she could be in no doubt as to just who was his prey. This particular sleek, dark-coated feline clearly had all the patience in the world when it came to hunting, and he wanted her to know that he was prepared to play a waiting game, showing no sign of pouncing until she put herself in a position of weakness by venturing too far outside the safety of her hiding place.

      The problem was that she didn’t know quite what she was hiding from. It wasn’t any threat of exposure to Owen, however embarrassing that might be, instead it was something much more specific to Niall himself. Simply by existing, by awakening this unwilling, unwelcome response in her, he seemed to threaten her security, her peace of mind. It was as if she were one of the fireworks produced in Owen’s factory, and someone had placed a lighted match to her own personal fuse. That fuse was burning worryingly swiftly, and she had the frightening feeling that in a very short space of time something was going to blow up right in her face.

       CHAPTER THREE

      ‘SAFFRON is an unusual name—though I suspect that you’re more than tired of people commenting on it.’

      ‘Oh, well, it was my aunt who suggested it. It came from a favourite song of hers.’ Saffron was determined not to let him see how exactly he had bit upon the truth. ‘And by the time they’d named five other daughters my parents had run out of names that they liked.’

      To his credit, Niall didn’t even blink, which was surprising. Many people were so accustomed to the idea of small families that the thought of six children—and all of the same sex—had them reeling back in astonishment. Owen had almost had to pick himself up off the floor when she had told him.

      ‘Saffy’s the youngest of this ridiculously huge family.’ Owen had grown tired of being kept out of the conversation. ‘Seven women! It’s no wonder her father buried himself in his books.’ Reaching for the wine-bottle, he refilled his glass.

      ‘Don’t you think you’d better go easy?’ Saffron put in hastily, and was subjected to a look of such withering scorn that the protest died on her lips.

      ‘Lighten up, Saff! No one likes a killjoy.’

      Owen’s retort was accompanied by a swift, expressive glance in Niall Forrester’s direction. It was a look of pure conspiracy, man to man, of banding together in the face of female constraint in a way that made her prickle with irritation.

      ‘But you’re driving me home.’

      ‘I’ll be fine——’

      And her concern was dismissed, so that unless she persisted, creating a nasty little scene in front of the interestedly watchful Niall, she had no option but to remain uncomfortably silent.

      Perhaps in the past she might have shrugged off Owen’s behaviour, possibly even telling herself that she might have over-reacted. But tonight she found that his rudeness had her boiling inside, anger searing through her like a red-hot tide so that she had to bite her lip hard in order not to tell him exactly what she thought of him. In fact, looking at his smiling self-absorbed face as he returned once more to his favourite subject of the proposed takeover, she was forced to wonder what she had ever seen in him.

      Could she really have ever considered sleeping with this man? But hadn’t that been exactly what she had planned on doing—last night, at least? Barely twenty-four hours ago, she realised, surreptitiously consulting the slim gold watch on her wrist, she had been so sure about everything. Now, she no longer knew what she felt. It all seemed to have happened since Niall Forrester had come into her life.

      ‘I’m sorry——’ Niall’s sharp eyes had caught the tiny movement as she checked the time. ‘We’re boring you.’

      ‘Not at all.’ She hoped that her cool tones would communicate that nothing he could do would trouble her in the least. ‘I appreciate that you have plenty to talk to Owen about. After all, it’s his company that you’re going to buy.’

      ‘Possibly.’ The single word held a suggestion of doubt, a reminder that all was not yet certain. ‘If I decide I want it…’

      Because she was already on edge, that, ‘If…I want it’ seemed to catch of Saffron’s raw nerves.

      ‘Is that really what life’s about—getting what you want?’

      ‘Isn’t it?’ He questioned coolly. ‘I think if you asked the majority of people they’d say that most of their days are spent dreaming of something they want—trying to obtain it. I’m not unusual in that—only in that perhaps I know more clearly than most what I do want, and that when I see what I want, I go for it. I make sure nothing stands in the way of my getting it.’

      The way he looked straight into her eyes as he spoke, a curl at the corner of his mouth, made Saffron think uncomfortably of his words that morning. ‘You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for——’

      ‘And what if, when you’ve got your hands on whatever it is, it turns out not to be so desirable after all?’

      His smile mocked her indignation, almost as if he knew the thoughts that were in her mind. ‘Oh, then I’d just turn and walk away.’

      ‘No backward glances?’

      ‘Looking back is just a waste of time. If you want to make any progress, the only way is forward.’

      She wished he would look away from her, turn the silvery force of those pale eyes on someone else. They might have started out talking about Owen’s company and, ostensibly, to anyone not in the know, it might appear that they were still discussing just that, but Saffron was hypersensitive to the dangerous undercurrents in the atmosphere around her, uncomfortably aware of the other possible interpretation of Niall’s words.

      ‘And does that apply to

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