Rival Attractions & Innocent Secretary(6)

Grimly aware of how Vanessa had probably run her down to him, Charlotte  corrected coldly, 'Officially, yes, I took over on my father's death,  but in fact I have been running the agency for nearly six years.' She  turned her head so that she could look at him and added, 'But I should  have thought you would have known this. Surely, when you plan to open up  in a new area, you check up on the opposition first?'

'Yes, we do, but it was my partner who was responsible for this  particular expansion. I've historically dealt with the London side of  things, but earlier on this year we decided to split the partnership. He  retained the country offices, while I retained the central London  one … and this one.'

There was a look in his eyes that suggested to Charlotte that his split  from his partner had not been overly amicable, and she wondered what had  caused it.

'I had been intending to come and see you,' he was adding. 'While we are  going to be in direct competition with one another, I thought-'

'What?' Charlotte challenged him bitterly. 'That we could form the sort  of ring which antiques dealers are notorious for? I'm sorry, Mr  Tennant,' she stood up abruptly, 'that isn't the way I do business. I  don't believe in appealing to the more greedy side of people's natures. I  prefer to set a realistic price on properties and not to encourage my  clients to put outrageous prices on their homes. Nor do I believe in  encouraging them to take on huge mortgages,' she added repressively. 'I  don't believe that you and I could ever work harmoniously together.'

'Well, if we can't be friends … ' he began musingly.

'We must be enemies. That suits me fine,' Charlotte told him grimly, and  not entirely truthfully. There was something about him that warned her  that he would be a formidable foe, but she had her principles and she  did not intend to deviate from them. If that eventually meant that she  lost so much business that her agency had to close, then so be it. She  had her training to fall back on. She could always get a job in London,  unappealing though that thought now was. She had her health, a very  respectable bank balance, her own home …

Giving him a thin smile, she said curtly, 'I must be leaving. I'd better go and find Vanessa.'

'I'll come with you.'

She stared at him, and then flushed uncomfortably. For a moment she had  thought he was suggesting that they leave together, when of course he  had meant nothing of the sort. Angry with herself for the sudden and  totally unexpected sensation churning her stomach, she turned away from  him and looked for Vanessa.

Her hostess was plainly not particularly sorry to see her leave.  Charlotte hated the insincere way Vanessa insisted on aiming a pouting  kiss in the direction of her cheek.

Oliver Tennant was standing directly behind her, and when she stepped  back to avoid Vanessa's embrace it was a shock to her senses to suddenly  come up against the hard male warmth of him. She hadn't realised how  close to her he was standing, and, when instinctively she tensed and  turned to look over her shoulder, she was stunned to discover that only  centimetres separated their faces. She could see the rough male texture  of his skin, darkening already with the shadow of his beard. The eyes,  which at a distance seemed uniformly dark blue, on closer inspection  proved to have a lighter, almost metallic outer rim.

As she had stepped back, he had reached out automatically to steady her,  and she was burningly conscious of the warm pressure of his hand on her  arm, his fingers firm against her skin. She saw the way Vanessa focused  on that point of contact between them, her mouth tightening, and  wondered why on earth he hadn't simply stepped back from her.

'Oliver, surely you're not leaving? I wanted to have a word with you  about putting this place on the market,' Vanessa pouted, darting a  malicious glance at Charlotte.

'Another time, Vanessa, if you don't mind.'

He was still holding on to Charlotte's arm, and, as Vanessa started to  say eagerly that perhaps he would like to call round in the morning, his  grip relaxed slightly, and to Charlotte's shock his fingers moved  almost absently against her skin, rather as though he were stroking the  fur of a very ruffled cat, she recognised.

'Not tomorrow, I'm afraid. I'm still staying at the Bull at the moment,  and I need to concentrate on finding myself some more permanent  lodgings. However, I'll get my secretary to give you a ring.'                       
       
           



       

Charlotte could see that Vanessa was furious, but Oliver Tennant was  either unaware of the other woman's feelings or indifferent to them,  because he gave Vanessa a cordial smile and, without allowing Charlotte  to say a word, almost guided her to the front door. And he had still not  released her.

She waited until they were outside before pulling away from him and  saying frigidly, 'Thank you, but I am capable of walking unaided.'

The smile he gave her made her heart somersault abruptly.

'I'm sorry about that, but it seemed a good way of escaping from  Vanessa. It's always a problem, isn't it, when one has to deal with a  client who is potentially looking for more than a purely business  relationship? I expect it's something that's even harder for a woman to  deal with than a man.'

Charlotte stared at him. There had been occasions when she had had to  tactfully let the odd male client know that their relationship could  only be based on business but, given Vanessa's cruel taunting of her  lack of sexual appeal, she had hardly expected Oliver Tennant to assume  that she would be the object of any man's desire, no matter how fleeting  or implausible.

Neither had she expected him to make such a casual reference to  Vanessa's rather obvious tactics to interest him in her sexually, and  her mouth fell open a little as she contemplated this sudden and  unexpected glimpse of a personality which seemed to be far more complex  than she had initially assumed.

She had looked at him and dismissed him as a handsome, clever man more  or less completely without principles or morals, used to trading on his  sexual appeal when and where necessary, but he was making it plain to  her that he did nothing of the sort.

Why? she wondered rawly. Was he doing it to get her off guard … to make  her think that they were allies rather than enemies, and, if so, why?  Did it amuse him perhaps to imagine that he could reduce her to the same  competitive femininity he had so obviously aroused in Vanessa?

She remembered how Vanessa had described her as a man-hater, and  wondered if he was one of those men to whom the challenge of sexual  conquest mattered far more than any real emotional bonding with another  human being. An inborn wariness warned her to tread carefully. He had  released her now, and she moved away from him slowly. Every instinct she  possessed warned her that it would be wise to keep this man at a  distance. Already he had disturbed her far too much … made her aware of a  certain illuminating lack in her life. Abruptly she turned round without  answering him.

When she got in her car she was trembling inside. What was the matter  with her? One look from an undeniably handsome and very male man and she  was suddenly reduced to quivering awareness of her deepest feminine  feelings. It was ridiculous. Even when she had been engaged, sexual  desire had never strongly motivated her. In possible marriage to Gordon  she had looked for companionship, children, shared interests and aims.  She had never experienced that pulsing, urgent sensation of heat,  coupled with an aching awareness of a deep inner emptiness that was  afflicting her now.

It must be her age, she told herself briskly as she drove home. Nature's  way of reminding her that she had still not fulfilled that most  feminine biological drive: the need to create new life.

Yes, that was it, she decided, relaxing a little. She had always wanted  children; her body had no awareness of the fact that her single status  made such a situation impossible and, growing impatient with her refusal  to listen to its urgings, it was stepping up its determination to  remind her of what she was denying herself.

It was only later, when she was safely in bed, that she allowed herself  to admit that the sensation that had pierced her had had nothing at all  in common with the soft warmth that invaded her whenever she held a  friend's baby, or played with a toddler. Determinedly she dismissed it.  It had been a difficult day; her hormones were probably over-reacting in  compensation. Tomorrow she would be able to laugh at herself for the  way she was feeling right now.





CHAPTER THREE


CHARLOTTE was up early. She told herself that her restless night and  inability to sleep had nothing whatsoever to do with the previous  evening's disturbing run in with Oliver Tennant, but somehow or other  her vigorous arguments remained unconvincing.

Perhaps it was the sharp spring sunshine pouring into the kitchen and  highlighting the dinginess of the paintwork and units that was making  her peer unusually closely into her most personal feelings and emotions  as she was doing at her home, and with equally dissatisfying results,  she admitted wryly.