'You didn't deny it.'
'My God,' she whispered, her eyes wide, 'you despicable—-bastard! If you think I actually enjoyed being an unwanted spectator in that vitriolic little scene, you have to be mad!' Her eyes sparkled with temper. 'You deliberately used me, and I find that unforgivable!'
'Stephanie,' he warned hardily. 'Let's go over those files, shall we?'
She could easily have hit him. 'Damn you! Do it yourself!' Uncaring, she walked past him, intent on escaping, and almost gasped as hard hands closed over her arms effectively bringing her to a halt. She looked up, then wished she hadn't.
Cold anger emanated from every muscle and sinew: His jaw was tight with it, and his eyes were inimical brown chips as he gazed at her. 'I don't need self-righteous feminine indignation,' he bit out.
'What do you need?' she demanded contemptuously, then the scream that rose in her throat never found voice as his mouth closed down over hers.
It couldn't by the wildest stretch of imagination be called a kiss, part of her brain registered numbly as he subjected her lips to a punishingly brutal assault, plundering until the delicate skin became grazed and split. Just as she thought she could bear no more he lifted his head and thrust her to arms' length.
Stephanie almost fell, and would have if he hadn't supported her. She felt numb, her jaw and mouth so sore she doubted her ability to speak. Even her limbs weren't her own, refusing to obey the demands of her brain to turn and run—as far and as fast as her legs would carry her.
Quite what might have happened next remained unknown as the shrill peal of the telephone broke the stillness of the room, and with a muttered oath Jake leant forward and plucked the receiver from its rest.
Stephanie heard his voice, but for those infinitesimal seconds nothing seemed to register. Her entire body appeared to be in shock, and she looked at him dazedly when he held the receiver towards her.
'It's for you,'
There wasn't a flicker of emotion in his voice, nor any visible sign of regret to be evidenced from his expression, and with a strangled sound she took the receiver from his hand, taking great care that her fingers didn't come into contact with his.
For a moment she failed to recognise the caller, then a sense of normality rose to the surface and with it came a measure of control as she found herself answering, 'Yes, I'm fine. The movies? Tonight? No, I'm not doing anything, and yes, I'd love to come.' It was a blessing in disguise, she decided shakily as she made arrangements to meet Karen in town. To have stayed in the house for the evening would have been impossible.
'You're going out?' Jake queried brusquely, his expression enigmatic, and she fixed her gaze on a point near his right shoulder.
'Yes.'
'Dinner?'
She lifted her head slightly and met his penetrating gaze. The invitation hadn't included a meal, but the thought of food, especially the eating of it in his presence, almost made her ill. 'I'm sure you can manage on your own,' she said stiffly, moving past him towards the door.
In the house she swiftly showered and dressed, then satisfied with her appearance she ran quickly downstairs to her car. There was no sign of Jake, and she told herself fiercely that she didn't care a jot whether he ate alone—or even if he ate at all.
Karen's vivacity acted like a soothing balm, and for the space of four hours Stephanie managed to dismiss Jake to the deep recess of her mind.
It was only when she was driving home that his image rose to taunt her, and the memory of that punishing onslaught became hauntingly vivid. With it came a slow burning resentment that he had shamelessly used her to assuage his anger against Alana.
The porch light was on, and she garaged the car before entering the house. Psychologically she was primed to do battle, although why was something she didn't care to pursue. It was almost as if some inner gremlin was bent on forcing an explosive confrontation, but as she switched off lights and ascended the stairs she had to concede a strange bereft disappointment in the fact that Jake had retired for the night.
Dawn brought the promise of sunshine, although the early morning frost numbed Stephanie's hands and feet as she went about her usual round of the animals. Her warm breath joined theirs, forming visible patterns in the cold air, and she moved briskly in an attempt to increase her circulation. God, it was cold! And there was still another month before the worst of winter would be upon them. It was at moments like these that she conjured up visions of warm sunshine, and she envisaged the pleasure of languishing supine on some north Queensland beach.
Chores completed, she headed back to the house, shedding her gumboots and fleecy-lined windcheater in the laundry before making for the stairs and ultimately a hot shower.
'Good morning.'
That deep drawling voice brought her to a sudden halt, and she deliberately kept her gaze lowered as she returned a perfunctory greeting.
Attired in hip-hugging levi's and a dark rib-knitted jumper that accentuated the hard muscular contours of his body, Jake emanated a raw virility that was infinitely powerful.
'I've already attended to the animals in the clinic,' he informed her, adding dryly, 'I'm about to make coffee. Will you have some?'
What did he expect? That she should ignore what happened last night and calmly share coffee with him? She shook her head slowly. 'I'll wait for breakfast.'
The sight of him at the table when she returned downstairs some fifteen minutes later gave her a shock. Somehow she had expected he would already have eaten, and the fact that he hadn't made her lips tighten with anger.
If he'd cooked something for her, she'd throw it at him! she decided vengefully. A quick circumspect inspection of the oven revealed nothing warming therein, and she set about making scrambled eggs and toast, squeezed fresh orange juice and drank it, then poured fresh coffee and carried it to the table.
Jake seemed intent on skimming the news outlined in the newspaper, then setting it aside he poured himself more coffee.
'Enjoy yourself last night?'
She cast him a remarkably level glance, then resumed eating, giving a monosyllabic answer as she finished the last of her egg.
'Am I to be consigned to Coventry?'
It was his faintly quizzical cynicism that succeeded in bringing forth all her latent anger, and she directed him a chilling glare.
'What would you suggest—polite conversation?'
One eyebrow rose in sardonic mockery. 'Like all women upon imagining themselves wronged, you'll settle for nothing less than an apology.'
Her eyes clouded slightly with remembered pain, then cleared as she met and held his gaze. 'I'd rather have no apology at all than one that isn't sincerely given,' she said quietly, and of its own volition her chin lifted fractionally. 'And I don't imagine myself wronged—just misused as an unwilling substitute.' Rising to her feet, she tucked in her chair, and her eyes were remarkably steady. 'If you'll excuse me?'
Stephanie expected him to make some comment of at least attempt to detain her, but he did neither, and as she left the house and made her way towards the clinic her victory suddenly seemed very hollow. It was impossible to imagine any woman having the last word where Jake Stanton was concerned—much less someone with her lack of sophistication.
The clinic was busy, and apart from a hastily snatched lunch break there was little opportunity to do other than attend to the numerous animals and their owners.
It was well after five before they were able to close up the clinic, and Stephanie was about to follow Michael out the door when Jake called her back.
Slowly she turned, her expression polite as she waited for him to speak.
'I instructed Mrs Anderson not to prepare dinner,' he told her. 'We'll go out for a change.'
'We?'
He gave an imperceptible shrug, and a slight smile tugged the edges of his mouth. 'Call it an act of atonement, if you like.'
'I don't think so, thank you,' she refused quietly.
'I've already booked a table.'
&nb
sp; Her gaze became level, and she even managed a faint smile. 'I'm sure you won't have to eat alone, Jake. There's any number of women who'll jump at the chance should you care to lift the phone.'
A faint speculative gleam darkened his eyes. 'I've extended the invitation to you.'
'And. I've refused.' She didn't add that she was sorry, because she wasn't. 'Goodnight.'
Fool, she thought silently as she entered the house. You could have gone out with him, a tiny voice taunted, taken the evening with both hands and accepted whatever he wanted to give. It could even be fun, a chance to get to know him better as a man, rather than as your father's locum.
Almost of its own volition, her head moved from side to side in silent negation. There was nothing to be gained, except heartache. A slight bubble of hysterical laughter rose in her throat, One had only to see Alana to know his taste in women. How could she compete with that? Why should she even try? Yet to deny she was unaware of his particular brand of magnetism would be hypocritical.
Slowly she mounted the stairs, and in her room she stripped off her uniform and donned a casual pantsuit in emerald green velvet. It was warm, and suitable for what she had planned for the evening—viewing television, she thought with a wry grimace.
The kitchen seemed unusually cold, with no welcoming warmth or the aroma of appetising food permeating the air. A quick glance in the refrigerator revealed some leftovers, and without further ado she set about assembling herself an edible meal.
She had almost finished when she heard Jake leave the house, and perversely she felt inexplicably cross, part of her wishing he had at least ascertained if she'd changed her mind. Not that she had, she assured herself fiercely. It would have given her the greatest satisfaction to have refused again.
The house seemed empty and lonely, and nothing on television grabbed her interest sufficiently, so after fruitlessly switching channels she finally turned it off and went upstairs to her room, settling into bed with a book which she determinedly read until ten.
Surprisingly she slept, and woke to the insistent peal of the alarm next morning, aware that nothing, had disturbed her through the- night, not even the sound of Jake returning.
Dressed, she made her way downstairs to the laundry, where she shrugged her arms into the heavy sheepskin-lined coat before thrusting her feet into gumboots in preparation for her usual round of the animals.
Chores completed, she went into the kitchen and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Jake sitting at the table, a mug of steaming black coffee within hands' reach.
CHAPTER FIVE
'Good morning.' Stephanie kept her greeting noncommittal, and saw him wince.
'Do you have to. speak so loudly?'
Her gaze flew to his face, and a faint smile curved her lips at his slightly dissipated air. 'My, oh my,' she murmured drolly. 'Are you nursing a hangover?'
'A giant-sized headache,' Jake corrected wryly, shooting her a sharp frowning glance, and she grinned.
'Cause and effect—it's all the same thing.'
'Don't sound so self-righteous,' he told her. 'It's partly your fault.'
'How like a man to lay the blame anywhere but at his own feet!' she remarked, moving towards the refrigerator. 'Eggs, steak, sausages. What will it be this morning?'
'You're really getting a lack out of this, aren't you?'
She had a difficult time veiling the devilish gleam lightening her eyes. 'Why should you imagine that?'
He leaned back in his chair and regarded her with ill-concealed mockery. 'Oh, I think you'd enjoy taking me down a peg or two, Stephanie Matheson.'
'Do you want your eggs scrambled or fried?'
'Do you know I was invaded before I was halfway through the first course?' he drawled sardonically. 'A woman vowing I'd saved her darling pooch from a fate worse than death sailed up to my table and sat down. Only a polite hint that I was expecting someone to join me succeeded in making her leave.'
'Tough,' Stephanie observed unsympathetically.
'You should have been there.'
'To keep the predators at bay?' His eyes hardened slightly, belying the slight smile curving the edge of his mouth. 'One day some man is going to take you to task.'
'A few have tried without success,' she responded with unaccustomed flippancy. 'More coffee?'
He held out the mug and she refilled it. The meal was almost ready, and she was about to serve it on to plates when the phone rang.
Stephanie answered, then after listening for a few seconds she held out the receiver. 'It's for you.'
'An emergency call?'
'I really do hope so,' she declared sweetly. He'd find out soon enough who was on the other end of the phone, and. a few seconds later Jake said hardily, 'I thought I told you not to call me.'
Poor Alana, she thought with a twinge of remorse. It must be hell to love with such a degree of intensity that it Removed every vestige of pride. Not wanting to infringe, she put Jake's breakfast in the oven to keep warm, then took her plate into the dining-room.
She was forking the last of her egg from her plate when Jake joined her, and she studiously bit into some toast.
'No comment?'
At his drawled query she glanced up, keeping her gaze steady. 'What should I say?'
'Nothing at all,' he shrugged cynically, and she gave an imperceptible shrug.
'Impossible to even imagine you need advice on how to conduct your affairs.'
One eyebrow slanted in a sardonic arc. 'Plural? What if I were to assure I prefer a solitary existence unencumbered by the female gender?'
Deliberately summoning lightly tinged mockery, she let her mouth lift into a faint smile. 'You're not serious?'
'Perhaps not,' he drawled.
'Just requiring one ex-wife to exit the scene,' she mocked, finishing the last of her coffee.
'Yes.'
'It must be the very devil to possess so much machismo,' Stephanie declared tartly.
'Is that an admission?'
'Heaven forbid!'
'So adamant.' His faint laugh brought forth a surge of latent anger.
'You're a callous brute!' she rounded on him furiously. 'The poor woman is obviously besotted with you and wants a reconciliation.'
'Ah, yes,' Jake agreed sardonically, his eyes hardening measurably. 'Will it shock you to learn that Alana loves money and everything it can buy? Far more than anything else,' he enlightened with cynical mockery. 'She left me for someone who appeared willing to place the entire universe at her feet. Tired of playing "wife", she packed and fled to the movie capital with the promise of a fat contract and a life of everlasting fun and excitement. A life,' he added wryly, 'I neither wanted nor envied. The only word I had was via her lawyers when she filed for divorce.' He pinned her motionless with his dark gaze. 'Something that can be achieved with remarkable speed in the States. They have several trite terms suitable for every occasion. Alana chose "irreconcilable differences". God knows, it seemed to fit.' He paused, then continued hardly, 'Alas, there was no instant stardom, and her new benefactor, realising she couldn't act, cast her aside and pursued another young nubile female. One must be seen to be successful,' he told her with heavy cynicism. 'Over the next few years she sought out and deliberately courted the rich and famous, gaining bit parts in films that never reached the cinema. They were viewed, of course. Alana possesses a beautiful body, and wasn't ashamed to show every inch of it. Do I need to elaborate?'
A tinge of pink coloured her cheeks, and her eyes held a stricken look.
'Poor Stephanie,' Jake mocked. 'I do believe you're shocked. Not a pretty picture, is it?' he drawled. The world of beautiful plastic people began to pall, and deciding her "fling", as she called it, was over, she elected to return to Canada. I'm sure you can guess the rest?'
Stephanie found her voice with difficulty. 'You didn't want her back.'
'No,' he said brusquely. 'Unfortunately, she refused to be convinced, and I decided to return to Australia.'
'And
she followed you.'
'Yes.'
'You need a smokescreen.' The words were out before she was aware she'd opened her mouth.
'My dear Stephanie,' Jake murmured slowly, 'are you offering to volunteer in that capacity?'
'No, of course not.'
His eyes narrowed slightly, then assumed a speculative gleam. 'I rather think the idea is too good to be dismissed.'
'Not me,' she said quickly, aware of a strange lurching sensation in the region of her heart.
'You've just been overruled,' he told her with dangerous softness.
'I won't let you.'
'Would it be so terrible?'
'It's deliberately deceitful,' she began shakily, hardly daring to look at him.
'I'll make it worth your while.'
Anger reared up inside her, sparking her eyes with fury. 'How dare you!'
'You're prepared to do it gratis?' He was laughing now, silently, showing fine white teeth. 'For love?'
Stephanie picked up the nearest thing and threw it at him, watching with mesmerised fascination as he neatly fielded the mug and set it down out of reach. A slow mounting horror at her action began to have its effect, and her voice came out as a shaky whisper.
'I couldn't love you if you were the last man on earth!'
She had to get away, out of this room, and she had taken a few steps towards the door when her arm was caught in a bruising grip.
'Not so fast,' he murmured inflexibly, turning her round and stilling her impotent struggles with an ease that was galling.
'Let me go!'
'Soon.'
There was a brooding expectancy in his gaze that made her catch her breath, and she was powerless to stop the betraying pulsebeat at the edge of her throat. 'Don't—please!' Was that her voice? It sounded strange; a kind of breathless pleading supplication that was oddly at variance with her emotions.
His head lowered, descending with seeming slow motion so that when his lips touched the vulnerable hollow beneath her earlobe it was almost an anti-climax. With feather lightness he teased the sensitive cord, trailing down with infinite provocativeness until he reached the madly-beating pulse at the base of her throat, then not content, he let his mouth drift steadily up towards her mouth.
Sweet Tempest Page 7
