Dangerous Alliance Read online

  Dangerous Alliance by JANE CORRIESomehow, Kent realized, she must go away She had no defences where Matt King was concerned. And she was no good at pretending. Meeting his eyes firmly she answered his question. -In a way you're right," she said coldly –You once asked me if I was afraid of you. I wasn't then. I am now" But she knew that no matter where she went she would go on loving Matt King.

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  OTHER harlequin Romances by JANE CORRIE

  1956—THE IMPOSSIBLE BOSS 2020—RAINBOW FOR MEGAN 2038—SINCLAIR TERRITORY 2053—GREEN PADDOCKS 2072—THE BAHAMIAN PIRATE

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  Original hardcover edition published in 1977by Mills & Boon Limited

  ISBN 0-373-02087-2

  Harlequin edition published July 1977

  Copyright © 1977 by Jane Corrie. All rights reserved

  Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher.

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  KENT STAINER sat in the plush airport lounge and unashamedly listened to the conversation two men were holding in the seats directly behind her.

  She had noticed them as she had taken her seat earlier, simply because she had been looking, or expecting one of them to meet her.

  The tall thin man who constantly referred to his companion as 'boss', would be Tony Sims, accountant of Stainer Construction Ltd, Kent mused, and 'boss' would be none other than Matt King, the tough American she seemed to have spent her life hearing about from her father.

  One thing had come as a surprise to her; she had always pictured Matt King to be around her father's age, but this man was, at a guess, in his early thirties. He was not over tall, probably about five feet nine, she thought, but thickset. She recalled his features although she had only been able to afford him one brief glance in passing. Not what one might term as handsome in the accepted sense, this man's features were rugged and held a hardness Kent knew existed —had to exist, to keep control over the men he employed.

  Construction work was men's work; no room for weaklings here; you pulled your weight or you were out. The pay was good enough to ensure full cooperation in this respect, but the men were as tough as the job, and it took an even tougher man to hold the reins.

  'Just keep him out of my hair,' drawled the unmistakably American voice. 'I've enough on my plate without wet-nursing a kid straight out of university and don't tie me down by suggesting I show him over the works like you did with that batch of students last month,' he growled. 'He's your baby, remember. You've been screaming for weeks that you've too much on your hands; well, now's your chance to prove it. I'll give you a fortnight to break the kid in, then I'll expect a little more time to be spent on those damned estimates I always have to wait a fortnight for.'

  This blunt directive brought a gloomy, 'Yes, boss,' from Tony Sims.

  Kent found herself feeling a little sorry for the accountant; it appeared he wasn't having things too easy on this job, although, she thought, no one was. It was the trickiest project the firm had ever been landed with, and only a near genius of an engineer would have dared attempt it. Spanning a mile-wide gap of mountainous domain in the Andes would give anyone but Matt King nightmares just thinking about it.

  But Matt King was the best in his line; her father

  had often said so. Without Matt the firm would have collapsed when Bob Stainer, Kent's father, was forced to take a back seat after sustaining an injury to his back, when a bridge he was inspecting turned turtle in high winds. In recognition of this fact Matt had been given a partnership, and the firm had gone from strength to strength, and now commanded the respect and envy of those in a similar profession. It soon became established that if Stainer's couldn't do the job, it couldn't be done, and no other firm would touch the project.

  The last passengers from the London flight had now collected their baggage, and Kent knew she had to claim hers; she also knew she had to introduce herself to the two gentlemen behind her, quite realising what a shock she was about to deliver to them. Her name, plus a slightly eccentric father, had placed her in this all too familiar situation. Long ago she had stopped being amused by the surprise registered by her father's old friends visiting London for the first time, and looking them up.

  The explanation was simple—at least it was to Kent; she had grown up with it—but not so simple to others who had always presumed, or been led to presume, that Bob Stainer's only child was a son.

  Having a daughter when he had set his heart on a son had not deterred Bob Stainer. She was given a boy's name, and taught to play with construction kits and model trains, but never dolls.

  Kent had always wondered how her mother had

  reacted to his fanaticism in bringing up his only child this way, but she could never recall her scolding or rebuking her husband. It was only later that Kent had come to realise the reason for this indulgence. Her mother, a gentle woman, had been very much in love with her husband and must have spent many lonely days and nights while he roamed the world on different projects. His accident must have been a kind of release from that terrible loneliness, for in spite of a limp he was home to stay. There would be no more heart stopping anxieties over the not infrequent accidents the job entailed.

  Kent had been only fourteen when her mother died, but she never forgot the waiting, and the tension each reported accident brought in its wake. As her mother had suffered those interminable waits for news, so, too, had Kent suffered, but for different reasons. She had loved her mother dearly, and suffered on her account, although she could not honestly admit she had been as fond of her father, for in keeping with his refusal to acknowledge her as a girl, she received no affection from him. A slap across the back was the nearest approach to a fatherly hug Kent had ever received.

  At twent-three and fresh out of university, there was very little Kent did not know about construction work, her father had seen to that. She was now a fully qualified accountant, ready to take her place in the firm as instructed in her father's will, read two months previously. Kent was sure that had she been

  taller or stronger, her father would have insisted on her studying engineering, but her five feet two slight frame, and black unruly curls, plus retroussée nose and wide grey green eyes, did not lend itself to this trade, and even Bob Stainer had to bow to providence on that score.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned to make her presence known to the two men now silent behind her, and was only too aware of the fact that in spite of her age, she still looked much as she had done when she first started college at eighteen.

  Her introduction was just as catastrophic as she had known it would be, and her eyes held a sardonic look as they took in the stunned reaction from both men as she held
out a small hand first to Matt, and then to Tony Sims. Neither did she miss the furious glare Matt threw at Tony Sims, who shrugged a despondent, 'I didn't know either' look back at him.

  Later, in the back of Matt's opulent Chrysler, Kent found herself having to keep up a constant flow of small talk to ease the situation. For the life of her, she couldn't see what all the fuss was about— they were shocked, of course, but so had all the other friends of her father's been at first—but not like this; she couldn't have caused more of a reaction had she had two heads, and it wasn't as if she had dropped in unheralded. She had been expected; what was more, she had come to work and take her place as a partner in the firm; at least, until things were sorted out.

  She stared out at the passing landscape and thought of Jack's reaction to the news. He had been extremely disappointed, to say the least; the premises he had got lined up for his interior decorating business, nicely situated in an exclusive area of London, would now have to go back on the market; agents did not believe in promises unless backed by hard cash.

  To be honest, the contents of her father's will had come as a bit of a shock to her, too, although she ought to have been prepared for it. Her father never did things by half, but he had never mentioned a partnership for her. Of course, she mused, he had taken an active dislike to Jack, and Jack's profession hadn't helped much either. Interior decorating wasn't everyone's cup of tea and might appear a somewhat dainty profession against the tough world of construction engineering.

  Kent was fully aware of her father's reasons for making her a partner in the business, and for his blunt directive that she should join the firm forthwith, in spite of the fact that they were now operating in Bolivia.

  She suspected he had also been aware of the fact that Jack had been counting on her inheritance to back his latest venture and had done his best to quash that expectance. She sighed; just what her father had been hoping to gain by these tactics she couldn't imagine. It was true she couldn't back out of the conditions laid down in the will

  for at least a year, unless she relinquished her inheritance, and as Jack had duly pointed out, there was no sense in that. It meant a year's setback, of course, but it was better than nothing, and although they were disappointed, they would just have to abide by it.

  The wedding, planned for July that year, also had to be put back; as Jack had solemnly told her, he couldn't afford to run two establishments, and his bachelor flat above the small premises he worked in could not possibly accommodate both of them.

  A year, then, Kent thought moodily, that was all her father had gained by granting her a partnership in the firm. She shook her head impatiently; it didn't make sense, unless—her eyes dwelt smoulderingly on the back of Matt King's head, noting how the sunlight brought out the red glint in his brown hair. Had her father hoped ... ? She blinked as the revelation hit her. He had! It was just the sort of manoeuvre he was capable of ! She almost shivered. Even from his grave he was trying to direct her life as he thought fit.

  The ends of the chiffon scarf that she had tied round her neck whipped over her face, and she impatiently removed them; the speed they were travelling at was sending a small gale rushing into the back of the car.

  Directing a glare at the back of Matt's head, Kent wondered whether he had come to the same conclusion as she had, and judging by his stiff features and

  equally stiff behaviour since the introduction, plus the fact that he was driving as if there was no tomorrow, Kent surmised he had.

  Matt was a bachelor and proud of the fact; Kent recalled her father telling her so on one occasion. There was, he had said, no woman trouble where Matt was concerned; the job came first and women a poor second.

  And that, she thought almost hysterically, was the kind of man her father had lined up for her. As she was sure that grim-faced character in front of her would have put it, there was just 'no way'.

  With a feeling akin to homesickness, Kent thought of Jack's tall but slight frame; his lean handsome features and fair hair, the way strands of it constantly fell across his high forehead, and the way those long artistic fingers of his would brush them back in an absentminded way. How could her father have even contemplated her alliance with a man like Matt King? a man used to living rough, and working side by side with casual labourers, for that was another thing she had been told about him from her father, that he preferred to be out on the site and hated desk work.

  She thought of his hands, large, capable strong ones, and as hard as the man himself, and made a small moue of distaste—well, there was one thing to be thankful for. Matt King was a law unto himself, and was not likely to give up his bachelor status on the whim of his late partner.

  Plumes of dust rose from the wheels of the car as they plunged down a desert-like track into what looked to Kent like no-man's-land. Kent wondered where she would be staying; there was no such thing as an hotel in the small Andean village near the works, but she presumed rooms would be found for her in one of the houses in the village.

  It wasn't until after they had passed a huddle of clay huts that she realised they had passed the village. It was very evident she would not be staying there ! She frowned; it was a rule of the company that wives did not live on the site, and rooms were found for them in the nearest town, although the number that accompanied their husbands could almost be counted on one hand, and then they were management-grade wives.

  Her puzzlement grew as the terrain changed and the mountain ranges came into sight, then all else was forgotten as she looked at the beautiful snowcapped peaks gleaming as the rays of the sun touched them. The car followed a winding road as it descended into a valley where lush greenery and brilliant shrubs nestled in the hillsides. Gorgeous purples and pastel blues and pinks of exotic flowers grew in profusion on any available hold.

  They descended yet further, and in the distance Kent saw the chalet and let out a breath of pure delight. It nestled in the same way as the foliage did against the hillside and would, she thought, have a

  commanding view of the valley below where she presumed the works lay.

  Her presumption proved correct as the car veered off the main track and made for the chalet. Below, Kent could see the works, not too far away, but close enough to keep a wary eye on progress. Her eyes moved over the vast construction area to the group of huts that provided living quarters for the men on the job. Everything, in fact, would be there; a canteen, a recreation centre, even a small cinema; it was a world within a world.

  There was a clutch of larger buildings that sat well away from the men's quarters, and that, Kent thought, would be where the administration staff worked, and where she would be working as intimated earlier by Matt, with Tony Sims.

  The car jerked to a stop outside the chalet and Matt was out of the car and shouting for someone named Juan, before Kent or Tony Sims had time to alight. Tony assisted Kent out of the car, and she felt a spurt of annoyance at Matt King's ill-mannered exit from the scene, as he strode up the wooden steps to the chalet and disappeared inside.

  Favouring Tony with a grateful smile to prove that she thought he was a gentleman at least, Kent bent to retrieve her handbag from the car, and was suddenly overcome by dizziness. She blinked quickly and caught hold of the car door to steady herself.

  'Take a deep breath,' advised Tony sympathetically, keeping a firm hold on her arm. 'It's the

  altitude—it will take a day or two for you to get used to it.'

  Kent nodded, and did as she was told. It helped a little, and straightening up slowly she met the cynical blue eyes of Matt King, lounging in the doorway of the chalet. The sight proved more beneficial than a dose of oxygen! Her eyes sparked and she drew herself up straight, then giving Tony another brilliant smile and gently removing his hand from her arm, she said, 'I'm all right now, thank you, Mr Sims.'

  'Tony, please! he said with a grin. 'No surnames here, You know.'

  Smilingly acknowledging this, she thanked him for retrieving her handbag for her, and togeth
er they entered the chalet. A young Mexican boy hovered in the hall, and obviously anxious to please, he pointed to a tray of cold drinks that Matt King was now standing by and helping himself to; he did, however, have the grace to ask Kent what she would like.

  Giving him a rather over-emphasised, 'Thank you, I'd like an iced lime,' Kent seated herself on one of the rattan chairs by the side of the drinks table. She presumed there was a lounge somewhere, even, though she had not been asked into it, and another thing she noticed; her luggage was still in the back of the Chrysler—the boy had not yet apparently been given orders to collect it.

  Accepting the drink Matt handed her, and moodily watching Tony help himself to some concoction, Kent found her temper slowly rising. A fine welcome this was to a new member of staff, and a partner, no less! Who the devil did Matt King think he was? He might be brilliant at his job, but so were many others, and not all were offered partnerships; he had done exceedingly well for himself. It was her father's firm when all was said and done, and now he was gone, Matt King hadn't the grace to welcome his daughter.

  Not that being a woman when he had expected a man had much to do with it, she thought bitterly, as she recalled his scathing comments at the airport about wet-nursing a kid straight out of university. It was hardly a grateful reaction to her father's generosity in making him a partner.

  Her eyes narrowed in speculation. There was one thing Matt King didn't know, in spite of her feminine appearance, Kent had been brought up to regard men as her equal. Verbally, she could give just as good as she got, and she knew her job. If he thought he could browbeat her, he was in for quite a surprise.

  `How was the trip?' Tony asked, a little belatedly to Kent's way of thinking, although she forgave him as she realised he was only making conversation to ease the strained atmosphere caused by Matt's brooding attitude.