'He really does need an assistant,' Sarah insisted loyally. 'He told me himself that his health—'
A short amused laugh greeted this bit of naivety and Max gulped half his drink without enjoyment before saying, savagely: 'I don't like being manipulated.'
'You do it all the time,' Sarah pointed out, beginning to think that all this moody, broody behaviour had nothing to do with her at all. His anger seemed more directed at his father than at her, and she was just the convenient whipping boy. 'Anyway, now that you're chairman I don't see how your father can manipulate you.'
'Don't you? My God, you're a dumb little cow sometimes.'
Sarah stiffened at the casually uttered insult.
'Intelligent enough to be damned good at my job.'
'Intelligent, but dumb,' agreed Max infuriatingly.
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'That's what I mean.' Her irritation seemed to have restored his good humour. 'If I thought you did, you'd have been on the doorstep by now. And you didn't land the job, the job landed you . .. well and truly.' He laid his head back against the cushions and studied her through thick, dark lashes. 'You look thinner.'
'So do you,' countered Sarah nervously. He had always been unpredictable, but never this much—blowing hot and cold with one breath. 'You look tired, too.' The blue shadows were back around his eyes, the bones of his temples more pronounced, giving him a lean and hungry look.
'I am.' The admission surprised her. The Max she knew would have denied it. 'Have you been homesick?'
'I haven't had time. In any case, there wasn't a lot to feel homesick for.' Only you, only you.
'What about lover-boy?'
'If you mean Roy Merrill,' said Sarah, in a carefully neutral voice, 'he was very pleased for me. And he was never my lover.'
They measured glances for a few seconds, and Max was the first to look away. 'Well, it doesn't matter now.' The flat voice hammered a shaft of steel through her heart.
'No.'
Suddenly the effort of sitting there, trying to appear unmoved, was too much. She got up and walked restlessly, as the man had done before her, revealing her agitation more with each passing minute. She wished she had never come. She wished she was sophisticated enough to smile and mean it. She wished the polish was diamond-hard and not just skin deep. She forced herself to display an interest in the various works of art, though in reality she saw nothing, too acutely aware of the dark man watching her every move. She had never known such silence, like the end of the world, and the longer it grew the more impossible it was to break. She almost jumped out of her skin when, on consulting her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes a velvety voice floated in from the edges of eternity.
'You may as well relax, Sarah, you're in for a very long wait.'
'What?' She gave him a hunted glance.
'We may as well make ourselves comfortable . . . find a pleasant way to pass the time. Come over here.'
Sarah's skin prickled as she registered that certain lilt. 'What for?'
He smiled lazily and her eyes widened. Surely he wouldn't have the gall to . . . 'Come here and see.' He would.
'No,' she said, violently, staying where she was, a safe distance of several metres. Even so she took a hasty step back as Max rose slowly to his feet, yawning and stretching until the long body shuddered, every muscle seeming to settle back into complete relaxation. He no longer looked tired, but somehow refreshed, his smile widening as if her increasing nervousness amused him, pleased him.
'You always were nervy around me,' he observed. 'Some things don't change, do they, Sarah?'
Sarah licked her lips and his eyes dropped to her mouth. 'Like that. You always do it when you're scared; and I always find it erotic' He paused and the blood thundered in Sarah's ears. She was convinced that either she was drunk, or he was, or they both were. 'Are you scared of me now, Sarah?'
'Should I be?' She meant it to be discouraging but it came out a squeak.
'Yes. Oh, yes.'. He came towards her on catlike tread and she backed away.
'Max, stop it!'
'Stop what?' he asked innocently, still coming.
'This stupid game, whatever it is.'