Memories of The Past (Presents Plus)

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Oh, go on, Helen,’ her father cajoled. ‘Say yes to the man.’

  She wasn’t sure what she was saying yes to, that was the trouble! Her reasons for being wary of Cal Jones seemed to have changed drastically during the last twenty-four hours.

  Which was ridiculous. She wasn’t frightened of any man, especially the sort of man she believed Cal Jones to be. She completely ignored that nagging little voice at the back of her mind that told her she wasn’t sure about that any more either. ‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘Dinner tomorrow. But on the strict understanding it’s only as a thank-you for taking Sam out,’ she warned.

  ‘As if I would think it was for anything else,’ Cal drawled.

  ‘As if,’ her father murmured tauntingly very close to her ear.

  Helen rounded on him. ‘Will you just go away?’ She glared at him.

  ‘If you insist,’ Cal drawled. ‘But—’

  ‘Not you,’ she told him impatiently, furious with her father. But he just grinned back at her, unrepentant. ‘I was talking to my father,’ she crossly explained to Cal. ‘He seems to have forgotten that it’s rude to listen in on other people’s conversations,’ she added pointedly, still glaring warningly at her father as he made no effort to leave her in privacy.

  ‘It’s my house,’ he said blandly.

  ‘But my call—Oh, damn,’ she swore as she realised Cal was still listening in on this exchange, almost able to picture his amusement—at her expense. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she told him abruptly, ringing off to look at her father in challenging reproval.

  He didn’t look in the least concerned by her anger. ‘I wonder where he’ll take you,’ he mused thoughtfully.

  ‘None of your business.’ She gave an irritated sigh. ‘I didn’t want to go in the first place!’

  ‘That was obvious,’ he grimaced.

  ‘Then why did you—? Oh, never mind,’ she dismissed impatiently. ‘I’ll go and finish cooking lunch.’ She went off to the kitchen before her father could say any more.

  Dinner with Cal Jones tomorrow night.

  How did she get herself into these situations? The answer to that was all too obvious; her father was the main reason she had helped Cal out with Sam yesterday afternoon, and he was also the reason she had been press-ganged into having dinner with the other man tomorrow evening. If her father hadn’t joined in the conversation there was no way she would have allowed herself to be talked into agreeing to the invitation.

  She didn’t want to spend an evening alone with Cal Jones.

  She hadn’t been this affected by a man since—well, since Daniel.

  She hated to admit it, but being in Cal Jones’s arms had frightened her in a way being with Daniel never had. Because she had ached with wanting more than just being in his arms.

  And she was terrified of that happening again.

  This attraction she felt for Cal made her feel out of control, and it wasn’t a feeling she was at all comfortable with. She had survived her years in London by being completely in control; a few days back here and her life was in turmoil. And she had a feeling it was going to get worse rather than better.

  The rest of the day was spent with her suffering the smug expression of her father every time she dared a glance at him, his anger with her on Friday night completely forgotten in the face of this new development.

  He might well look pleased with himself; he couldn’t have been happier if he had arranged the whole thing himself!

  * * *

  ‘Do you want to order now or have a drink first?’ Cal looked at her enquiringly.

  She wanted to get the evening over with as soon as possible!

  Her father’s knowing looks as she had joined the two men in the lounge earlier had been enough to turn her tension into teeth-grating anger.

  She had dressed for the evening ahead with great care, the deep green dress fitted at the bodice but flowing silkily about her long legs, its style smart rather than provocative. Her hair she had compromised on, securing it back on either side from her face with two ornate combs, but leaving it flowing loosely down her spine. Her appearance wasn’t severe enough to incur her father’s critisism, but it was enough for her to feel comfortable. Or as comfortable as she could when she was spending the evening with a man she would rather avoid.

  Cal’s appearance had taken her breath away, the dark grey suit tailored to him perfectly, the white shirt and light grey tie obviously both made of silk. His hair was brushed into some semblance of neatness tonight, but it was still too long, and even as Helen looked across the table from him now her fingers itched to reach out and smooth the waving darkness off his forehead.

  Heaven knew what he would make of it if she didn’t resist the impulse!

  The memory of the kiss they had shared was in the dark blue of his eyes every time she looked at him, her heart beating a wild tattoo in her chest, her nerve-endings jangling warningly.

  As if she needed any warning of the danger this man represented to her peace of mind!

  ‘I’d like to order,’ she bit out abruptly.

  Cal gave a half-smile. ‘Get it over with as quickly as you can, hm?’

  Colour warmed her cheeks. ‘I didn’t want to be here in the first place, you know that,’ she told him sharply, giving her own order to the waiter as he came to the table, keeping her face averted as Cal smoothly ordered his meal after her.

  How on earth was she going to get through an entire evening with this man?

  ‘Helen.’

  There it was again, that gentle command in just the sound of her name, and she raised her eyes to his reluctantly.

  ‘Let’s just enjoy our meal, hmm?’ he suggested softly. ‘We can talk about Sam, if you like—he’s a pretty neutral subject.’

  As long as they kept off the subject of the little boy’s grandparents; Helen didn’t want to become any more involved in that situation than she already had been.

  Talking about Sam turned out to be easier than she had thought, the little boy having crept into her affections on their brief acquaintance without her actually being aware of it. But she realised what had happened as she talked to Cal, could only silently regret that it had happened, knowing it would ultimately cause her pain.

  It was a more relaxing evening than she had expected it to be, Cal deliberately setting out to put her at her ease, she was sure. And he succeeded, the two of them talking easily together as they left the restaurant a couple of hours later, Helen’s defences down so much that she accepted when Cal offered her a drink at the main house.

  It was only as they approached the house that Helen questioned the sense of her actions. She really shouldn’t spend any time alone with Cal; it could be her undoing.

  She knew it was even more of a mistake when Cal suggested she go with him to Sam’s bedroom to check on the little boy. Sam lay on his back in the cot, spread-eagled on the mattress, his curls dark against the whiteness of the sheet beneath him, his lashes long and silky against his cheeks, his little pink rose-bud of a mouth falling open slackly as he breathed gently.

  Helen’s heart ached at the sight of him, and she turned away with a choked sob, attempting to cover the emotion with a low cough, excusing herself from the room as Cal looked at her concernedly.

  ‘I don’t want to wake him,’ she whispered hurriedly before escaping from the nursery.

  She leant weakly on the wall outside the room, drawing in deep, controlling breaths, flatly denying entry into her mind the memories seeing Sam like that had evoked.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Cal stood in front of her, his eyes dark with concern.

  Helen took in a shuddering breath, looking up at him with shuttered eyes, although she still leant on the wall behind her for support, her legs feeling decidedly shaky. ‘I—it was very hot in the nursery,’ she excused firmly.

  ‘Yes,’ Cal agreed, although he didn’t look convinced, watching her frowningly. ‘Let’s go down and have that drink,’ he suggested lightly as she made
no effort to add anything to her earlier statement.

  She had intended having a coffee and then leaving, but the brandy Cal suggested once they got down to the sitting-room seemed much more appropriate, the first few sips going a long way to settling her frayed nerves. Lord, she was becoming a nervous wreck in just a few days!

  ‘Better?’ he prompted as he watched the colour returning to her cheeks.

  She swallowed hard. ‘Much. Thanks.’

  ‘I can’t imagine my life without him now,’ Cal said softly.

  Helen felt her cheeks drain of colour again. ‘No,’ she agreed hollowly.

  Cal grimaced. ‘They’re so dependent on us at that age.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t suppose—’

  ‘Cal, could we talk about something else?’ she cut in sharply, her movements agitated.

  He hesitated for a moment, and then he relaxed slightly. ‘I suppose I do sound a bit like a doting father,’ he dismissed self-derisively. ‘I’ve enjoyed our dinner tonight, Helen,’ he told her softly, his gaze compelling her to look up at him.

  It was an impulse impossible to resist, and she instantly found herself drowning in a sea of dark blue.

  ‘So have I.’ It was impossible to lie to him when he held her gaze so easily.

  ‘On Saturday—’

  ‘You do seem to hit on subjects I would rather not go into,’ she interrupted tautly.

  ‘We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.’ He shrugged broad shoulders.

  Helen looked at him challengingly. ‘Why can’t we?’

  His mouth quirked. ‘Can we?’ he prompted sceptically.

  ‘I can.’ She lied without hesitation this time, knowing she had no choice; she didn’t want to talk about what had happened between them on Saturday, didn’t even want to think about it.

  He shrugged. ‘Then you’re having better luck than I have; I can’t seem to get it out of my mind.’

  ‘Maybe you need to spend some time in London,’ she scorned defensively. ‘You’re obviously missing the—companionship you can find there.’

  ‘Does this usually work?’

  Helen looked at him sharply. ‘Does what usually work?’ she echoed challengingly.

  His mouth quirked; he was not in the least perturbed by the insult she had just given him. ‘It must do.’ He spoke almost to himself. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t still be using it,’ he mused.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ she said irritably.

  ‘Attack being the best form of defence,’ he drawled.

  Her gaze wavered and fell guiltily away from his; she wasn’t going to win with this man, she knew she wasn’t.

  ‘Helen,’ he stood directly in front of her now, one hand moving under her chin to tilt her face up towards his, ‘I am not in the habit of seeking—companionship, anywhere.’ A gently teasing smile curved his lips. ‘I am of an age where I’m looking for more than you are implying.’ His smile became more intimate. ‘Actually, I wasn’t looking at all, had decided my own life could go on a back-burner for a while, or at least until Sam is completely settled with me. And now, here you are.’ He shrugged at the mystery of life.

  ‘I’ll soon be gone again,’ she reminded sharply, unsure of what he was saying, but knowing she had to dispel any doubts he might have to the contrary.

  ‘Not for a couple of weeks.’ He tapped her cheek in playful reproval. ‘A lot can happen in two weeks.’

  Not to her. Never to her.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she told him hardly.

  ‘I don’t think either of us should think at all for the moment,’ Cal said briskly. ‘I had heard so much about you from your father, had even seen photographs of you.’ He shook his head. ‘But I wasn’t prepared for the flesh and blood you, hadn’t expected this.’

  ‘This?’ she echoed impatiently.

  ‘This.’ He nodded, lowering his head to hers.

  It was what she had been waiting for—and fearing—all evening, Helen knew that as her body curved snugly into the hardness of his.

  Just as if it was where she was meant to be.

  The hours that had elapsed since she had last been in his arms might never have been; her arms curved about his neck as their mouths fused together. His hands cupped either side of her face, tasting her lips slowly before claiming them with an agonised groan. His arms enfolded Helen against him, his hands caressing the length of her body, sending shivers of sensation wherever he touched.

  Helen trembled with reaction, never having known this mindless desire, wanting to be closer to him, so close she didn’t know where her body began and Cal’s ended.

  Her hands were entwined in the thick darkness of his hair, loving its silky softness, his body sensual to the touch, aware of her own effect on him as he quivered against her.

  ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have started this,’ he groaned against her throat. ‘But now that I have, I don’t want it to stop!’

  Neither did she, raising no objection as Cal gently removed the combs from her hair, framing her face with the loose blonde waves as he looked deeply into her eyes.

  ‘Helen!’ he said achingly as he saw his own desire reflected there, claiming her mouth tenderly now, in no hurry to rush the loving they knew they both wanted.

  Helen returned his kisses, her whole body shaking with need, a need that was inevitable, had been from the moment they had first kissed.

  This was what she had been trying to run away from since Saturday!

  A warm lethargy entered her limbs, but at the same time her body was taut with wanting, her breath catching in her throat as Cal’s hands caressed down the sides of her body, fingertips lightly brushing the tips of her breasts, her nipples hard with desire, red-hot pleasure coursing through her body as he repeated the caress again and again.

  Helen had never known anything like this in her life before, knew that she was no longer in control, that desire had taken over, a desire that wouldn’t be denied. It was the same for Cal, she knew that, could feel the hardness of his body against her as he made no effort to hide his need from her.

  He raised his head, looking down at her with dark blue eyes. ‘Helen?’

  She knew what he was asking of her, knew he wouldn’t take advantage of the desire between them if it wasn’t what she wanted too.

  She opened her mouth to speak. ‘I—’

  ‘Cal, I wondered if—’ A brief knock had heralded the arrival of the man who now stood framed in the doorway, breaking off what he had been about to say as he realised he had interrupted them.

  Helen couldn’t see the man’s face properly in the half-light of the hallway behind him, the lounge itself lit only by a small table-lamp some distance away from the door—and yet she had recognised the voice instantly.

  The man standing in the doorway was Daniel Scott!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DANIEL’S presence here was enough to tell Helen she hadn’t been mistaken on Friday at all, that it had been him she had seen driving down the lane near Cherry Trees after all.

  And she didn’t need to be a mathematician to work out that Daniel had to be the personal assistant/accountant that Cal had taken on to help him.

  Daniel, of all people!

  She had stepped back from Cal the moment the other man had knocked so briefly on the door, but she moved even further away from him now as Daniel eyed them speculatively.

  Daniel had changed little since she had last been in his presence, still the handsome devil who had impressed her so easily six years ago, his hair thick and golden, brushed lightly back from his too-handsome face, the features almost too perfect; his eyes so light a blue they were almost grey, fringed by long dark lashes; his nose short and straight, with a sculptured mouth and strong determined jaw. He was wearing a loose grey sweater and fitted denims, the latter emphasising the muscled strength of his body.

  He had a handsomeness that only seemed to increase with the years, thirty-five now. And yet Helen wasn’t in the least impresse
d by him, not any more, knew him too well for that.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he apologised to Cal as he moved further into the room. ‘I didn’t realise you weren’t alone.’ The smile he gave Helen was speculative, to say the least.

  Cal had recovered his composure quicker than Helen, and was in complete control again now, any irritation he might have felt at the interruption quickly masked, although his smile was a little strained.

  ‘Helen, this is Daniel Scott, my new assistant,’ he introduced smoothly. ‘Daniel, this is Helen Foster, a friend of mine.’

  Daniel thrust out his hand confidently. ‘Miss Foster,’ he acknowledged softly.

  ‘Mr Scott.’ She swallowed hard, touching his hand as briefly as good manners would allow.

  A friend, hmm? Daniel’s mocking gaze seemed to say as Helen continued to look at him with distaste.

  Why did he have to judge everyone by his own standards? she fumed silently. Just because he had walked in and found her in Cal’s arms it was no reason to jump to conclusions concerning their relationship. But that was typical of Daniel, as she well knew.

  ‘What did you want to see me about?’ Cal prompted with a politeness that was slightly belied by the irritation in his gaze.

  ‘I had some papers here I wasn’t too sure of.’ Daniel indicated the sheets of paper in his hand. ‘But they can wait until morning,’ he dismissed with a shrug.

  ‘Please, don’t let me stop you,’ Helen spoke directly to Cal, not wanting even to look at Daniel again, knowing what she would see in his eyes. And she had no intention of feeling self-conscious about something that was none of his business. ‘I have to go now anyway.’

  The moment between them had gone, they both knew that, and yet Cal looked as if he would like to ask her to stay, at least until Daniel had gone and they could say goodnight in private.

  But Helen just wanted to get away, from both men, and regain her composure in peace. ‘I really do have to go,’ she said firmly before he could object. ‘It’s very late.’

  And the question of time hadn’t arisen until they had been so rudely interrupted, they both knew that. But Cal seemed to take one look at the determination on her face and decide not to argue with her.