When Strangers Meet Read online

  When Strangers Meet

  Shirley Kemp

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  OH, NO! Frank Heaton. Of all the bad luck.

  Hayley Morgan stared aghast into the next compartment of the train, unable to believe her eyes as the rather tubby man came striding in her direction, the one person in the world she had hoped she would never have to see again.

  Instinctively, she ducked down into her seat, wishing she had a magazine or something to hide behind, but all she carried was a small handbag into which she couldn’t even pretend to delve.

  Perhaps he hadn’t seen her, she thought a little wildly. Perhaps it was coincidence that he seemed to be heading in her direction. She watched him indecisively for a moment, praying he would find a seat without having to continue along the train. But he came on, making for the connecting door into her compartment.

  She gritted her small white teeth against a sudden surge of fury. It was bad enough being hounded out of her job by the unwanted and blatantly sexual attentions of her boss’s son, without this chance meeting with him on her train to freedom.

  She tossed her thick dark hair in a gesture of defiance and her velvet-brown eyes glinted, unnaturally hard.

  There was no way she was going to put up with his gropings and innuendoes now she had given up her job as his father’s secretary. But past experience of Frank Heaton’s rhinoceros-thick hide had taught her that even the strongest resistance might not be successful against his thrusting ego, and she certainly didn’t relish making a scene in public. She shuddered at the thought of enduring more of the humiliating indignities that had plagued her life for the past year. Frank Heaton seemed incapable of understanding that anyone could find him unattractive, let alone repulsive.

  She jumped to her feet. If he hadn’t seen her already, he would as soon as he stepped into the half-empty compartment, but she might still be able to take evasive action.

  There was no time to manoeuvre her case down from the rack. She’d had enough problems getting it up there. Her slim form and slender arms weren’t meant for wrestling heavy cases on to racks placed conveniently for giants. But it was no use fretting; she would have to come back for it later. The main thing was to find somewhere to hide.

  Frank was actually opening the door as Hayley sped up the long, open compartment, sighing with relief as she remembered the loo. He could hardly force his way in there. Her sigh turned to a groan as she tried the handle and found the door locked.

  With her heart beating rapidly in near panic, she rushed on to the next compartment, which was first-class, and hesitated. It was empty, except for one lone man. If Frank came here, he would spot her at once. But, since she couldn’t go back, she would have to go on.

  The man was sitting in the seat nearest the aisle, and Hayley slowed down, smoothing her skirt over trim hips, hoping to look at least a little dignified as she passed, but she needn’t have bothered—he was fast asleep, with his head to the side and his long legs extended beneath the little table before him.

  Looking back through the dividing glass door, she saw Frank’s head, unmistakable with its thinning hair combed across his narrow brow. His round black eyes seemed fixed determinedly in her direction, and her heart sank. There seemed little doubt now that he was actively looking for her.

  It went against the grain to give up, but it looked as though she might have to...unless...

  Almost without thinking, she ducked under the table where the sleeping man sat, and moved up into the window seat alongside him, hoping that the table-top and the man’s large frame might offer some kind of screening.

  The stranger’s face was turned towards her, his expression one of total relaxation, completely oblivious of the drama going on around him. He was very handsome, she noted with a kind of detached interest, with a strong, lean face, firm chin and well-shaped lips, slightly parted to reveal the gleam of white teeth. In addition, he was well built, beautifully dressed, and his thick reddish-brown hair was immaculate even in sleep.

  She gave a grim little laugh. If he woke now to find her here, what would he think? What would he say?

  Well, she would soon find out, she thought as she heard Frank’s heavy tread approaching with a tremor of dread. How she hated that man, who had hounded her until she had almost been a nervous wreck. There had to be some way of avoiding this unpleasant idiot.

  The stranger stirred, and, acting on her second uncharacteristic impulse of the day, Hayley leaned forward and kissed him, so lightly that their lips barely touched, tilting her head, letting the thick curtain of her dark brown hair fall forward to help shield her face.

  ‘I say, have you...? Oh, I’m sorry...I didn’t realise you were—er...’

  Hayley heard Frank’s mutter and his cough of embarrassment as he hurried by, and gave a relieved little smile, her lips moving softly against the stranger’s in a silent prayer. She’d closed her eyes to avoid seeing Frank’s face if it should loom at her, and opened them cautiously as his heavy footsteps died away.

  Warily, she raised her lids, and gave a startled gasp. For bewildering seconds her senses swam in the depths of eyes more intensely blue than any she had ever seen. She was brought back to earth by the realisation that there was ice as well as colour in the hard glare.

  ‘May I ask what you think you’re doing?’ The deep pleasant-timbred voice was heavily uncompromising.

  She’d half expected amusement, or plain surprise, so was completely thrown by the glare of icy dislike he shot at her.

  She felt a swift rush of embarrassment, quickly followed by resentment.

  ‘Nothing very terrible, if I were a man.’ She glared back at him, meeting the hard look with scorn. They could dish it out, she thought grimly, but obviously couldn’t take it. ‘Men steal kisses all the time, don’t they?’

  ‘Some, perhaps,’ he conceded coldly. ‘But I don’t happen to be one of them.’

  ‘No?’ She studied the handsome face, the arrogant tilt of the head. A powerful man, used no doubt to deference—and to being the one to make the passes. With a grim little laugh she said. ‘I don’t suppose you need to stoop to that.’

  ‘Correct!’ He smiled grimly. ‘You, on the other hand, obviously do.’

  Hayley felt her colour rising. Her hatred of Frank Heaton had inevitably overflowed to men in general, but for most of them the cap fitted anyway. This stranger, being handsome and, she had to admit, with a strong masculine presence, had probably never had to try too hard. But, like all the others, he would if he had to.

  ‘There was a reason for that,’ she said stiffly. ‘I was desperate and just had to do what was necessary in the circumstances.’

  ‘Desperate? For a kiss?’ His brows rose tauntingly. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  He stared into her wide velvet-brown eyes, presently fixed with renewed antagonism on his hard face. His expression was easily recognisable, though it didn’t quite constitute a leer.

  He went on cuttingly, ‘Although, if you go around throwing yourself at every available man, I can see how it might deter one or two.’

  His gaze swept almost insultingly over her pale oval face, framed in thick, curling dark hair, with its straight little nose and wide mobile mouth, and down, apparently missing nothing of her trim figure and firm, shapely bosom.

  ‘I don’t. Throw myself at men, that is.’ Hayley cut explosively into his assessment. ‘This is the f
irst time I’ve ever done it...in an emergency.’ She added sarcastically, ‘If it’s any consolation, I didn’t enjoy it.’

  ‘That does compensate a little.’ The grim features hadn’t relaxed one bit. ‘What kind of emergency?’

  Hayley, meeting his scornful gaze, sensed he wasn’t prepared to give an inch... This handsome stranger with the icy, unsmiling eyes obviously had a heart of stone. Why should she bother to explain? The story wasn’t a pretty one, and he wasn’t exactly the confiding type. And besides, he was the enemy.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ she said flatly. ‘I wouldn’t want to bore you with it.’

  ‘Try me!’ he insisted, dangerously civil. It sounded more like a command than a request. ‘I might find it riveting.’

  But it was Hayley’s eyes that were riveted...on a balding dark head that was bobbing back again in her direction. Tenacious as ever, Frank obviously hadn’t given up the search.

  Hayley felt renewed dismay, which turned to grim determination. Neither Frank nor this arrogant stranger would be witness to her defeat.

  ‘You won’t appreciate the joke, I know,’ she said with a tight little laugh. ‘But I really do need to kiss you again. Would you mind?’

  Without giving the stranger a chance to reply, she put her mouth over his and hung on to him grimly until the danger had passed.

  When she opened her eyes again, the blue gaze wasn’t just icy, it was furious.

  ‘No wonder you didn’t enjoy it, Miss Pushy. You’ve got a lousy technique. If you’re going to do this sort of thing, then at least learn to do it well.’

  Hayley’s eyes blazed. ‘Of course, it wouldn’t be your technique that’s lousy.’

  ‘I’ll let you be the judge of that.’

  Without warning, he caught her against him, his mouth descending forcefully on hers.

  Taken unawares, Hayley had no time to summon her resistance. The first touch of his lips brought a shudder of dread that had her struggling like a small creature in a trap. Desperation churned at her insides, giving her almost superhuman strength as she dragged herself away from him.

  She was breathing as though the whole world lacked oxygen, and her brown eyes were wide with panic.

  He stared at her in consternation. ‘What is it? An asthma attack or something?’ He still held on to her arms, but his fingers relaxed their steely grip a little.

  Dragging air into her lungs, she managed to say hoarsely, ‘No. Just the kind of attack I might have expected from someone like you.’

  His mouth drew into a thin, hard line. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘What it always means,’ she said bitterly. ‘That men never miss an opportunity to show the weaker sex just how strong and overpowering they can be when they want something.’

  ‘A moment ago, it was you who wanted something.’

  She gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘Yes. But not what you think.’

  The corner of his mouth curled contemptuously. ‘Tell me, my little dark-haired gypsy—what was I thinking?’ He drew her closer. ‘Can those big, soft pansy eyes really see into my mind?’

  ‘No. Any more than your ice chips can read mine.’

  He nodded. ‘True. But I can take a guess.’

  Without warning, his hand went up to grasp the nape of her neck, his long, strong fingers lacing into her hair. Slowly he brought her face to his, smiling thinly at the flicker of fear that showed in her gaze as his mouth hovered above hers.

  ‘Relax, Miss Pushy. This isn’t going to hurt a bit.’

  Hayley began to struggle, but his arms closed about her, holding her, to her surprise, with a gentle strength that miraculously soothed her raw nerves. How the miracle was achieved, she didn’t know; she was only aware of a strange warmth creeping through her tense body, relaxing muscles tautened for battle, until she lay still against him.

  His lifted his head a little to murmur, ‘That’s better.’

  Slowly his lips began to move against the unprepared softness of her own, but with a thoroughness that caused an explosion of feelings, impossible to control or to describe, but which left her breathless and faintly dizzy.

  When at last he released her there was a hint of amusement in the cold blue eyes.

  ‘Get the idea?’ he queried, with a mocking lift of thick brown eyebrows. ‘Or would you like a little further practice? In my opinion you need it.’

  She stared at him, speechless, until her erratic heartbeat subsided and she could swallow the peculiar lump in her throat.

  Why hadn’t she felt the same loathing and contempt she had come to anticipate when a male mouth forced itself on to hers? Where were the stirrings of nausea Frank Heaton’s hot, wet mouth had always engendered?

  For looks and physique you couldn’t compare this stranger with the Frank Heatons of the world, she reasoned grimly, but it all boiled down to the same thing in the end: overwhelming male conceit.

  ‘You really do think you’re God’s gift, don’t you?’ she gritted. ‘Well, thanks for the offer, but once was more than enough.’

  His face assumed an air of disappointment. ‘And I thought I was doing you a favour.’

  She laughed mirthlessly. ‘Fortunately you’ll never know how big a favour.’

  ‘Really? Then perhaps we’re still not quite quits.’

  His eyes rested pointedly on her lips, an unexpectedly smoky look in the blue depths. It seemed any minute he would be repeating that kiss.

  Hayley recoiled. It was a man’s world, she thought bitterly, a world full of socially acceptable chauvinism. But his kiss had stirred some hidden depths and, as much as she hated the fact, she wasn’t sure she could withhold a response this time either, which was galling in a way he’d never understand.

  She gave an exasperated sigh. In trying to avoid one man’s unwelcome attentions, she seemed to have laid herself open to something even more disturbing. It was time to make another escape.

  She ducked quickly under the table and came up in the aisle.

  She said scornfully, ‘I’ve appreciated your help. But I hope we never meet again.’

  ‘Believe me, Miss Pushy, I echo your hope.’ The blue eyes narrowed intently, without even a trace of humour to soften his expression. ‘But stranger things have happened.’

  * * *

  Back in the corridor, Hayley hung about outside the loo, just in case Frank came back and she had to dive inside, but there was no sign of him and, gradually, she began to breath normally again.

  Her legs felt weak, but she had a feeling it was less the result of unexpectedly seeing Frank as the onslaught she had suffered from the stranger—as disturbing, in its own way, as any of Frank’s efforts.

  Thankfully, they would be in Paddington shortly, so she would soon have to make a move to recover her luggage—if it hadn’t been stolen, that was.

  After a while longer she went cautiously back into her original compartment. With relief, she saw her case was still on the rack where she’d left it.

  With a bit of luck Anthea would be on the platform waiting, so she wouldn’t have to hang about once she got off the train.

  Her spirits lifted as Anthea’s bright yellow hair became clearly visible among the waiting crowd.

  ‘Hayley! Hayley!’ Anthea called, waving excitedly. ‘Over here!’

  ‘I know. I can see you.’ Hayley wagged her finger in a quieting gesture. ‘Not so loud.’

  She looked furtively about, but there was no sign of Frank.

  With a sigh of relief she rushed over and grasped Anthea’s arm. ‘Quick. Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘What’s the rush?’

  ‘No time for questions and answers,’ Hayley said hurriedly. ‘I’ll explain later.’

  But Anthea was transfixed. ‘Oh, look! There’s Felicity Braun.’

  ‘The Felicity Braun?’ Hayley cast a curious look about the station platform. ‘Where?’

  ‘There!’ Anthea squeaked with excitement. ‘Look! There!’

  Hayley
’s gaze followed her friend’s pointing finger. It really was Felicity Braun, she confirmed, with a little spurt of interest. She must have come to meet someone off the train. The actress was spreading her arms to embrace a tall man with reddish-brown hair and an attractively muscular frame, apparent even in his conservative but obviously expensive suit.

  ‘And that hunk must be her latest!’ Anthea exclaimed, adding ecstatically, ‘Oh, isn’t he gorgeous?’

  The ‘hunk’ pulled back a little, and Hayley saw his face. With a gasp of surprise, she realised that the man with his arms about the beautiful young actress was none other than her obliging stranger.

  Out here, in the open, he was even more devastating. His lithe body simply oozed sex appeal, making it difficult for her to tear her eyes away. She had a moment of wry satisfaction as she remembered that last kiss. Not many could say they’d been kissed passionately by Felicity Braun’s latest. She couldn’t help wondering how Felicity would feel about that.

  ‘It’s all a question of taste,’ she said unenthusiastically.

  Anthea giggled. ‘Well, he certainly suits my taste. Give me half a chance...’

  ‘But he wouldn’t, would he?’ Hayley said sharply. ‘He’s a man.’

  ‘Since when have you become a man-hater?’

  Hayley groaned. ‘Don’t ask. Then it can’t depress you.’

  Anthea shot her a curious glance, before her eyes returned to the couple, who were now trying to extricate themselves from the crowd that had begun to gather around the actress.

  ‘Come on. Let’s go,’ Hayley said impatiently.

  At that moment the man looked in her direction, holding her startled gaze with an enigmatic look from those piercing blue eyes. He raised his brows briefly, issuing, it seemed to Hayley, a mocking challenge, before turning his attention back to his companion.

  Hayley felt as though an electric current had been passed through her body, making her shudder.

  ‘He was looking straight at you.’ Anthea, whose sharp eyes missed nothing, was staring in amazement at Hayley. ‘Do you know him?’

  Hayley gave what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. ‘A passing acquaintance,’ she said lightly, though, for some reason, her heart was beating madly against her ribs.