'At least the rain has stopped.' Oh lord, she derided mentally, how inane! As a conversational gambit, the weather was low on the list of scintillating subjects!
'Have you heard from your father?' asked Ian, seemingly intent on ignoring the arresting man opposite, and Stephanie grasped the query as if it were a life-raft in a stormy sea.
'I received a cable this morning saying he'd arrived safely. He was going to phone, but I guess the time difference made it difficult.' Setting down her glass, she threw Jake a veiled glance, then excused herself on the pretext of dishing up the meal.
'Surely Mrs James is capable of doing that?' Ian intervened with a faint frown. 'She'll call us when it's ready.'
Here goes, Stephanie decided resignedly. Time to drop the bombshell! 'Mrs James is in hospital,' she revealed carefully. 'I've managed to find someone to take her place, and a Mrs Anderson is starting tomorrow.' She summoned a quick smile. Tonight's fare is hardly Cordon Bleu. Three minutes, okay?'
She could see a dozen questions forming on Ian's lips, but answering them right now was beyond her, and without further ado she crossed the room and closed the door quietly behind her.
In the kitchen she busied herself emptying the contents of saucepans into serving dishes, then carried them into the dining-room. A slow burning indignation put a fiery sparkle in her eyes. Damn Jake—he could at least try to enter the conversation!
She was just placing the soup tureen on the table when both men emerged from the hall, and one glance at Ian's set expression was enough to make her curse the older man afresh.
'Precisely where in Canada do you come from?'
They were halfway through the soup when Ian voiced the query, and Jake directed him a level look.
'Vancouver.'
'Lived there all your life, I presume?'
Jake's eyes assumed a thoughtfulness as he regarded Stephanie, then he transferred his gaze to her companion. 'I spent the last ten years there,' he answered tolerantly.
'Jake's family live in Melbourne,' Stephanie put in.
'Are you married?'
'Am I obliged to answer that?'
She could sense the cynical amusement evident from the faint quirk of his lips, and could have slapped him. He wasn't lifting a finger to make things easy!
'But you can't lack for women friends,' Ian persisted with a temporary lapse of good manners in his quest for information, and she momentarily closed her eyes as she waited for the snub that must follow.
'Would it help if I were to produce a few?'
'I don't know what you mean,' Ian bristled, at a loss to match the other man's sophisticated adroitness.
'I think you do,' Jake responded softly.
With a strangled murmur Stephanie stood to her feet and removed the soup plates. In a minute she'd scream!
Somehow they got through the ensuing two courses, although at its end Stephanie wrote off the entire event as a total disaster. Neither man elected to speak further, and after a few hapless attempts she fell into an uneasy silence.
'I'll be at the clinic if any calls come through,' Jake informed her as he stood to his feet, then pushing in his chair he cast them both an enigmatic glance. 'Don't worry about coffee for me. I'll make some later.'
'As soon as I've cleared the kitchen I'm driving up to the hospital to see Mrs James,' she declared, uncaring whether Ian took her or not. The need to get out of the house was paramount.
'I'll leave the light on for you,' Jake drawled with hateful mockery, and it took all her self-control not to pick something up and throw it at him!
'Who the hell does he think he is?' Ian demanded wrathfully the instant the door closed, and Stephanie retorted with asperity, 'He knows exactly who he is. He's also the most impossible man I've ever met!'
It wasn't a successful evening. Even visiting Edith James did little to lift her flagging spirits, and afterwards fending Ian's relentless questions and observations almost brought her to the point of explosive anger.
Conversely, she refrained from telling him that Mrs Anderson was merely coming in for eight hours each day. He'd find out for himself soon enough, she decided darkly.
As the car drew to a halt outside the front entrance of the house, the ensuing silence between them could be cut with a proverbial knife.
'How about going to the cinema tomorrow night?'
Stephanie paused in reaching for the doorclasp and turned slightly in her seat. 'I'm not sure. Ring me tomorrow, okay?'
His hand fell on to her shoulder, its touch urgent as he tightened his grasp. 'Stephanie,' he muttered huskily, and she released an inaudible sigh.
'I'm tired,' she excused, loath to have him kiss her, and he groaned, 'Dammit, don't you understand? I'm torn apart just knowing he's in the same house with you. One has only to look at him to know he's a rake!'
'You met him for the first time tonight,' she offered quietly. 'How can you make such an observation after so brief an acquaintance?'
'You must find him attractive!' he burst out, and she slowly shook her head.
'Do you want me to say that I don't?'
'You do,' he accused. 'I knew it. You're just like all the rest!'
God give her patience, she prayed silently. 'You're overreacting.'
His eyes were full of glittering anger. 'Am I? I don't think so.'
'I've had about as much of this as I'm prepared to take,' she said tightly, moving to slide out from the passenger seat. Hard hands caught hold of her shoulders, pulling her backwards. 'Let me go, Ian.' Her voice was icy, and had no effect at all.
'I'm damned if I will,' he muttered thickly, twisting her round so he had easy access to her mouth.
His kiss was hard and unrestrained, as if he was bent on proving something—if only to himself. Then she was mercifully free, and she slid out from the car and slammed the door, uncaring as he revved the engine and took off at an alarming speed.
Her legs felt decidedly shaky as she moved to the front entrance, and to add to her chagrin she had trouble finding her key. At last her fingers encountered the slim piece of metal, and she slid it into the lock.
Safely inside, she closed the door behind her and secured the security chain.
'Well, well,' a deep voice drawled mockingly, 'you're home early.'
Stephanie turned to see Jake moving towards her, his entire stance reflecting sardonic amusement. Cold anger stirred her reflexes, making her want to lash out against him.
'Any reason why I shouldn't be?'
'None at all,' he murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly as they caught sight of her faintly swollen mouth. 'How did you find Mrs James?'
The last thing she wanted at this moment was polite conversation! 'As well as could be expected,' she said curtly, and deliberately moved past him towards the stairs. 'Goodnight.'
His monosyllabic response held a cynicism that made her want to turn and throw something, and only great restraint prevented a display of temper as without so much as a backward glance she ran quickly upstairs, and on gaining the sanctuary of her room she tossed her shoulderbag on to the bed with such force it bounced off and slithered across the floor.
CHAPTER THREE
The following few days passed without mishap, the clinic becoming even more busy than before. Stephanie shortened her luncheon break in order to cope with the increasing influx, and began to adopt a firm stand over non-urgent appointments. Every eligible female, it seemed, wanted a legitimate excuse to confront the new man in town. On more than one occasion she stifled a growing cynicism over the effect Jake Stanton appeared to have on the feminine gender. From sixteen to sixty, few remained immune. Yet an inherent honesty forced her to admit that he didn't deliberately set out to charm. His approach was totally professional, polite, but little more than that. In one of her more analytical moments she deduced that it was his very professionalism that provided the challenge. Women wanted to find a chink in that sophisticated veneer and discover the man beneath the mask. She could have told each and e
very one of them that his armour was plated with tensile steel! Even living in the same house she was no closer to discovering what made him tick than any of her envious counterparts.
On the domestic front, Mrs Anderson was fast proving herself to be a veritable treasure. Not only was she more than adequate in the kitchen, she possessed a sunny nature and at times resorted to a wicked sense of humour that acted like a breath of fresh air.
Ian was something else. Twice when he rang she had refused his invitation to go out, and his frustration in not being able to pin her down was becoming increasingly evident.
Halfway through dinner Friday evening the phone rang, and setting down her knife and fork Stephanie rose to her feet. 'I'll answer it.'
Expecting an emergency call, she registered surprise on hearing Ian's voice. 'Hi,' she greeted him with casual warmth. 'How are—'
'I think I'd better come over,' he began without preamble.
'Is something wrong?'
'That depends,' he answered, and a frown creased her brow at the tone of his voice.
'It's been a hectic week,' she offered quietly. 'I don't feel like going out.'
'Suits me fine. I'm on my way.'
'We're having dinner. Make it half an hour.'
She could sense him making an effort to control his temper. 'Don't dictate to me, Stephanie,' he warned emotively. 'I'm coming now.' The sound of the receiver being forcibly replaced made her wince.
'A personal call, I take it?' Jake observed mildly, and she cast him an angry glare as she returned to the table.
'Yes,' she conceded tightly.
'The boy-friend?'
'I doubt he'll retain that status for much longer,' she hinted darkly, regarding the contents on her plate with sudden lack of appetite.
'Ah,' he drawled sardonically. 'At a guess, the news of our replacement housekeeper not being resident has just filtered through.'
Stephanie shot him a wry glance. 'I'd say you've got it in one.'
'Shall I discreetly disappear when he arrives?'
'Why should you?' she managed evenly, and glimpsed his faint smile.
'Impossible to imagine you require my support.'
Her gaze was remarkably level. 'Somehow I don't see you in the role of mediator.' She drew a deep breath, then released it slowly. 'Unless I'm mistaken, the whole purpose of this sudden visit will have been instigated by Mrs Bryant.'
'An over-protective mother?'
'More than that,' she said dryly. 'I doubt there's a female on this earth who can measure up to her requirements for a prospective daughter-in-law.'
'She can't cling for ever.'
'No?'
They were about to start on dessert when the front doorbell pealed, and Stephanie restrained a faint grimace.
'That will be Ian.'
She ushered him into the lounge, and could hardly believe it when he insisted on joining her in the dining-room. 'Surely you can wait five minutes while we finish dinner?'
'We?' demanded Ian with scant regard for civility. 'You mean he's having dinner with you?'
Oh lord, this looked like turning out worse than she'd envisaged! 'What would you have me do, Ian?' she demanded with deceptive softness. 'Make him eat in his room each night?'
'I'm damned if I'll cool my heels in the lounge while you two closet yourselves together over a meal.' His voice bordered on belligerence, and she muttered beneath her breath as she followed him down the hall.
She was beginning to get angry, and if he didn't stop behaving in such a highhanded manner she'd tell him exactly what she thought of him—and his mother!
Jake looked up as Ian preceded her into the room, and his features bore an inscrutable expression as he greeted the younger man.
'You don't mind if we finish dessert?' Stephanie queried with deliberate emphasis as Ian pulled out a chair and sat down.
'I'll have some coffee,' he muttered.
'Why don't you make it?' she suggested sweetly. 'Perhaps Jake would like some, as well.'
'The kitchen isn't my domain,' Ian essayed with a scowl. 'I can wait until you've finished.'
Contrarily, she took over-long in eating her dessert, hardly tasting the delectable fruit. She was filled with an inner rage—with Ian for being a gullible fool in listening to his mother's bitter innuendoes.
Standing to her feet, she collected plates together and carried them through to the kitchen. Deliberately taking her time, she rinsed all the crockery and cutlery and stacked them into the dishwasher, then set to work on the saucepans. The kitchen restored to neatness, she plugged in the electric kettle and retrieved three mugs from the cupboard. Then she placed sugar, cream and milk on to a tray, added the steaming coffee pot and carried it through to the dining-room.
Presumably the two men had maintained some kind of conversation, although it was difficult to judge. Ian's face was set in faintly mutinous lines, almost to the point of an outright scowl, and Jake appeared blandly enigmatic.
Taking a seat, she distributed the mugs and sipped her coffee, endeavouring to draw a calming effect from the hot aromatic brew. Casting both men a quick encompassing glance she was struck by the difference between them: Not only physically, but in maturity. Beside Jake, Ian resembled an ill-mannered, spoilt little boy, and she marvelled that she hadn't recognised these qualities before.
'Come for a drive,' Ian insisted, not even bothering to ask. 'We need to talk.' He looked pointedly in Jake's; direction, who to give credit, didn't appear a whit disturbed.
Don't lose your temper, she cautioned in self-admonition. Aloud, she refused quietly, 'We can talk in the lounge.'
'Anywhere in private.'
'If you'll excuse me?' Jake murmured sardonically, standing to his feet in one fluid movement. 'I'll be in the study. Your father offered me its use at any time, and there are some trade magazines I'd like to go through.' His gaze swept from Stephanie to Ian, and he gave the latter a curt nod. 'I'll take any incoming calls from there.'
'Did you have to be so insufferably rude?' Stephanie hissed the instant the door closed behind him, and Ian gave a careless shrug.
'It isn't his house.'
'It's not yours, either,' she was stung to retort, and a light tinge of colour crept into his face.
'What's all this I hear about your housekeeper?'
'Mrs Anderson?'
'Whatever her name is. Why doesn't she stay here?'
'Simply because she isn't able to,' she returned evenly, and he burst out, 'Well, someone should!'
'Why?'
'You can't be that stupid.'
'Thank you,' she said heavily, 'Personally, I think you're the one who's being ridiculous.'
'I don't care to have a hint of scandal attached to the reputation of the girl who might become my wife.'
'This was even worse than she thought possible. There's no question of me becoming your wife,' she said with great restraint, when inwardly she was almost at boiling point. 'And I'm quite able to look after my own reputation.'
Ian looked momentarily lost for words. 'It just isn't good enough, Stephanie!'
'What, precisely?'
'Having him here without an adequate chaperone!'
'You sound like someone out of Emily Post! These are. the eighties, not the Dark Ages.'
'That's all very well, but the two of you alone—'
'One of the most important factors in any relationship is trust,' she interrupted heatedly, standing to her feet. The look she cast him should have withered him on the spot. 'Something you don't appear to have. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to leave. In fact, I'm going to insist upon it. Before,' she said icily, 'we each say something we both may later regret.'
He seemed to be fighting an inner battle; then he -capitulated with ill grace. 'I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow night.'
She looked at him solemnly, her eyes still dark with anger. 'I don't remember you asking me to go out.'
'Dammit, Stephanie,' he exploded, 'we usually go out on a Saturday
night!'
'I'm sorry, but I've made other arrangements.' She hadn't—at least, not definitely. However, Karen, one of her close friends, had suggested they see a particularly good film that was showing at the local cinema. All it would take was a phone call, and she could do that as soon as Ian left.
'Stephanie!'
But she was already moving from the room, leaving him little option but to follow, and at the front door she bade him a perfunctory goodnight.
'I don't know what's come over you,' he muttered, pausing hesitantly. 'You've changed.'
It had to be for the better, she told herself silently.
'I'll call you tomorrow.'
She gave a careless shrug. 'That's up to you.'
He looked as if he was about to kiss her, then obviously decided against it.
After locking the door she crossed into the lounge and switched on the television, then sat down to watch a locally-produced programme. When that finished she changed channels and viewed a half-hour comedy. There had been no sign or sound of Jake, and she concluded that he must still be in the study. Deciding she didn't care where he was, she doused the lights and went upstairs to bed.
Saturday morning's clinic was suitably busy. Even Michael, usually a tireless worker, complained sotto voce as it drew near lunchtime. 'Going out tonight?'
He asked the same question every week, but ever hopeful he refused to give up in case she might relent.
'I am,' Stephanie grinned, and caught a glimpse of resignation in his expression. 'With Karen.'
His eyebrows shot upwards. 'Hmm, that's a change. Don't tell me Ian is on the way out—at last?'
'And if he is?'
His smile broadened cheekily. 'I'm next in line.'
'Says who?' she retaliated, enjoying the light bantering they invariably exchanged.
'A very good authority—me.'
'Oh, Michael!' she remonstrated laughingly, and he grinned back, unabashed.
'Oh, Michael' he mimicked without rancour. 'When will you begin to take me seriously?'
'I've never thought of you in that way,' she explained gently, and glimpsed his cynical smile.
'I know,' he acknowledged wryly.
Sweet Tempest Page 4
