by Orla Bailey
I realise how thoroughly Amanda has played me from the start. I wonder if the red dress was her idea, to cut me off at the knees. She could see the way the wind blew. But it blew up in her face when Jack decided on the sham engagement as a resolution. In danger of losing her grip on Jack as soon as I appeared on the scene, she set me up royally. Now she’s reaping the rewards of her harvest.
Considering I’m standing naked and have a tear-streaked face I can call on some amount of haughtiness when I want to. “I know what you were doing. You thought you’d put me in my place; shown Amanda I was just some besotted little fool the two of you could have fun tormenting. Except I transformed before your very eyes into a predatory female who couldn’t keep her hands off every available man in the room. No wonder you were so quick to think I cheated on you in that hotel.”
The quick flash of hurt or guilt sweeping his features tells me I’m right about something. It wasn’t what I did, it was what he did to me. I slap him. Hard. This time it isn’t followed up by any provocative kiss.
He twists my wrists deftly into the small of my back. Despite his clothing I feel every taut muscle in his chest and stomach heaving, crushing my breasts and belly as I squirm with indignity against him.
“It wasn’t like that. I don’t blame you for Ben Gunn. I blame me. I should have stayed in control. Not let you drink so much Champagne. You’re so damned desirable what man wouldn’t try his luck?” His blue eyes glitter with biting memory as he stares down at me. “It was my fault.” I note the familiar harsh lust glazing his features. He feels every contour of my body the way I do, his. His body reacts to mine and he leans in to kiss me.
“Don’t.” I turn my head; stop him in his tracks before I’m lost to this feral hunger too. The magnetic attraction between us is almost too powerful to resist. I want Jack so much I might forgive him almost anything. That is what he is banking on.
For his part, he may want my body but it’s her he can’t let go.
He releases me. Easily.
I retaliate verbally. “Yet you were prepared to risk all those well-laid plans of a sham public engagement to me, by kissing Amanda at Belvedere. You might have been hidden from those journalists but I saw you.” I pause for a second for the crushing truth to sink in. “Admit it, Jack. It was always Amanda you wanted. Still want.” I can’t hold back a choked sound of anguish. “You might have been screwing me but I was just an inconvenience you could have a little fun with.” Just like Amanda suggested. “Compensation for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”
I’m brittle, fragile, ready to snap in two. Only my outrage at being used by him, holds me together.
“That is ridiculous.” He stalks half way across the room and back again. “When the hell was I kissing Amanda at Belvedere? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m the ridiculous one, for pretending to be engaged to a man who has a secret lover. It’s so circles within circles, it makes my head spin.”
Jack stares at me. “There must be a rational explanation for what you think you saw.”
He’s pretending not to remember but he never forgets anything so I don’t buy it. He’s stalling.
“Explain away then,” I challenge, maintaining my distance. He’s too easy a safety-net for me to fall into. I capture the larger piece of sheeting from the bed and wind it round myself before perching on the edge. When Jack sits beside me I shift backwards. I want him to feel the distance he’s creating between us.
“I don’t have a secret lover. The only lover I have is you and you’re no secret.”
“No, I’m a – what did you call it? – a media coup to save your sorry arse from embarrassment.”
He ignores my crude accusation and my twisting of his words. “The only lover I have is you,” he repeats and his voice is gentle. “The only lover I want, is you, Tabitha. I want you.”
I steel myself to counter the compelling lure of his Arctic blues. I’m already in grave danger of a complete and sudden pole reversal, tossing away all previous concerns to throw myself without caution into his arms. But there’s only so many times I can forgive him for not wanting me the way that I want him. Emotionally. Exclusively.
“Then why were you and Amanda kissing out of sight of those reporters at Belvedere?” I won’t let it go. It’s too important to get to the truth.
His frown deepens as he seemingly struggles to recall that too. “She came along to offer her support.”
I snort indignantly.
He ignores my derision and continues. “I remember her asking if I was okay about everything.” He appears to be searching through his memory archives. It’s a very good act.
“I’m sure you were fine just as soon as you kissed the woman you loved.”
“She kissed me,” he says, recalling the event right on cue. He stares at me across the divide. “She and I are not strangers.”
A noise of distress escapes my throat. I clap a hand, too late, over my mouth. “That’s right. You’re not. You’re lovers.”
He looks at me, almost apologetically; waits a little too long to respond. “We have been lovers. Were. I’m not going to insult your intelligence by pretending I’ve been celibate for the past four years. But Amanda and I? That’s over. We’re not lovers any more. I’m sorry, Tabitha. I didn’t want to hurt you by dragging up the past.”
“It’s too late for that. And it’s hardly the past. Don’t lie to me. She kissed you, and you kissed her back. I saw it.”
“Is that what it looked like?” He reaches out to stroke my hair but I duck my head aside. I don’t want his false sympathy. It’s too painful to bear.
“Yes.” I spit the word out but my successful proving of my case only serves to hurt me more. “That’s exactly what it looked like.”
The furrow clears from between his brows until his features turn cool and stony. “And things are always the way they appear to be.” He waits for me to process his mockery. It’s a lousy trick. He grips me by the upper arms, giving me a gentle shake.
I’m damned if I say yes but equally damned if I say no. I avert my eyes. “Not always,” I have to concede.
“Exactly.” He releases all his pent up energy in one massive exhalation.
I decide he just wriggled himself neatly off the hook. I shake his hands off. I don’t want his pity or his deceit. I want nothing less than a confession. “You told me yourself the two of you were close. Close enough that you were going to get married.” I don’t know why I want to prove it so badly. I’m digging an emotional grave with my own tongue.
“We were going to be married.”
“So you must have loved her. You still love her.” There is no other explanation. “Before I got in the way.”
This thing with me has just been an enjoyable game to him. Amanda, however, saw things very differently. I should never have walked back into his life. Except he was the one who walked into mine. Kicked down my door to do it. And I repaid the favour by invading his boardroom making demands. I groan and hold my aching head. This is my own fault for trying to dredge up a ghost from the past. I deserve everything I get. There are no fairy tale endings.
“I don’t love Amanda. I don’t wish to marry her. I wasn’t kissing her at Belvedere.”
“That’s a downright lie!”
“She. Kissed. Me.” He claims the exact same defence I do over Benn Gunn. “If you saw me hold Amanda, it would only have been to prevent her from taking things further.”
Is that brutal honesty or sly cleverness on his part and the reason he questions my own justification over Ben Gunn?
I growl in frustration. “So, you admit she wants your relationship to go further?”
He considers the point, as if he never really thought about it much before. He stands, wanders to the window and lifts the curtains. Pale light nudges through the darkness over the rooftops to the east as his hand scrubs wearily over his face. “Perhaps. It’s practically dawn and we’re both exhausted. Let’s sleep,
Tabitha. We’ll discuss everything in the morning.” He drops the curtain, looking suddenly drained.
But I can’t ignore this arrow in my heart. I drip with blood. “You must have loved her once, if you were going to marry her.” I know Jack would never marry any woman for less. It’s my biggest fear. Does love that powerful ever go away? Mine never will for him, no matter what passes between us. Like I’m spellbound in a fairy tale, I’m condemned to love him for the rest of my days.
“I won’t talk about this anymore tonight.” He shuts down, telling me not to push him.
Some secrets are too big to stay hidden. They have a tendency to detonate like incendiary devices and blast holes in people’s lives. Yet I’m spent too. My head throbs and there’s an irritating, contradictory little buzz between my thighs. I can’t believe myself. After everything we’ve just thought and said and done, I want make-up sex with Jack.
I won’t give in to such base desires so I head for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To the sofa.”
“Sleep here.”
“You kicked me out, remember?”
A remorseful smile softens his lips. “Please sleep with me.”
I glare at him.
“I want you beside me.” He holds out his hand to me but waits rather than demands.
“What made you change your mind?”
“I can’t get enough of you.” The look he gives me suggests it should be obvious.
I roll my eyes. “Not about that. I’m not agreeing to sex, if that’s what you’re thinking. I want to know why you changed your mind about spending the night with Amanda.”
He looks sheepish. “Same answer.”
“Don’t make fun of me, Jack.” Secretly I’m pleased. Clearly, I can’t get enough of him either. Sex. In this one respect we’re in perfect harmony. “Why did you really change your mind?”
“I’ll tell you everything when you’re lying in my arms.”
I’m doubtful. Lying in Jack’s arms leads only one place and we’re both too emotionally wounded to go there tonight. It’s a distraction but I want the truth.
“Okay.” The truth is I’m not strong enough to walk away from him. My love for Jack is my Achilles’ heel.
I use the bathroom while Jack sorts out new sheets for the bed. He knows already in which cupboard to find them. He knows everything about me. I wonder ruefully what Lenuta would think of ripped sheets. I’m pretty sure she’d blame it on Jack’s lust which I find strangely funny under the circumstances. Misery and exhaustion are driving me crazy.
I find the baggy t-shirt I sometimes wear to bed and pop it over my head. As soon as I reappear, Jack takes one wry look at me and pulls it back over my head again.
“Not happening. It takes soft skin to warm a cold heart.”
I cling to the garment like armour. “I don’t think we should have sex again until we’ve sorted all this stuff between us.” I’m being a pompous ass. It’s a moral high-ground I’m imposing to punish him and I know it. I’ve haven’t forgiven him for loving Amanda nor for trusting her instead of me.
“Sex could go a long way to sorting stuff between us,” he insists. He removes his clothing down to his underwear and sits on the bed waiting for me to do the same. I slip between the freshly laid sheets where he joins me. We both lie back and stare up at the ceiling.
“I thought you were dumping me.”
He rolls over to observe me, in silence, his head propped on one elbow.
“Did you take Amanda somewhere nice? Where’d you book the hotel room?” I don’t know why I’m punishing myself.
“It was a suite,” he corrects. He draws a deep breath. “Are you ready to hear this?”
I nod, uncertain.
“I was hurting. I wanted you to know how much, so I booked the same suite at Claridge’s I saw you and him in.” He waits for my reaction.
“Believe me, you know how to twist a knife.” I continue to stare upwards and gather the new sheet protectively under my chin ready for round two.
“I’m sorry, kitten.”
My pained eyes slowly turn to meet his. “What exactly are you sorry for?” This is really all it boils down to.
“It was cruel. I was cruel. I shouldn’t have said what I did about spending the night with Amanda. I shouldn’t have done it either. I was jealous beyond reckoning but I think I was trying to hurt myself too. Like rubbing salt into a wound. Using more pain to block out the first.”
I say it quickly, all in one go, like ripping off a plaster. “Did you have sex with her tonight?”
“No.”
“But you were planning to.”
He pauses and frowns down at me. I want the answer even though I’m pretty certain what it’s likely to be. It’s that same salt and pain thing, I suppose.
He hesitates. “Perhaps. I’m not really sure.” He picks up a lock of my hair and plays it through his fingers. “That’s the truth.”
My eyes sting with tears. My stomach hurts. “What happened?”
He reaches out to stroke my cheek. “We ordered dinner. I couldn’t even swallow one bite.”
“Jack. I’m serious.” I sweep his hand away. This means everything to me.
“We talked about us.”
“Us?” My stomach cramps. I sit up, curling my arms around my knees hugging them tightly. Amanda and Jack have an us.
“Amanda and I have a past, Tabitha. That isn’t going to go away.”
“We have a past too,” I remind him. “That isn’t going to go away either. You have to choose, Jack. You can’t have both of us.”
“I don’t want both of you. Is that what you think?” He jumps out of bed and paces. He’s angry with me. And majorly erect. From thinking about the sex he might have had with her?
I avert my eyes. And my mind from what I think. “I don’t know what you want any more.”
He wheels round to face me. “Christ, Tabitha. How can you not know I want you?”
“You were going to marry her.” I can’t get my head around it.
“A long time ago.”
“Less than four years and she’s still around. Twenty-four seven.” I’m exhausted. Emotionally and physically drained. I don’t have anything left to give. “You planned to spend tonight with her except I ruined your plans.” It’s the abridged version of what’s happened from the start.
Jack climbs back onto the bed beside me. I turn my back on him. I’m angry on so many levels. He let me fall in love with him all over again and I’m still not certain he’s not holding on to Amanda too.
“I didn’t even go up to the suite. I suppose I planned to and I don’t even know why but I didn’t.”
I burst into tears and he immediately gathers me in his arms, turning me into him. Whether it’s relief that he didn’t spend the night making love to her or distress that he wanted to, I can’t say. He soothes the hair back from my forehead repeatedly.
“Shh, baby, shh. Don’t cry. I didn’t go with her because I want to be with you no matter what. I want to be with you. My need to be with you overrides everything.”
I sniff and wipe my eyes on the clean sheets. I don’t even care if he thinks it’s disgusting. “Tell me.”
He tilts my chin up so he can look into my eyes and rubs his thumbs across my cheeks to swipe away the moisture. Bending forwards, he places his warm lips softly over mine.
“It doesn’t matter how angry you make me or what you do, I want you all the time. I really can’t get enough of you.”
“You left me. I didn’t know where you went. You ran away.” Somehow we both understand we’re finally discussing the horrific events of the night I’d been drugged and assaulted at the hotel.
He falters. “What I saw that night… what I thought… I was crazed with jealousy. Beyond all reason. I couldn’t bear to look at you. If I saw you I remembered his hands all over you. I knew it would drive me insane. I had to forget, to force the image from my mind.”
�
��Did you go to her?” I hold my breath. If he ran to her for solace it means he might want me but he still needs her. She’s his port in a storm.
“What? Amanda? No. Hell no. I went to my club and stayed there. I got mind-numbingly wasted as quickly as I could and tried my level best to stay that way. My friends kept me out of any real danger. Blackstock insisted on calling them. At one point, apparently, I was planning on tearing Claridge’s apart brick by brick looking for that bastard who had his hands all over you. I was ready to do jail time.”
I snuggle into his warm body. He’s been hurting badly too. Yet his relationship with Amanda still isn’t clear. “And Amanda?”
“Why do you hate her so much?” He looks as confused as I feel. “If you think she still loves me you should pity her, not hate her, because I want to be with you.”
I struggle out of his embrace. “Why do you believe she’s so innocent?” I turn my back again.
He moves himself in close behind me. “Nothing she could do would stop me wanting you.”
“Are you absolutely certain about that?”
Jack’s arm snakes out, wraps around my waist and drags me flush against him.
“You’re not thinking of running again, are you, Tabby?” he asks almost angrily, flipping off the light. His tone masks a warning.
I’m not having it. “That’s rich coming from you,” I counter. It would serve him right if I did.
“Listen to me.” He twists my chin back towards his and holds it there even though we can hardly make each other out in the grey light. “I’m not going to run. You’re not going to run. We’re going to work through this. Work out what we both want, one way or another. Together.”
It’s a good enough answer. He kisses me deeply yet I free myself and lie down. “Go to sleep.”
But I can’t help smiling in the darkness, despite my misgivings. Being with Jack is all my happiness. And all my heartache. He nuzzles down against me until I feel the firm evidence of his arousal insisting itself against me. I elbow him to back off. He shifts his hips back a little on a sigh but turns me on my back, nudges my knees apart with his and swiftly nestles down between my thighs again. It feels right. This is the place where Jack belongs. Where he should be.
