heart gripped by a strange chill, her face and body flushed by the shock of having known herself for twenty-two years and now not knowing herself at all. This sensual awakening was the most profoundly disturbing thing she had ever known. She would have welcomed it with joy, she would have been twirling round with stars in her eyes and hugging herself in bliss, had her emotions been unlocked by any other man. How could she respond like this to Nick Farraday? Of all the men in the world, why did it have to be he? If only she could shut out the awareness he had magically opened to her and throw the key into the garbage, where it belonged. Why had she come alive for him? It was too bitterly ironic.
She turned and crossed to the sink. She turned on the cold water and held her hand palm upward under the jet, in the forlorn hope that it was possible to wash away the burning imprint of his lips. She threw out the coffee they hadnât drunk. Instead she made herself a cup of hot chocolate. But that too went untasted and was eventually rinsed away.
She was a long time in getting to sleep. Thoughts tossed about in her mind. The Nick Farraday she had met didnât match the impression she had gotten from her brother. She had never properly analyzed it before, but in thinking about it now she realized that Philâs description had had the flavor of jealousy, particularly where it concerned Nick Farradayâs easy conquests. That thought had never entered her mind before, because it had been inconceivable to think her brother could have been envious of Nick Farradayâs success with women.
Phil had had the best wife a man could wish for in Cathy. A very feminine woman, Cathy was soft and gentle, with an understanding of his volatile moods and his need to breathe which had left Lindsay in awe. Knowing her brother as she did, Lindsay had been afraid that he wouldnât easily come to terms with marriage, that it might be too rigid a lifestyle for him. But Cathy had been good for him; she had provided the steadying influence which he needed without stifling him, and she had kept a constant heart and a cozy home, bliss for any man who carried the responsibility of a demanding job. Lindsay knew that her brother had felt lucky to have Cathyâs love, had felt that the women who fell so readily into Nick Farradayâs arms were attracted to the power of a name and vast wealth. But she now knew firsthand that this was not so. If Nick Farraday hadnât had a cent to his name it wouldnât have made any difference; women would have knocked each other out of the way for the privilege of being with him. Not that that state of affairs could ever have come about. Moreover, Nick Farraday was no gigolo. He wouldnât take anything from a woman but what the woman was willing to offer. And even if he hadnât had a cozy, well-established business to fall intoâsomething else Phil had niggled aboutâhe would still have made his mark in life. His drive and his vigor and his razor-sharp brain would still have taken him to the top.
*
*
*
London was wrapped in the mist of a pearly gray dawn before Lindsay managed to close her eyes. As a result she was late in getting up. Despite the need to rush, she knew she wouldnât be able to give her best if she didnât revive herself with a shower and snatch a hurried breakfast of toast and coffee.
She managed to get a cab with little difficulty, but the traffic was so intense that it would have been quicker to jog, a thought that prompted her to ask the cabbie to stop several blocks short of the agency. She didnât exactly sprint, but her stride matched the brisk pace of the city, and on pushing open the door of her office she collapsed on her chair, winded.
She was still getting her breath back when Jim Bourne buzzed her. âYou in yet, Lindsay?â
âJust. Sorry Iâm late.â
The favor she usually found in his eyes wouldnât excuse her
She turned and crossed to the sink. She turned on the cold water and held her hand palm upward under the jet, in the forlorn hope that it was possible to wash away the burning imprint of his lips. She threw out the coffee they hadnât drunk. Instead she made herself a cup of hot chocolate. But that too went untasted and was eventually rinsed away.
She was a long time in getting to sleep. Thoughts tossed about in her mind. The Nick Farraday she had met didnât match the impression she had gotten from her brother. She had never properly analyzed it before, but in thinking about it now she realized that Philâs description had had the flavor of jealousy, particularly where it concerned Nick Farradayâs easy conquests. That thought had never entered her mind before, because it had been inconceivable to think her brother could have been envious of Nick Farradayâs success with women.
Phil had had the best wife a man could wish for in Cathy. A very feminine woman, Cathy was soft and gentle, with an understanding of his volatile moods and his need to breathe which had left Lindsay in awe. Knowing her brother as she did, Lindsay had been afraid that he wouldnât easily come to terms with marriage, that it might be too rigid a lifestyle for him. But Cathy had been good for him; she had provided the steadying influence which he needed without stifling him, and she had kept a constant heart and a cozy home, bliss for any man who carried the responsibility of a demanding job. Lindsay knew that her brother had felt lucky to have Cathyâs love, had felt that the women who fell so readily into Nick Farradayâs arms were attracted to the power of a name and vast wealth. But she now knew firsthand that this was not so. If Nick Farraday hadnât had a cent to his name it wouldnât have made any difference; women would have knocked each other out of the way for the privilege of being with him. Not that that state of affairs could ever have come about. Moreover, Nick Farraday was no gigolo. He wouldnât take anything from a woman but what the woman was willing to offer. And even if he hadnât had a cozy, well-established business to fall intoâsomething else Phil had niggled aboutâhe would still have made his mark in life. His drive and his vigor and his razor-sharp brain would still have taken him to the top.
*
*
*
London was wrapped in the mist of a pearly gray dawn before Lindsay managed to close her eyes. As a result she was late in getting up. Despite the need to rush, she knew she wouldnât be able to give her best if she didnât revive herself with a shower and snatch a hurried breakfast of toast and coffee.
She managed to get a cab with little difficulty, but the traffic was so intense that it would have been quicker to jog, a thought that prompted her to ask the cabbie to stop several blocks short of the agency. She didnât exactly sprint, but her stride matched the brisk pace of the city, and on pushing open the door of her office she collapsed on her chair, winded.
She was still getting her breath back when Jim Bourne buzzed her. âYou in yet, Lindsay?â
âJust. Sorry Iâm late.â
The favor she usually found in his eyes wouldnât excuse her
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