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‘Yes,’ Geoff Harmer interrupted eagerly, ‘I particularly liked the idea of using a Fenella Fielding type voice-over to put across the sophisticated aspect of our cloth, especially with the humorous undertones you suggested.’
Storm warmed to him. He was open and uncomplicated, and best of all he didn’t intimidate and threaten her like Jago did.
‘I’m only copying what’s already been used—successfully,’ she said deprecatingly, turning back to his father. ‘I think there’s a market
for your cloth here, Mr Harmer,’ she told the older man. ‘You may not know it, but there are several small specialist manufacturers operating locally, who I’m sure would be very interested in your cloth, and there’s also talk of a French concern starting up a factory complex near Bristol.’
John Harmer looked surprised and impressed.
‘You’ve done your research pretty thoroughly, young lady,’ he said. ‘I only learned about the French the other week myself. So you think your radio station can help sell my cloth, do you?’
His tone was faintly paternal and a little condescending, but Storm refused to let it get to her. She was used to this attitude from older men, and took a pride in turning their indulgence to respect when one of her campaigns succeeded. However, she did not normally have Jago Marsh breathing down her neck, and it was hard to pretend that he wasn’t there or that she wasn’t affected by his presence, the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck prickling with awareness every time he moved.
Forcing herself to appear composed, she smiled at John Harmer.
‘Yes, I do,’ she told him firmly.
‘And so do I,’ Geoff Harmer chimed in admiringly. ‘You really know your stuff, don’t you? And you’re such a tiny little thing. How did you get into radio advertising?’
Smilingly Storm gave him a brief potted biography. His eyes widened a little as she mentioned the agency she had been with in Oxford, and he commented appreciatively, ‘They’re one of the most successful in the country, aren’t they? You must have been very good to be taken on by them straight from college.’
In actual fact she had come first in a competition they had sponsored and her prize had been a job with the agency, but Storm only smiled and said that she expected she had just been lucky. She wanted to steer the conversation away from personal channels and back to her campaign, but was a little taken aback when Jago suddenly cut in crisply, his eyes impatient.
‘If you’re agreeable Miss Templeton could draw up a commercial for your appraisal and then we’ll run it for a month at a special rate—just to give you an idea of what can be achieved. At the end of that month we’ll get together. I’m sure you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the results.’
He spoke with such an air of calm authority that Storm wasn’t surprised to see John Harmer waver. Encouraged by his son’s enthusiasm, he eventually capitulated and gave his agreement to Jago’s suggestion.
She should have felt elated, she thought as they drove away, for both John and Geoff Harmer had seemed pleased with the results of their discussion, but instead she felt bone-weary, her head throbbing with a tension headache, and it was all she could do to force herself to appear calm as they headed back towards Wyechester.
She glanced at Jago once, shocked by the icy anger glittering in his eyes, and wondered what she had done wrong.
‘You forgot about dear David back there fast enough, didn’t you?’ he gritted at her when they were on the open road. ‘Dear God, I thought I must be seeing things when you turned on the charm for young Harmer, and he fell for it. Is that how you get the advertising? No wonder it’s so badly down,’ he jeered contemptuously. ‘You might come on with the promises, but that’s all they are, isn’t it?’
At first Storm was too shocked to speak. She stared at him in a daze, trying to see her behaviour through his eyes. She hadn’t flirted with Geoff; she had just been polite. She knew he had quite fancied her, of course, but that was all it had been.
‘I think that’s a despicable accusation!’ she said at last, trembling with indignation. ‘I don’t understand you at all. First you tell me that you want me, and seem to expect me to fall into your arms, delirious with excitement at the thought of becoming your mistress, and then you act like a Victorian father because I smile at one of our clients!’ Her voice was deliberately scathing. It had to be to conceal the fear she felt as she saw the anger leaping to life in his eyes.
‘Delirious with excitement—there’s a phrase to catch the imagination,’ he said softly, his anger doused and another expression taking its place, causing Storm’s blood to pound through her veins with slow sweetness. For a moment the dark lashes hid his expression from her, and then they swept up and she was caught in the steely glitter of his eyes as they moved slowly over her body in such a way that her clothes were as good as stripped from her, his mouth cruel as he surveyed her flushed cheeks and trembling mouth.
‘And you were, weren’t you, Storm?’ he asked softly, his eyes deriding her. ‘I could have taken you there and then and we both know it. Oh, don’t worry,’ he said with lazy confidence, stretching out a hand to touch the curve of her throat and stroking the skin lingeringly, ‘I’m going to, but not until you admit that you don’t give a damn for David and that you’re only hiding behind the protection you think he can give you.’
The words released her from the spell of his touch. Shrinking back, she glared at him.
‘Then you’ll wait for ever!’ she spat unwisely. ‘Because I do love David.’
She didn’t know which unnerved her more, his soft laugh or the way his eyes lingered mockingly on her face before dropping to where her breasts swelled softly against her blouse.
Damn him! she thought explosively, biting hard on her lip, trying to contain her reaction. She could almost feel her body responding to that look, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing it, just as she refused to admit the truth of what he was saying. He would never hear her say that she didn’t love David, she told herself savagely, drawing some comfort from the knowledge that she could deny him with her mind, even while her body surrendered.
To her surprise, when they reached the intersection which led to Storm’s home, Jago turned left instead of taking the right fork for Wyechester.
’I’m taking you home,’ he said briefly by way of explanation, his eyes mocking. ‘You’ve had a big day, and you look all eyes. If you want to know the secret I’ll tell you—try to remain dispassionate.’
She wasn’t sure if his enigmatic remark was meant to apply to their meeting with the Harmers or what had happened earlier. Either way, she told herself, she didn’t want to know, but she still said lightly, ‘Something you’re very good at, I’m sure. You’d never let your passions rule your head, would you?’
‘Like to find out?’ he asked urbanely. ‘If so, it can be arranged.’
She gave him a scathing look, trying to match his own irony. ‘I’m sure it can. But I happen to be choosy.’
