‘Adam,’ she whispered huskily. ‘Adam, wake up. You have to go to your bed to sleep. You can’t sleep here.’
He half opened his eyes and looked at her drowsily. In the darkness, she couldn’t read the expression behind them, but she knew that he was disorientated at being awakened. She could feel it.
He must be as tired as hell, she thought with a twinge of sympathy, to have fallen asleep out here.
She wanted to reach out and stroke his face, and perhaps, she later thought, he read something of what was going through her mind, because he reached out and pulled her towards him, sighing as his lips found hers.
His kiss was warm and drowsy to start with, but then subtly it changed, becoming harder, his hands clasping in her hair, controlling her. His mouth became a hard, powerful force, parting her lips, drawing an urgent, heated response from her. She had never felt like this before. It was as if a wild beast lying inside her had been unlocked. Greg had kissed her—limp, long kisses that had bored her even though she had found him physically attractive.
She moaned, a tiny sound escaping against his mouth, and that seemed to fire the urgency of his kiss even further. His tongue forged a way into her mouth, then along her neck as he tilted her head back, half rising to prop himself up on one elbow.
Her breasts were aching, only inches away from his face, and she imagined what it would be like to feel his exploring tongue on them. It was an intimacy she had never known before, but the madness she was feeling made her want it with something close to desperation.
She never expected it, though, and when his mouth wetly and hungrily circled her nipple through her nightdress she jerked back in shock and confusion.
‘What do you think you’re playing at?’ she asked, trembling. She faltered across the room and flicked the switch and light flooded the room. ‘Are you mad?’ she continued in a high voice. ‘Kissing me like that... Making love...’
Her body was still throbbing where he had touched her, and in places where he hadn’t, and she looked away from his face, only briefly registering his expression of surprise, whether at her rejection of him or his response to her she didn’t question.
Then a shutter dropped over his face, and when she raised her eyes to his he was grim.
‘For God’s sake,’ he bit out coldly, ‘stop making a mountain out of a molehill. It was only a kiss. Not rape.’
‘That’s not the point! I don’t expect to be mauled about by you!’
‘Stop acting like a horrified virgin. You’re no longer a teenager, you’re a woman.’
That only stoked her anger yet further and when she opened her mouth sheer rage robbed her of a suitable retort.
‘That doesn’t give you the right to...to...’
He didn’t answer but she could tell from the dark flush on his face that he caught her meaning well enough.
‘You’re over-reacting,’ he muttered, standing up, and she shrank back automatically, realising that her unconscious gesture only made him grimmer.
You’re a career woman, she desperately told herself; you’re in control of your life. But here, in this darkened, remote room, she felt as though she was at the mercy of every unwelcome emotion, every wayward thought.
‘No, I’m not!’ she threw out wildly. ‘You’re all the same, you men!’
‘Don’t confuse me with that bum who seduced you into bed with him,’ he responded tightly, moving towards her so that she fell back one more step, her back now pressed against the wall. Her anger, she realised, was now matched with his, except, where she was breathing thickly and in the grip of a dreadful sense of panic, he was cold and controlled.
‘Why not?’ she asked recklessly. ‘You’re a womaniser just like him, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t exploit women!’
‘No? Remind me to ask one of your many cast-offs to confirm that!’
They glared at each other in furious silence, then he said, in a curiously gentle voice, ‘He must really have hurt you. Did he?’
His tone of voice brought a sudden lump to her throat and she stared at him with a helpless longing to pour everything out, despite the fact that she had positively loathed him only a few minutes before.
‘He used me,’ she said, looking away, ‘and who likes being used?’
‘No one,’ he replied and she gave him a quick, searching look.
‘Not that you speak from experience,’ she offered shakily.
‘You would be surprised,’ he countered and before she could dwell on that he was turning away and reality was reasserting itself.
His back was still to her as she made her way up to her bedroom.
Tomorrow, she thought reasonably, settling under the thick blankets, things will be back to normal and this frightening, nightmarish feeling will subside. In fact, I’ll probably laugh at myself.
She closed her eyes and waited for morning to rescue her.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE weather had turned an ominous grey the following morning, and it was with a sense of relief that Adam suggested they leave without delay. He was echoing her thoughts exactly.
‘I can’t afford to be trapped here if there’s snow,’ he said, looking out of the window with a frown. ‘I have some very important meetings to go to tomorrow.’
I can think of a few other very good reasons why we shouldn’t end up trapped here, Christina wanted to inform him, and most of them revolve around us getting on each other’s nerves.
She still hadn’t quite managed to forget the effect that kiss of his had had on her the previous night, the feel of his hands on her body, the ridiculously frightening sensation that that was what she had spent her life waiting for, but she wasn’t going to let it continue to absorb her thoughts. Nor was she going to analyse what her reactions to it indicated. The minute she started along that road, anyway, her mind sheered away from it like a terrified horse rearing up in self-defence.
And that suited her just fine, because there was no point in introspection of that nature, was there? Thinking about it wouldn’t help her to reach any conclusions. After her traumatic relationship with Greg, she had wasted far too many hours, nights, dwelling on their break-up, coming back time and time again to his final, parting insults, and what had that achieved? It had filled her with the sour taste of bitterness. The only good thing to have emerged from it was her resolution to steer well clear of involvement in the foreseeable future. Of course the mere idea of involvement with Adam Palmer was laughable anyway. He was as ill suited to her as she was to him, a fact which he had made patently clear the evening before.
The fact that they had stupidly done something which she would have been the first to admit had been a massive error of judgement had been just one of those things, a product of unusual circumstance, to be put to the back of one’s mind and eventually laid to rest.
They drove most of the journey to the airport in silence. Christina anxiously watched the skies as the car weaved along the small roads, only breathing a sigh of relief when they were on the motorway.
‘I suppose,’ Adam said, as they later boarded the plane, ‘you’re quite glad that this proved to be a futile journey. You disapproved of it from the start.’
Christina shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose, thinking about it, that we would, either of us, have achieved anything if Fiona and Simon had been there. You can’t tell other people how to run their lives, even if you’re convinced that they would benefit from it.’
She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the fact that he was staring at her.
She looked a mess, she knew that. They had decided to leave before she could have the luxury of a shower, and she was feeling unkempt. Her hair, which she had clipped back, had escaped in strands, limp, mousy strands which she irritably kept pushing back from her face.
‘You could be right,’ Adam agreed, and her eyes flew open in surprise.
‘I could?’ She looked at him drily. ‘You mean we agree on something? What is the world coming to?’
> He frowned. ‘We could probably agree on a lot more if you weren’t so damned defensive and prickly all the time.’
‘Funny that I’m only that way when I’m in your company, wouldn’t you say?’ She gave him a sweet smile which did nothing to re-establish his sense of humour.
‘Hysterical. I must be losing my touch with the opposite sex.’
His expression was perfectly serious, but she had a feeling that somewhere he was laughing at her, and she found that unsettling. Was that some snide way of reminding her that, despite what she said, his touch with the opposite sex had been all too successful with her the night before?
‘That’s the most egotistical thing I’ve ever heard,’ she said, choosing to take his words at face value. ‘And it’s damned chauvinistic as well! Are you implying that all you need to do is turn on the charm and women drop like ninepins?’
He laughed aloud. ‘It’s so easy to get you standing on that soapbox of yours, preaching to me about my demon ways.’
Christina looked at him and ground her teeth together.
He was right, though, he seemed capable of playing her like a musical instrument, riling her and then watching with amusement to see her reactions. She, however, didn’t find it amusing at all.
She maintained a stony silence until the plane landed at Heathrow, and in the ensuing chaos of disembarking and clearing Customs she didn’t have the time for polite small talk.
Once outside the airport terminal, he turned to her, though, and asked whether he could give her a lift back to her flat.
‘I left my car in the long-stay car park.’
Christina shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’m fine with a taxi back. I wouldn’t,’ she found herself adding, ‘want to take up any of your precious time.’
He gave her an impatient look and she could have kicked herself.
‘Fine.’ He looked at his watch with a little frown. ‘Well, in that case, I’ll leave you here. Thanks for coming up to Scotland with me, even if it was an abortive mission. It did have the advantage of throwing us together, though. Made me realise what a long time it’s been since we had any kind of conversation together.’ He gave her a lazy smile that made her heart lurch oddly. ‘Or any kind of...anything...come to that.’
She blushed, wondering whether she should apologise for that. He certainly made it sound as though their disagreements had all been her making, which was ludicrous.
She held out her hand awkwardly and he took it briefly, before withdrawing his hand to glance at his watch.
‘We must get together some time,’ he murmured, but already his attention was wandering. He was no doubt planning the day’s activities, thinking of his very important meetings, his very important life. She nodded politely and followed him with her eyes for a few seconds as he strode off in the opposite direction.
His sudden disappearance left her with a curiously empty feeling, and she shook her head impatiently, turning around and looking for a taxi.
It seemed funny going back to her flat. She felt as though an awful lot had taken place over the last twenty-four hours or so, yet when she thought about it nothing really had happened. She had gone on a wild-goose chase with a man who had rubbed her up the wrong way, and that was about the size of it. That little episode in the middle of the night counted for nothing, was laughable really, and the fact that he had told her a few home truths about her ex-boyfriend had embarrassed her at the time, but in fact it had been quite good in restoring her lack of faith in the opposite sex.
There were two messages waiting for her on her answering machine when she got back. One was from a prospective employer, and she made a quick note of what he wanted, so that she could brush up on the relevant information before she called him back.
The other call was from Fiona. At home and dying for a chat.
Christina called the house immediately and the telephone was answered after two rings.
‘Where have you been?’ she opened without preamble. ‘Your brother and I have been haring up and down the country looking for you, so that he could straighten you out.’
Fiona sounded in a jubilant mood. She giggled and said breathlessly, ‘Honestly, Chrissie, it’s a good job I changed my mind about going up there, isn’t it? Can’t you keep a secret? I told you not to tell Adam. You know what he’s like!’
‘I had no intention of telling him anything,’ Christina objected, ‘but he steamrollered me into it with a mixture of persuasion and blackmail.’
‘I can understand that.’ Fiona’s voice was rueful. ‘I’ve had it all my life. Well, ever since Mum and Dad died, anyway.’
‘So?’ Christina prompted, settling herself comfortably on the floor, cross-legged. ‘What the hell is happening between you and Simon?’
There was a pause, then Fiona said in as serious a voice as Christina had heard from her in a long time, ‘It’s all off. We flew over to Paris. I paid, of course. And, well, we had a long talk, over a very expensive dinner, which I paid for as well. I think I must have had misgivings before then, but things he said...’ She sighed. ‘He was obviously banking on me, counting on my money. He even began talking about investments, and how much he would plough into his career!’
‘Poor Fiona,’ Christina said sympathetically.
‘Lucky Fiona. Adam was right. He always is. Isn’t it depressing? I’ve really learnt a lesson from this experience, believe me. Never again.’
‘No more men?’
Fiona laughed. ‘Well, never say never. But tell me, how did you and Adam get along? Must have been a nasty shock arriving at that cottage in the middle of nowhere to find yourselves alone. Or was it? You can tell Aunty Fi.’
All of a sudden, it seemed time to conclude the conversation. She muttered something vague about it being an experience, and hoped that her friend would desist from too many questions. Fiona could be remarkably perceptive at times, and there was a stubborn streak in her, as in her brother, which could be very tenacious when roused.
But she had too much on her mind to pursue the topic. They rang off with a promise to see each other the following week, and Christina promptly submerged herself in her work. Mrs Molton, the wretched dogs, this new job, negatives which needed looking at for deadlines which were fast approaching.
That was the stuff of her life. A couple of nights a week she met up with various of her girlfriends. They had a meal together, or went to a wine bar for a drink. It was relaxing, and ever since Greg Robinson it had been all she had needed.
She had her work: she was still building up her clientele. Adam had been spot-on in saying that she had submerged herself in her job, but it didn’t bother her in the slightest. Why should it? Her work would always be the one constant in her life. The Gregs—not that there would ever be another mistake like that—of this world could come and go.
She caught herself thinking of Adam. How was it, she wondered, that he had never settled down? It wasn’t through lack of choice, and surely there came a time in one’s life when playing the field became an empty pastime and you needed the stability of a normal, committed relationship? She couldn’t ever remember him being involved with a woman to that degree, and if he had been Fiona would have been sure to tell her about it. She forced herself out of her speculations, annoyed that she had been all but daydreaming about him, which just went to prove how much he got under her skin.
She was in a particularly good mood the following week when she met Fiona. She had managed to eradicate Adam Palmer almost completely from her consciousness, Mrs Molton’s two dogs had consented to being photographed, and the potential job had turned into a lucrative reality.
Fiona was waiting for her. There was a glow about her that Christina recognised and she wondered whether her friend was in love. Again.
But no. They had a drink, deliberated over the choices on the Mexican menu, and Fiona assured her that there were no men on the scene at all.
‘I’m still recovering from Adam’s last attack of brotherly possessivenes
s over Simon,’ she admitted, and Christina said casually,
‘And how is he?’
Fiona gave her a shrewd look, which Christina successfully dodged by concentrating on her food. ‘Fine. Our paths haven’t crossed much recently.’ She giggled. ‘Probably still recuperating from my “disgusting behaviour”, as he called it.’
‘He does have a way with words,’ Christina murmured. ‘Never one to beat about the bush.’
‘No. He tells me you argued the whole time you were together. Did you?’
‘I believe there were a few peaceful interludes,’ Christina hedged. What else had he said about her? she wondered. Nothing flattering, she could well imagine.
‘What did you argue about?’
Christina shrugged her shoulders. ‘This and that,’ she said vaguely, changing the subject, because that image of him which she had managed to eradicate was threatening to resurface in a most irritating manner.
They kept the conversation general after that, but Fiona clearly still had it on her mind, because as they turned to go their separate ways she said suddenly, ‘You’re invited to a party. It’s Adam’s birthday a week on Saturday and I’m having a bit of a surprise bash for him.’
‘You’ve never done anything like that before,’ Christina said, surprised and a little taken aback.
‘No,’ Fiona agreed readily. ‘But his next birthday is a big one.’
‘And...?’
‘And,’ Fiona continued gleefully, ‘he’ll absolutely hate it. I mean, he’ll hate walking into the house and being greeted by hundreds of people.’
‘Getting your own back in the nicest possible way?’ Christina asked with a wry little smile, and Fiona nodded.
‘He’ll enjoy it, of course,’ she said, ‘eventually. But it’ll be worth it just for that initial look of shock on his face.’
‘You’re right,’ Christina said, grinning because her friend’s wicked enthusiasm was infectious. ‘What time? I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.’
The thought stayed with her over the next week and a half. Whenever she was feeling a bit over-stressed or tired, she thought of the look on Adam’s face as he walked through that door and she wanted to burst out laughing.
Unwilling Surrender Page 6
