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  Alexandra nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, I understand. O nly, I hope — oh, well. I'm so glad," she said, smiling. "I thought you hated me. I'm sorry."

  Kate glanced at Dayton. "Well, I ' m sorry your uncle didn 't explain the situation more clearly. But perhaps he didn 't know, either." Dayton's lips tightened. "Which is understandable," Kate continued, "since advertising rea lly isn 't his field. But Alexandra, if you have any ques tions in the future, just ask me, all right?"

  Th e young woman nodded. "I will. I will."

  Da yton glared at Kate and then turned to his niece.

  Money, leave us alone for a few minutes, all right?"

  "Sure," Alexandra said, and jumped up from the couch and left. And Kate realized once again that whatever proble ms existed with Dayton, one couldn't deny that his niece was as graceful as a dancer.

  But the moment Kate looked back at Dayton and saw the bel ligerent glint of his eyes, she was ready for battle.

  You surprise me," he said, picking up a pen and twir ling it, looking more at it than at Kate.

  "Why is that?" she asked.

  He took a deep breath. "You're raising that poor girl's hopes only to disappoint her in the future."

  "Why do you assume she won't be chosen?" Kate asked.

  "It's obvious, isn't it? If you had any intentions of hiring her you would have done so already. It would have been kinder to tell her the truth right out."

  "I did tell her the truth," Kate said. "Whether you

  think so or not."

  He leaned back and steepled his fingers over the desk. "My niece is very important to me, Miss Churchill. As you may or may not know, my wife and I have no children of our own. I wouldn't like to see Alexandra's feelings hurt."

  "And I don't think she'd like to know you were making not-very-veiled threats on her behalf, Mr. Dayton. And I think I should tell you that whatever chances she does have for being selected are rapidly diminishing with every word you say. If I feel you're going to interfere with the campaign as you have with the auditions, that will be a very good reason not to hire your niece."

  "Don't be unwise about this, Miss Churchill," he warned.

  She stood up and smiled. "I don't intend to be," she said. "And if you have nothing else on your mind, Mr. Dayton, I do have other business to attend to." J

  She turned and left, knowing that he had his usual look of tight-lipped anger on as he sat at his desk. But she did have other things to do. And though she knew it wasn't wise to antagonize a board member, she felt she had acted fairly reasonably under the circumstances. She had been

  provoked, and she had responded as calmly as she had been able to.

  Later that afternoon, not having heard from Ben about t he rest of the auditions, Kate called his office. But he was out, so she left a message and got back to work. Despite I he fact that the new campaign was beginning to shape up, she still had the daily routine of getting print ads out on time, and she was swamped with work.

  By the time it was five o'clock, she still hadn't heard from Ben, and she was a bit annoyed. She had wanted to talk to him about the Alexandra Dayton matter, and though it could wait, it was something she wanted to settle quickly. She tried his office again, but this time was told that he had left for the day.

  And, unfortunately, it was time to go down to the selling floors of the store and circulate. At the beginning, a few weeks before, Kate had enjoyed talking to the buying public. Finding out what they liked and hated was interfiling and often fun; customers were generally pleased that someone was actually interested in what they thought, and they responded fully and enthusiastically. But tonight Kate was definitely not in the mood. The picture was on as it had never been before for more customers; and for each person she would see in cosmetics or lingerie or Fifth Avenue fashions, she would be wishing sleep down for ten more.

  Before going downstairs, Kate checked herself in the mirror of the ladies' room. She had definitely looked better at nine that morning; but she did the best she could, brushing her hair, reapplying her lipstick and eyeliner, and adding a bit more perfume.

  For a moment her heart fluttered as she remembered

  what Ben had said about the scent—that it was lovely, subtle, something he had remembered when he was apart from her. And she wished that she were with him, in his arms instead of in some ladies' room putting on makeup under fluorescent lights.

  Sighing, she left the ladies' room and went down the hall to the elevators; she'd do what she had done every Thursday night over the past weeks—start at the ground floor, where most of the customers were, and work her way up from there.

  When the elevator doors opened, she drew in her breath and started. Ben was standing there, and he smiled and stepped out as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he had come.

  "Ah. Just in time," he said, as he put his arms around her and kissed her lightly on the lips. "I rushed to get here."

  She smiled and looked into his eyes. "I'm so glad. I was just thinking about you."

  "I thought you might like some company." He smiled. "We might even do a better job of it together, you know."

  "Great," she said. "Then, let's go. This might not be the most interesting evening you've ever spent, Ben, covering all the floors of this store, but I'm really glad you came." She turned to press the elevator button, but he caught her arm.

  "Wait a minute," he said. When she looked into his eyes, they were shining with spirit. "Why do you say something like that? I came to be with you , Kate—and, I hope, to spirit you away afterward if you're not too tired. I'm not here by chance, or because I feel a great need to meet your customers. I'd like to, but that's secondary."

  As he leaned downward, his eyes closing as his lips drew near, she wrapped her arms around him, and she tried to quell the small inner voice that wondered if Ben could possibly be real. She had decided to put her doubts aside, decided— finally—to open herself up to a relationship with him; yet now, once again, she was nagged by doubt. She had been wrong so many times. Every time. How could now be any different? But as his lips gently brushed hers, and she opened her eyes and looked into his filled with desire, wonder, and affection, she moaned and pulled him closer. Doubt was replaced by pleasure, uncertainty replaced by deep need, and she hoped, viscerally and as deeply as could be, that someday she would stop doubting Hen forever.

  When he drew back, he smiled. "Kate Churchill, you're a liar."

  Her eyes widened. "What? Why do you say that?"

  "Because anyone who kisses like that and responds to me as you did now has to know what she means to me." He ran a hand along the length of her back, sending a trem or of pleasure through her. "And there's no use deny ing it. Your body doesn't lie." She laughed. "Well. You might be right," she said lightly.

  He shook his head. "You know damned well I'm right, Kate want you to see that." She smiled. "Maybe I do," she said softly. "Maybe I do."

  The next few hours were an unanticipated delight. Kate and Ben started at the ground floor of the store, made up of the usual perfume and cosmetics displays, along with

  the dozens of small boutiques that made Ivorsen and Shaw special.

  Together Ben and Kate talked to more people than in all the weeks Kate had been doing her Thursday-night tours. They went through the ground floor slowly, then through Nighttime Secrets lingerie and on to the men's- wear, resort-wear, and sporting-goods departments, then almost an hour in the home-gifts department. Kate had a better sense of the store's customers than she had ever had before; somehow, Ben managed to draw each one he talked to out of his or her shell. And after their initial surprise at being approached by anyone who wasn't a salesperson, most were more than forthcoming, welcoming Ben's form of indirect help and in turn helping him.

  Finally, after they had talked to half a dozen people in the gifts department, Ben led Kate off to the store's restaurant, II Trattoria. In addition to its small tables it had a counter where shoppers could get the restaurant's fare to tak
e home. Decorated in clean, modern lines, with white tile floors and walls and butcher-block tables, the restaurant was a big draw for the store's customers. It had delicacies difficult to find even in New York—perfectly smoked molasses ham, the finest fresh Russian Malossol caviar, perfect paté de canard, three hundred kinds of cheeses—and it was all served and displayed absolutely beautifully, with the freshest of fruits and vegetables and breads almost everywhere one looked.

  Now, all the tables were filled, but Ben led Kate to the small line of customers standing at the counter. "I assume we can eat in your office?"

  She nodded.

  "I had had other places in mind," he said, smiling, "but I suppose this will have to do."

  "Oh, this place is great," she said. "I love it. And it's a perfect cure for the midtown lunch syndrome." lien smiled. "What's that?"

  "Well, you probably don't know because you've always been at too high a corporate level to experience it. It happened to me when I used to be a secretary and it still happens when I'm in a rush. Basically, you go shopping or window-shopping, at the beginning of your lunch hour and then before you know it you only have half an hour left. So you go into restaurant after restaurant in the forties and fifties and at every single place, either the prices are too high, or there's a long line, or you sit at the counter and wait forever to be served. So you go back to the office with a container of yogurt and a cup of coffee and plan to move to another city. But with this place, you really can find something incredibly good for not that much money. And it's clean as well."

  Ben was smiling. "And how many people know about this place, Kate?"

  She shrugged. "We advertised in the newspapers when it first opened. But the board cut my budget; they felt the Trattoria wasn't big enough to devote that much ad money."

  Ben shook his head. "It may be the first department we advertise. Depending, my dear, on whether the food is truly as good as you say. Oh—by the way, Christina Casey over at my agency just finalized the arrangements for the campaign kickoff party. It will be at Xenon, downtown."

  "That's wonderful!" Kate said. "I feel as if it's all starting to fall into place."

  A few minutes later they were taking the employees' elevator up to the eighth floor, where Kate's office was, with bags filled with black forest ham, pâté de campagne, Jarlsberg, Montrachet, and Swedish fontina cheeses, Swiss peasant bread, Russian coffee cake, and fresh cold cider

  The halls were dark and quiet, lit only by red-and-white exit signs here and there.

  "I'm glad you're here," Kate whispered, taking Ben's arm. "I hate coming up here after hours."

  "You don't have to whisper," he said, smiling.

  She laughed. "You're right. But I do feel as if we're sneaking around."

  They reached her office, and she unlocked it and turned on the light* When they stepped inside, Ben closed the door and locked it, then took the bags and put them down on the conference table. Then he turned and took Kate in his arms, his strong hands deliciously warm at her waist, the pressure of his fingers sending a surge of pleasu through her. "Well, we are sneaking around, in a way," he said.

  "Oh, really?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I didn't know that."

  He nodded, the light of mischief in his eyes. "Oh, yes," he said softly. "After all, you're getting paid to be down stairs, dutifully talking to your loyal customers—not up on the eighth floor enjoying yourself with me behind closed doors."

  She smiled. "Locked doors, I hope."

  "Oh, yes," he murmured. "But why the concern?"

  His eyes were dark and cloudy with desire, heating her with need as she whispered, "Because I have an idea."

  "And what is that?" he breathed, lips only inches from hers.

  "Just this," she said softly, pulling him close as he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips parted instantly and she moaned, eager for the sweetness of his mouth, the urgency of his tender lips. His tongue played with hers, entering her mouth, drawing her in to the depths of desire. The kiss was deep, smoldering, sending surging desire to the center of Kate's soul, heating her body in radiating waves.

  "You look so beautiful tonight," he whispered. "God, Kate, to have you with me all evening without a touch." His fiery gaze roved downward. "You must have worn that dress to drive me crazy," he said huskily, moving his hands over the thin silk of her dress.

  "I didn't know you were coming," she said, her voice thick with desire.

  His fingers lightly circled, catching her nipples and tan- talizingly moving on, and Kate warmed under his touch and the heat of his gaze: he took such obvious pleasure in her body, in her responses.

  "You knew I'd come," he whispered. "You knew I'd come with the certainty my fingers have of you right now," he murmured. "And the certainty that's in your hands as you touch me, Kate, and know how quickly your touch arouses me."

  "Ben," she murmured thickly as he pulled her against him. She felt the hardness of his frame and moved her hands over his back and down his sides. She parted her lips to receive his scorching kiss while his hands traveled over her shoulders and down to her hips. She could have him now, she realized. She could have this lean, strong man

  bring her to the heights of fiery pleasure, to the exploding pitch of ecstasy. She knew the satisfaction deep inside would be greater than any she had ever felt. He needed her—in the urgency that lay just beneath his tenderness, she felt a force that matched the strength of her own desire. *

  "Kate," he muttered, placing a warm hand on her thigh, caressing it and dissolving her into mindless passion as his fingers became more insistent against the material of her dress.

  She reached for him. She felt the hard strength of his need tremble under her touch, and she achingly wished she could touch him, feel his heat, his strength inside, stroking and filling her with pleasure.

  He moaned, his breath hot in her ear.

  She could feel him holding back, feel the urgent need beneath her fingers. "Ben," she whispered. "I want you so much, but not here."

  "Darling," he interrupted, gazing into her eyes. His breath was still coming fast, and his eyes were dark with passion. "Darling, it doesn't matter where we are, does it?"

  "Yes," she murmured, the heat of her desire unwinding, spiraling down. "It matters to me. I wouldn't be able to let go, to really be with you."

  He lowered his head and rubbed his sandy-rough cheek against hers. "Then we'll wait," he answered hoarsely. "I wouldn't want to make love with you unless you wanted it as much as I did, darling." He raised his head then, and looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. "It's difficult for me to hold back when I want you as much as I do, but never—never would I make love to you except when you wanted me to."

  "You know how much I want you." She smiled. "And how much Í wish we were somewhere else right now."

  He brushed a strand of dampened hair back from her forehead and kissed the spot where it had been. "Come to my apartment, then?"

  She sighed. She wanted to so much. Physically, emotionally, in every way. Yet part of her held back. She looked into his clear amber eyes. "Ben," she began quietly, "I don't know how to say this. And I hope you understand when I do. But. . . when we're finally together, I want it to be spontaneous, something that absolutely must be, something completely unpremeditated." She looked at him wistfully. "I don't even know whether what I just said makes any sense. But it's the way I feel."

  "It makes sense," he said quietly. "And I'm glad you said it, Kate. I want you always—always—to tell me how you feel. And I know that's difficult. It's difficult for me, too."

  She smiled. "I have an idea," she whispered, warming once again to the feel of his body against hers, to the heat t hat was once again emanating from every inch of him. As she looked into his eyes, the ache inside her grew, knowing he was feeling as she did, knowing his desire was growing as quickly as hers.

  "I hope it's the same one I have," he said, moving against her.

  "Ben," she uttered, closing her lips over h
is. She had been planning to say she would go to his apartment later— if she wanted, as spontaneously as she could manage. But now she was awash in waves of overpowering longing, engulfed in fluid desire as she felt with every inch of her body what it would be like to make love with Ben. His desire was so obvious, his feelings so tender, so ardent, so generous. He was everything she had ever wanted. In her arms, ready to please her, ready to give, ready to bring her to the heights of pleasure and let her take him along the same fiery path.

  "I've changed my mind," she said huskily. "I've changed my mind, Ben. Take me home with you."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They left the store without looking back—talking to no one, saying good-bye to no one, thinking only of each other and the pleasures they were about to explore. Though she knew she was moving quickly as she and Ben left the store and walked out on to Third Avenue for a taxi, Kate felt languorous, almost as if she were walking in slow motion—moving out of pure instinct rather than conscious thought.

  She and Ben said nothing as they waited for the taxi— but the gazes they shared when their eyes met went much, much deeper than words. He had his arm around her waist—protectively, possessively, out of sheer pleasure in the slightest touch. And as Kate looked up at his handsome profile, she felt that Ben might be the man she had been waiting for, the one she was meant for, the one she might be able to love as she had never loved before.