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To fly home. Kyle was going to be away... How long for? Just...just for the weekend or for longer...? Star didn’t like the ominous way her heart lurched and then started to beat far too fast. Kyle had said nothing to her about being away.
But then, why should he?
‘I’ll try to make it for four.’ She gave in unwillingly. It wasn’t that she didn’t have anything to show Kyle, she acknowledged ten minutes later as she started to gather together her new story-boards. She did. And it wasn’t even that she was afraid of him rejecting her work. So what was she so afraid of, then? Kyle himself? Why should she be?
Her face burned as she recalled exactly why she felt so reluctant to face him. How could she account for her ignominious flight from his bed this morning? After all the things she had said to him...all the taunts...all the insults...that she should be the one to cry craven, to say stop... And why had she?
She shook her head, still not ready to answer that question, even to herself.
‘Kyle will see you now.’
Star squared her shoulders and nodded tersely in acknowledgement of Mrs Hawkins’s statement as she stood up and gathered her work together.
As Star headed towards Kyle’s office his secretary reflected that she looked as though she was about to undergo a gruelling ordeal, rather like her own dreaded visits to her dentist, and yet, personally, Mrs Hawkins found working for Kyle one of the most serendipitous experiences of her entire working life. He had that American way with him of somehow getting things done, of removing obstacles and barriers almost instantaneously and yet, at the same time, always remaining calm and polite.
Tim was a lovely man, of course, gentle and thoughtful, but he had lacked Kyle’s resolution, his ability to insist on high standards and good workmanship. Mrs Hawkins had noticed already the drop in complaints from their customers, just as she had noted and approved of the firm way in which some of their less than efficient fitters and technicians had been dealt with and the way far more stringent standards and checks had been established for those who had taken their place.
Kyle reached the door before Star did, opening it for her and ushering her inside, watching her gravely.
How on earth was she supposed to concentrate on her work, Star wondered wretchedly, when all she could remember, all she could think about was that this morning she had been in Kyle’s bed, had lain in his arms, and his touch had taught her things about herself that she had never dreamed existed—things she wished passionately that she had not discovered existed?
How could she concentrate on her work when she was still trying to deal with the aftershock of those discoveries?
‘I’ve rewritten the proposed advertising copy, taking into account your criticisms,’ she began stiffly as she lined up the story-boards.
Even with her back to him, she could sense Kyle moving closer to her to study what she had done. Quickly she moved out of the way. Kyle had stopped in front of the first board and was examining it. Making sure she kept a safe distance between them, Star waited until he had examined all of them.
‘I like it... It’s very good,’ he told her when he had finished.
‘It doesn’t have the same punch as the other ideas,’ Star asserted.
‘No, perhaps not,’ Kyle agreed. ‘It is gentler, less hard-hitting, but in my opinion that won’t detract from its overall impact.
‘Don’t forget that in the main we’re selling these systems to men, not women, and most men, although they might be loath to admit it, do feel intimidated by and are antagonistic to what they see as domineering or aggressive women—women in control of themselves and their own lives...’
‘Now who’s being sexist?’ Star couldn’t resist saying grimly.
‘I didn’t say those were my feelings,’ Kyle pointed out.
‘Your father rang me this afternoon, by the way,’ he told her in a different voice. ‘He wanted to check that we were definitely going to the wedding. He said he’d tried to ring you but that you were engaged.’
Star stiffened.
‘What did you say?’
Kyle shrugged. ‘I confirmed that we were going and—’
‘What?’ Star demanded in disbelief. ‘You can’t possibly want to go.’
‘No? How could you know what I might want, Star?’ Kyle asked her drily. ‘You don’t even know what you want yourself.’
Star stood and stared at him. She could feel the blood draining out of her face and then flooding back into it again in a hot burning tide of self-conscious colour and she knew that she couldn’t do a damn thing about it or what it betrayed about her.
‘That’s not true,’ she managed to deny unevenly, and then, unable to bear it any longer, she moistened her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue and told him angrily, ‘That’s typical of a man... Just because a woman says no when she...’
‘When she means yes, or rather—’
‘I did not mean yes,’ Star denied. ‘How dare you imply that I did? That’s the oldest trick in the book so far as your sex is concerned—clairning that you know a woman means yes when she says no and using that as an excuse to force her—’
‘I didn’t force you to do anything, Star,’ Kyle pointed out gently. ‘I do understand, you know,’ he told her softly. ‘I know you were afraid—’
‘Afraid?’ Star tensed. ‘What have I got to be afraid of?’ she demanded acidly. Her eyebrows rose mockingly. ‘You?’
Kyle cursed himself under his breath. He had said too much but he had spent the whole damn day thinking about her, worrying about her, wanting to go to her and yet guessing how she would react if he did. And he had been right. But, tempted as he was to let her off the hook, to make it easy for her, he couldn’t let himself lose the small piece of ground he had won, for her sake as well as his own.
‘No, not me,’ he acknowledged. ‘What you fear, Star, is yourself, or rather your own emotions. That’s what you’re afraid of—needing someone, wanting someone... loving someone...’
‘Loving someone!’ Star exploded scornfully. ‘Oh, come on...please...’
She managed to make her mouth curl in a creditable display of contempt, but inside she was shaking so much that she dared not close her mouth in case her teeth started to chatter.
Panic—something she had spent virtually all her life suppressing and hiding from others—suddenly overwhelmed her and snapped the bonds she had used to tether it as easily and mockingly as the Incredible Hulk bursting out of his shirt. The incongruity, the ludicrousness of it should have made her laugh; instead she felt half-paralysed with terror.
‘I’m flying out to the States on Friday,’ she heard Kyle adding casually, just as though those few hauntingly destructive sentences had never been spoken. ‘Why don’t you come with me and we can take these—’ he pointed to the story-boards ‘—with us to show Brad? He’ll be keen to see what you’ve come up with while he’s been away on honeymoon.’
‘No...’
The panic hadn’t just escaped into her body, it had escaped into her voice as well, Star recognised as she fought to control it.
‘I...I can’t,’ she stressed shakily. ‘I...I’ve got some other work I need to do...’
‘All weekend?’ Kyle queried.
‘I don’t work nine to five,’ Star snapped back at him. ‘If something urgent comes up—’
‘Of course,’ Kyle agreed soothingly, walking past her to his desk, where he picked up his diary and, to her consternation, told her cheerfully after studying it, ‘Well, it doesn’t matter. I can reschedule my trip for after your sister’s wedding, to fit in with you. Do you have your diary with you?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Star told him through gritted teeth. ‘And she is not my sister.’
‘But she is a part of your family, and your father is still your father.’
‘I’m not going to the wedding,’ Star told him determinedly.
Kyle gave her a tolerant smile. ‘Of course you’re going,’ he told her in a kindly vo
ice, adding more firmly, ‘We’re both going. Now, about this campaign... I’d like for Brad to see what you’ve come up with as soon as possible.’
‘Then why don’t you take the story-boards with you this weekend? I could redraw everything on a small scale if you—’
‘Fine,’ Kyle agreed. ‘I’ll let Brad see this first version then I’m sure he will want to go through the whole thing with you himself,’ he added. ‘Could you also come up with some idea of the kind of scheduling and media scope you envisage using for the campaign?’
‘A TV slot would have the greatest impact,’ Star told him, ‘but of course it would be expensive...’
‘Mmm...I guess it would, but if it were timed to fit in with us getting into place the new fitting and technical people we’re subcontracting to... Leave it with me. I’ll have a word with Brad about that whilst I’m over there—’
