An All-Consuming Passion Read online

‘No.’ Holly made an effort to conceal how the news had affected her and shook her head. ‘I—why would he?’

  Alison’s eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because he must know how you’d take the news.’ She shrugged. ‘He does know you’re in love with him, doesn’t he? Oh, of course, he must do. He may be a machine, but he’s not unperceptive.’

  Holly caught her breath. ‘I think you’re imagining things, Mrs Kane——’

  ‘Am I?’ Alison lay back in her chair, evidently satisfied that she had succeeded in her objective. ‘Is that why you’re looking so sick all of a sudden? Because I’ve made a mistake? I don’t think so.’

  Holly licked her lips. ‘Are you saying that—that’s why he’s——’

  ‘… leaving Forsyth’s?’ Alison’s laughter was cruel. ‘Heavens, no! Can’t you think of a better reason than that?’

  Holly gazed at her. ‘Because—because of—of you and my father?’

  ‘What else?’ Alison made a careless gesture. ‘Morgan may not have been the most ardent lover, but he wanted me. He fought the divorce, you know. He never wanted us to split up. So you can imagine how he feels now that Andrew and I are such close friends!’

  CHAPTER NINE

  MORGAN awakened the next morning with a thumping head and a mouth that tasted like a sewer. Rolling over to consult the clock on his bedside table, he saw the reason for his state of health. The whisky bottle he had emptied the night before resided sordidly beside the empty tumbler, and he grimaced at the memory of how it came to be there.

  How Alison would like to see him now, he reflected sourly, pushing back his hair and staring blearily at the clock. God! it was half past nine already! She might not like the connotations of his hangover, but she would surely revel in his misery.

  Pushing back the quilt, he swung his legs out of bed, wincing at the stabbing pain this elicited in his temple. He had been a fool to indulge himself so freely. Nothing was worth this sacrifice, though he had not thought so when he went to bed.

  Turning on the tap in the shower, he stepped beneath the chilling spray, feeling every single droplet like needles on his skin. Fragile, he reflected savagely; that was how he felt. As weak and as vulnerable as a bloody open wound!

  And why? he asked himself impatiently. Because he was attracted to a girl half his age! Because, for the first time in his life, he had found something—someone—beside whom his work, his ambition, faded in significance.

  It was stupid, and he had fought the overwhelming needs she aroused inside him; but sooner or later those needs were going to prove irresistible, and when that time came, he intended to be far away from London—and Holly.

  He had been offered a job in the United States. A Boston firm, specialising in electronics, needed a company secretary, and Morgan was already considering their proposal. In the past, it had been an occupational hazard, coping with firms which, knowing of his success with Forsyth’s, had attempted to lure him away with tempting propositions. But this was the first time Morgan had actually given such a proposition serious consideration. It had crossed his mind that the more lucrative salary he was being offered would enable him to buy a house in Boston, thus providing a home for Jeff and Jon. The idea of getting his sons far away from Alison’s clutches was appealing, too, and if she was hoping to marry Andrew, this might be a good time to press for shared custody.

  He felt a little more human when he emerged from the shower. The stimulation had eventually proved beneficial, and although he swallowed a couple of aspirins with a glass of water instead of his usual morning cup of coffee, he saw to his relief that his hand was quite steady on the razor.

  The young woman who occupied the flat next door arrived just as Morgan was knotting his tie. The mother of two school-age infants, she supplemented her husband’s income as a taxi driver by cleaning Morgan’s flat as well as her own, an arrangement which suited both of them very well.

  ‘You’re late, aren’t you?’ she asked, letting herself in with the key Morgan had given her, and then looking somewhat embarrassed at finding him still at home. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I heard you go out over an hour ago. Do you want me to come back later?’

  ‘No, that’s okay.’ Morgan heaved a sigh as he slid his arms into the jacket of his suit. ‘I’m leaving right now. I’m afraid this place is in quite a mess. I overslept.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ The young woman smiled. ‘I’ve got nothing else to do today.’ She paused. ‘Would you like me to make you a casserole, too?’

  ‘You spoil me,’ said Morgan gallantly, though right then the idea of a casserole made him feel slightly nauseous. Nevertheless, he thanked her warmly, and she thought that, when Mr Kane smiled, almost any woman would promise him anything.

  Even though the rush hour was over, the London streets were still teeming with traffic, the tourists taking over where the commuters left off. Morgan, who invariably used the underground to get to work, had recklessly taken a taxi this morning, and it was after eleven by the time he entered the imposing offices of the Forsyth Corporation.

  ‘I bet you wish you were still in the Caribbean, Mr Kane,’ commented Ben Harris, the commissionaire, nodding at the overcast skies that threatened rain later. ‘Still, maybe not,’ he amended, awkwardly. ‘How is your back this morning?’

  ‘Well, I’m still standing,’ remarked Morgan drily, giving him a sympathetic grin. ‘Don’t worry about it. I shan’t need a wheelchair for some time yet—I hope.’

  ‘That you won’t,’ declared Ben fervently, grateful for the reprieve. ‘You take it easy, Mr Kane.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Morgan gave him a half-mocking salute as he stepped into the lift, and then, as the metal box bore him upward, he turned his attention to less personal matters.

  His secretary, Teresa Michaels, was taking a coffee break when he entered his suite of offices. She had evidently decided he would not be putting in an appearance that morning, and she was deep in the pages of a magazine.

  ‘Oh—Mr Kane!’ she exclaimed, putting the magazine aside and getting up, all in one motion, almost overbalancing her coffee in the process. ‘I—you’re late!’

  ‘I know.’ Morgan rescued the coffee and set the cup more securely on her desk. ‘But before I do anything, I’d like some of this myself.’

  ‘Of course.’ Teresa hurried across the room to where a perspex jug percolated on a low heat. Taking a cup and saucer from the cabinet below, she poured the coffee, added two spoons of brown sugar and carried it back to him. ‘There you are. Black, as you like it.’

  ‘Sweetened, but not stirred,’ remarked Morgan wryly, raising the cup to his lips. ‘Hmm, that tastes good.’ He savoured the aromatic liquid. ‘So—is there anything urgent wanting my attention?’

  ‘Just Mr Forsyth,’ said Teresa, picking up the mail she had sorted earlier. ‘There are one or two letters that need your personal attention.’ She flicked over the envelopes and handed him one. ‘That’s from Goldman’s, if you remember. They were in touch before you went away. I think they’re afraid the delay might mean Forsyth’s are having second thoughts about the deal.’ She frowned. ‘The rest aren’t that important. I’ve drafted replies to those I could, and the others can be dealt with later.’

  Morgan took the letters and smiled. ‘What would I do without you?’ he essayed, making his way across the office to the door that led into his own sanctum. Then he paused and looked at her. ‘What did Mr Forsyth want? Did he say?’

  ‘No.’ Teresa shook her head. ‘But he’s phoned at least three times in the last hour. Didn’t he know you were going to be late?’

  ‘I didn’t know myself until I woke up,’ responded Morgan drily. ‘Okay, Teresa; get him for me, will you? But if he’s not available, get me Henry Goldman instead.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Kane.’

  Teresa resumed her seat at her desk and Morgan closed his office door behind him. Then, taking his coffee with him, he walked to the long windows which overlooked London�
�s busy streets far below. He would miss this view, he reflected sombrely. No doubt his office in Boston would be equally luxurious, but he would miss the friends and acquaintances he had built up over twenty years at Forsyth’s. It would be lonely, too; at least, initially. He knew few people in Boston, and those he did know were married, with wives and families of their own. But he had a family, he reminded himself severely. And it was time he made a stand for the right to have a say in their future.

  The telephone on his desk gave off its subdued buzz and, abandoning his stance by the window, Morgan came to answer it. ‘Mr Forsyth for you, Mr Kane,’ said Teresa, when he lifted the receiver, and he heard the distinctive click as she put his employer on the line.

  ‘Morgan!’ Andrew’s voice was harsh and accusing. ‘Where the devil have you been?’

  Morgan sank down into the leather chair behind his desk. ‘I slept in,’ he replied laconically. ‘I didn’t realise there was anything spoiling. What is it? An unscheduled board meeting? Or has Harry Goldman been crying in your ear?’

  Andrew expelled his breath noisily. ‘You slept in!’ he echoed, ignoring the rest of what Morgan had said. ‘My God!’ There was a trace of humour in his voice now. ‘And I thought you must be having an early morning meeting with Shafer’s.’

  Morgan caught his lower lip between his teeth. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Andrew. Not on your time. If I do choose to accept Lewis Shafer’s offer, I’ll do it when you’re not paying me.’

  ‘Dammit, Morgan!’ Andrew sounded frustrated now. ‘You’re not seriously thinking of leaving us. I won’t let you do this. I can’t!

  ‘Andrew——’

  ‘No, dammit, I won’t talk about this over the phone. You get yourself in here. Before I blow a gasket!’

  ‘Andrew, I’ve got work——’

  ‘And I’m the boss!’ retorted the older man aggressively. And then, as if realising his blustering would get him nowhere with Morgan, he added wheedlingly, ‘Humour, me, boy. Please.’

  Morgan shook his head. ‘All right. All right.’ He took a breath. ‘Give me five minutes.’

  When he entered Andrew’s office a few minutes later, he found his employer impatiently pacing the rug before his desk. With his head bent forward and his hands clasped behind his back, he resembled a rather irate grizzly, and the younger man was not unaware of the prestige it had cost him to make his appeal.

  ‘Well, and not before time,’ he exclaimed, when Morgan appeared. ‘Sit down. Sit down.’ He gestured to the comfortable chair that faced his desk. ‘Shall I ask Maggie to bring us some coffee?’

  ‘No thanks. Not for me. I’ve just had some,’ said Morgan, lowering his lean frame into the chair. ‘But if you want——’

  ‘I don’t.’ Andrew circled his desk to face the other man. ‘Dammit, Morgan, we’re speaking to one another like strangers. I want to know what’s happened to make you feel this way.’

  ‘I thought I explained——’

  ‘Well, you didn’t.’ Andrew dropped down into his own chair and rested his arms upon the desk. ‘Look—I don’t know what Shafer’s have offered you but, whatever it is, I’ll meet it. Better than that, I’ll give you five per cent more. I can’t say fairer than that, can I?’

  ‘No.’ Morgan inclined his head. ‘But, I told you: it’s not the money. I just feel it’s time for a change——’

  ‘Bullshit!’ Andrew uttered an oath. ‘I don’t believe that, and you wouldn’t expect me to. It’s Alison, isn’t it? Oh, don’t bother to deny it, I know. You had no intention of working in America until you learned she and I had been seeing one another. Isn’t that the truth?’

  ‘No. ‘Morgan sighed. ‘Andrew, think! I didn’t even know you’d seen Alison until after I’d told you what I was considering.’

  Andrew groaned. ‘But it doesn’t make sense! You and I have always worked well together. Hell, isn’t that why I promoted you over the heads of Parsons and that crowd? I stuck my neck out for you, Morgan, and this is how you repay me.’

  Morgan shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry’s not good enough.’

  ‘What more can I say?’ Morgan lifted his shoulders.

  ‘You can tell Shafer to go——’

  Andrew’s suggestion was rather colourful, and Morgan pulled a wry face. ‘Somehow I don’t think I will.’

  ‘Why not?’ Andrew slammed his palms down on to the leather surface of his desk. ‘I don’t get this, Morgan. Before you went away there wasn’t a hint that you might be looking for an alternative position. Now, suddenly, you want a change of scene.’ His jaw compressed. ‘You know, if I didn’t know you so well, I might be tempted to wonder if Holly hasn’t played some part in your decision.’

  ‘You’re crazy!’ Morgan managed to keep his tone light. ‘How could your daughter be involved?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Andrew grunted. ‘She’s not a bad-looking wench. Less like her mother now, you know. Since she lost that frail, waif-like air. Ought to get the boys buzzing about like bees round a honey-pot. Once she loses that bruise on her cheek, of course. Rather unfortunate, that. How did you say it happened?’

  ‘I told you, Andrew. It was an accident——’

  ‘Yes. Some chap who wanted to sock you on the jaw, eh?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And why was that?’

  ‘You know, Andrew. We had a—difference of opinion.’

  ‘Over Holly?’

  ‘No.’ Morgan kept his tone level with difficulty. ‘The fellow just took a dislike to me, I guess. He—he resented the fact that Holly was being forced to leave the island.’

  ‘Forced?’ Andrew snorted. ‘For heaven’s sake, I did the girl a favour! Wasting her youth out there. I bet she’s glad to be back now she’s here.’

  Morgan made no response to this, and Andrew regarded him with growing irritation. ‘So, is that it?’ he demanded, and the younger man frowned.

  ‘Is what it?’

  Andrew sighed. ‘Is Holly the reason you want to leave?’

  ‘No. I’ve told you——’

  ‘I know what you’ve said.’ Andrew hunched his shoulders. ‘But people don’t walk out of positions of authority just because they fancy a change.’

  Morgan’s teeth ground together. ‘So what’s your solution?’

  Andrew shook his head. ‘Hell, I don’t know. I’m tired of trying to find an answer. As I say, if it’s not Alison—and I’m not absolutely convinced of that, mind you—it must be something to do with Holly.’ He paused, and then smote his hand on to the desk again. ‘I’ve got it! It’s because she didn’t want to come back, isn’t it? Somehow, she’s got you on her side. You’re feeling sore because you think I’m taking advantage of her—using her!’

  Morgan’s eyes flicked up. ‘And aren’t you?’

  ‘No!’ Andrew pursed his lips. ‘Oh, I’ll admit, when she was younger, I didn’t have much time for her, but when Cherry left me——’

  ‘… you decided to realise your investment,’ finished Morgan dispassionately, and the other man had the grace to look shamefaced.

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he muttered, removing a pen from the onyx holder on his desk and twisting it round in his fingers. ‘In any case, she can go back to the island if it means that much to her. I can’t stop her. She’s over eighteen.’

  Morgan regarded him warily. ‘And her allowance?’

  ‘That will continue as before, of course. What do you take me for?’

  Morgan frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why are you willing for her to go back to the island now, when you wouldn’t even consider it before?’

  Andrew pressed his hands down on the desk and got to his feet. ‘I—didn’t realise she—or you—felt so strongly about it.’

  Morgan looked sceptical. ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘No. Dammit, Morgan, if that’s what it takes for you to stay on at Forsyth’s, I’ll give her the house on the island, if you like
.’

  Morgan’s pulse quickened. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You heard me.’

  ‘But I understood you needed her here.’

  ‘I thought so, too.’ Andrew spread his hands. ‘I may have been a bit—premature.’

  Morgan bent his head. ‘You’re thinking of getting married again, and Holly might be an encumbrance,’ he said heavily. ‘I am being obtuse. I should have realised at once.’

  ‘That’s not entirely true.’ Andrew made a rueful gesture. ‘After three unsuccessful marriages, can you blame me?’ He paused, and then continued, ‘But, what would you say if I told you I was thinking of asking Alison to act as my hostess when necessary. I realised, while you were away, that having an older woman at my side is a definite advantage. I mean, when Cherry and I were together, she was always having to fend off passes from men I didn’t want to offend.’ He grimaced. ‘Men like Lloyd Susman and Frank Disley for example. I had to grit my teeth when they were around, touching her with their greedy little hands! It made me sick!’

  Morgan absorbed what the other man was saying with a feeling of distaste. ‘You wouldn’t have objected to subjecting Holly to the same treatment,’ he pointed out grimly. ‘So long as it suited you, of course.’

  Andrew gasped. ‘Hey, come on, Morgan,’ he exclaimed, with an aggrieved air. ‘I wouldn’t have let a man like Susman anywhere near Holly. For heaven’s sake, she may be twenty, but she’s still only a kid! For all her youth, Cherry was a different kettle of fish. A different kettle of fish entirely.’

  Morgan got to his feet now, and pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. Andrew’s words had rekindled all his own anger and self-recrimination, and he could just imagine how Andrew would react if he told him the real reason he wanted to leave Forsyth’s.

  ‘Look,’ he said shortly. ‘I’ve got to go. So long as you’re still employing me, there’s work that has to be done.’ He moved round his chair, and edged his way towards the door. ‘We’ll talk again later, hmm? When we have more time.’

  Andrew put out a hand as if to stop him, and then allowed it to fall again. ‘You won’t—well, you won’t do anything irrevocable without consulting me first, will you?’ he pleaded. ‘Surely you owe me that much. After all these years.’