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But she would get through. She set her teeth and listened to Keith enthusing on. It was either that or give in, and she was a fighter—the last two years had taught her that If she gave in then Michael and the evil men who were still alive and perpetuating their poison would have won on every count, and that wasn't to foe borne. She just wished she knew Hudson was all right.
She was telling herself exactly the same thing five days later as a cab raced her through the teeming streets of New York. Even in her misery the pace and vibrant life of the famous metropolis was thrilling, its mass of human inhabitants scurrying about the sidewalks like tiny ants with the huge towering buildings seeming more suited to an advanced computer game than real life. And she was part of it… for a while.
She was glad the job hadn't been in Washington DC, where Hudson lived and worked. For all its wonderful potential and future possibilities she would have had to turn it down, ridiculous though it would have seemed to Keith and everyone else. But the slightest, the merest chance of meeting Hudson would have meant she couldn't accept it. She couldn't live through
another meeting with him and emerge sane.
The cab stopped in front of a building that was identical to the ones surrounding it, but none the less impressive because of it She stood looking up at the myriad windows for some moments after she had paid the driver, the warm June breeze teasing the few tendrils of hair that had escaped the businesslike knot on top of her head and stroking her cheeks softly.
It was hot, very hot—an unexpected heatwave, the cab driver had said—but she felt quite comfortable in a smart white linen suit, its short skirt and tailored jacket both feminine and chic. She hadn't been too sure about the white high-heeled court shoes—she had always had a fear of sprawling at someone's feet when she wore heels over an inch high for work—but the Italian shoes had gone so beautifully with the suit, she hadn't been able to resist wearing them, knowing they gave an elegance to the outfit that was striking. And she felt she needed to look her best.
This meeting was merely a chat to cover any loose ends regarding the job anyway, she reassured herself as she stepped through massive doors into the building, which was all air-conditioning and ankle-deep carpeting. She'd be sitting down for most of it, no doubt.
She gave her name at Reception as instructed, and immediately a tall, fair-haired man who had been standing to one side of the reception desk sprang to her side. 'Miss Harding?' He seemed faintly familiar but she couldn't work out why. 'They're expecting you upstairs, in the Blue Suite. Please allow me to escort you there. My name is Bill Truscott by the way,' he added smilingly.
'Thank you.' She stared at him in surprise. She was just a very minor little cog in the grand clock that made up Major Promotions—Keith had told her that more than once over the last few days, as much to reassure her that the success of the whole project wasn't hanging on her camera as to satisfy a little grain of personal pique that it hadn't been his services Major Promotions had asked for—and she certainly hadn't expected to be met in Reception by anyone. Perhaps that was a courtesy they extended to everyone she thought to herself as she followed Bill Truscott to the lifts. Americans were always very sociable and genial, after all. That must be it.
The lift was mirrored and carpeted, and as it took them swiftly upwards she forced herself to ask, 'Has… has everyone else arrived, Mr Truscott?' She was feeling nervous now, and the only way to combat it was to talk normally.
'Pretty much—and the name's Bill.' He smiled again, and the strange feeling that had assailed her before was back, but more strongly. She found herself staring at him for a moment, and quickly lowered her gaze when a pair of smoky grey eyes registered her regard. Goodness, he'd think she fancied him at this rate.
'Good flight?' He was far more at ease than she was. 'I understand you arrived yesterday; I hope you've recovered from the jet-lag a little now?' he added politely.
'Yes, thank you.' She met his gaze again and forced her expression into neutral. 'The hotel is lovely and the room is very comfortable.' In truth she had slept better the night before than in weeks, much to her surprise, although it had still taken careful application of makeup to hide the shadows under her eyes.
'Good, good.' The lift slid to a halt and they stepped into a corridor beautifully decorated in muted shades of blue. 'The suite is just along here, if you'd like to follow me.'
She suddenly recognised that the unease she was feeling was more than just mere nerves at the forthcoming meeting, but she couldn't pin down the reason for the icy little trickles flickering down her backbone. But they were there.
'Mr Truscott—Bill?' She caught his arm as they made their way towards a door at the very end of the corridor. 'Could I just ask you something?' she said quickly.
'Of course; ask away.' He smiled, but there was a reserve, a faint wariness that made her stammer as she said, 'Do… do I know you? I mean, have… have we met before?'
'I don't think so.' They were at the door now and he paused, his voice soft as he added, 'Don't look so scared, Annie; no one is going to eat you.'
'Annie?' The name hit her like a thunderbolt but in the next instant he opened the door and pushed her gently inside, straight into Hudson's waiting arms.
CHAPTER NINE
'Hudson?' Marianne just had time to breathe his name, her eyes opening into wide green pools, before his mouth closed over hers in a kiss that was fierce and hard and had the hunger of years in it. She couldn't do a single thing to resist him, her mind stunned and disbelieving even as her senses soared and spun until she thought she would faint. He was here. He was here…
As always fire exploded between them the second their mouths fused, and as he moulded her possessively into his hard male frame she clung to him, unable to believe it was really happening.
The door had shut quietly behind them once Marianne was inside the room but neither of them was aware of it, their minds and souls and bodies wrapped in each other to the point where nothing and no one else existed.
It was as Hudson groaned and crushed her further into him that he seemed to gain control of himself, his mouth lifting from hers as he took a long, deep pull of air, his breathing ragged.
'I don't understand… ' If it hadn't been for his strong arms holding her she would have fallen to the floor, her legs useless. 'What… Where is everyone? The meeting… '
'There is no meeting—or, to be precise, there is one, but next week, and either you or Keith can attend.'
His voice was shaking but she was too stunned herself to notice. 'It's not now? But… that man.' She glanced round wildly for Bill Truscott. 'He was going to take me there.'
'He's waiting in the adjoining room, along with other relatives and friends,' Hudson said softly. 'Admittedly not yours—I couldn't risk someone telling you—but we can have another ceremony later if you want.' He was keeping tight hold of her.
'Who is he?' She could only focus on the man; the rest of this was too surreal. 'He… he looked familiar.'
'My cousin… and my best man.' The last was said softly and deeply, and accompanied by a tightening of his arms around her as his eyes devoured her confused, stricken face.
