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  Only one course of action made sense, she told herself. She must find another job immediately, and put the past behind her. Perhaps there was a way to root out and eliminate the evil that Porter Deman had brought to an unsuspecting company—if, that was, the company as a whole was truly innocent of such goings-on—but nothing could avenge his victims. And Anna was among them. There was no changing what had happened; only the future mattered now.

  Finding the silence of the flat intolerable, Anna quickly ate a container of yogurt and began telephoning prospective employers in the downtown area. Searching her memory of the Loop's busy streets, she resolved to fill out applications at three locations within walking distance of each other. After boarding the Fullerton Avenue bus, which was sparsely filled with passengers dressed in casual clothes, she began to plan what to say in her interviews.

  Of course she would be asked why she had left N.T.E.L. Since Charles Robbins had notated employee incompatibility as the reason for her termination, the best course was to tell a story not far from the truth. Although formerly happy at N.T.E.L., she would say, she found it impossible to work with a new department manager who had been hired six months ago. Her personal file, along with Mr Robbins' written responses to enquiries from prospective employers, would, she hoped, reflect her raises, her increased responsibility, and her good work record.

  Four hours later she was aboard her bus once more, in the company of the same preoccupied rush-hour faces she had grown familiar with over four years. Time had permitted only two of the interviews she had planned. As expected, the personnel managers she spoke to seemed impressed by her credentials, but spoke of a lower salary than she had in mind. Nevertheless, they noted, her abilities seemed to promise rapid advancement and an increase in pay. She would be contacted, they claimed, after the weekend—'one way or the other'.

  'Which means not at all,' she thought now as the bus stopped in front of her building, 'unless I get the job.' Whoever had said that looking for a job is the hardest job in the world was certainly right, she reflected. The unfamiliarity of offices never before seen, the lengthy applications, the enquiring faces of strangers whose need of help never seemed as urgent as one's own need for a job, made for a profoundly exhausting afternoon.

  After a few moments spent poring anew over the newspapers, in search of companies to contact tomorrow, Anna made herself a cup of tea and thought without enthusiasm about what to make for dinner. For a long moment she sat staring blankly at the bland furnishings of the flat, and listening to the city's busy sounds outside. The sinking feeling of alienation brought on by unemployment haunted her as she reflected on the hubbub of activity all around her. Everyone was working, rushing to a job, taking the bus or subway, stopping for lunch at a cafe, buying new clothes… The whole metropolis maintained its tumultuous rhythm through the people it employed.

  To be sitting at sixes and sevens, alone in this flat whose perpetually gathering dust and persistent leaking tap were her only companions, seemed intolerably lonely.

  Perhaps, she decided, a phone call to Sally would cheer her up. She knew Sally was to leave the city this weekend for a visit to her room-mate's family. Now was as good a time as any to telephone her and enquire casually about her plans, without, of course, mentioning the truth about her own situation. The prospect of hearing a friendly voice, after this day of atrocious solitude, was comforting.

  As she reached for the receiver, a thought stole over her mind with such suddenness that her hand stopped in mid-air.

  She had forgotten that she was not to be alone tonight after all.

  'Marsh Hamilton,' she whispered to herself, cursing her absentmindedness. 'He'll be here at eight o'clock!'

  Without a glance at the wall clock in the kitchen she stood up and hurried towards the bathroom. There was ample time for a shower and shampoo before Marsh's arrival, but the idea that she had nearly forgotten all about him lent an involuntary urgency to her movements.

  The image of his probing black eyes and calmly determined demeanour followed her into the bedroom, and she shuddered briefly to think of the shocks her nerves had suffered throughout this eventful day. But it was not without a trace of silent expectancy that she dropped her dress into the clothes hamper and began thinking about what she should wear tonight.

  She had underestimated the amount of time she would need to get ready, for she had barely finished dressing and brushing her hair when the buzzer sounded.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Anna glanced for a last time at the swirled mane of her auburn hair in the bedroom mirror before hurrying to the door. The pale green fabric of the dress she had chosen, silky and iridescent in the light of the vanity lamp, was a perfect counterpoint to the creamy complexion surrounding her deep green irises.

  She had wondered briefly whether the sleek garment was too revealing for her first private encounter with a man so direct and virile as Marsh Hamilton. But she reflected in all honesty that his dauntingly firm features and hard body had attracted her interest from the outset, and she wanted to look her best for him. Besides, after the depressing events of the last two days her self-respect dictated that she take pride in her healthy beauty.

  The door opened to reveal Marsh standing calmly under the pale light of the hallway, the light raincoat over his arm glowing against the dark-toned business suit he wore. Again Anna was astonished by his erect, imposing stature. The outlines of his taut thighs and hard shoulders were visible under the fabric covering them, so that one might mistake him for an athlete dressed in business clothes rather than a professional man.

  'So you found me,' she smiled.

  'It wasn't difficult. I grew up in this town, so I know the North Side pretty well.' The expression in his dark eyes was unfathomable in the dim light.

  'Please come in,' said Anna, standing aside as he entered the living room with long strides.

  'Something told me you might wear green,' he said, throwing his coat on a chair and turning to her. For the first time she noticed the small florist's box in his large hand. 'Let's see if this goes with it,' he added, producing a lovely white orchid tinged with blue and green. 'May I?'

  'You shouldn't have,' she protested as he pinned the flower to her dress, his long fingers working expertly. 'It's too beautiful.' A breath of the crisp outside air had entered the room with him, and as his clean male scent reached her nostrils she began to feel the potent force of his nearness. Its influence was immediate, and frankly delightful.

  'There,' he said, ignoring her words. 'I think it suits you fine. You look beautiful, Anna.' There was blunt admiration in his compliment, and she recognised once more his habit of coming directly to the point.

  'You're nice to say so,' she said, trying to forget the electric intimacy of his touch. 'I'm afraid I may have overdressed for our evening.'

  'Not at all,' he smiled. 'You'll be the toast of Pierre's. Do you like French food?'

  'I love it,' she said, visualising the elegant facade of the legendary establishment in Michigan Avenue's most wealthy block. 'Pierre's will be a new experience for me. My budget has never allowed me to do more than pass it on the bus.'

  'Good,' he said, regarding her with undisguised appraisal.

  'Perhaps you'd like something to drink?' she asked, blushing slightly under his probing gaze.

  'Whatever you're having,' he said.

  'Please sit down,' she invited, turning to move towards the kitchen. His tall form seemed to dwarf the small living room as he scanned its furnishings.

  'Nice place you have here,' came his deep voice from behind her as she filled two glasses with ice and opened the whisky bottle she kept on hand for guests.

  'Thanks,' she called over her shoulder. 'It's not very elegant, but I like this neighbourhood, and my bus stops right outside the door.'

  'I see you take your work seriously,' he remarked, pointing to the computer magazines and journals on the coffee table as she set down the drinks.

  She shrugged, not eager to ex
plain the fact that she had lost the job which had caused her to cross his path two days ago. 'I find it interesting,' she contented herself with replying.

  'Did you always want to work in computers?' he asked.

  'Actually, I majored in Economics in college,' she recalled. 'The computer courses I took were in the nature of a hobby. Then, when I started looking for work here, I sort of fell into the job at N.T.E.L.' Impelled despite herself to change the subject, she asked, 'How about you? Did you always want to be a lawyer?'

  'Always,' he said. 'I went through a five-year Law programme here at the University so as to get college over with in a hurry. Then I went to work for the District Attorney, to gain some experience in criminal law. As it turned out, I stayed with them for eight years. Then I joined our firm.'

  'Have you switched to corporation law, then?' Anna asked.

  'No. I'm working on this N.T.E.L. contract because John Feuerbach is tied up at the moment. Normally I handle the criminal work for the firm. I stay in contact with my old friends from the D.A.'s office, and run into them in court pretty often—on opposing sides, now.' His lips curled in a slight smile, and Anna noticed for the first time that the clean line of his jaw was marked by a tiny scar.

  'Looking at this?' he grinned, touching the spot with a long finger. 'That's one of my souvenirs from my days as a prosecutor.'

  'What happened?' asked Anna, unable to contain her curiosity.

  'Well,' he said, 'some of us used to work closely with the detectives on stake-outs. When you deal with organised crime, you have to be careful of your legal footing. I often helped in arrests. I got this,' he pointed to the scar, 'when one of our targets decided not to go quietly. It was my own fault, really. I should have stayed in the background. But we were outnumbered, and we had to get them while the evidence was right there.'

  'And did you?' she asked. 'Get them, I mean.'

  'Oh, yes,' he smiled ruefully. 'But they ended up on the street again in no time. That's one reason I finally got sick of being a prosecutor. We got plenty of convictions, but the criminal justice system wasn't equipped to handle organised crime. The big boys could always hide behind plea-bargaining or some other protection. So I decided to go out on my own.'

  'Has it been… satisfying for you?' asked Anna, a trifle disconcerted by the penetrating eyes that regarded her as he spoke.

  'Yes, I'm happy with the law,' he concluded easily. 'It's a complex sort of business, full of ambiguities. But quite often I have the chance to really make a difference for someone who's in trouble. Someone who might have fallen on hard times without my help. What about you?' He changed the subject abruptly.

  'Me?' Anna asked hesitantly.

  'Is your work satisfying for you?' His black eyes were upon her with their teasing intensity.

  All at once she sighed to think that it was impossible to hold back the truth any longer. She was sitting here with him under false pretences, and the very reason for their dinner together had fallen away with her job itself.

  'It was… satisfying,' she began uncomfortably.

  'What do you mean?'

  'I know this is going to sound strange,' she said, forcing a rueful smile. 'I left N.T.E.L. this morning. I'm not working there any more.'

  'You're kidding!' Incredulity vied with intent curiosity in his quirked brow and alert eyes.

  'I wish I were kidding,' she sighed. 'The fact is, Mr—Marsh—that I'm worth less than nothing to you as a source of information about the way the company works. I suppose I should have thought of a way to inform you of what had happened, so you wouldn't have had to go to the trouble of coming all the way over here. But I was so busy today…' She felt her cheeks colour with chagrin.

  'What happened?' he asked simply.

  'It's… it's not something I'd prefer to talk about,' she replied. 'Let's just say it wasn't working out, so now I'm looking for something else.'

  'Well,' he smiled, 'the world certainly is a fast-moving place. If I hadn't bumped into you in the corridor at N.T.E.L. and invited you out tonight, I might never have met you at all. I guess I made it in the nick of time.'

  Anna had the distinct impression that he was prepared to respect her reticence regarding the loss of her job, and indeed had other things on his mind. But the false position she found herself in was nearly intolerable.

  In silence he watched her, as though in speculation as to her inner feelings.

  'So you see,' she went on, avoiding his eyes, 'there isn't really any reason for our meeting. If you'd like to change your mind…'

  A low, amused laugh escaped his lips.

  'Is something funny?' she asked, disturbed by his unflappable calm.

  'No,' he said. 'Nothing is funny. I'm laughing at my own luck. If I hadn't encountered you when I did, I wouldn't have known that you existed. Instead, I'm sitting here admiring a beautiful woman who's wearing the orchid I brought her. And in half an hour I'll be the envy of every man in Pierre's dining room.'

  Again she felt herself flush as his laughing eyes rested upon her.

  'You're sure, then,' she asked, 'that you don't mind…?'

  'I think we can be honest with each other, Anna,' he smiled. 'I didn't invite you to dinner to discuss something I can easily find out for myself at N.T.E.L. And I'm sure you were, and are, perfectly aware of that fact. I wanted to see you.'

  Diffidently Anna glanced at the bronzed skin around his sharply intelligent eyes. The lines of his face and square contour of his jaw were alive with a masculine interest he had no intention of concealing. For an instant she imagined his handsome features drawing close to her, his powerful hands encircling her as he bent to join his lips to her own. But she banished the thought. There was little point in dallying over the sexual charms of a man who might disappear from her life as quickly as he had entered it.

  'I ventured to hope that the feeling was mutual,' he went on. 'Perhaps I was premature. That's not a good thing in a lawyer.'

  'I'm sure you're a fine lawyer,' Anna admitted, only too aware that the secret recesses of her body had responded tumultuously to his presence even before he had invited her to dinner.

  'Enough said,' he laughed, raising his glass. 'Shall we drink to the beginning of a beautiful relationship?'

  She joined him in his toast, suppressing as best she could the confusion in her senses. Only this afternoon she had been hurriedly walking the noisy streets of the Loop in a desperate search for a job to replace the one she had lost under such unforgivable circumstances. And now it seemed as though the world were a kaleidoscope which, in a single turn, could throw everything into a completely different position. The memory of N.T.E.L. and her current difficulties was overwhelmed by the bewitching male attractiveness of Marsh Hamilton, who sat before her now like a lithe athlete, poised for any movement the game might require of him. It was difficult to imagine herself feigning invulnerability to his daunting charms, for already an impudent quickening of her traitorous body sent its dangerous thrill through her mind.

  As he helped her on with her coat, the light pressure of his strong hands sent quivers of delight along her shoulders and down her back. Indeed, she thought, Marsh Hamilton seemed a man who thought and did as he pleased. He was doubtless in the habit of overwhelming any obstacles that stood between him and his desires. She had to warn herself to be careful in his company.

  The shadowed intimacy of the booth Anna found herself in at the unfamiliar restaurant was hardly calculated to decrease her attraction to the compelling form of Marsh Hamilton. His tanned hands seemed particularly dark against the white tablecloth which glowed under the recessed lights, and again Anna had to admire the stunning virility of his long limbs and authoritative demeanour.

  'Have you ever tried a menu degustation in a place like this?' he asked.

  'I've never been in a place like this,' Anna laughed.

  'I think you'll like it,' he smiled. 'It's an assortment of small items, not too overwhelming for the appetite, and it gives the chef a chanc
e to show off his skills. Shall we give it a try?'

  Anna nodded happily.

  'And a light white wine,' he added. 'That will leave us plenty of room for dessert, which is really an art form here.'

  'I don't know whether my waistline will stand it,' she laughed. 'But for Pierre perhaps I'll make an exception.'

  'That's the spirit!' he smiled, the teasing glimmer in his dark irises caressing her in the shadows.

  Anna was unprepared for the complex and brilliant variety of the dishes brought by the decorous waiter, who faded into the background between courses, returning only to refill their wine glasses. And each surprise experienced by her palate was accompanied by something new to learn about Marsh Hamilton. He spoke of himself with simple directness, revealing the facts of his life in a detached and humorous manner. Clearly the needs of his pride and ambition had long since found satisfaction from his abilities, for there was no trace of egotism or unfulfilled longing in his personality.

  His late father, he said, had been a successful small businessman in Chicago until the postwar recession forced him to sell out.

  'He was a smart man,' Marsh explained, 'but his excitement over his own products made him forget the hard facts about overhead and taxation in those changing times. The recession took him by surprise and he couldn't pay his debts. He ended up by working the rest of his days for the competitors who bought him out. It was a sad fate for an ambitious fellow like him.'

  He shrugged. 'And I'll have to admit,' he added, 'it made its mark on me as well. After what happened to Dad I made up my mind that I would know all the facts before making any decisions in whatever line of work I chose. The law, it turns out, is just the field to keep me on my toes.'

  'Why is that?' asked Anna.

  'The name of the legal game is research,' he explained. 'A trial lawyer who's worth his salt never asks a question in court without knowing the answer beforehand. He has to realise that his own witnesses are as unpredictable as those of the opposition, and may be hiding any number of embarrassing facts from him. If he doesn't learn to cover the ground thoroughly before going to trial, he's going to find himself losing cases he should have won.'