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  'And take care not to overdo it when you're back in London,' her aunt cautioned her. 'I know what it's like when you're working hard all day and then going out dancing half the night. Just remember to take it easy.'

  And Kate, who had neither a job nor an attentive boyfriend waiting for her in London, smiled and meekly agreed to take care.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  After an anxious fortnight of job-hunting Aunt Meg's parting warning about not working too hard seemed to have an almost prophetic ring to it. Kate answered advertisements and tried office staff agencies, but, although everyone assured her that trained secretaries were in the happy position of picking and choosing both where they wanted to work and what price they put on their skills, she had not been successful in obtaining even an offer of a job, let alone one which she thought ideal for her.

  It was not that she had any difficulty in getting to the interview stage. Most would-be employers seemed only too eager for the chance to see someone of her qualifications. Her air of quiet competence coupled with a not unattractive appearance made a further good impression. But, when she explained that she had already left her last job and that it would not be convenient for them to take up references from her former employer, their enthusiasm suddenly waned.

  'At the last place I went to the girl who was leaving even had the cheek to lecture me about the need for her replacement to be completely trustworthy,' Kate complained resentfully to Jane. 'When I tell them I can't give them a reference from my last job I'm finished as far as they're concerned. It's almost as if they thought I'd left because I'd been caught with my hand in the till or something.'

  'Well, why won't you let them ask Jeremy for a reference?'

  'You must be joking!' Kate looked appalled. 'I've got my pride, you know.'

  'And that's all you've got at the moment,' her friend told her firmly. 'You're a fool to worry about Jeremy. He'd write the best reference he could dream up to get you off his back. If he thought that there was the remotest chance of you turning up to embarrass him in front of his wife and everyone at the office who must have been gossiping like mad about why you left so suddenly he'd tell any amount of lies to get you another job.'

  'Thanks very much! I wasn't that bad as a secretary, you know.'

  'No, of course not.' Jane floundered for a moment, wondering if she had upset her friend. 'I meant that—well, that—'

  Kate laughed at the comical expression of dismay on her flat-mate's face and put her out of her misery. 'Idiot! It's all right. I know what you mean. I did make matters very easy for him and I suppose he does owe me something, if you like to see it that way. But I'm still not going to ask Jeremy for any help in getting another job. I don't want to have any contact with him or with Edwards Engineering ever again.'

  'You don't have to go to see him. Just write to him,' Jane said persuasively.

  'Nothing doing. Don't worry, I'll find something yet. Now, what have we got for supper tonight?' Kate changed the subject firmly and her friend, aware that she could say nothing that would make her alter her decision, wisely dropped the argument and set about inspecting the refrigerator in search of something for their evening meal.

  'Omelette again, if that's all right with you?' She frowned. 'Oh dear, it's been eggs every night this week, hasn't it? I'll start clucking soon. Oh, for a nice, juicy steak or the money to buy one!'

  'I'll get a job as soon as I can and then I'll be able to give my proper share of the housekeeping again.'

  'For heaven's sake, Kate, I didn't mean that. A fine friend I'd be if I nagged you to get a job just to support my spare tyre! I'm sorry I even mentioned it. We'll live on egg and chips for as long as it takes.'

  'Sorry,' said Kate. 'I'm a bit jumpy tonight. Today I began to wonder for the first time if I'll ever find something. You've only got to switch on the radio or look at the newspaper to find about the trouble school-leavers are having when they look for work.'

  'You're not a school-leaver,' Jane told her bracingly. 'You're a highly efficient, top-rank secretary. The crème de la crème, in fact. So stop worrying about it. It won't help matters. This time next week you'll have a super boss to work for and a salary that's out of this world and you'll be wondering why you made so much fuss.'

  'Yes, you're right.' With an effort Kate smiled and, putting her cares firmly aside, managed, at least for the rest of the evening? to give an impression of buoyant optimism which fooled Jane into thinking that her words had had some effect.

  They had, but not the one for which she had hoped. As she lay tossing and sleepless in bed that night Kate's thoughts chased each other round in circles, endlessly considering new avenues which she might search for a job. Jane had been kind to her, too generous in refusing to take Kate's share of the housekeeping until she found something she really liked. But her pride revolted at the prospect of living off Jane any longer. Yet, as Jane herself had pointed out, it was that very pride that was blocking her way at the moment. Perhaps her friend was right and she should approach Jeremy and ask for his help. No! Anything would be better than that.

  Then the solution struck her with blinding suddenness. She recalled, as if she had just spoken the words, her defiant reply to Nicholas Blake when he had told, or rather commanded, her to get in touch with him if she needed a job. She had flung the offer in his face. 'I'd rather starve in the street than work for you,' she had answered him. She smiled bitterly. The prospect was less of a laughing matter now than it had been when she had tossed the words defiantly at him. She could remember how his strong features had tautened as he had fought to control his anger. Her face burned at the memory. How could she have been so rude to him?

  Could she now approach him as if nothing had happened between them and ask him for a job? Every instinct cried out at the idea of crawling to him and humbling herself by begging him for work. For he would glory in the prospect, she was sure. But there was the remote possibility that he might help her. She got out of bed, flung on her dressing-gown and went to the living room to find the telephone directory. There was no harm in looking up his number, after all…

  Two days later, after a particularly unpleasant afternoon with a potential employer whose roving eyes took more interest in her legs than her typing speeds, she decided that there was nothing to be lost by ringing Nicholas Blake. She had reached bottom, too dispirited to care very much what his reaction might be. Yet, strangely, her fingers trembled slightly as she dialled the number of his office. As she waited for someone to answer she nearly put the phone down again.

  Perhaps Nicholas Blake would be away, out of the office or just too busy to bother with a troublesome female he had encountered over a month ago. He had probably forgotten all about her. With these encouraging thoughts she asked the switchboard to put her through to him. At least she would have tried.

  'Yes?' There was no mistaking that brusque note of authority. Nicholas Blake was a man who wasted no time on social niceties, as Kate knew to her cost. She stumbled, the opening sentences of the explanation she had rehearsed for his secretary's benefit instantly deserting her.

  'It's Kate Sherwood, Mr Blake. You—you may not remember me, but we met about—'

  He cut in impatiently. 'How could I forget someone of your undoubted talents? What can I do for you?'

  She took a deep breath. 'I'm looking for a job, as I believe I may have mentioned when we talked last. You did say you might be able to help me…' Her voice trailed nervously away.

  'I'm sure you'll correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to remember also that you spurned my offer with every appearance of loathing.'

  He was going to make it difficult for her. Should she give up now or plough on in the hope that matters might improve? She had nothing to lose. 'I'm sorry,' she said stiffly. The words stuck in her throat. 'That was stupid of me. And rather childish.'

  'Yes, it was, wasn't it?' he taunted her. 'Fortunately I have a forgiving nature. Come to my office at ten o'clock tomorrow and I'll see if I can find a use for
you.'

  'But—' There was no answer, expect the sound of the receiver being replaced at the other end. Kate glared angrily at the phone. How typical of the man to issue an order and expect instant obedience from her! Just who did he think he was? But as she went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee to steady her shaking nerves after the ordeal she knew that she would keep the appointment. She had no option.

  She told Jane the news when her flatmate got home from work.

  'I've got another interview tomorrow. It seems quite promising.'

  'Where this time?'

  Kate adopted a casual tone. 'He's called Nicholas Blake. I met him when I was staying with Aunt Meg.' She had not mentioned the encounter to her friend before, being only too keen to put the thought of her shame to the back of her mind. 'He told me to get in touch with him if I ever needed a job, but I'd forgotten all about him until now.'

  'Not Nicholas Blake the financial wizard?'

  'He does have an office in the City, yes.'

  Jane was staring at her open-mouthed. 'You forgot about meeting Nicholas Blake? Are you sickening for something?'

  'You've heard of him, then?' Kate asked, puzzled. The name had seemed familiar when she had first heard it, but she had failed to make any connection.

  'Who hasn't unless they've been in Outer Mongolia for the last few years? Do you live in a dream world, Kate? You ought to study the papers a little more carefully. He's only one of the most successful financiers in the business world. He started operations ten years ago with nothing but his wits to help him, now he's made it big. He must be practically a millionaire.'

  'Since when have you looked at the City pages?' Kate teased, nonetheless impressed by the knowledge.

  Jane grinned happily. 'You know that I don't. But I do read the gossip columns, and Nicholas Blake features pretty heavily in those from time to time. And you met him and never even told me! Honestly, Kate, if you didn't recognise the name how could you forget such a gorgeous hunk of a man? He'd make an impact on any female. I've seen his photograph often enough to know that.'

  'Yes, I suppose he was quite attractive,' Kate allowed.

  'Quite attractive! What's wrong with you? He's absolutely devastating. And if the gossip columns are anything to go by, I'm not the only one who thinks so. He's always knee-deep in beautiful women trying to get their hands on him. That combination of looks and brains is dynamite.'

  'Not for me, it wasn't,' Kate said calmly. 'Oh, he was handsome enough, I'll grant you that, but—'

  'But nothing compared with your Jeremy, I suppose. When are you going to get that man out of your mind? You must be absolutely mad to let a man like Nicholas Blake slip out of your clutches.' Jane was nothing if not an opportunist. 'They say he has a different woman every week. Did he make a pass at you?'

  'Certainly not!' Kate could feel her colour rising. 'Well,' she qualified, 'he did kiss me, but that was only because he was furious with me.'

  'He kissed you! Sit down this instant and tell me everything,' her friend commanded. 'You're not stirring from this room until I've heard the full story.'

  So Kate told her the tale of her encounter with Nicholas Blake and how they had parted. 'We didn't exactly leave each other on the friendliest of terms,' she concluded. 'He was absolutely beside himself with anger. I don't think anyone had dared to tell him any home truths about himself before. But I didn't care. I assumed that I'd never see him again.'

  'But he must have forgiven you if he's agreed to see you and talk about finding you a job?'

  'He's the most unforgiving character I've ever met,' Kate said ruefully. 'He probably just wants to have the pleasure of seeing me crawl to him in person.'

  'And are you going to?' Jane asked.

  'No. I'm not scared of Nicholas Blake!'

  But even as she uttered the bold words Kate felt a tremor of apprehension go down her spine.

  The next day she dressed with care for the appointment. After standing in front of her Wardrobe for a good half hour debating what to wear, she had finally chosen what Jeremy had referred to as her 'schoolmarm' outfit, a classic, camel-coloured suit, cut on severe lines, which had always given her slender figure an air of authority. The skirt was perhaps a few inches too short to be fashionable by this year's standards, but, teamed with a toning wool sweater, it complemented her colouring admirably and made her feel quietly confident. She applied a light make-up, brushed her hair, pulling it into the neat chignon in which she usually wore it for work, and studied her reflection in the mirror.

  If appearances counted for anything she was the perfect secretary and certainly looked cool and confident enough in the role to erase Nicholas Blake's initial disastrous impression of her. If only her inner self could be as calm and controlled as her outer one suggested! Instead she was a jangling mass of nerves and uncertainties. She stuck out her tongue at the prim reflection and set out to meet the man' she had once thought she would be glad never to see again.

  The building in the heart of the City where Nicholas Blake had his offices was modern, an aggressive mass of steel and plate glass which towered high above the grimier buildings which surrounded it. Inside, however, the reception area was attractively designed and welcoming with thick piled carpets and a number of comfortable easy chairs. Kate gave her name to the girl at the reception desk and sat down to await her summons to Nicholas Blake. Outwardly a picture of composed confidence, she could feel her courage ebbing away with every passing second.

  But it was too late to retreat now. A pleasant blonde girl was approaching her with a smile. This must be his secretary.

  'Miss Sherwood? I'm Sarah Wilkins—I work as Mr Blake's personal assistant. Will you come this way, please?'

  So this was the poor girl he had shouted at over the phone. Kate studied her as the other girl led the way through a maze of corridors and turnings. She certainly did not seem unduly crushed and downtrodden. Perhaps, working with a man like Nicholas Blake, one developed a resilience which helped one to cope with the man.

  'It's a bit of a rabbit warren, I know, but you'll soon get used to it. After a week or so you learn your way around.'

  That sounded hopeful, Kate thought. Had he perhaps mentioned the post he had in mind to his assistant? There was no chance to find out, however, for her companion halted suddenly in front of a door to their left, knocked, and opened it.

  'Miss Sherwood to see you,' she announced, and stood aside, indicating that Kate should enter.

  She felt as if her only ally in this confusing place had deserted her as she took a step forward and heard the door close behind her. Suddenly she felt more alone and unsure of herself than ever before. She had no time for more than a quick glance around her and gained a vague impression of a large room, elegantly but sparsely furnished in a style that was contemporary, but pleasantly so. A couple of bright modern paintings hung on one wall, while another was completely taken up by a vast picture window which gave a dizzying, panoramic view out over the sprawling mass that was London. To one side of the window was a heavy, leather-topped desk, piled high with an untidy confusion of papers. But it did not dominate the room. That was the prerogative of the man who sat behind it, his keen grey glance scrutinising every inch of her as she walked from the door and came to a self-conscious halt before him.

  She did not know why she expected him to have changed. Perhaps it was because the Nicholas Blake who had haunted her dreams after her last encounter with him had become a demon of almost outsize proportions, terrifying her with the way he rode roughshod over her feelings and ignored her frightened protests. Today he appeared the proper businessman, immaculate in a sombre, well-cut suit, with a crisp white shirt which emphasised the strong column of his throat and the clean, firm line of his jaw. The springy dark hair, brushed severely away from his forehead; the piercing grey eyes, whose variations of tone mirrored his changing moods; the firm but sensual lips, which knew the secret of how to rouse a woman both to passion and to fury; all added up
to a picture of a dangerously good-looking man. A man who would count his charm and appeal for women as marketable assets and who would use them to win every trick.

  It seemed he had little time to waste on Kate. Glancing at his watch, he motioned her to a chair and asked briskly, 'Sit down, Miss Sherwood, and tell me how I can help you.' The voice was as she remembered, cool and completely impersonal. She might have been a block of wood as far as he was concerned. If the circumstances of their last meeting were in his mind, he gave no indication of it.

  She complied, perching uneasily on the edge of the seat by his desk. From any other employer the words might have sounded hopeful. Coming from him they merely increased her unease. He knew as well as she did why she was here. She raised her chin in an unconscious gesture of challenge and launched straight into a request for a job, giving him a brief outline of her qualifications and the previous posts she had held.

  He heard her out, then asked abruptly, 'How do you cope under pressure?'

  'I'm used to hard work, Mr Blake. I'm not afraid of it.'

  'And working to a deadline?'

  'It doesn't worry me. It takes an exceptional set of circumstances to throw me off balance.'

  'Indeed?' His tone was faintly mocking. 'I'm flattered you think so.'

  She had walked into that trap with her eyes open. Damn the man! 'I was talking about my office work,' she said stiffly.

  'Yes, of course, Miss Sherwood.' The mockery was still there. 'You've got adequate typing and shorthand, I suppose?'

  'Yes, I—'

  He raised an impatient hand. 'Spare me the details. I'll decide for myself whether you're as good as you claim to be. Here's paper.' He tossed a pad across the desk to her. 'Take a letter, will you?' Barely waiting for her to find a pen from her handbag, he spoke rapidly, dictating an account of a complicated business deal for a fellow financier and making no allowances for her nervousness or possible lack of knowledge of some of the technical terms he used. He set a punishing pace, but Kate, aware that he was doing it deliberately, had no intention of asking him to slow down. It was a struggle to keep up, but somehow she managed it.