No Mistaking Love

CHAPTER SEVEN

KATE barely had time to say goodnight before Luke had taken her arm and practically dragged her down the street while she was still trying to wave to Xavier.

`The taxi rank's the other way,' she protested.

`We're walking back. I could do with some air, and you certainly need to clear your head.'

`I feel fine,' Kate said bravely.

`You won't tomorrow, and, despite the fact that it's obviously the least of your concerns, you're here to work for me. I shall need you in the morning, and you won't be any use to me with a crashing hangover!'

Buoyed up by wine and admiration, Kate was unrepentant. `I shan't have one. I haven't had that much to drink.'

`That's what you think! I thought I made it clear earlier on that this was a business dinner?' 'Perfectly clear, thank you.'

`Then why didn't you behave as if it was?' Luke demanded furiously. `Instead of tarting yourself up like a dog's dinner and leaning all over Xavier so he could get a good look at your cleavage?

„

Anyone watching you would have known that business was the last thing on your mind!'

`If we have to walk,' Kate interrupted him, `you'll have to slow down. I can't run in high heels!'

Infuriated by her insouciant attitude, Luke ignored her and strode on. `That dress is downright indecent!'

`You wouldn't have objected if Helen had been wearing it!'

`Helen is not my secretary,' Luke said icily. `You are. I think you should remember who pays your very generous salary occasionally!'

`I can hardly forget with you reminding me every five minutes!' Kate snapped. `And my dress is not indecent. It's smart and discreet.'

`What's discreet about a bloody great slit down your cleavage? Xavier could hardly take his eyes off it!'

`It might be a little revealing when I lean forward,' Kate allowed, `but I didn't do that very often.'

`We all got an eyeful every time you picked up your glass,' Luke said brutally. `And, since you seemed intent on drinking us all under the table, that was more than often!'

`Oh, rubbish!' Kate said crossly. She shook her arm free and stopped under an ornate streetlight.

`Look, can we please sit down? I've got a stitch already.'

Luke circled her in frustration. `I don't know what's got into you, Kate. You used to be so quiet and businesslike, but since you've been in Paris you've become some kind of femme fatale!

'And whose fault is that?' Kate retorted. `Who made me cut my hair? Who made me change my clothes? I think you ought to make up your mind what you want, Luke. You insisted I try to look sophisticated. Don't I do that?'

Luke hunched a shoulder. `Yes.' `So what's the problem?'

His jaw worked furiously as he glared at her, bent under the street-light, rubbing her calves.

`I don't like it,' he admitted grudgingly at last. `Every time I see you you've turned into someone different.'

Kate straightened slowly. Luke looked cross and baffled, and quite suddenly all her anger and bravado fell away from her. All at once everything seemed very clear and distinct, as if a fog of swirling emotions had lifted. Luke stood tensely in the pool of light, watching her. He seemed overwhelmingly solid and well-defined against the blurred darkness of the street behind him.

`It's skin-deep,' she assured him gently. `I might look a bit different, but underneath I'm still the same plain, boring secretary!'

The angry set of his shoulders relaxed. `You were never plain, Kate, and you were certainly never boring.' He smiled slightly. `But I hope that you are still the same.'

The strained, angry atmosphere that had smouldered between them since Luke had kissed her had dissolved suddenly, to be replaced by one that was sweeter but infinitely more dangerous.

`Well, I am,' Kate said in a no-nonsense tone as she struggled not to respond to the tug of his smile.

`That sounds more like the Kate we know and-' there was an infinitesimal pause before he completed the cliché `-and love.'

His last word hung in the air between them, and Kate's heart began to thud slowly, painfully, as he looked at her across the pool of light.

She rubbed her arms. `It's cold,' she said to break the silence. `Shall we keep moving?'

`We can get a taxi if you'd like. Those shoes do wonders for your legs, but probably not your feet!'

'No, I'd like to walk,' Kate said. `I'll be all right.'

It was a clear moonlit night, and the air was cool against her cheeks as they walked in silence down to the Seine and across the Pont St-Michel to the Ile de la Cité. They stood on the bridge for a while and watched the lights shimmering on the river.

People passed them silently, as if on the backdrop to a film in which Kate and Luke were the only characters. Kate stared at the awe-inspiring lines of Notre-Dame, illuminated against the night-sky, and was aware only of Luke beside her, not touching her, his profile absorbed.

`I'm sorry if I lost my temper,' Luke said gruffly to the still, oily waters below.

It was so unexpected that Kate caught her breath. `I'm sorry if I behaved badly,' she apologised to the cathedral in a small voice.

There was a pause. She glanced sideways to find him watching her. It was too dark to see the colour of his eyes, but they gleamed in the reflected light. He smiled at her and, filled with wordless happiness, she smiled back.

`Come on,' he said, taking her arm. `Let's get back to the hotel.'

They walked slowly past the Louvre and through the back streets. Kate felt as if they were alone in Paris; there was only Luke's hand beneath her arm and his reassuring strength at her side. They didn't talk much, but the silence between them was an easy one.

Once they stopped in front of a fromagerie to admire the mouth-watering array of cheeses displayed in the windows. There were huge Roqueforts and creamy Bries, great rubberylooking chunks of Gruyere and jars of little goats' cheeses stacked in herbed oil, homely cheeses and eye-catching cheeses in every shape and size.

Luke was pointing at a Chevre, but Kate hardly heard what he said. She was watching his hand, remembering how it had slid to the nape of her neck, warm and strong. Her eyes skittered up to his mouth and she wondered how it would feel if he kissed the sensitive skin just below her earlobe, where her jaw met the long line of her throat. It quivered at the thought, and a wrench of desire twisted her so unexpectedly that she took a quick indrawn breath, dragging her eyes back to the window. She stared blindly ahead, fighting down the desire to lean against the man so close beside her, to slide her hands over his broad chest, to press her lips against the pulse beating in his throat, to pull his head down for her kiss.

`Are you all right, Kate?' Luke looked down at her with concern.

`Yes,' she said in a strangled voice, stepping away from the bright light of the window so that he couldn't see her face clearly, but inwardly she despaired as appalled realisation washed over her.

She was in love with Luke.

As Luke had promised, Kate woke the next morning feeling distinctly seedy. The night before was a blur, interspersed with vivid flashes of memory: the restaurant, Notre-Dame illuminated, the fromagerie and the appalled realisation of how hopelessly in love she had fallen.

Or had she been in love with him all along?

Kate splashed cold water on her face and then stared at herself in the bathroom mirror as she patted her skin with a towel. Droplets of water clung to her lashes, and her eyes looked dark and anguished, reflecting the pounding in her head and the ache in her heart.

It had been madness to tangle with Luke again. She should have just walked away. There would have been other jobs. She knew what he was like.

He didn't want to be loved the way she loved him. He liked his women cynical and detached. He liked his secretaries cool and collected. And she was his secretary, so, if that was what he wanted, that was what she would be. Luke must never guess how she felt.

When he rapped at her door she jumped. Be businesslike, she chided herself, wrapping her robe more closely around her as if in protection. Let him think you're as brisk and professional as ever.

`You look terrible,' Luke said after one look at her. `I knew you were going to suffer this morning!'

`I haven't got a hangover,' Kate lied with dignity. `I just feel a little fragile.'

`Serves you right for wearing a dress like that,' Luke said unsympathetically, but his eyes travelled over her bare face and sleep-tousled hair with some amusement. `I must say, it makes a change to see you looking less than immaculate!'

He was wearing a grey suit and was clearly ready to start work.

Kate wondered how he managed to look so revoltingly awake and energetic. `I'm not used to drinking so much wine,' she explained.

`Believe me, nobody would have guessed from your performance last night!' He reached into his inside pocket and produced a packet of aspirin. `Here, take two of these,' he said gruffly. `There's no need to rush. I'm going out, but I'll be back later and we'll go to see Robard together.'

By the time he returned Kate was dressed in the same skirt as the day before, but with a thin olive-green jumper, which made her look businesslike, even if she didn't feel the part.

They had to wait in Philippe Robard's office for nearly forty minutes. Luke was on edge and prowled around the room, trying to convince himself that they would get the contract. Kate longed to put her arms round him reassuringly, but his nervousness was catching, and she sat primly on a chair, hoping desperately that she hadn't ruined all his chances by her behaviour last night.

`Where is Robard?' Luke glanced at his watch yet again. `It can't take them that long to come to a decision.'

'Philippe did tell us that some of the directors are keen on giving the contract to a French firm.'

`I'm offering them a better deal,' Luke countered, as if trying to convince her. `They have to give it to us. We've got the experience and the expertise.'

`You haven't had experience dealing with Frenchmen, though,' Kate said, playing devil's advocate.

`No, but you have,' Luke said nastily, `judging by how you dealt with Xavier last night!'

The door opened before Kate had a chance to point out that there was no need for him to take out his nervousness on her, and Philippe Robard came in.

`Please accept my apologies, Monsieur Hardman,' he said, shaking hands with them both. `I have kept you waiting, but the board has, at last, come to a decision. We will accept your proposal.'

Luke drew a deep breath of relief, and then smiled. `Thank you,' he said simply.

`I have to admit that there was opposition to using an untried English firm, but Xavier and I were able to persuade them that with the involvement of Mademoiselle Finch there would be no problems of communication.'

Delighted, Kate glanced at Luke, but after that first betraying smile he had his excitement well under control and was calmly agreeing to discuss details of the next stage of the contract at a later date, so she maintained a businesslike front as well while Philippe escorted them courteously downstairs and said goodbye to them on the steps.

Without saying a word, Luke and Kate began to walk sedately away, but, once out of sight of Philippe, Luke stopped.

`He gave us the contract,' he said, as if he had only just realised.

`Yes, he did.' Kate smiled at his expression. `He must have liked my dress after all!'

At that, Luke swung her into his arms with an exuberant laugh. `We did it!' he exulted, and Kate laughed delightedly, caught up in the excitement.

They both became aware at the same time how close he was holding her, but Luke didn't release her immediately. Instead he looked down into her bright face, and his own smile faded while a much more disturbing light began to burn in his eyes.

For a long moment they just stared at each other, then Luke's hands tightened against her.

He's going to kiss me, Kate thought in panic, knowing that she would not be able to resist and terrified of how revealing her response would be.

But he didn't kiss her. He released her slowly, almost reluctantly. `I nearly forgot,' he said.

`What?' asked Kate, horrified at how husky her voice sounded.

`Strictly business. That's how you wanted to keep things, wasn't it?'

He looked at her closely, almost as if he was waiting for her to disagree, but Kate nodded. It was better this way. `Yes,' she said.

`You said it was more sensible.'

It was. Hard, but sensible. `Yes,' she said again.

There was a tiny pause. Luke folded the collar of her jacket down and patted it in place. `We'd better celebrate,' he said after a moment.

He took her to a cafe in a small cobbled courtyard near the hotel, where they drank a bottle of Sauvignon and ate goat's cheese with a rye bread that was hard and dry and delicious. The momentary awkwardness had passed and they talked easily, planning how the contract would work and what changes would need to be made in the office.

It was too cold to sit outside, so they chose a small round table in the window. Kate moved her glass around on the plastic top, leaving interlocking damp circles until Luke told her not to make such a mess and wiped it up with a paper napkin.

Kate was happy, she realised with a small shock of surprise. Luke was more likely to break her heart than ever return her love, but here in this warm cafe, with Paris passing by outside and the brusque difficult man absorbed in his work on the other side of the table, she was content.

Resting her crossed arms on the table, she leant forward and gazed out of the window. Two old ladies, identically dressed in black, stood and gossiped on the cobbles. One had a tartan shopping trolley, and a long loaf of French bread stuck out at a jaunty angle. The other seemed to be complaining with much gesticulating and shrugging and grimacing.

Kate's autumn-coloured eyes were soft, and a faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she watched the scene.

`What's so funny?' Luke asked.

`I'm just happy,' she said simply.

'Hmmnn.' Luke gave her a look of mock suspicion. `I never thought any secretary of mine would describe herself as happy. Most of them seemed to spend half their time in tears, complaining that I bullied them,' he remembered morosely.

Laughter danced in her eyes. `You probably did.'

`I bully you, but you don't cry.'

`Perhaps I should!'

`Please don't. I never had the patience to deal with the watering-pots. As far as I was concerned, if they couldn't put up with a little shouting. they shouldn't have been working for me.' He paused and studied Kate's face thought fully. `I've been through no less than twelve secretaries in the last two years alone. You're the only one who's ever stood up to me.'

`Well, you're not so bad,' Kate teased. She felt absurdly happy. Careful, she warned herself. Keep things light. It would be easy to blurt out how much she loved him and spoil everything. At least this way she could be near him during the day. `I get to sit in a Paris cafe every now and then. I'm easily pleased.'

Luke hesitated, then reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a small, beautifully wrapped box. `Since you're so easy to keep happy, I suppose I don't need to give you this, but I'd like you to have it.' He put it on the table in front of her and Kate stared down at it in astonishment. `I was going to give it to you when we got back to London,' he explained a little awkwardly. `It's to thank you for helping me to get the contract. I know I wouldn't have been able to do it without you.' '

`But Luke…' Kate didn't know what to say. She picked up the little box as if it were very fragile. `You really didn't need to. I was just doing my job.'

`If you can call your performance last night doing your job…!' Both of them were glad to ease the embarrassment with laughter. `They wrapped it in the shop,' Luke went on as she pulled at the curled ribbon.

`I rather thought they might have done!' It was impossible to imagine Luke's massive hands managing anything as fiddly as this delicate wrapping.

The paper fell away to reveal a small leather jeweller's box. With a startled look at Luke, Kate opened it carefully. An exquisite brooch lay on a bed of silk. It was rather an old-fashioned design, with simple scrolls of gold on either side of a lustrous pearl.

Kate felt tears sting her eyes. `It's beautiful,' she said huskily.

`I thought you might use it to pin the cleavage on that black dress together,' Luke said severely, but he was clearly pleased at her reaction. Seeing Kate's mouth tremble, he added, `You're not going to turn into a watering-pot after all?'

'No.' Kate shook her head so that the shining hair bounced, and sniffed unromantically. Pushing back her chair, she half stood to lean over the table and lay her palm against his face. `Thank you,' she murmured, and kissed his cheek. His skin was tantalisingly rough, with a clean, indefinably male scent.

Luke's hand came up to cover hers, and tightened over it as she pulled away, so that he was still holding it as she sat down, suddenly shy.

`You never wear any jewellery,' he said, turning her hand over and inspecting her fingers. `Why is that?'

`I'm afraid I've got expensive tastes,' Kate said a little unsteadily. She was excruciatingly aware of his warm touch. His fingers were strong and dry, slightly rough against the smoothness of hers. `I'd rather not wear anything until I have something worth wearing-like this brooch.'

`It's a pity. You've got beautiful hands. I noticed them the first time I met you. You never paint your nails, do you? They're just cut short and kept very clean.' He rubbed his thumb over one of her nails experimentally.

Only their fingertips were touching, but Kate could feel desire quivering deep inside her. Her skin tingled and her face grew hot as longing shivered along her veins, clenching her stomach with the steady, insistent tug of physical yearning.

`Perhaps someone will buy you some rings some day,' he went on.

`Perhaps,' she croaked, then cleared her throat hastily.

Luke's eyes were unreadable. `Make sure he doesn't buy you diamonds. Diamonds are too hard for you. You need warmer stones, rubies or emeralds or pearls. Or topaz, to match your eyes.'

With a supreme effort Kate pulled her hand away. `It's not an immediate problem,' she said shortly. He wasn't being fair. Didn't he know how her heart soared just to be near him? Couldn't he see how she burned at his touch?

She was his secretary. She must remember that. Cool. Sensible. Businesslike. Wasn't that how she had decided to be? Wasn't that how she was?

Kate closed the lid of the box and turned it slowly between her hands, her head bent so that all Luke could see was the dark sweep of her lashes against the clear skin.

`No, I suppose not,' he said in a flat voice.

The companionable atmosphere had tensed, and the silence that fell jangled uneasily between them. Kate found that she was holding the box too tightly, and put it down, hiding her hands beneath the table in case Luke should see their shaking.

She stared blindly down at the plastic ashtray advertising Gauloises. Luke's face danced in front of her eyes: firm nose, firm mouth, firm jaw. The line of his cheek, the lines around his eyes. She ached with the need to reach out and touch him.

Suddenly Luke picked up his glass and tossed back the dregs of his wine. `Come on,' he said, putting the glass back down with an abrupt click, `We'd better go if we want to catch that flight.'

It was a silent journey back to London. Luke buried himself in a report, and Kate looked out of the window at the blue lightness above the clouds and reminded herself of all the reason: why she shouldn't love him.

It was pointless. It was stupid. It was a complete waste of her life. He wasn't even very nice. She would do far better to fall in love with someone who would appreciate her, like Xavier. The sensible thing to do would be to convince herself that Paris had gone to her head. She would concentrate on her work and forget that Luke was anything other than her boss.

Well, she would try.