‘Then give them away,’ he shrugged, buttoning his jacket against the snow that had been falling since early morning, then pausing at the door to look down at her with darkened eyes. ‘You know where to find me if you decide Donald isn’t man enough for you.’
Callie leant weakly against the door. ‘Will you just go?’
‘Yes, I’ll go,’ he scowled, his hands rough as he pulled her towards him. ‘But I’ll make sure you don’t sleep tonight either!’ He ground his mouth down on hers, bending the fragility of her body into his as he ruthlessly plundered a response from her. When he at last raised his head Callie’s legs felt boneless, so much so she had to cling to him for support. ‘Yes,’ Logan said with satisfaction, ‘I think your night may be spent as sleeplessly as mine have been lately.’ He put her away from him.
Callie regained control with effort, licking her lips to make sure they were still intact, feeling numbed from the force of Logan’s. ‘A guilty conscience has a way of doing that,’ she told him vaguely.
‘You should know,’ came his parting shot.
She slowly closed the door as she heard the descent of the lift, leaning weakly back against the door to steady her nerves. Logan had been the last person she had expected to see today, to see ever again except in a business capacity. And the suddenness of seeing him had made her say things she would rather have left unsaid.
She moved to the telephone and dialled quickly, before she had time to change her mind. ‘Donald Spencer, please,’ she requested once the butler had answered the telephone. ‘Donald? Call—Caroline here,’ she amended. ‘How about that meeting you suggested? Dinner tomorrow? Lovely,’ she answered with false brightness, all gaiety leaving her once she had rung off.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘GOOD God, talk about the morning after…!’ Mike eyed Callie mockingly the next day; the office was open once more, to her relief. Another day alone in her flat and she would have gone insane! ‘I needn’t ask if you had a good Christmas,’ he teased.
‘No,’ she answered quietly, knowing she had never spent such a miserable time in her life as the last four days.
But she kept up the pretence all morning, only baulking when Mike asked if there were no boy-friend for lunch today.
‘I thought this was it,’ he teased her.
‘No,’ she evaded his eyes. ‘It didn’t work out.’
‘Oh!’
‘It’s all right, Mike,’ she told him brightly. ‘I’m seeing someone else tonight.’
‘Off with the old, on with the new?’
‘That’s right,’ she laughed, hoping Mike wouldn’t catch its rather hollow ring. He didn’t seem to, and the rest of the day passed in a rush of work that she was grateful for.
Her heart leapt with pleasure when she got home later that night to find Marilyn and Bill back in their flat.
‘I thought you were going to be away for months!’ She hugged Paul to her, at once feeling better; his innocence was the balm she needed for her wounds.
Marilyn grimaced. ‘Bill couldn’t stand it any longer. Anyway, Dad’s made a fantastic recovery. And I must say it’s nice to be back in our own home.’
‘It’s good to have you back.’
Her friend frowned. ‘Do I sense a little too much enthusiasm?’
Callie sighed, letting Paul climb down to play with his toys. ‘You could do,’ she admitted, knowing she couldn’t bottle up the pain much longer. And Marilyn and Bill had been her friends for such a long time.
‘Logan?’ Marilyn prompted softly.
‘Logan?’ Bill echoed sharply as he came through from the kitchen.
‘Yes,’ Callie sighed. ‘You may as well know the man I—the man I thought I loved was Logan Carrington.’
Marilyn still looked puzzled, but Bill wasn’t quite so mystified. ‘Carrington Cosmetics?’
‘Yes.’
‘Carrington shares in Spencer Plastics?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded miserably.